Me… here… now.
It’s a simple arrival and really, what could be easier?
Well, climbing Mount Everest in flip-flops, for some of us.
Arriving in the present can be a struggle; if not an absolute impossibility.
We may be drowning in the past – its hidden influence washing over us and through us with discreet power; we’re lost to ourselves in the swirl.
We may be drowning in our future, where anxious thoughts and catastrophic imaginings leave us gasping for air, fit only for fear, dread and panic.
We may be in the churning washing machine of news from Gaza, work issues or our mother hating the care home.
We may be drowning in…well, what is it for you?
‘So much to drown in!’ we proclaim. ‘How can I be present? It’s a sheer indulgence! So please go away!’
Or – and here’s a thought – we could take some responsibility for ourselves and our life-mangling fixations.
We could stop our excuses and take five deep breaths, be still for a moment and reclaim our lives.
We reclaim our lives from the heavy-booted past.
We reclaim our lives from the non-existent, but anxiety-spuming, future.
We reclaim our lives from everything presently breaking down our door.
And arrive in the present. Me…here…now. I exist. My story matters. Here I am, quite free.
The silence is golden, and the moment of peace, to die for.
For those in Guildford, Glasgow or Gaza, arrive here when you can.
The past is stale bread; the future, no bread; the present, fresh bread.
Me…here…now.
Reclaim your life.
It beats Paracetamol.
