Tuesday, 16 June 2009

moment

the moment was all. any moment. and moments were delicious and full like apples. or they were not. things were happening, big things, in the moment. alot of folks passed them up or wrote them off as little things when actually they were big things. well, not just big things. only things. because there was nothing else. or those matters categorized in the minds of the masses as big things were not in existence in the moment that was passed up or written off. they were neither big nor small, nor medium. they were not.

so what she began to do or try to do, the intention she set for herself, was to see the moment, to capture the moment and experience it as large. meaning important. or critical. or essential. her life became suddenly more interesting. there were interactions she would typically have neglected or avoided in lieu of what she believed she was doing. she began to see these interactions as critical to her life. not just obstacles to get by on the way to something her mind told her she should be focused on. the mind was creative yet dangerous and notorious for eradicating moments, her many years of experience with her mind informed her.

so there was a train station that connected her to oakland. In the dark ages before she set her intention, she would walk directly to this train station and head home without hesitation after work. no matter what she encountered on the way. her mind had developed her inflexible stance that obliterated the possibility that lay within this ten minute stretch. now that she was able to meet and greet her mind, she became aware of the potential small tragedy. she located a new flexibility within herself to slow her pace and enjoy her walk to the station, heightening the potential of the situation. let it also be known on this day she became a carrier of light.

the empowerment was there for the taking. in each moment. a choice was made by each and every one. and still is. moment by moment. she decided for instance one sunny afternoon after work, that she would skip her normal route to the train station. the weather was just cheerful. she wanted to remain in the sunlight for some time longer. work was over, so the day was hers. she decided to walk to the next train station down so many urban san francisco blocks. she remembered with some melancholy the beautiful days in the past walking home, when choice did not fully exist (due to her own personal compromised awareness). she had been sad on those days because she had not wanted to walk into the dark subway station. she wanted to stay out on the streets and appreciate the light. but she was bound by her invisible mental creed to head home.

many colorful moments occurred for her on her walk down market street to the powell street station. she encountered the shoe store where she recently purchased a retro pair of blue converse walking shoes. she decided to return to the store and purchase a black and red pair of the same shoes, because she had grown to love them in the one week she had been walking them to and from work. while in the store, she had interactions with the employees and discovered that this was a family run business from way back, like 1960s, and there had been a fire and the store had recovered and stayed in business. the strength of family (sometimes) was evidenced to her in the story. and also in her witnessing the interactions of the employees, which was clearly on a knowing level far beyond your average walmart hires. she wished her family was so together, but she did not let her wishing ruin her many colorful moments as they went on.

she saw a protest march on market street with representatives from her very field in the ranks. there were signs in support of institutions that were slotted to close due to budget cuts. most of these institutions were well established in the tenderloin community, yet were to be victims of the economic downturn. a well of feeling rose up in her to see her comrades out on the street, and she waved to many of them and smiled and cheered. then came some anger towards the culture and system whereby the communities with the greatest problems and poverty often seem to see more services cut than those in higher socioeconomic strata. she chose not to join the march, however, for she knew not the destination and the march was heading the same direction from which she came.

she found a circle formed by Powell Street for street performers, young skinny boys who looked like art students. Hip-hop was playing and a crowd was gathering. The body movements to the music were seamless for the most part, like the best of them were gliding across pavement. Some of the kids rolled their bodies around, pulled and pushed their arms and legs into placement at strange angles. The crowd was mostly unenthusiastic if one looked at faces and listened to the absence of applause or cheering. She herself did not feel particularly connected to the art form but found it curious, fascinating. She also felt gratitude to the performers and found them to be wonderfully energetic and courageous, most of them.

The fluidity of the movement was not unlike the fluidity of the moment she left her normal path and intentionally derailed for the greater adventure. both were in some ways so ordinary you could have missed them in the camouflage of daily life. Yet at the same time, something truly light-bearing and momentous took place.