Real

Thérèse Plummer

What is that sound between the past and the future?

what is that space called?

what does it look like?

smell like?

sound like?

feel like?

My three-year-old nephew crosses his legs and says out loud, “now this is a good moment.”

that space between way back there and whatever is coming is that.

it is here.

it is this moment.

it is right now and it is all that is real.

or so they say. they say? yes, they. say.

i lived for so long regretting my choices and lamenting my actions and putting background music to it all (tori amos) (ani difranco) (tool) that the feelings would grow exponentially and rise higher into a hurricane of emotion until i would swirling…

down

down

down

into the toilet bowl of this sludge. until i was in the sewage with the rest of the garbage. wondering how am i here again? How do i keep ending up here? It smells bad. it’s filthy. it’s cold. i smell now. i want out.

so then i jump out of that tunnel and launch ahead to the future. ohhhhh the future. That blank slate, the tabula rosa, that canvas where anything is possible. Problem is i am still dripping with my past garbage so the new canvas gets tainted. it gets stained and messy. and it becomes another place i fear instead of hope for and it gets dragged down in my muddy sludge thoughts from yesterday. until i am falling…..

down

down

down

into this other place. this little place in between yesterday and tomorrow. this little space where there is no canvas or garbage or cold or sludge or anything really except what ever is happening. And all i need to do is open my eyes, open my ears, open my heart and open my mind…

And be.

right here.

right now.

because this is all that’s real. It sounds like stillness and it looks like beauty and it feels like hope.

It is now.

and it is indeed a good moment.