Where'd It Go?

This morning, as I sat reading the newspapers with coffee in hand, I thought about what I had to do before I left. Driving to the first gym, I wondered if I’d have time for an errand before the second gym. You get the idea.

Fuck the equanimity that comes with age. I want to know, where did the moment go?

“To the Zen monastery,” you say. Ha ha. Very funny of you. Facetious as that was, it’s not a bad point. Neither one of us is a Zen master. If we were, we’d handle our schedules better. Then again, if we were, we’d meditate half the day and rake sand artistically for the other half, so never mind.

This afternoon, after tending to the various tasks that occupied my un-Zen consciousness, I sat and finished a book I like. I’ve read it before, and it’s fairly awful so I won’t tell you what it was, but I read the last page twice and smiled. Then I sat there for a moment, feeling rather calm and pleased with Life. (Knocking wood retroactively, just in case.)

The answer to the question of where the moment went is this: It was on the couch in my living room.