In the Moment

So, I’ve been trying to catch hold of something that’s always moving and always still and always there. But I don’t see it. If I could fall into that void, I might be lost forever. Not without the proper foothold. The hold of what?

Perhaps I’ll make a daily account of what I mean.

Yesterday, while at a Thai restaurant, a waitress must have pressed herself inward, looking at me. “Do you not like your spring rolls?” she asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, but that I was reading Louise Gluck and thinking about creation, about the dark-unearthed feeling before a door opens. Or how the heart opens after the Other has retreated.

She must have pressed herself inward, looking at me.

Then, something told me to hold on to something in that moment. Not that I needed an anchor, but a latch. Or a side-mouth from which to understand why currents work this way.

So, I said, “teacup” in my head. And there, yes, my peppermint tea, steaming.

Something said “look at it.” As though I didn’t see it before, as though, even as I lifted it and held it, it wasn’t there at all. Suddenly, a cup on a table loved.

And, again. The moment sticks to me as if it was a grand gesture. But it was an everyday one. This is what I am learning. An everyday gesture.

I will try to find another tonight.

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