Living In The Now.

Ah, fill the Cup – what boots it to repeat

How Time is slipping underneath our Feet

Unborn tomorrow and dead Yesterday

Why fret about them if Today be sweet!

~ The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Snoopy’s pithy observation says enough about this topic and I simply leave it at that and close this post.

This is my take on this week’s Friday 8 On 1 blog post topic. The other seven bloggers who write on the same topic every Friday are Maria. Sanjana, PadmumRaju, Shackman , Srinivas and Conrad.  This week’s topic was suggested by Raju. Please do go over to their respective blogs to see what they have to say on the topic. Thank you.

18 thoughts on “Living In The Now.”

  1. I do my best to live in the now (as in the title of my blog), though I do tend to worry too much about what the future might bring. I leave the past behind me very easily, to me it’s all water under the bridge, ancient history. I’m always amazed at the number of people who dwell ceaselessly on the past and nurse numerous grievances about this person or that. Just keep calm and carry on, I say!

  2. Snoopy is so right.
    My mother was forever saying:-

    Yesterday was a gift
    Tomorrow is a mystery
    And today is a gift….that’s what it’s called the present.
    So live it and enjoy it!

  3. I disagree with Snoopy. For all I know I may keel over in a minute, axed by, say, an aneurism, and it’s still Saturday.

    Yes, “time does slip away” – frighteningly so. Luckily, the Angel has already computed this insight unlike his mother who took forever to do so. Truth be told, Ramana, I am shocked when I think how few more geese I will roast, come Christmas Day (25 Dec), in the future.

    As to “cups being filled”. Tell that to someone in the desert.

    “We can choose how to dance to it”. Yes, and no. If, like the Angel, you have taken on board the Stoics and their philosophy; and practice meditation (the real deal), then yes. If, like my father, it’s just a fancy born out of some sixties/seventies psycho babble, it’s just so much bull. Basically what he, my father, used to tell me, and still does, that nothing can touch him (because he determines what touches him) and that if I am touched by someone/thing it is my short coming. Shit legacy. The end result? He has broken off contact with me three times (because, irony alert, nothing touches him) in as little as eighteen months. Reason? I don’t stand to HIS attention, his demands. That’s it. My glass of patience has overflowed. Even if he were to whistle – I have gone deaf. So, yes, my dear Ramana, we can choose whether to dance, how and who to dance with.

    Dancing, with you, in our imaginary rain,

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