“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” – Buddha
Throughout the ages we have been endlessly cautioned and warned to pay attention.
This, the sages say, this is it.
This is your life. This moment. This, right here, right now.
I first wrote these words in my journal at seven this morning while sitting on the sofa, my legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of me. I am once again in my friend’s home. I slept in her bed last night while she slept under her duvet at the hospice. I insert myself into her life each week. I drink coffee from mugs that aren’t mine, dry myself with towels that I didn’t purchase, talk to her kids, sweep her floors, all while continuing to be suspended in this place of not here and not there.
And now, it’s the afternoon. I have put away her dishes, folded her towels, cleaned her shed and I’m in a nearby coffee shop feeling the sun warm the air, the murmur of nearby voices, the smell of baking and ground coffee beans. By the time I actually publish this post, hours will have passed from when I first scribbled them in my journal, and, with each minute of this alternate life, I remind myself not to wish my life to be hurried or resolved in one direction or another, because this, this here and now, IS my life.
These moments are no less precious than that hot summer night when Kevin and I heard ethereal voices blessing us from a window high above the alley in Florence. These daily moments should be no less heartstopping then when I watched that beautiful little schoolgirl in Jaipur, proudly clinging to her mother’s hand.
Pay attention I tell myself. This is it. This is all of it.
Maybe when God was busy creating the world, He looked down (and seriously, being God, He must have known he had set things in motion that would have some pretty shitty unintended consequences) and, in spite of any omniscent apprehensions, He apparently said, It is good.
And. He was right. It really is good.
It is not easy. It is most certainly not easy. But it is rich and deep and hard and true. It is deeply nourishing and enriching and…right here, right now, it is as good as it gets.
So we must sit up and take note and quit projecting into the future, because surely by now, we all realize that we have no freaking clue or any smidgen of control about what will happen tomorrow. There is only here and now, in this particular space and moment in time, this second and this one and this one, these are the moments where we are actually and truly alive.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it, because darlings, really…what other choice is there?
Happy New Year, Colleen! Just so you know, I read every word of yours with excitement, always so happy to see a new post sitting in my inbox. If it’s any consolation in the midst of this really, really rough patch you’re navigating, you are pouring out some REALLY amazing, poignant words. Thinking of you!
Oh Corinne. Bless you a thousand times. I feel quite strange most of the time…sort of hungover and thick in the morning and almost drunk during the day (it’s a bit of a rip off since I’ve usually only been drinking water the night before), but it’s kind of like all filters have been kicked out of my brain (and I didn’t have many filters to begin with:)
What I’m trying to say is that I feel less and less able to judge what I’ve written, so it’s lovely to hear that it’s working for you. Thank you.
You write so beautifully. And I love the collage. You are truly an artist of life. This one really touched my heart.
Thank you so much Mary. I love the idea of being an artist of life. I like that. I like that a lot and I’m going to remind myself of that the next time I feel like throwing things against the kitchen wall 🙂
Thank you for this Colleen. Although I know it wasn’t, I feel as though it was written especially for me on this day. Your words are truth and beauty and just exactly what I needed to hear in this exact moment. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
I love your Motherhood artwork. Well done! Impressive!
In your honour, I will now go read a book and relax. And maybe eat some chocolate. 🙂
Thank you for the marvelous book-reading, chocolate-eating, relaxation-taking tribute. I am honoured. And thanks too for the kind comment about my collage. I really enjoyed making that piece.
I love your writing…your brain…your truth…the truth. I am thankful to have you as my guru-blogger!
Ah Dee Dee. I don’t feel very guru-ish, but I definitely like writing this blog. Glad it resonated with you too.
Friends like you make the difficult times so much easier ; so sorry about your friend, but good on you !
Ruby, in a strange way I feel like I’m being afforded a huge opportunity to learn more of what life needs to teach and this is simply how and what the curriculum is right now.
You said it so much better than I could.
I went for a walk in the gorgeous sunshine today and who did I meet but Monica, the epitome of sunshine! We remarked on how lucky we were to be alive. We compared fitness monitors. She had a FitBit (gift from her son) synched to her IPhone. It startled her yesterday when it started to buzz indicating that she’d reached her target of 10,000 steps. I had my Nike Step/distance/time/calorie monitor with a similar goal of 10,000.
I asked her how old she was, thinking she was about my age, but was surprised to hear she was 77. She beamed when I told her she didn’t look it — not even any wrinkles, just a few laugh lines!
Then I complimented her on her lovely pink and purple silk scarf. She replied “It’s old, but so am I, and I love it too. At our age we can say and do whatever we want, and enjoy every minute of it.”
Colleen, your journey may not be easy right now, the steps are heavier, but know that you are in the right place doing the right thing. That’s as good as it gets!
Martha, you painted a perfect image of Monica with her FitBit and colourful scarf. I love imagining you both striding about in the sunshine.
Thank you for reminding me that I’m in the right place doing the right thing. It helps to see that in writing. I need all the help I can get right now.
I needed to hear this tonight. Thanks Colleen, and blessings to you on this journey you’re taking with your friend. Wishing you both peace.
I needed to hear this too Becca. I think that’s why I needed to write it. I wanted to make my thoughts concrete and writing helps me get there, I’m glad it was useful to you too.