Ah, the smell. If I had to choose a single scent to associate with Spring in the Southeastern US, it’d be the sharp and sunny zing of a Magnolia Tree covered in flowers of various states of unravel.
Were I werewolf, there’d be rampage tonight.
Slash and howl. Snarl and scowl
Harbinger of terror and fright.
Pensive lupine reverie.
Rapturous ravage and savagery.
Your loathsome revolver trained true on my heart.
Rip and tear. Snag and snare
Impervious, save precise silver dart.
Why is it so elusive to maintain a preternatural grasp on the present? You know, the moment you’re experiencing right now..?
Conscious cognizance of my sensations, the manner and demeanor of the sentience around me, and the interdependence of all living things on Earth is fleeting, at best, despite my concerted attempts.
What is it about my mind — or perhaps the human brain which renders these attempts futile?
Its affinity to dwell on the past, future, or some subconscious, albeit mildly-germane, thread distracts from the grandeur of being which encompasses my existence. Saturated with fret, doubt, exuberance, anticipation, delight, ambivalence, pretext, context, reflection and introspection, I’m invariably drawn outside the eye into the storm of reality and only vaguely catch a whiff of the proverbial roses all the worse for wear from the thorns.
Am I instinctually adherent to fulfilling my physical and emotional drive for long-term stability? For control? For coherence?
I am comprised majorly of autonomic processes. The ‘me’ that regards the subtle is sharing time with the innumerable “me”s insistent on compulsory auto-pilot.
Mindful course correction is the result of reconciling the turmoil of the now with the tumult of the else.
Here’s to focus — to acuity. Let every moment in time be more than just a vector to the next.
It’s on, y’all!