The Now

 

You named me Lucy for a reason. I am full of light, luce. I am also the embodiment of now. Now now now. Your head is all over the place. And I can hear every thought. I know when you’re going deep, I know when you’re tuning out. And all I have to say to you is now. Bring yourself front and center in the now.

 

I’m gaining weight again, you tell yourself. I’m a failure at work, no one has any confidence in my ability, you say. None of this is happening. None of this can be altered by sitting in it. Now. Now, I say. Look outside of your fucking head and tell me what you see.

 

You tell yourself, I don’t want to get off the couch. That’s because you’re not looking outside of your head. You’re not now. Take me outside, put me on a leash, but let me lead the way. I’ll always take you to a clear head, I’ll make sure we oxygenate your stagnant blood. Now. What’s in front of you now? I know you’ve never had a dog before. This is new to you, but also to me. How can I motivate you to live in the time/space where I reside? Now. It’s better here.

 

Don’t wonder how John is. Don’t cling to memories of abuse and neglect. Now. Experience the joy of stepping out into the river with me when the water is low. Refresh your body and breathe fresh air into your mind. Fresh air, fresh ideas. What do you want anyway? You forget to materialize your dreams when you’re not now. That’s where I come in.

 

You always feel when I’m staring at you. You turn your head, your eyes clear and you emerge from wherever your thoughts have hidden you, and you see me. You tell me how beautiful I am. And I tell you Now.

 

There you are. See me. Follow me out into the rain. Like John Muir, going out is really going in. It’s going into now. The now of the moon. The now of ocean tapping on shore. The now of the gentle conversation of Canadian geese Ving to the next place.

 

Take yourself on a vacation from your head, experience what is in front of you instead of puzzling over minutiae of the immutable past or moving the pieces to arrange tomorrow. You’re okay now. Everything is okay now. Right now, nothing is wrong. That’s why I am here, to pull you into now. As long as I hold your gaze, I know you’re with me, you’re now.

 

I’ve only been with you for 8 years. What will you do when I’m gone? My life is way more than halfway over, as is yours. And it’s only been in this last year that you really saw me, really did now with me. But you’re finally getting it. You’re finding joy in me, in your kitchen, in watching me swim in the sound, in your garden, in knowing other people. You’re finding it. You’re finding that it was never hidden. It’s always been in front of you, waiting, waiting. Now I have to instill in you how to keep it, the now.