Our Moment [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

At the top of the stairs on the second floor of our house is a bulletin board of photographs. We assembled it in 2019 when we took a job on Washington Island. We would be far away from family and friends and hoped the photo-board would help us stay connected to home. It’s funny to me now, I rarely looked at the bulletin board when we were on the island but five years later, firmly ensconced back at home, I pause on the stairs every single day and study it.

It’s the photos of my dad that stop me. In order to function on island we needed a second vehicle. My dad was no longer able to drive so he gave us his truck. The photos were taken when we flew to Colorado to get the truck. We call it Big Red. It was a blue-blue-sky day. Kerri and I were just about to begin the long drive back to Wisconsin. Kerri took some pictures of my dad and me standing next to Big Red.

He died in 2021. Those few photos are among the last I have of him. They are certainly among the last taken when he knew who I was; he was far down the road of dementia on that blue-sky Colorado day.

I stop on the stairs and study the photographs because I knew on that day that I might never see him again. I knew that his time on earth was short. I was fully and completely present with him when Kerri took the photographs. It was sublime and painful. And, I can access the fullness of his presence the moment I look at the photograph. It never fades.

I stop at the top of the stairs to hang out a few minutes with my dad but there is a greater gift in that blue-blue-sky photograph: it is a reminder that those moments happen every day. It is a reminder not to miss it, that these moments are also fleeting. Cooking meals together. The way the Dogga parading with his candy-cane-toy every time we dial the phone. Our slow cleaning out of the basement, playing Rummikube with 20, sitting under the quilt writing blog posts on a cold Wisconsin day, the chimes calling us back to this, our moment. It’s what we have. It’s precious. It’s all we have.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE NOW

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The Pivot Point [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

There are many, many variations from many, many traditions of the concept of presence. My recent favorite is to “stand on the pivot point of the Tao.” No matter the name attached to “the now” there is a universal understanding: in presence – when fully present – there are no problems.

It’s easier said than done since fixating and worrying about imagined futures is what our brains are wired to do.

I thought a lot about presence during our epic drive home yesterday. The entire trip was an exercise in being-in-the-now. Of necessity we drove very slow, windows down with the heater on high. We stopped every hour, opened the hood, and let the engine cool down. We checked the coolant. And then, when certain that we could attempt the next stretch, we got back on the road.

I can’t report that it was stress-free but I can with all honesty say we made the best of it. We appreciated and enjoyed our stops. We discovered some new places. There was no rush or need to keep up with traffic. We kept to the right lane and let the-world-in-a-hurry pass us by.

We had friends on the road a few hours behind us; a safety net. They tracked and celebrated our progress.

When we rolled into our driveway, 20 had dinner in the crock pot and wine ready to pour. We laughed and told stories of the day.

We are unbelievably fortunate in friendship and support. All problems disappear in the presence of good friends. The pivot point is not a place. It’s a relationship.

We had an adventure with no problems. I’m certain that, even if the Scion hadn’t made it, we still would have had an adventure with no problems – because we decided to be present with and handle any experience that came our way. We decided to rest in the support of our friends.

It’s a decision, one we ought to make every single day.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE ROAD

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