Headlong

Like a translucent specter, it eludes my grasp. I chase and I chase. I pivot and lunge toward it. Yet, it sidesteps every attempt. I can almost feel its faint essence on my fingertips as it slips through, pulling away yet again. 

When I sit still in these moments. As desire and aversion melt together, I recognize the core struggle we’ve seen a million times before.

Time, it slips away. 

Dive headfirst into the moment. Intensify experience. Immerse yourself in the flow state. The presence erases the self, the worry, the struggle. But this is wrong too. The strategy is thin. This feels like denial.

Of the inevitable. 

Instead, we graciously dive headlong into the grief of the future. We experience again and again that which will happen to all of us. And we come toward presence no longer grasping. No longer reaching to hold on, but to feel time’s wind blow through our hair. We let the moment come to us. And we dive headfirst into the experience presented to us, supported by the assurance of this moment. The raw practicality of it. Just this. Only this. 

Laughing at the seriousness we once carried. Nodding at the fear we ran from. And smiling at the grief we once bowed to.