The Flow.

I’ve said before that I have difficulty with the concept of ‘now.’ Time never stops, so there is no now. And when I hear people say ‘you have to live in the moment,’ I don’t entirely disagree with them, but I have to somehow translate the concept into ‘being aware of the flow.’

It’s when I stop being aware of the flow that the vague feeling we call ‘ennui’ sets in. There has to be movement, even if it’s only watching a drop of rain drip from a tree branch, or hearing the call of a bird trip through the air.

But there’s one exception. Occasionally, and quite rarely, I’ve been in a situation where there is no apparent movement of any kind. No wind, no clouds scudding across the sky, no traffic, no people walking, no rain falling, no rabbit hopping across the meadow, no bird calling. Nothing. Utter stillness. It produces a sense of the surreal, because at such times it seems that ‘now’ might exist after all, and that’s exciting.