What was, isn’t. What is, won’t be. But always, there’s the now. Right in front of our noses. Full of everything and always a different shape than it was before or soon will be. And most of the time we don’t even notice, being all caught up in our stories and calculations and all.
This time of year, I’m spending a lot of time in my living room, working on my laptop. I don’t own a TV. I usually sit in the same place. I like the view and it’s comfortable. Every time I look up from my laptop’s screen, the walls and furniture, the plants and lamps and paintings are exactly where they were before. The only thing that seems to have changed is me. And it wasn’t, I can tell you, much of a change. Maybe I wasn’t wiggling my toes before. My thoughts were different. There’s a little gnat exploring the laptop’s screen now. The furnace’s fan has kicked on. Other than that, same old same old.
It could seem like a pretty boring place, I suppose. But that’s only the case if you forget that the walls have another side. One of them even has an outside, and that’s a doggone huge place. You can’t even get to the end of it, it goes so far. And just down the road a piece, there’s mountains and deserts and forests and oceans, and all of them with their own inhabitants, every one of them as real as you and alive in this very same now. And some of them are humans.
And for all you know, a particular human you’re thinking about right now might be thinking of you, too. Maybe because they felt your thoughts in some subliminal electromagnetic way. Or you felt them. And once you start thinking about another human being, you can drift off into all kinds of imaginings and memories and dreams.
So what difference does it make if the walls don’t seem to change? A patch of relative sameness is a good thing. It can give you a sense of stability, something to hang on to in when the winds are fierce.
Be grateful for the slow-to-change, for the ordinary and familiar. Someday you could be amazed that you ever took it for granted.
Rest in that. And from there, watch and let go.
Remember that what was, isn’t. And what is, won’t be.
But there is always now, dancing, and it goes on and on and on.
May its dance bring you moments that glow with peace and shimmer with joy.
Warmly,
Susan