It’s 12:50 on a Monday and there’s not enough time. I am not even sure what I’m late for. But, I can feel my heart beating rapidly and a fluttering sensation in my chest. The image of a heart with wings comes to mind, but my heart doesn’t feel like it’s taking flight. It feels caught. This is so familiar…lifelong familiar. When it’s strong like right now it’s hard to catch my breath and I feel afraid. I need to slow down. I need to be still. I need to remember the epiphany I had this morning as I was waking up. It had to do with time.
Before I was fully awake, I was simply conscious of being alive in the moment. I could feel the heartbeat of that moment. It was slow and rhythmic. The thought came to me, I am just where I’m supposed to be. In this time. In this place. I got out of bed and walked outside into the heat of the morning. It was supposed to hit 109 degrees by afternoon. The thought came again, I’m just where I’m supposed to be…in this time of global warming, in this time of Trump, in this fire season…and something shifted. I realized that I am living at an unprecedented moment in human history and there is nowhere else I can be. This is not just my time, it is our time. Each of us is a precious speck of human life with the capacity to remember our lives in the past, imagine what does not yet exist in the future, and make meaning of the present as each moment slips away into the next and the next. It seems even more important that we have the capacity to witness this unfolding reality and to take action, each in our own way. The consequences of our actions, as well as our inactions, will be revealed over time.
I walk outside barefooted. It’s early afternoon and the temperature gauge reads 110. There’s a hot wind blowing dry oak leaves across our brick patio. The sound is like a million tiny castanets playing their raspy tune. And I feel strangely at peace. I have no need to check my newsfeed to learn about Trump’s latest atrocity, or how close the nearest fire is to our 20 acres, or dire predictions about the presidential election just 57 days from now. What I know is I’m gonna vote for Biden/Harris, we’ve already filled two plastic bins with essentials for evacuation if it becomes necessary, and all I can do about Trump is speak my truth, mail my ballot in early, and pray he doesn’t win. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
je suis ravis que ton livre soit en passe de devenir une réalité tangible, non seulement pour toi maintenant mais bientôt pour les autres aussi. Sans l’ombre d’un doute, un des plus grands plaisirs dans notre vie d’être humain c’est le partage.
Je suis désolé pour toi que Lenny soit parti à l’aventure. Mais ne t’inquiétè pas pour lui, s’il a un minimum de conscience, ce dont je ne doute pas, il ne mettra plus ses pattes dans la colle…
La semaine dernière, un soir, en fermant les battant de la fenêtre de mon atelier, j’ai surpris un lézard qui se cachait entre le mur et le battant. Il s’est échappé à la vitesse de la foudre. J’ai regardé attentivement sur toute la surface du mur mais il n’y avait plus de lézard. Peut être, ai-je pensé, s’agit-t-il de Lenny ou de son esprit ?
Je suis désolé pour ce qui se passe en ce moment en Californie et je suis de tout cœur avec vous.
Ici en France, nous espérons aussi que les élections américaines ne confirmeront pas l’actuel Président car le monde entier subit les conséquences de ses paroles et de ses actes.
Ceci dit, tu dis vrai en parlant de notre place, ici, maintenant. Chacun de nous est à la bonne place, il suffit d’être présent à soi-même pour s’en rendre compte. Mais les circonstances semblent parfois nous mener la vie dure et on se demande alors si l’amour, le partage, la justice, ne sont que de vains mots …
Thank you, Sharon, for bringing us down to earth, with steady footsteps through the dry oak leaves sounding “like tiny castanets” – a marvelous evocation.
I had more to write – and did, a few days ago just as we lost power and Internet here in Talent due to the tremendous fires that have ravaged our town. Today, those came back on! But your message of living with attention and intention in each moment comes through poignantly.
Many congratulations on the planned publication of your absorbing book. I can’t wait to see it in glorious print!
Thank you so much, Sharon, for sharing your epiphany. I’ll take it as a reminder to not allow the latest outrage or worry of disaster rob me of my gratitude for where I am today, and all of my many blessings.
And of course, congratulations!! I can’t wait to read that book!!
Since I was a little child, I was aware at a conscious and subconscious level that time was a finite reality. I remember sitting in first grade being board and fidgety. I started to doodle. I didn’t make drawings or designs. I wrote the word TIME, time, Time over and over. What a strange memory to keep from my early years.
I always feel like there is not enough time, be that in a day, or a season, or a part of life. Today, I celebrate my 25th wedding anniversary with the man who is my gift of a lifetime, my friend, my teacher, my companion and my love. It feels like there is not enough time for us to share life in this lifetime.
If there is a reason for this thread that has been a part of me forever, it is that my soul understands life, as we know it on this planet, is quickly running out of time. I mourn for our beautiful planet, our incredible species and all other species that become collateral damage of human greed and inability to put a ceiling on individual desire. But right now, I challenge myself to stay in the moment and not mourn or fear the future.