A Little From the Abstract: Here and Now

I am somewhat of a person who thinks too often and thinks too deeply. And yet, maybe I am a person who doesn’t think too clearly or if I think at all, I often wonder if I think before I speak.
I am a real person in which I have a heart that beats. I have lungs that breathe and a mind that works – at least to some degree.
I am a son to the world. I am a connection to an extension of all that led up to this moment.
I am me; in which case, if I am to admit or if I am to claim anything – then let me start here.
Right now. Perhaps to you this may seem too vague or too abstract; to me, this is only a section of time and a moment of beauty. This is me enjoying a stream of words that flow so easily now because there are no distractions around us. No, it’s just me. And it’s just you.

There will never be another morning like this one. There will never be another day like today and there will never be another time when the sky looks the way it does: white clouds, puffed like swollen pillows that drag slowly through the air. There’s a long-winged bird hovering in the sky, turning in circles and sometimes hanging motionless. The sun is bright and the sunlight is beaming down through the trees, which I can see clearly and yet I wonder if you can see the same things.

Today is Sunday, which is intended to be a day of rest. But more, this moment is all I have. This time, right here; this is all I have to go with. This is all I own because everything else has either happened already or it’s not happened yet. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I know all about yesterday. I know about its common fiasco and private tragedies. At the same time, I know all about a moment beneath the sun, which was perfect. Either way, all I have is this minute which can often seem as if what I have is lifetimes too short.

So, let me deal with now.
Let me deal with what’s in front of me.

Let me enjoy this view, which is unobstructed and unmolested by mankind.
Let me enjoy the peace of the sunrise and realize that right now, nothing is wrong.
I can feel what I feel and think what I think and no one can change or distract me from this.
There is nothing to fight about. But more to the point, there is no reason to interrupt this moment by thinking about things that are beyond my control.

I am in the midst of so many changes and, then again, we’re all in the midst of so many changes. So, who am I that I should expect to be so different?
We all have a life to live and we all have a race to run and for the time being, I don’t want to race or run or miss a second of what I see; which is you, which is me, which is this dream I have, which is like the sky above my head, unobstructed and undamaged.

I think we fail to see the perfection of moments because our minds are elsewhere.
We are always thinking. Always calculating.
Always moving too fast when, in fact, if there’s nothing we can do then there’s nothing we can do – so, rather than fight the things we can’t change, why not live in the better moments? Why not be mindful and know this: This is where my heart lives –

I think to myself about the waste of internal arguments or the damage that comes when playing out movies in my head. I think about the self-propelled thoughts that cue the emotional upheavals and start the fights that I would rather live without.
I think about the things I’ve missed because I was miserable and lost; meanwhile, I was around the most beautiful sights to see yet I saw nothing.
I saw my fears and the inaccuracies of my own inventory, which is me, which is how I think and feel; which is the reason why I write this now because there are so many things that I want to change. But so much is out of my control. All I have is this. All I have is now.
I can’t fast forward or rewind.
I can’t change anything about yesterday or the day before it.
However, I can say there are moments that I wish i could relive without changing a second.
Not one.

All I can do is be here in the moment and look to feel the sun on my face.
All I can do is enjoy the scene, which is pretty for now.
But I’m not too sure about later. The weatherperson says that heavy rain is on the way.
But isn’t this always the case?
The sun doesn’t always shine and the rain doesn’t last forever either.
Both are transitional.

I think back to what Socrates said: Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.
I think about what Elbert Hubbard said: Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive. 

I think about the hours people spend drowning in their own emotional quicksand.
I think about the trivialness and the bullshit swords that we cross and the armory and the arguments, the so-called pseudo-personality that we’ve created because of our pseudo-captivity that we’ve volunteered for.
I think of the charades and the facades and the grand gestures that we pretend to make. I think of an old Spanish woman who calls out, Que cosa mas grande, which means “What a big thing,’ to which we dramatize or sensationalize or even catastrophize when, in fact, we’re okay.
We’re all alright. I promise you.
And even if we’re not okay,
What can we do about it?
(Maybe the answer is nothing, at the moment.)
This is just a transitional phase.
I think about a song by Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians which dates me back to my youth.
I think about her song called “Circle’ and how she said, “Everything is temporary anyway. When the streets are wet, the colors slip into the sky.”
She also sings, “When I’m by myself, nobody else can say . . . goodbye.”
I don’t want to say goodbye.
Not at all.
Then again, I can recall the lyrics from a song called Time and Time Again, which goes, “I wanted to see you walking backwards to get the sensation of you coming home.”
Then it goes, “I wanted to see you, walking away from me without the sensation of you leaving me alone.”

Just out of curiosity, can you see what I’m doing here?
See how I’m standing before the sun and yet, I am being humble like a sheep before wolves because at any moment – I could be hurt by thoughts and exposed or even worse – I could be laughed at or ridiculed.
And that’s the bitch of it all; to be tough and to understand how to endure or bleed without crying.
It’s not easy to be vulnerable.

I have so much to say and so many thoughts to share. But in fairness, there are times when I am worried that time will run out. I’m afraid that I’ll miss my window. There are times when my feet are stuck. Although I understand what steps to take – I fear that my abilities might fall short. And then what?

There are times when the fear takes me in places that I never asked to be and here I am, afraid and yet I am brave enough to come here to find you and find myself.
I am brave enough to be here, talking to you about my biggest secrets and most intimate details to which I would never share with anyone else. 

I am not afraid to say that I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’m not afraid to say that I’m crazy.
Sure, I am.
I’m crazy enough to scream, laugh, cry or sit and be silent enough to enjoy a moment at sunrise.

I’m not ashamed to say there are times when I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet and, yes, I need help. I’m afraid (okay?) and the falls from my past have left me with old aches and pains. I admit that these things have become more than they are – but more accurately, this is based on the ideas that I know what shame means. I know what it’s like to fall on my face in front of everyone – in fact, I know this all too well. But for now, I’m looking at the sunlight.
For now, I am taking in the sunlight which is gleaming down in shafts from behind the clouds. For now, the moment is quiet. My time is ticking and yet, for now, I want to enjoy the ideas of being happy with this moment – because this is all I have – right here and right now.

If none of this meant so much to me  . . .
Then why would I come here to share it with you know?

And see this?
See this little thing in the cup of my hand?
It’s a tiny seed of light.
This is all I have in this world.
So, I give this to you, which means that I would have nothing
(Without you).

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