Last week I took it one day at a time. Today I’m living in the moment; or at least I’m trying as hard as I can. There’s goes another one in the time it took to write that sentence.
It takes a great effort to erase your past. There’s so much chalk on the board. My finger is on the delete key. But maybe I’ve got it all wrong. I need my name, after all, and basic spelling to put all this down. Could it be I’m only supposed to forget selectively?
Then there is tomorrow with all its expectations and obligations…I hate to keep my barber waiting to say nothing of the dentist and who’s going to pay for my overdue library books?
I just got off the wheel of desire though at this age I have more memories than plans anyway. The only bike I have is stationary which gets me nowhere and that’s just fine. It cuts down on jet lag.
I’m living in my head only enough to stop and smell the flowers or hear the clap one hand. I do wish tulips had a fragrance and ranunculas, too. I would stop more often.
As for the absence of sound, silence is always our first language
Now I am throwing out all my attachments. I’ve put them in a white plastic bag with red tie strings upon which so much depends. I’m approaching the garbage bin with intention having consciously chosen to use an overhand toss.
Some fool has initialed his name in wet cement with intimations of immortality apparently un-mindful of his illusory state.
I’ll be going now. I’m letting go as fast as I can so I can follow my bliss. In a few minutes all that will be left of me is my nothingness.
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