The novelty of now.

Here’s a worthwhile bit of news: Now is good.

Folks here and there, around our world, may be singing along with a different chorus. Some folks are mad; some are scared; many are offended; some are ready to revolt. There are those who are sick, even, and we all wish them and their families ease and prayers for recovery. And over the quiet of our prayers, the chorus still sings, insisting that now ain’t great.

There’s so much more to our song.

I’m not talking about the opportunity to learn ukelele or organize the garage. Both are good intentions, but now offers more.

Now is good.

It’s absolutely real that we’re universally experiencing uncertainty. The cosmic punchline to that dirty joke is this: we are, always, at every moment, tossed into the deep-end of uncertainty. What we don’t realize is our manner of sinking, swimming or flailing about until someone gets us out. We don’t realize we can float.

Now is good. Despite every bit of tumult we may experience, now is very good.

So why don’t we like it?

What we prefer is to pretend security. We trust in our routines and believe the world is ordered by our service to them. We even prioritize our security in these routines over our peace – both inner and outer. We think we can organize our world with our patterns.

Our world is organizing us.

Not one of us knows what’s on the agenda, truly, for tomorrow. The house can burn, arms break, purses are snatched, birds poop on heads and headaches happen. We lose people to jobs, relocation, anger, death. We may not cross a single thing off the to-do list. The fridge may rumble to a halt.

This life you believe you’re living is actually living you. The best you can do is organize yourself in response.

Now is good.

Why is this part of the song so unsung?

Because most of us have forgotten how to become still enough to observe the only moment we have. We’re in constant motion. If we aren’t working, we want to play. If we aren’t playing, we work and wonder when we’ll play again. The body is in motion and our minds are in overdrive. In the midst of one project, we’re wishing it was done. We’re thinking of what we’ll do next. As we listen to a friend, our minds are considering how it’s always the same story, how our opinion is better, how we can solve their problem. We don’t hear a thing.

Our minds are trained to worry over the future and regret the past. When we ask them to stop and simply acknowledge the present, they quickly grow disinterested. They have no faith that now will nourish them.

Our shared reality is this: we are never nourished at any other time. Every moment is the treasure we’ve been seeking. Everything is now.

This novel virus offers a brilliant opportunity for us to behave in a novel way. It won’t be easy. It requires that we catch ourselves singing with the chorus and decide to change our tune. We teach ourselves how to listen to the song of now. Maybe we even learn how to sing along. It may be a ballad; it may be jazz. We can sing along. We have to practice.

When we sing along with life, we know that now is absolutely good.

This virus is a reminder of our shared vulnerability. It’s a phrase in our song. We all, each of us, suffer illness, sorrow, fear, anger and grief. We all, each of us, send quiet prayers that those who suffer will find relief. We share this nature. We may not acknowledge it and we may dismiss it but when we hear of someone hurting, we pause. We know that feeling. It reminds us that we exist in uncertainty together.

The best we can do is occasionally become still and remember that life swirls around us relentlessly. It delivers to us, in every moment, the gifts that will teach us more thoroughly about this nature we share. Our role as the recipient is to learn how to accept every moment and say thank you.

Thank you, I believe, is the song of every moment.

My uncertainty is also yours. Yours is mine. Someday I will die. And so will you. Long may we live. What if we cherish these lives while we honor our vulnerability, transience, potential?

May we discover the songs of every moment and sing these to others so they will be inspired to find theirs. And may the lives we lead be peaceful, joyful and wise.

May we remember always that now is good. It is the only space in time we ever receive.

Now is good. Thank you for this moment.

Note! If you’d like to spend some moments of stillness together, please join me for online yoga this week. Classes are by donation via paypal or venmo. I’d love to see you and enjoy the now together.

Yoga for Us! Tuesday!
Tue, Apr 28, 2020 4:00 PM – 5:30 PM (PDT)

Yoga for Us! Thursday!
Thu, Apr 30, 2020 4:00 PM – 5:30 PM (PDT)

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