the same.
Right Here. Right Now.
Everything is the same.
Nothing is the same.
The gap between yesterday, today, and tomorrow thin and uneven.
Fragments of each day barely visible. One sunset blending into the next.
What day is it anyway?
My words fall flat this morning as I write. Thoughts sparse. Ideas elusive.
Writing becomes my new adversary.
I tether myself to the keyboard in a feeble attempt to string words together. It seems important somehow.
UPS delivers our rain barrel. The dishwasher hums. A white clematis blooms along the back fence.
Mundane. Ordinary. Real.
Life is lived here.
Right here. Right now.
In the small. The common. The repetitive.
This does not mean I don’t long for bigger days. Dinner parties. Book Clubs. Church gatherings.
But bent under the weight of discontent and wishful thinking I miss out on what is right in front of me.
My life is right here. Right now.
Circumstances have created elbowroom. Margin at the edges for the ordinary. Extra space for the small.
Instead of passively going through the motions I decide to pay attention.
What emerges is appreciation despite limitations. Thankfulness. Gratitude.
Even if everything is the same and nothing is the same.
I choose to live in the present.
Right here. Right now.
“The ordinary arts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.”