The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it. (21)”
Sunday, June 2, 2013
" The Present "
Ever have one of those days? You know what I mean. You go to make a nice fresh pot of coffee and that new super-duper digital self-timing self-measuring alarm clock radioed CD playing coffee maker won’t turn on. Suddenly you are forced to boil water over the stove because the microwave is set permanently to “thaw” and won’t boil water in a nanosecond. It takes a few frustrating minutes to rummage through the overstocked food cabinet to find that “New improved tastes like beans” instant coffee you bought months ago. Voila, persistence pays off as you find the package only to realize it is hardened and you have to chip away at the newly formed brick to make flakes to drop in your about to be boiled water.
Finally you go to sit outside on the deck to witness the peace-filled dawn and there on your favorite most comfortable outdoor chair is a fresh welcoming pile of bird poop. You angrily grab a stiff wooden hard backed chair from inside the kitchen, sit perfectly up right and begin to record your morning observations in your journal. Opening the black book you see all the pages are full and that note that you had written that said,“ get a new journal,” slips gently from the inner pages of the book.
Sitting still you try to be present. Breathing deeply. Taking more breaths, in and out, in and out. Relaxed you forget to grasp the boiling hot mud-filled coffee mug on your lap and it spills probably scarring you for life. Rather than giving out that outlandish screech a perfectly fouled mouth curse slips out from under your breath. Retreating inside after you are done wiping and cleaning up much of the staining coffee you decide that sitting at the computer seems to be the perfect way to save the morning. Recording your thoughts and events so far on a hard drive will preserve this moment forever. No filled pages to worry about. You pop open the screen from our laptop to witness a rainbow ball spinning, spinning and spinning.
Recalling with arrogant pride your well-trained techno savvy cleverness you immediately reboot the computer. Again... Again. The ball still spins and spins and seems to spin faster and faster and finally the screen is blank. For some reason this box of electronic wizardry refuses your firm finger poking “command” to come back to life. CPR for laptops is a myth. For a split second tossing this useless “ piece of s *&%$” out the window seems like a way to get relief.
“But there are so many memories locked inside her. Maybe I can find a hard drive Dr. Frankenstein who can give her life again.”
Recalling that the TV cable connection is out from the storms two days ago. It has stormed a lot lately. Some trees have fallen but birds still sing and greet each day from the branches of the trees that still stand . So watching failed actors masquerading as television journalists to get their pre-adolescent versions and uneducated opinions of what is news and why is not an option now. You stumble your way to the front door for that trusted black and white solution. Opening the door it becomes evident that the paperboy has again skillfully tossed the morning newspaper to be visibly lodged in the upper third of your front lawn 50 foot oak tree.
“Gotta give that kid credit. He has a great arm.”
Frustratingly closing the door inner strength is gained to glance up the stairs to head back to where you started, and there stands that full smiling floppy eared golden hair shedding canine companion. His happy tail wags feverishly. He pants over and over and over now sitting patiently awaiting your strides up the stairs so he can burst up jumping as you reach the final step with his fore paws onto your drained slumping shoulders.
Upon reaching that top stair the companion reacts precisely as you expected. Bracing yourself in advance you hold out your arms to welcome him. Luckily he is not a slobbering kisser like some dogs in the neighborhood. He jumps and wrestles you to the ground. Exhausted from the trials of the morning you lie there and your pal just lies next to you. Somehow in the middle of all the excitement he snatched up that funny little furry stuffed whatchamacallit into his mouth and presents it into your face and drops it.
“Let’s play!” he says in his way. He is ready to go.
His sleeping late has helped him conserve all the energy he has. Surprising him you hold onto him firmly with a big hug for a second. Thinking you are ready to play he jumps up, almost breaking your nose, and leans back with fore legs down and that big silly panting smile.
He aggressively wrestles the slobber-coated stuffed toy from your hands and with the wag of a tail he his gone as if to say “Come on, chase me!” You wonder if he realizes that the root of those aches and burning pains that kept him restlessly trying to get comfort on a cool soothing wood floor all night is the cancer that slowly eats away at his insides and how it will never go away.
Remembrance of the early morning trifles evaporates as you become grateful for becoming present to all that matters… now. Smiling you jump after your companion …. and finally the day begins.
( for my Otis Redding)