A Moment.
"My son I will never leave you..."
Konnor strains against the oppressive constraints of his car seat to look down into the valley below as we drive by. Giant silver windmills, several hundred feet high, tower above the surrounding forest, dotting the mountain side. He makes a noise I interpret as astonishment. I cant help but agree.
"Even in the face of my death, the richness of my life shall be yours"
A Zen teacher once said that the only thing a man has is the present, the past and future are things you will never see. All we have in life are a series of present moments, but too often were too hung up on the past or the future, or how one affects the other, to even see the present. Seeing the present is to be aware of everything around you and the beauty therein. Starkly contrasting what we are taught in western culture.
My son holds my hand as we hike up the mountain path, he points out rocks and trees. He lets me know that the trees are green.
"All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more... I bequeath you, my son"
Everything melts away, and all you do is exist. Singular is your existence and your communion, the things you know arent important and that which you dont know is not worth knowing. Belief and fact, the concepts which have made war for the souls of men for the life age of earth, fade into the black and you simply are.
He smiles. And in the present moment, I am happy.
"You will carry me inside you all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine"
He sleeps with his mouth agape as we drive home in the rain. Swollen, fat drops break against my winshield, in the distance lightning sounds triumphantly, proundly. A snort and a muffled snore are Konnors only reply.
Though he is right there, I miss him already. In the present moment, I am weary and morose. Soon he will go home and I wont see him for fourteen more sunsets. Though I know I shouldnt, I find myself inexorably fixated on what will happen between then and now, and why it cant be now and not then.
"The son becomes the father, and the father, the son"
All we ever have is the present.
"This is all I ... all I can send you, my son."
Konnor strains against the oppressive constraints of his car seat to look down into the valley below as we drive by. Giant silver windmills, several hundred feet high, tower above the surrounding forest, dotting the mountain side. He makes a noise I interpret as astonishment. I cant help but agree.
"Even in the face of my death, the richness of my life shall be yours"
A Zen teacher once said that the only thing a man has is the present, the past and future are things you will never see. All we have in life are a series of present moments, but too often were too hung up on the past or the future, or how one affects the other, to even see the present. Seeing the present is to be aware of everything around you and the beauty therein. Starkly contrasting what we are taught in western culture.
My son holds my hand as we hike up the mountain path, he points out rocks and trees. He lets me know that the trees are green.
"All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more... I bequeath you, my son"
Everything melts away, and all you do is exist. Singular is your existence and your communion, the things you know arent important and that which you dont know is not worth knowing. Belief and fact, the concepts which have made war for the souls of men for the life age of earth, fade into the black and you simply are.
He smiles. And in the present moment, I am happy.
"You will carry me inside you all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine"
He sleeps with his mouth agape as we drive home in the rain. Swollen, fat drops break against my winshield, in the distance lightning sounds triumphantly, proundly. A snort and a muffled snore are Konnors only reply.
Though he is right there, I miss him already. In the present moment, I am weary and morose. Soon he will go home and I wont see him for fourteen more sunsets. Though I know I shouldnt, I find myself inexorably fixated on what will happen between then and now, and why it cant be now and not then.
"The son becomes the father, and the father, the son"
All we ever have is the present.
"This is all I ... all I can send you, my son."
posted by Ryan at 8:48 AM
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