Living in the Now

For seven years my wife and I lived a life totally foreign to those who witnessed our daily affairs, and for seven years I witnessed the miracle of living one day at a time. It was an interplay that few men have witnessed at any given time, and as I now write—totally apart from that time and place—the miracle remains even more mysterious to understand.

Strange how life tempers the individual; first by giving and then by taking. It was after a seven-month period of reflection that I stood under the stars and recognized my dependence on the great unknown. I was thirty-three, and I knew that neither my mind or soul would work, willingly, for the things I thought so important in my youth. But the truth is always difficult to accept; and as I look back upon that experience I realize that not only have I changed, but the world has as well.

How strange to walk the earth that bears my thoughts. What thoughts do I remember? What words can I write to ease my pain and those who cross this road of life—the autumn years? What makes a man stand still and face the life that gave him birth? Is this the result of the seasons—like a flower that blooms to die, and then awakens?

These are some of my first thoughts as I struggle to find a way to share my silent thoughts within this world of power and deception. Indeed, we rarely talk about our true feelings. Likewise, we rarely talk about the things that bother us. For the most part, we talk around the subject and we endure the game of intellectual verbalism; because if we are honest, we are too embarrassed to reveal how we think and feel. This is why we write fiction, novels, and history books; they all shield us from the truth. Every once in a while, however, we do desire the truth, and it is during these moments that we grow and give meaning to our lives and this existence. Unfortunately, the long arm of censorship does not allow us to speak or write in terms of first degree honesty. Of course, we have become so accustomed to speaking and writing in the proper and expected way, that we are hardly aware of our own dishonesty. This is why we are so surprised when we hear that our neighbor has committed suicide. But the real surprise comes when we find out that not even those closest to him were aware of his discomfort with life. So, why do we always write and speak as if we are masters of ourselves and of the universe? And why do we write and speak as if we always know what we are talking about? Frankly, I suppose there are as many reasons for our false expressions as there are people, but I owe my life to those who broke the barrier, and it is for those people that I write.

It would appear that many people never test their beliefs; consequently, they never realize their full potential. But, what happens to those who have tried and failed to ask the final voice of doubt? Is it not better to be safe than sorry? As an individual, I have no answer for this final stage of doubt. For sure there are many who have tried and failed within this existence of mortal thoughts and desires.

I have come to believe that "every moment and every event of our lives plants something in our soul." I have also come to believe that every moment is a perfect record. To live in the Now, therefore, is to be fully conscious of our place within the whole. But we live in a world that does everything in its power to deprive us of this moment. We are taught, trained, and expected to always think in terms of the past or future. This is the great challenge of living in the Now.

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Music Touches Me for the First Time

The Grand Island Experience

Individual and Collective Error

Pain - Notes