"Here is gone."

--Goo Goo Dolls

In my spiritual discipline I am taught to do what I am doing.

When typing I should just type. When eating I should just eat.

Just. Four letters that slice my "look at my bad ass recovery" tenacity.

I suck as a distance runner as far as genetics. I am built like a sprinter

and I do not posses good form. I get the job done because I can take

mental torture. Truth be known I crave the pain. It is me

against me and three hours of battle. It levels me.

But tell me to sit at the table and be only in the moment

as I am eating and I will throw a tantrum like a

baby. I don't wanna. I can't.

Chew. Ummm. Good steak. Pass the salt.

Five seconds later...

Who puts A1 on a steak? I mean if the steak is

good and rare to medium rare what idiot does that?

I bet so and so does. oops, I am being critical again.

I wonder if I come across as critical. Hmmm.

Need to check that code for the miletwenty site.

Better make an appointment for the eye doc speakin of sight.

Oh, yeah. Eat. Just eat.

12 hours later I am in bed wondering what the heck happened.

Once again, I forgot the moment. Better yet, I robbed all the

moments of the experience they could have been and forced

those moments to be something they weren't. No wonder

I get to repeat so many life lessons over again.

And I will keep repeating them until I learn that this moment

is all that exists. Not that one; this one.

The one where another addict is sharing in the meeting. Where

I can either engage in JUST what they are saying without

judgement or can go off in my own small world where I solve

all their problems with my extensive strength and hope (sarcasm).

The one where my son wants to play spiderman in the park and there is

this really attractive future Mrs. Ex-Jscott and I would hate to

embarrass myself in front of or perhaps I could show her what a great dad I am

or...oh what was that son? Son? Oh, hell I just lost my kid.

Yes, all of those. Those moments, some of them difficult, that I

once ran from or numbed out to. Or perhaps that I wanted to hold on

to so desperately that I forgot that once the moment is over it is

time for the next. Attachment to that moment kills this one too.

Yet, it is about the practice, yes? It is about the journey and

discovery. The unfolding of the now. Watching it. tasting it.

Feeling it. All of it.

So, maybe there is not being good or bad at it. Maybe my labels

are part of the problem. Maybe, just maybe, I could appreciate

that I actually care. That I remember tasting food. That

I get to see my son to play Spiderman with. That I am in a room

wanting to hear another addict share. There was a time

when there was no concept of 'now' only 'then' and 'coming up.'

The keyboard is echoing the typing. I hear it. Here is gone.