After an afternoon nap

…things are back as they are supposed to be, and were supposed to be but weren’t when I first woke up in the morning feeling unrested. I’m close again to things and want to be close to them. That buzzing, what is it, up against the window? A small, young wasp judging by the steady hum, not like that bumping sound of the house fly. I get up and go close to look and be near it.  I want to be near it, as near as possible, closer and closer. And as I walk Nino, I think that everyone has been a life-long victim to my tiredness and my adriftness in consuming thought. And how could I have neglected these people for so long, for whole fistfulls of years?  Why wouldn’t I have wanted to be as close to them as I want to be to this baby wasp by the window, after this afternoon rest?

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Living ahead

When we think, which is often to think ahead, we live ahead.  And when we live ahead and live in front of ourselves, we somehow conceal ourselves from the present.  It may be that we live ahead for this reason.  By living ahead, we filter out a large amount of the present and in so doing, we do not have to respond or be touched in places we don’t want to be touched.  Yet we retract unnecessarily and in fact retract at our own loss because to be fulfilled is to be filled fully by the present.  Living ahead somehow prevents this.