This past week I was out of town and again hit by many odd and obvious clarities about myself, others, the ground, the sky, shopping places, ice cream, attachment theory, and much too much more. I saw enough miracles to last a lifetime. I had lingering talks, sang camp songs, played the ashiko to the tune of a slight crescent moon, laughed until my esophagus detached from it's dry grip on joy, biked winding creekside trails, hiked ancient hills of stone, downward dogged against agates wide as night, swam in the St Croix river at the crepuscular hours of dawn and dusk, and allowed the smooth and always forever stones to cradle me in their always forever embrace. And more and more and more.
All reasons for endless happiness. And endlessly happy I was. Of course there were the reliable burs of travel, the venomous ones we all know and remember when waiting in line at a remote gas station bathroom miles and miles from home, attempting to make fire when there is not enough kindling, those darn pesky mosquitoes, an endlessly sticking ziplock amidst tangled plastic bags, and the whiny cry of a tent zipper at three a.m. when you really got to go...
So what's the issue? The darn clarity? The buzz kill? The bittersweet? It wasn't the moon, the light against the water, the melancholic notes that took me back to my summercamp days... I mean, it was, yes, but moreover, it was the time and space to linger in those moments, to not have to rush to the next. Of course this is something I "know" or offer myself platitude-aly when the world begins to crunch inward, but I got a good reminder of the gifts of the here and now and what happens when I linger there/here a little longer.
So, your prompt: "Right here, right now..." Go and stay. See what you find. Meet yourself right here and now. As always, write until you feel done and always, always, share if you'd like.
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