In the fullness of summer, on this full corn moon, and particularly in this weird time, we are (mostly) all of us deep into treasuring the moment. Loving our loved ones. Savoring fresh berries and days that stretch long into nights filled with cricket song drifting through open windows. Leaning into doing what we love.
But also wondering about the future and trying not to ponder too much.
More than ever I see that universe wants me to stay in the present. And I’m here. I really am. But it is never quite enough, is it? No matter how I pinch myself and whisper “wake up.” I’m floating along. I’m drifting off to the next.
Honestly! It wants to be exasperating. <Rant>
And more than ever I also see that this is exactly how it is supposed to be. This curious experience of being in present, yet not. Everything is just that much more endearing and appealing as ephemeral.
It wants to be exasperating. But it’s not.
Like perfume, music, and theater. It is the nature of its fleeting impermanence that crystallizes. This is why I have always loved these things especially. Precisely because they don’t last. <Rave>
The song ends – go ahead and put it on replay. But, hold up! The re-experience of it is different. It now holds the history of the last listening. It is richer, then it is over. Again. <Rave>
Perfume in the air or skin, your lover’s scent, a flower. Just as soon as you smell it, going… going… gone. Changing and transforming. <Rave>
A visit to a farm stand or my childhood home, a sunset. I treasure them all in the moment until my stomach glows with the pleasure of it.
But as a spirit entity having a human experience, I’ll be sighing and doing the rant-rave. And that is ok.
Verdant Faerie 