I will never have this moment again
Pausing striving and finding presence
I need to put away my laundry. I should text back to so-and-so. The backyard needs to be racked. Marzy dug another hole in the garden bed. When will I get back into running? I should stop eating so much sugar. I forgot to buy that lipstick I left in my Sephora cart.
This is the laundry list of the busy mind. Ever unfolding, with no end in sight.
Rooted in the have to-do’s of the future and snark criticisms, whispering “be better, don’t forget.”
Every word leads me further and further away from myself and the truth of each moment. In the present, unless I’m in the throes of pain — there is a literal thorn in my side — I’m okay. I may be neutral, heck, I may even be great, but I’m most certainly okay.
Marzy and I on our daily walk and heart-talk with nature. Image of a forest, with tall trees, green bushes, an orange dog, and sunlight beaming through.
And it’s the voice of judgement that so mercilessly makes our experience not okay. This voice jumps to catastrophic endings, it makes meaning of our fuck ups, and insists on better, faster, more.
This is what the dominant culture has taught us. The dominant culture has taught us to prepare for the worst, fear our mistakes and never make them again, and to always be in pursuit of something bigger and better than our current circumstance. What would be the point, if not to amass this more-ness?
“I will never have this version of me again, let me slow down and be with her.”
