Alive Now

I’ve been thinking about what it means to be

Alive Now,

in this moment, longing for spring to arrive, waiting, wanting, wishing, dreaming of green things growing. Can I be content despite the continuing cold nights, barely warming days, frozen lakes and ponds, white covered ground?

It seems that I am often yearning for something I think I need to make my days complete, whether it is a season, an activity, a feeling, or something I think I cannot live without.

The practice of mindfulness and presence helps me to see when I get caught up in such longing rather than savoring the richness of the present moment. Unfortunately, this winter I strayed down the path of longing often. It’s not that I am thinking I should have been different, just that I am noticing and from that noticing perhaps making different choices.

I just discovered this poem and it seemed a perfect gift to share with you here today…

What the Living Do

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, 
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

   — Marie Howe

Practicing Patience, Practicing Gratitude

I am here, alive now, in this moment. As I pay attention to my body breathe in and out, notice the sun shining in the window, feel the comfort of my favorite chair, it is enough just to be alive sitting here now. I feel a sense of peace and expansion as I simply savor this moment. This is a practice I need to come back to again and again, noticing when I am truly open to the moment and when my head is somewhere else wanting something else.

How about you? Are you happy to be here, alive now in this moment?

May you walk in beauty.

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