There Is Only Today
I have had many times when things were not fine. Like seriously not fine. We all have. They can slowly build until there is a real problem, or they can come upon us like a sudden tsunami. When you have lived 71 years and have been through many moments when things were not fine, I can really appreciate Burr's perspective, because the sense of impermanence is now, for me, like a billboard that used to be so far off in the distance that I could not read it, but now I can see the letters as clear as a bell.
Being able to read the billboard sign with ease fills my days with an urgency - not the kind of urgency of my younger years - the urgency of pounding and getting 500 things done in a day. It is an urgency to enjoy my day, my relationships, my dogs, the sun, the whole shebang, with a light and grateful touch, while I get things done.
The difference is this: when the sense of impermanence seemed so far off, and the word was not clear, I held everything tight, and with intensity. Now, I hold things tight, and I hold them light, at the same time.
I take what I do seriously, but I don't take it seriously.
Fo you never know what tomorrow may bring, since it does not exist, and neither does yesterday.
There is only today.
The author Heny Miller summed it up beautifully:
If you have your health, if you still enjoy a good walk, a good meal (with all the trimmings), if you can sleep without first taking a pill, if birds and flowers, mountains and sea still inspire you, you are a most fortunate individual and you should get down on your knees morning and night and thank the good Lord for his savin’ and keepin’ power… If you can fall in love again and again, if you can forgive your parents for the crime of bringing you into the world, if you are content to get nowhere, just take each day as it comes, if you can forgive as well as forget, if you can keep from growing sour, surly, bitter and cynical, man you’ve got it half licked.
