Narrowing to Now

Memoirs of a Downward Facing Dog

“Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.”–E.E. Cummings.

It was a day of moments. One in which reality exists in Technicolor clarity. A day where surfaces seem to capture light more acutely than most days. Every veneer a receptor for sensation: sound, touch, thought. Time winds down its pace so that all of the normally blurred edges focus into razor-sharp perfection. Etched into 3D-memory as tangible as this pen in my hand.

The morning light filtered through the blinds onto the bookshelf. The horizontal plastic julienned the rays into matchstick-sized slices of luminosity; staggered against the spines of old books, like a giant Jenga tower of brilliance precariously stacked atop of knowledge.

Through the ochre curtains, the midday sun filled the room with an amber glow. The huge chandelier on the ceiling refracted warmth into rainbows of memories and tinkling, inkling fragments of experiences you never were present for, but somehow felt a part of. New York City rumbled outside, but from my prone position of rest, I could no longer decipher where my inner rumbling began and the exterior ended.  Synchronous oscillation.

When passing time cools down the glare of the summer heat into muted softness, and with my cheek pressed against my yoga mat, windows of stillness found reflection in shimmering pools of sweat; breath cooled the hairs on the back of my neck.

With our hands wrapped around wine glasses, his eyes burned across the kitchen table, and captivated with existential ponderings, “Who Am I” conversations and the like, I could see the line where pupil turned into tendrils of yellow; yellow bled into blue and finally pooled into an eternal rim of grey. Light had faded into night and the day fused into the beauty of all its fragments.

We place so much emphasis on what happens next and what came before. But the only time when I feel like I am actively connecting to my life is when I am paying attention to what is happening now.  There is so much beauty in these moments that, strung together, I cannot differentiate between that which is mundane and that which is magnificent. For once, I am not trying to predict or cajole or expect, but rather to participate and experience fully. Simply.

Whatever assumption of risk that goes along with feeling: loving, losing; the potential for immense pain, joy, pleasure, sorrow…I will gladly and bravely accept because there is certainly no mightier feeling than this.

“There’s a kind of luck that’s not much more than being in the right place at the right time, a kind of inspiration that’s not much more than doing the right thing in the right way, and both only really happen to you when you empty your heart of ambition, purpose and plan; when you give yourself over, completely, to the golden, fate-filled moment.”
Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram.



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