Be Here Now

I was reminded of the importance of living in the moment and being where you are when you are there. I have recently deeply hurt people because I get so worried about being other places and getting to those places while I should instead be with them. Most of that is poor planning on my part and selfishness, but I was grateful that my mother called it to my attention. I hadn't realized how much I had hurt her because of the mindsets I get in when I am at home. If I'm at home, I need to be home. If I'm at school, I need to be at school. If I plan something with a person, I need to be with them; not thinking about what I should or shouldn't be doing in that moment. Not every moment can be perfectly planned for, but time can be planned out enough that credit can be given where credit is due, and time dedicated to specific things allowing for less stress later when emergencies and beautiful spontaneity comes up. I think that's part of being honest. I feared that I wouldn't get the important things done; instead I missed out on the most important thing: Spending quality time with people that I love. To overcome that fear I need to plan more precisely and then not stress when things don't go as planned. Plan ahead to eliminate fear, but live in the moment, especially with the people I love.

Simple things

It's nice to enjoy the simple things in life. Like duets on the piano, laughter of your best friend, a trail run when you're not in shape, a beautiful sunset, good conversation, watermelon with cream, and taking out the recycling. Mhmmm.
Ya know, there's still a lot I don't know about life. I don't know what I'm passionate about yet, I don't know what I think about a lot of things, but I'm getting there. And I think that's important: I'm trying to get somewhere.
I will say, though, that I am grateful for the souls that are in my life currently (either physical or in current memory). They're full of light and joy and they're an inspiration to me. People are beautiful.  All sorts. I learn so much from them and I forget that people will always make my life meaningful and productive if I take time to listen and look.
My mind and body are connected today. No kite today. What a relief.
Today I feared people would encroach on my limited time. Today I realized that it's possible to take even 15 minutes for a person and it will make the world of difference. Today I feared I wouldn't be able to keep up on a run or it would be embarrassing. Today I realized that I need to start somewhere and that it takes hard work and discipline to get where I want to go, but also that people are good and kind; sometimes it's the presence of a person that is needed more than a fast pace.

Lentil Soup

It rained today. I had my purple jacket on again, but this time I had my hood up. It blocked my peripheral vision. I tried to see how the rain made things brighter. I waited to receive something, some light; I kept my hood up.
I burned some lentil stew. I'm in the library and I smell like it.
She is mad at me, now. And I know why. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on finals anymore. So that's why I left and walked up to the library. It was speedy. I don't stretch anymore so my legs started to tighten going up the hill. I'd do yoga, but then I would see her and she would be more mad, and I have finals.
As I all but ran into the library, I realized that half of me was ahead of myself again like when it rained last time. My mind was screaming: stop, slow down, wait a sec.
I walked into the library.
I turned around and walked back out.
My mind was far ahead of my body again, but it was turning around to tell my body to slow down and stop. Maybe I'd get further if I tried to reel it in instead of chase it this time.
I walked into the square between the sky lights above the library. I stepped in every puddle. The raindrops formed little tear drops, little balls of light hanging off the benches. I wanted to sit, but I didn't want my bum to be wet. The steps behind me died off and held back. I was happy. I didn't want him there right then. I needed space and breathing room.
I appreciated he recognized it.
The light reminded me of the mountains in the winter: when the sun shone through the helicopter whirly-birds in the trees. But, those are memories for another time. Well, no; they'll probably just stay as memories. But they were definitely a time of enlightenment. Either way I guess the rain brought light again, just different than what I thought I needed. This time it reflected movement and the absence and importance of that absence as well.
I tried to listen to each puddle as I stepped. Breathe it all in. Breathe it all out. I realized the birds were singing. I stopped.  They were coming from behind me on the left. Breathe it all in. Breathe it all out.
I looked at the red and green of the bushes in front of me. Breath it all in. Breathe it all out. I looked at the distorted cloud reflections in the tall windows. Breathe it all in. There was snow in the mountains to the right. Out.
Listen. In. Look. Out.
In.
Out.
My mind's not quite back, but it's not shuddering in the wind and churning in the air. In. I have the string, the kite is in sight, my feet are grounded, out, the string is tight and I'm controlling the movement better and I'm more aware of the wind.
I'm ready. Steps fall back in line with mine In. But I still smell like burned lentil soup. Out.
I open the door to the library. In. Questions come. Out. I wrap my string up. In.
Where do you put a kite? Breathe it all out.
It's ok; I don't need it inside.