When I open myself up to the moment, muting the voice of preoccupation that attempts to narrate every impression, I am a witness to the narratives that are beyond my own circular creativity---a creativity that only constructs explanations about the past: I can compile a bibliography of elaborate speculations of my own shortcomings. I can give you all of the angles in a lengthy scene for each particular failure. I can sketch a description of how grotesque my appearance was on specific occasions. My own creativity never reaches beyond the outline of my perceived limitations.
When I open myself up to the moment, I encounter unexpected perspectives on subjects I believed to know well. Through another's eyes, I have seen the beauty of a country song or a pop song that has been played on the radio every ten minutes. I have seen the beauty of a belly button; of technology; of the beams in a house. I have seen the beauty in glass and the sound of one's own guitar and the sound of an engine. I have seen the beauty of someone else's mother and someone else's cat---the beauty of things that could only be reached through the consonance of another's professing.
When I open myself up to the moment, I understand what it means to be resilient. I have seen someone talk about the future in the face of uncertainty. I have seen people speak kindly about others who have hurt them badly. I have seen people bring laughter into rooms, knowing that solemnity awaits with a raised fist centimeters away from the door. I have seen women with bags underneath their eyes waiting for the bus on cold December mornings. And women at 2 am still writing when they have to work at 8 am.
When I open myself up to the moment, I see another's becoming---living life in the present moment, showing gratitude, exuding kindness, speaking positively, thinking critically, knowing what it means to feel no limitations.
And I do not feel envy, rather joy.
A feeling of hopefulness washes over me because there is comfort in knowing that people grow like flowers do: growing toward the sunlight; seeking nourishment from their roots; opening and opening, unafraid of becoming wilted, unafraid of losing petals, unafraid of being plucked.
There is hopefulness abounding in the fact that people, like flowers, bloom for others.
