Sunday, November 7, 2010

Starting here, starting now

When things seem to be changing rapidly -- especially when those changes are out of our control -- there arises within us a deep craving for "how things were," for some former (and largely imaginary) time when things were simpler, easier than they are now.

Which is why a visit to the countryside, with its rolling hills and rural landscapes, can be so soothing and refreshing.  Aside from the visual pleasures afforded by a landscape free of tall buildings, neon lights and other artifacts of urban life, there is a reassuring sense that life as we once knew it, or as our parents or grandparents once knew it, still goes on.

I think this picture -- bucolic though it may be -- is a gentle reminder that the past, like the future, is just an illusion.  This is not a real windmill; it's powered by electricity, and set up specifically to foster that illusion.  The fence serves little purpose other than beauty, the carefully manicured tree is maintained by a Mexican immigrant with a rattling old truck and a small timid dog, and right next door is a souvenir shop.

But understanding that that is the reality of now; that in the moment I took that picture I was warm and dry, surrounded by friends, admiring the view and enjoying the day -- well that, in the words of all those mastercard commercials -- is priceless.

Welcome to now!  What's going on for you here, right in this moment? What gift does the present have to offer you right now?  Stay with it, stay here, and let the present deepen your understanding of your connection to the universe.

You Reading This, Be Ready
by William Stafford

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?


Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?


When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day.  This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life --


What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

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