Saturday, November 20, 2010

It's Not Tomorrow Now

It’s not tomorrow now.” That is what my grandson, Finn, said to me when I told him I would be going home the next day, after a short visit. I always hate to leave, even though he and his dad, my son, and his mom don’t live so very far away. I usually make it a point of telling Finn that I will leave, feel sad without him and will be back soon. But after he said that to me, I realized that it was rather foolish of me to even mention it. He, unlike most of us, does not live in yesterdays and tomorrows. For him there is only now—and that is a good thing, the only thing really that we must remember and live. It’s not tomorrow now, and it is not yesterday now.

Out of the mouths of babes, indeed! Children are intuitive and so much wiser in that regard—of living in the present, and I am convinced that my grandson is remarkable in his ability not only to feel that, but to articulate what for us may seem like a “deep insight,” the matter of fact reality we forget to live by. He was also saying, “You and I are here together right now, so let’s enjoy our time and not think for even one second about a time when we will not be together—for that takes away from the time we do have.

I love you, Finn for reminding me that in love and the best parts of life we do not live in time. There is only the present where time touches eternity," and that is eternal and that is heaven on earth.

The Show Must Go On?

I am familiar with the night
Its silent stage
In darkness scenes open and fade

In a floodlight of memory
I re-enact my life
Animated by desire and illusion
The cold prompter, Fear, in the wings,
Fatal flaws illuminated

The Director, until now,
An invisible, mysterious, temperamental tyrant,
Alternately threatening and encouraging me
To perform.

I have the role for life—if I choose.
Oh! I’ve convinced myself
That I modify my part from time to time
Revise my method:
A subtle gesture here
An improvisation there
The truth is I have perfected the role into ritual

But, no one notices
Except one critic and well-wisher,
Accompanied by the beat of my heart
Acknowledging and reminding me
That only I can draw the curtain
Close the play
Retire the part
Audition for new ones.

My critic says: “I’ll put you in touch with my son,
A fabulous agent, a miracle worker, I tell you.
He’ll show you how to reinvent yourself.
In fact, he specializes in Death and Rebirth.”