At times Now feels too tender and fragile a thing to hold. Maybe looking ahead and behind to the future and past are just easy out's I developed to avoid the weight of Now. The absolute and total potential of it.
In truth, Now is so soft and so breezy when we manage to exist in it with awareness. It requires no vigilance or preparation. It's a state of brief flow buoyed up by our appreciation of the moment. I can't do better or be more in Now. It exists as a sole entity, free of comparison.
Sometimes I just need to say the word. Now. Bring it back. Now. I'm alive. Now. This is a tender moment. Now. The light feels so good as the sun shifts across the sky. Now. Stop wasting time thinking about what's next. What's next is an egg that hasn't even cracked.
Repeating Now to myself throughout the day, especially when my mind wanders to areas of concern or anxiety, is a powerful way to reset my attitude and absolve my grievances. Now has become a sort of hymn, a rhythmic anthem pulling me back from the past or future and into the moment.
The most effortless access I have to Now is the moment I wake up. Opening my eyes, I sense my inner consciousness as my true self housed inside my body. For mere seconds I hold a particular inside-out view of myself and my life that's both liberating and amusing. In the spaciousness of these first moments I seem to forget the agreement I've made with "reality"- of my body as my self. I feel like a Russian nesting doll, consciousness attached to a soul nestled in a physical form of flesh, housed within a universe wider than I can understand. It's silly and pure and bewildering, and makes me feel like magic.
If I were able to capture the feelings and thoughts that often define my first minute (or less) of being awake, I would exist on a higher plane as a happier version of myself. Now really connotes wonder. Wonder at the oddity of our souls existing within a physical avatar capable of everything from climbing mountains to splitting atoms.
When we achieve genuine presence, even if fleeting, life is a marvel; a parade of Nows suspended into oblivion like a string of bright lights punctuating the dark sky of space.
"Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!"