in the moment, dEfining the moment

Okay, here's something new. I came in this morning all stressed and junk, and I just decided to relax and do nothing but write. I had roughly thirty minutes I could reasonably spare and I used every one.

I thought back to a time several years ago when I took a lonesome trip to St. Petersburg to visit my grandfather. My little sister also happened to live there as did one of my aunts and uncle. So there I was the first late-afternoon of my weekend trip visiting at my sister's place. A little hole in the wall that probably cost more to live in than what I pay now... and when I say 'hole in the wall' I mean it was a typical 70-plus year-old Florida cinder-block building-- perhaps a small motel at one time --converted to tiny tiny apartments, hidden in the heart of the city by a small grove of oak and short palm.

Here I was sitting on an old dog-hair covered couch-- doing something I shouldn't have --considering the oppressive heat outside, the relative coolness of the apartment, and a KISS tune blaring from the speakers. And something clicked (as only some things can under these circumstances). I realized that Time has no bearing on 'the Moment'. That is to say, 'Moments' are not bound by any set length of time. Moments can be a split second in duration or several minutes, but the passing of time has no control or say as to how long the Moment can endure. Moments, they are fleeting, yes, but they cannot be truly measured, or their durations anticipated. The Moment begins and ends as it chooses, generally when something new intrudes, breaking the thread. And a new moment begins.

Fast forward quite a few years... this morning in fact. And I'm wondering about the moment I'm in; the one wherein I'm trying to hit the reset button. Trying to get past the log jam and the fear of failing at a task that MUST get done-- a Job-Killing must should I fail. Well, writing has always been good for me in this respect. It always allows me to clear my head and reach that button-- you know, the one that says 'Reset'?

This little poem is not the best I've ever written, but neither is it the worst. In short, it is what it is, and it got me out of one heck of a jam.

Here's what passes for thirty minutes in MY head... a fleeting moment, if you will.


In the Moment

They appear as threads
in the hackneyed tapestry
New, their life and end unfathomed
these moments when eyes first meet
hands first touch
lips first brush
And like that spark struck
burn quickly out
     ~the moment gone
Defined as the space between the when
of eyes meeting and parting
hands touching and parting
lips brushing and parting
Time is the beggar within these little ages
holding out its hand for more primacy
But it is Impression which sits upon
these thrones of relevance
Each new thread in our hackneyed tapestries
is experienced not in time
but in Impression
     ~duration goes hungry here
Moments are fleeting and singularly unique
Moments are texture
in the tapestry of our lives
Eyes see what hands feel what lips soon forget

ELAshley
031110.084502.1
Revisions:
031110.045926.6
031110.055152.6


George Harrison also sang of this in All Things Must Pass. I need to remember the old saying, 'this too shall pass', and not worry about the tensions some moments produce. Fear breeds prolifically in such environments. But what to do with Fear once it has set root?

Frank Herbert describes the process best in the Litany Against Fear...

     I must not fear.
     Fear is the mind-killer.
     Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
     I will face my fear.
     I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
     And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
     Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
     Only I will remain.


Easier said than done... Trust me.