When times are lush, we have to work on living in the moment. We take classes, try to focus, concentrate on our steps or breaths or bites of food, remind ourselves to live in the present.
The poor lack that luxury. Deprivation demands immediacy. It keeps people when they are. If you're ill, hungry, in pain or destitute, you worry about survival and present-moment realities.
Dwelling in the past or future is something few can afford (and a spending that is seldom wise).
This isn't to say that one should squander everything in this instant. Planning and forethought are fine things . . . but luxuries.
Nature, too, lives in the moment, creates the moment, and thrives in the moment. Whether or not we forget it, we are creatures of (limited) seasons. We could do worse than give ourselves fully to our days.
This poem reminds me of the . . . vitality of the now.
The poor lack that luxury. Deprivation demands immediacy. It keeps people when they are. If you're ill, hungry, in pain or destitute, you worry about survival and present-moment realities.
Dwelling in the past or future is something few can afford (and a spending that is seldom wise).
This isn't to say that one should squander everything in this instant. Planning and forethought are fine things . . . but luxuries.
Nature, too, lives in the moment, creates the moment, and thrives in the moment. Whether or not we forget it, we are creatures of (limited) seasons. We could do worse than give ourselves fully to our days.
This poem reminds me of the . . . vitality of the now.
Aprilis from Roman Year
Reginald Shepherd
lights scrolls across an unmade bed,
we were setting out for Aries
in paper planes (white dwarf stars
bright in a wilderness of wish scatter
white feathers among me, fistfuls
of light): bees busied themselves
with the seen, moment's
multiple tasks, for the pollen, honey
in the blood, bees would drown
each day: from a thicket of nos
to one sepaled blossoming, all
in an afternoon
you thought of bees as summer
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