The Power of Here

I think I may understand more.  Re-reading the past, watching Wolf in his now wondering – if he is in now where am I? 

 I am here. 

Of course, here includes now, especially when I am calm and still.  Painting  and yoga are especially good for bringing the now into here.  But my here also includes all the ’wheres’ I went, all the ’whos’ I was (and had to be) to get here.  Those are ‘things past’ and I carry them with me. 

I also bear the ‘burden’ of the future. The whos and wheres we may be  (you see I carry Wolf’s whos and wheres, as now-people don’t have pockets) in the future. 

My long past and Wolf’s short one (I only carry his two most recent years, all his earlier wheres and whos sleep in other pockets) and our indefinite but hopefully lengthy futures and all those whos and wheres are my burden.

And anyone will tell you (as Wolf does when we discuss it and we do discuss it most heatedly) that now is all there is.  Wise people – Zen and Jedi Masters, and Eckhart Tolle - have made a fortune and a name asserting the benefits of now-life.  All else if the stuff of dreams, illusion.  Maya.

Let me tell you all of their wheres and whos both past and future are in the pockets of some here-liver, probably a woman – a wife, a mother. A lover.  We are marsupial in nature.  Soft and warm with deep pockets.

Oh the things I have tucked in my pockets of here could fill volumes.  Illusion it may be, but sometimes I am astonished by The Power of Here©.

Now

I have a wonderful life and yet I want more.  When you have so much it is hard to express what more is.  I want a Buddhist more or Hindu more.   I want more via less.  Strip down and reduce.  I want mystical Zen.  I want to appreciate the moment and live fully in the place that Wolf calls “now”.

Now. 

NOW!

The thing is you can’t think yourself into that place.  You have to sit there and… nothink.  Empty.  As with meditation, you can’t try too hard.  It is so easy to fall into the abyss of more when striving for less. 

…

I am meditating.

I am a spiritual person. 

Meditating. 

Me Di Tate

(pretty cool)

Hey, I might become enlightened. 

(I wonder if people will notice)

I will strive and eventually I will prevail. 

I will understand. 

I might even become a Master.

(walk before you can run)

I am meditating. 

I’ll write a book.

(with a cool cover)

Wear guru clothes and sit cross legged for days.

(do people pee themselves when they do that?)

You will just have to sit in my presence to know how enlightened I am.

(because of course you can’t brag about it)

I will be great.

(think positive)

I am great. 

I will be God.

(think positive)

I am God. 

…

Eh, I am lost.   Noisy little ego.  Shush now.

 Where was I?  Ah yeah, I want more – for less.

Wolf

Wolf is the smell of rain, the sound of thunder.  Wolf is pranayama.  Wolf is elemental: air, guide and blade.  Mystical Shaman. Ridiculous beast with lolling tongue and rolling eyes. 

Wolf has been between my sheets, paper first then linen,  since childhood.  He is storybook (all the better to see you with) and yet he is as real as the boy next door. 

This is Wolf.  Unlike Goddess, Wolf is more than name only.  He is essence, id, alter ego.  He is myth and legend.  He is archetype. 

(He is looking over my shoulder as I type)

Although Wolf will never speak here, if you can’t hear his breath in every space between every word, you aren’t listening closely enough.