Far away

but never far away.

I live in a place still new to me. The handful of people I know are people I either work with or have met through the work I get to do. On that impulse that I’ve known all my life, even when a stranger in a foreign country, of calling with, “Want to me for breakfast?” I have no one to call who is not on their way or preparing to be on their way for our shared work.

My circle of beloveds are far away. But never far away. In a world of my childhood, decades ago, where immediate connection meant waiting for the party line to clear, or walking next door to the neighbor’s house…communication now is immediate. Or practically immediate. In fact, it’s SO immediate that I’ve actually been chastised by “I sent you a text AN HOUR ago and I haven’t heard from you?” When I wrote my last book, I sent into my digital settings and silenced virtually all of my notifications. Life has plenty of distractions, to be sure, and whirs and vibrations and bells and chimes are no longer part of mine. To learn if I have a text, I have to look. And I only look a couple of times a day because I am trying to elevate my focus practice. I’m a human crow, drawn to and easily distracted by shiny things.

So those I know and have known and treasure as friends are too far for a spontaneous breakfast. They are never too far, if they are somewhere on the planet, for a text or encrypted message that says some form of “You are on my mind.”

This morning I enjoyed Sean Deitrich’s (Sean of The South) daily dispatch from his experience on the Camino walk. He spoke of a man who intended to walk for three days and go home. That man changed his flight and will likely not go home until after he’s finished the Camino. Why? Sean narrates that he is loving the NOW of the Camino. There’s the step and the next step. You don’t know where you’ll get your next food, if there’ll be electricity in the next village and, for that matter, you don’t always know where or what the next village is. The young man explains it’s the closest thing to “living in the present moment” that he’s ever had in his life…and he doesn’t want to leave it before he has learned what he can.

What does that have to do with not having anyone to call up for a breakfast meet up?

There’s only now.

There’s only now.

If I want breakfast out, I should go.

If I want a new friend, I can open my heart and meet one.

If I want my beloveds to know I treasure them, I have the opportunity to take the moment in the uber connected world and let them know.

Now.

There’s only now.

Now.

Love, em radmacher