As I get older, I’m more of aware of the parallel-ness, or many-things-all-at-once-ness, or richness of life.
As I sit here, listening to birds and writing, some friends are planning a New Years Eve party in North Carolina. My partner is cooking food in the kitchen, a couple we know is probably hanging out quietly together, my brother’s in Texas, my grandma’s in Buffalo, and so on, ad infinitum.
Years for me may be passing faster now that I’m older.
And also: I’m more aware of the need to choose — of everything being a choice. I could go rock climbing right now, or swim in the ocean.
When I was in high school, I spent many summers stranded in my suburban home, trying to get invited to the parties with the cool kids (this reminds me of the North Carolina New Years Eve party my friends are throwing tonight which I won’t attend). During those summers, I wasn’t as aware of the infinite possibilities present in each moment. When we are preoccupied with loneliness, with our own lack, we fail to see that there are 100 books on our bookshelf, and each one can teleport us into a different and potentially magical world.
In a sense, what I’m talking about is an awareness of the richness present in the world, and a trust that the “net will appear,” as the Zen saying goes. Go here, go there, it’s all good. Don’t stay too long at crossroads, trapped in anxiety. Realize that in each moment, you can’t be in all the places with all the people. In this moment, you are choosing to sit here, on this stoop with your notebook and your pen, and in the next moment, you’ll be choosing another place, doing another thing. A finite being in an infinite world.
I just chose to light some incense now, which is made from pine needles from Maine. I got it during a trip to Maine with friends. One of these friends burned the incense holder that came with the incense in the campfire, by mistake, thinking it was scrap firewood. I got angry.
A while later, in the mail, I received a brand new incense holder from my friend. The same incense holder I’m now using. My anger was impermanent, and not something I needed to take that seriously. I couldn’t have predicted the consequences of buying that incense: a new incense holder, burning Maine pine needles in Hawaii and thinking about my friends while sitting here, on my stoop. Friends who will visit soon.
I could have chosen a different thing to do in the last moment — drink coffee, say, or call my parents. These different choices would have produced different experiences, different thoughts.
Now, I can go to the rock climbing gym and think about boulder puzzles. I can open up Oliver Sacks’ The River of Consciousness and think about time. I can resume reading the The Chosen and understand better the Jewish culture I was raised in. I can open up my text messaging app and fall into that game.
So many roads possible for every moment, and also, only one road that we can take at one time. Choose a road wholeheartedly, and the net will appear.
danscreativeoulet 