Two words. Instructions given to me by my agent (aka momentary life coach) recently. Easy enough to digest, right? To heed every waking moment…maybe not so much.
I’ve already confessed to you my keen ability to turn thoughts over in my mind with intensity that rivals Uncle Bob’s best cracklin’ producing pig roast. A simple “I like your shirt” can get dissected more than Freddy the frog with his pinned arms and legs splayed out on a 7th grade science table reeking of formaldehyde.
I grasp worries about the future as though they’re a dog I’m running to catch up with on a leash. Conversely, I scoop up reflections of the past as though they’re that same dog’s droppings. Stuck carrying them with me more often than I’d like, for longer than I’d like. My frolicking imagination (active thought life), the leaping and dancing between time, space, and character’s heads for that matter, sets me up for life as a writer.
However, all this to say I often find it incredibly difficult to remain still. To live in the moment. To slow down. To appreciate the now. To enjoy life.
This has been a lifelong quest—this grounding myself in the here and now, living wholly present and engaged in my current surroundings. Simmering the mental fireworks to listen to gentle noises that are so soft, so much like whispers they could almost not be considered sounds at all.
And my agent knows this about me. This comforts me. She also knows what awaits, the harried schedules I’ll face, the deadline pressures. So she passes along the kindest truth she can think of, rooted in experience, expressed gently, but with some push behind it.
A blended Yin and Yang, both encouragement and warning.
So you know what I did this weekend? I gave myself permission.
How about you, is it difficult for you to slow down and savor moment to moment? To remember to live in the here and now?
*It’s animal farm here today. Notice my analogies included: a pig, a frog, and a dog?
**photo by flickr