Time Is The Strangest Thing!
I can’t stop thinking about how maybe I should be writing my present instead of my future and how inconvenient that will be since the title of my blog is “Writing My Future.” But then I realize that the present is also called “now,” or as Eckhart Tolle calls it, “the now” in his book The Power of Now. Anyway, as far as I can see “now” is always never, because as soon as you start to focus on “now,” that “now” to which you are bringing your attention is already past. So, if I’m going to write my present, by the time I write it, it is my past, which is not what I want at all. Since what I want is Renee’s present and future, the only thing I can think to do is keep writing and hope for the best.
Therefore and thus (don’t you just love that transitional phrase which I thought of all by myself?), below is my usual review of what happened in my last post, along with the new excerpt from The Potluck, all of which I am writing in my now, for your future pleasure. And hopefully my new present and future.
This is the review: Sir John has just chided the group about being Americans. Well, what I mean is he is upset about Americans, who, in his opinion, make very bad decisions about what they eat, mac and cheese in a box being the epitome of negative food choices:
“I like your mac and cheese.” Ada smiled in Rita’s direction.
Suddenly everyone started speaking at once and the din made Renee’s head spin. An argument over macaroni and cheese! How was this supposed to be enlightening anyway? She reached for her mug, hoping that Joe had poured the wine before he left. He had! It was a smoky vanilla Sauvignon Blanc with a hint of citrus. Very nice!
The mug was interesting, too. As she studied it, what had initially appeared as abstractions shifted into a Gestalt. Those uneven bulges on the opposite side of the handle were actually very long fingers. And the pillowy base was a palm. Oh! And the handle was actually a thumb curling around to the top where it met the index finger. There was something familiar. What was it? It was a mudra! Yoga for the hands. She closed her eyes and a vision of an Indian woman dancing, hands positioned in exactly this manner fluttered into that space directly behind her third eye.
The voices around her had reached cacophonic proportions. She gave her head a shake to clear out the vision and the noise. “Concentrate on the food,” she counseled herself. The soup was rich and creamy with fresh basil and chives floating on the top. She nudged Dr. Phil and shouted at him over the mingle of voices, “Your soup is fabulous!” He was trying to make a point to Dee and paid her no mind, so she took a bite of bread slicked with honey. Yum!
Oh, wow! Did you notice that when Renee concentrated on the mug, the wine and the soup, she really was in “the now”? Now (ha ha!) my head is spinning!