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Harnessing our nebulous now with remnants of previous experiences

For a day-dreamer like me to perceive myself in the actual present, regardful of many memorable mistakes and the vast subsidiary detours I took, rashly but self-assured in order to secure a future not holding much fear of anything not already lived through, is a work forever in progress, not exactly supported by my natural skepticism of trendy mindfulness techniques.

Harnessing our nebulous now with remnants of previous experiences and hopes for the fullness of time has emerged into a reflecting habit I’ve grown very fond of over time, because it helps me to relate to life in general and clearly satisfies a need, especially relating to the unprecedented beauty we have found at Les Pierres.

I’m not even going to give it value by adding any words, but recent affairs have made me wonder if it wasn’t Pandora’s box I opened by writing my musings here, a seemingly valuable present turned into a scruffy curse, like this reoccurring ghost from our past that never stops haunting, even though we literally moved away from its anguish. This has been a dark path to walk on, maddeningly leading us back- instead of forwards, redundantly nibbling away at my daily mood through its unfairness and irreversibility.

Escaping this astray by dutifully tackling more visible monsters, like the infinite task of mowing our lawns with our machines coming out of the winter faltering, thus establishing a rhythm I indeed can keep up, without constantly doubting its necessity that is, at first made me concentrate on the physical discomfort attached. Ivory’s suggestion to therefore hire someone to do this from now on and by saying it out loud opening up future possibilities, also re-opened my eyes, which lead to a firmness of resolute purpose in the now, answering “And miss out on all this glory?”

For years we have been telling each other how lucky we are to be engulfed in iridescent yellow fields when Spring finally fully arrives, referring to the ones in the distance, downhill, behind the barley that is normally framing Les Pierres.

We obviously had no idea of its submergence, until now. The extremely expressive, not so nebulous, very yellow now, that I cannot but perceive myself in.

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