You know the drill: coffee poured, music playing (Being Boiled by the Human League) and sat here with my fingers poised.
And, in light of my little virus — not the Big One (thank god) — I feel blessed, again. In fact, the more I live through this period, the more I see how much it all means to me. Then again, perhaps that's because my life appears to be racing forward at a million miles an hour.
How was your week?
Mine was especially quiet. I think the legal gods were smiling on me. I know it won't last — it never does.
The last two days in Devon have been hot. This morning it's a lot cooler and it feels like we're going to have a big, fiery, thundery explosion to clear the air. I don't mind. My old dog Fidget, though, she used to 'effing hate thunder. I don't know about Alfie. He's not heard much. The rain or water generally doesn't bother him one iota and so when I've finished up here, I'll be heading out and, weather permitting, sharing another Instagram story which I've really enjoyed creating these past few weeks.
Back to the heading (as always).
I'll start, if I may, with the opening lines to ELO's amazing song, It's Over:
Summer came and passed away,
Hardly seemed to last a day
But it's over and what can I do
Music playin' in the air,
Silence on a darkened stair
'cos it's over and what can I do
It's over, it's over, all over,
It's all over now...
That's my post right there.
It's over — moment by tiny moment.
Do we see it?
I hope so. I really hope so.
And this isn't me being dour, melancholic or negative. No, this is simply to acknowledge the past, save as a thought(s), is over. Finished. Forever.
For better, but often worse, we so often live there.
I've been there, particularly in my non-relationship with my (still alive) parents, the number of times I've said harsh things to my wife, the fallings out with people and the shit that I've endured in the workplace.
Am I trying to fix things?
I don't know. Make sense of them perhaps, learn from them, change my habits but whatever it is, it's easy to get lost in the fog of destruction and not see the most vital ingredient of all; namely, this moment is all you'll ever have.
And it's always moving on to something else.
That sounds like I'm laying the foundation for another escape hatch, one where I can disassociate myself with my old, arrogant behaviour. I'm not. I take full responsibility for all of it — the full fuc*ing catastrophe.
Don't worry, I'm not looking for redemption, less still to be understood. Sorry, that sounds too steely, too hard for my liking. I know that I'm running out of time to mend fences and build bridges, better still to say "I'm sorry" but wherever I end up is where I end up. There's also the fact that I've lost touch with a few people who I'd like to track down and find out how the last 30 odd years has treated them.
What am I saying?
There are lots of things we could have done or should have done previously but, for me at least, it doesn't pay to spend too much time ruminating on the past if only because it takes me out the present moment. I could make the same point about the future, particularly as regards how I'd like my life to be. I mean, it might turn out that way, but then again, it might not. I've no way of knowing. You know how it goes: one day you wake up with one idea, and the next it's something else.
My point for the nth time. Enjoy the present moment — all of it, and not just the bits that you apparently like or revel in. I put it that way because if it were always one way only (i.e. happy or hedonistic), your little ego would soon turn the pleasure trip on you and make it into something else to make you bored, pissed off or something to get under your skin. There's only so much of a good thing that any of us can take, right?
It's easy for me to say this and knowing nothing about you, how the hell am I in a position to pontificate about enjoying the suchness of each moment? For all I know, you already are and have been your entire life. But then again, I've seen and heard enough to know that most people want something different, and that includes a changed past, a brighter future and more a hopeful beginning. And I'd say, go for it. If that's the way you're expressed, fine, but it pays once in a while to look up and see the bright sky, the ever-changing clouds and the running water or sea (take your pick) and realise, as I keep prattling on about, that everything, and I mean everything, changes. If you then put the present-moment slide rule up against your torn-to-shreds past, you might bring yourself out of your funk and start...well, err living. Not like you've got a choice, eh.
Sorry that last paragraph is a bit tautological. I can make my point more simply:
Live in the present, always.
Of course, you are already, absent those tawdry or expectant thoughts. How amazing. You're here. Right now. Feet on the ground or sitting or walking or sleeping. You're here.
But this moment — the instant it took me to type these words — is gone.
Blessings and much love,
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