I’m trying, I’m trying. Peggy says that’s all we have. Kobe Bryant agrees. It’s hard enough living one day at a time. I’m hearing it from Zen masters and ballplayers.
I woke up this morning thinking of my brother who died fifty years ago. There he was in the pillow. From what I could retrieve of my dream I was flying in something of my own invention I called a Kazoom. It looked like an air-borne scooter lifting off the ground about twenty feet, easing the long trek up the mountain. I was with my grandson at first and landed with my brother.
They’re all crowded in the moment along with the November election and an up-coming dental appointment. Then there’s our anniversary get-a-way plans for next week. I’m still not quite off the wheel of desire even though memories have it over plans by vast numbers. How do I go with the flow while staying in the moment?
Maybe the moment has biblical proportions; each mini-moment is a lifetime the way God stretched his seven days into billions of years to make the world. Maybe He could have done a better job if he’d given himself a few more weeks. So yesterday and tomorrow are all part of the moment. I can’t help dragging my baggage into the present, even those moments that didn't quite happened. It’s never too late to imagine. The, what ifs, almost balance the bulk of our stories that went down the drain into oblivion.
When the athlete says to stay in the moment he/she is shrugging off last night’s failure. It could also be a cautionary note to not get too much swagger in their step for today. It all comes down to pay attention right now, stay focused.
If grief or regret is calling, my inclination is to neither wallow in it nor stifle it but to give it its due and then move on. That then becomes the new moment, part old pages, part new chapters, living to the hilt in that moment and the next.
As A.A. Mlne put it:
What day is it?
It's today," squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day, said Pooh.