Wednesday, April 28, 2010


The tension and angst that, at times, lightly punctuate my days and accompany me on my maternal journey all have a place in this confounding, exhilarating minute-by-minute life. Sometimes the fog and slight angst are obliterated by peaceful calm. Sometimes I find my breaths shallow and then luxuriate in the power of deep oxygenation.


In glorious hindsight, I see my tight grasp, manhandling a repetitive thought, an aura, or way of being. These moments have purpose. They lead me to my next present, my next now. When I let go, it feels as if I'm watching movie clips of someone else's life. I watch, mesmerized by the watershed. The final uncurling of the very last finger returns air to my lungs and allows me to unfurl, melting into the feeling of aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.

Yesterday was just like that.

The light shifted. The air heavily weighted with now. My feet pounded down the stairs and I listened to their rhythm...Right. Now. Right. Now. Here. Now.

Lately, I've been trying, valiantly, to live right now, right here. And not too surprisingly, I continue to gain illumination from other people, people whose words about their right nows delight like a gift. I recently read something that hit me with the power of a tidal wave and the tenderness of a child's kiss. Thank you, Lindsey, for awakening my spirit to another powerful force, JenLee. (If you haven't yet visited and submerged yourself in Lindsey's blog, may I suggest that you do. Then you'll know (if you don't already) one of the people whose writing continues to speak to me and guide me along my way.)

For her one of her Present Tense posts, Lindsey interviewed JenLee. One of Jen's snipets, when asked about what rituals or patterns she uses to keep herself present, was, "..
but I also like to walk down any street in the city and really see and notice all the sights, sounds and smells around me
while the ground below me meets my every step". Her words reached up into my mind (the mind that seems to enjoy miring in the minutia of yesterday and tomorrow, masterfully avoiding the now), and plunked me into right now.

Woah. Such a powerful, visceral set of words for me. The Ground Meets My Every Step. (This spurred me to thank Mother Earth for providing such a glorious place to live.)

I try. Living presently allows me to heed to the quiet eddies, whispering in my soul. I feel each slap and move of Abby's and my secret handshake. Henry and I dissect the intricacies of Buzz Lightyear, Woody and Zurg. When I'm in the right now, hubby and I look at each other and just know.
I find, during the hard, painful, turbulent times that being there helps, too. Other times, I get swept away in the euphoria of a goal reached and the resulting celebratory cascade of joy. I give thanks for the friends, near and far, who keep me buoyant, reaching up, or down, to wherever it is I am in my moment. Feet on the couch. With chubby Henry curled round them. Feet on the ground.

Right. Now.