I usually write to 90s theme music, but today I am in the park listening. Listening to the birds chirping, dogs barking, people talking, and probably the most annoying, insects buzzing. Despite the many sounds I hear, I feel the pull of a moment. A moment separated from infinite linear progression. For this moment I feel freed from the temporal world. This is a moment to reflect, to dream, to plan, just to… Moments like these help shape my vision in the present, think or rethink the future, and help me come to terms with the past. This is separated from infinite linear progression. This is a moment of solitude.
Blurred due to recent events, my vision is not stable. I’m doubting my ability to interpret the world. Is this tree really a tree? Is the grass greener than before? Why do the birds sing such a somber song? My vision has failed me before; somethings are just so very hard to see. Even with contingency, I was forced to scramble. Fortunately, impromptu is a skill I am equipped with. Yes, I am able to handle what the world shows me. I may not like what I see but I am prepared. I am ready to see things clearly and overcome them. I am ready to see what exists in the present and I am ready to take on the challenges of existing.
Looking at this present world makes me think. Think about a future I desire, a future I want. But the future I want, the one with this, this, and this, is not guaranteed. I guess the first step in planning the future is knowing what that future is. I guess it’s time to rethink things again. “What’s your motivation Kenny? Why are you walking this path?” Necessity? “Come on Kenny you can do better than that.” Need? “Whose need? What you need?” I need… better. “Better what?” Just better… “Well, how do you… better?” You try better, act better, play better, think better, strive better, persist better, love better. You just do better! “Haha, well, that sounds like a plan!”
What is this sound? Like a rustling, lightly in the background. And what is this sensation? It feels like a slight tug on one’s shirt. Anyway, the plan for the future does not exist apart from the past. The corridor of personal history shows me so much. I see apologies to give, goodbyes to impart, and greetings I failed to utter. The murals of missed opportunities, the canvases of wasted time, and the different colors highlighting the paths I rejected. Again, I hear this rustling. It sounds closer. And I feel the touch of something. Like a light wave washing over my body. That tug, it has gotten stronger. Now it is more like a pulling, consistent and directional. Hmmm… Let me hurry. First to the wall of errors. I am sorry, I acknowledge the things I have done wrong. Now to the place of loss. I feel so weary looking at these tombstones. Saying goodbye does not mean I miss you any less. The goodbye itself cannot truly express how things have changed. To those whom I have failed to greet, I say hello and hello again.
What is this pull? It feels like an earth magnet pulling me in! I hear the rustling loudly, that push against my skin is stronger, and birds? I know, I understand now. One cannot be separated from infinite linear progression forever! I am back in the park. The dogs are gone. The trees rustling loudly as the wind cools from the heat. The birds are singing; the chatter of people is all but gone. My moment has passed. I feel grounded, hopeful, yet a little burdened. Wow, so much has transpired and it only took a moment.