Have you ever had a brilliant thought in the car or in the middle of the night when you’re too tired to get up and do anything about it then the second you’re in a place you can write it down it’s gone? I suppose that is what separates the successful creators from the unsuccessful ones, either the ability to remember those brilliant ideas or the wherewithall to drag your ass out of bed to write the thoughts down. There is that little thing though, about something seeming brilliant in the edges of sleep, and it turns out to be pretty crappy in the light of day.
Apparently this brilliant piece of drivel was my post number 45. I don’t know why I didn’t post it or name it. I was probably distracted by living in some other moment than the one I was in, longing for Ron or Frederick or some other figment of my imagination and not paying attention to the moment I was in. So today I’m fiddling around with my wordpress account, creating a new theme, doing something different, and I notice there is a little button above where I compose that says DRAFTS. And after DRAFTS it said Post #45. So I clicked on it and found this tidbit of thought. I remember typing it, but beyond that I don’t recall much. However considering I have wasted many days in the last several weeks not living in the present and focusing heavily on the male figments of my imagination, I can reasonably assume that one of them is the reason the post was interrupted and forgotten. How sad it is. How sad indeed.
When I consider the hours, days, weeks, months, years I have wasted living outside the moment I am in….ah well. I suppose lamenting this would be futile as well. There is no way to retrieve those moments. I can only hope I remember to live in the present going forward.
Today is particularly difficult. I must remember this is only about my third day of understanding, and I would not say it’s full understanding or that my brain is in a groove with it yet. I would suggest to myself that this will take some time, but I don’t want to limit things. At least awareness is present, so that should help. But today I have been wanting to live my old patterns. I have been fighting the urge to leave the messenger on in the hopes that one of the figments will communicate with me. He has, but it has been little. I heard something on the radio that reminded me of the figment and felt something funny in my stomach. Reminder again, he’s a figment, he’s a figment. Get here. Look at the sky. Isn’t it cool? Look at the clouds swirling in the late afternoon light. The sun wants to peek through. It is cold, but it is bright. Okay, I’m here.
Post #45. Sounds like a mile marker. Perhaps I can find some interesting metaphor for the milepost to help me remember that the other stuff is all just figment. It is where I have been in this qwest to live in the moment and to avoid living somewhere else. It can help me give up the figments who are really only synapses firing in my brain. Here I am. Here is this bright computer screen. Here are these keys that I type on so effortlessly. Here is the heater on my cold feet and my bladder that feels as if it would like to be emptied. Click on the mute button so if the figment sends you an IM you do not scramble in an attempt to respond immediately, thereby engaging the figment or hoping the figment will communicate further with you. Relax. Breathe. You are here right now. And that is all that matters.