I am lost. It’s ok, but it doesn’t always feel ok. My work every day is to show up as fully as possible to whatever’s in front of me. I’m noticing something. Pretty much all day, I’m running away from the present moment. Planning against it, around it. Distraction has been my cocaine, but now that I’m committed to being present, I have to just notice how many forms of distraction there are…tv, my iPhone and its many apps, mind trips, facebook, phone calls, emails, birddogging things that don’t matter, on and on and on.
I am committed to being present. This takes a certain amount of effort. Resisting the temptation to fall into blind, deep grooves of habit. Hopefully turning away before falling into the grooves. But if not, then getting out, and with all the muscle I can muster, pulling my mind up out of those grooves, and checking out everything that’s in front of me. Using all my senses.
Last week, I took my mini schnauzer, Roshi, to the park for a walk. It was a warm summer morning, and I could not believe how many scents were available to me all of a sudden. With every breath, there was a subtly different cocktail of scents—now sun-baked grass, now the warm earth, laced with someone starting up a charcoal barbecue, now something else, something unidentifiable, a scent I did not know the name of, but could smell it—it was astringent, bright, lovely, green? My walk was a lovenote to the perfumes of life, and my human ability to access them.
It’s a start.