ManicDDaily

One of the negative side effects of being a writer and blogger is difficulty being a “liver”.  (I do not mean here an organ that filters blood, but a person who does not filter experience.)

When you focus a great deal on ongoing narratives and commentary, it can be very hard to just be (as they say) in the moment.  The ongoing mental monologue (or dialogue if, like me, you are a Gemini) unfortunately leads to a lack of attention, also a lack of wonder.  This is terribly self-defeating as both attention and wonder are important tools in coming up with something real/good/unique to write about.

Of course, it’s not just writing and blogging that make for difficulties in being present in the actual ongoing physical world.  Modern life cultivates customs of pre-occupation.  Cell phones, blackberries, make avoidance of the direct physical moment seductively easy; a screen on which one can project one’s own narrative and constant commentary (whether texting, emailing, or simply identifying) is compellingly addictive.

There’s also the fear factor.   Turning your attention to the moment, to the right now physical world, can be scary simply because you are typically such a small part of that moment, such a teeny, transient, corner in that world.

Here’s a short poem about it, written while trying to take a walk.  (In short, it’s a poem written about being in the moment while avoiding actually being there.)

The Framework of Now

How hard it is
for the mind to fit
into the framework of now;
the reason may be
that ‘now’ is not ‘me’;
how the mind hates to see
how much goes on,
and will go on,
when it is gone.
Can’t rationalize the lack
of its active participation,
a bulwark
unto itself.

All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson

P.S.  – the above poem is really a draft.  These are always especially hard for me if no formal verse structure, i.e. sonnet, villanelle, pantoum, is involved.  If anyone has any ideas, let me know.