My Thursday morning meditation group meets on the beach during the
summer. This past Thursday was hot, hazy and the waves were quiet. At
the water’s edge sat a spectacular sandcastle. Turrets, steps, a half open
door, stone walls, and an arched opening into the castle space itself. All
made out of sand.
I spent the first ten minutes of what was supposed to be meditation
contemplating how I would take a picture of it when my group ended. I
didn’t want to get my shadow in the picture so I would have to stand just so
in relationship to the sun. I wanted to capture the sides of it so I would have
to squat down instead of standing over it.
And then I realized that I had left my phone in the car. Which was parked
some distance away. No picture.
And suddenly I was present. I wasn’t planning for the future. I was sitting at
the beach, meditating. The shift was abrupt and welcome. I didn’t have to
worry about getting the perfect picture, I could just enjoy the sun and the
waves and the sandcastle in all their glory in the now.
This time would pass.
The sandcastle would erode and as a matter of fact, when I looked at it
closely, I could see the places where chucks had fallen off and the sides
where the sand was slowly wearing off.
But I had this day and this sandcastle now. In this moment. And I had
forgotten that in the planning I was doing for the future–like taking a
Blessings to you in the now amidst all the planning for the future.