There are so many things I pursued that I took for granted. Backpacking in Desolation Wilderness, driving my old Toyota Supra across Death Valley, spending a month in Florence alone, a month in Bristol with my wife and child. I never thought these things would become past and gone.
Six months in Haiti, six weeks in China and Thailand writing an article about a drug rehab center outside of Chang Rai, bit by a pet gibbon, the scar fading over the decades. Yoga and gun practice in Nicaragua, a year’s leadership training in Northern California, degrees and certificates in English, Theology, Leadership, Life Coaching.
Joining the Angel Forum I’d admired for years, then an orderly retreat as the recession of 2008 sunk in. Personal sized real estate empire, brokerage success, big house, and finally dropped off at home movies on the computer screen, a Coronavirus special, California fires smoke-filled summer.
Two self-published board games. An unpublished collection of vignettes on that month in Florence. A hot tub. A big dog.
Traveling with my sister in Mexico, with my girlfriend in Costa Rica. Again to Costa Rica with a family of friends, all of us traveling together on a little bus.
The first time my girlfriend and I went to Costa Rica, before we were engaged, we planned the whole trip after we touched down, including getting picked up by a man in a boat on a mountain lake in the evening after getting dropped off by a man in a jeep. Why did it have to end?
It’s not that it ended, just that these things have already happened and they may not ever be happening again. What am I to do with my feelings of remorse and loss?
Coasting down the steep road from Grizzly Peak, the wind loud in my ears, crouching to go faster around the bends, faster than the cars
The secret of the lens is not what these things are to me now, it’s what they were to me then, and, more importantly what things can be to me now. The things I may be doing now that I would treasure in retrospect I could treasure now.
And now comes the secret of the lens. Since everything that happens to me occurs, as I understand it, through the lens of my consciousness, conversely, the lens of my consciousness perceives something continually, so now is a fine time for something to occur. The insight is: something is always happening.
I bite down on the hard, dark chocolate that was slowly dissolving in my mouth
Stepping back I notice what I perceive through the lens of consciousness is a rich flood from both my senses and my thoughts which surrounds me, engulfs me, and carries me away.
The secret is there is no empty space
These things I’ve done before were not done in isolation against a blank background. Perhaps it is a wonder I remember them at all, for there was never a moment of stillness or silence.