How often do we realise we are in The Now? In The Present Time. I suppose I register it a few times a day, maybe not always.
We humans are always busy thinking about what should be done, what might happen, what should have happened, what we didn't have time to accomplish; looking forward to something - holidays, Christmas (arg) life-marking events, weddings, a new car, a new dog . . . and so on, forever. But what of all the days that merge into a continual blur of time?
Within our own blur of days there are certain routines - very occasionally broken due to visits elsewhere or work, etc; routines that mark the days progression and bring me back to the Here and Now. Breakfast is probably the most resonant time: twenty minutes or so when at least two of us are at home, dogs waiting for crusts, smell of coffee, fried egg on toast . . . we probably talk about similar things to the day before - state of the world, which art college our son will be off to in September, the behaviour of the chickens already chorusing for scraps outside.
A calm and comforting time that I always wish to extend as much is possible - bit more hot milk, half a slice of toast . . .
It's the point when I wash up the old orange coffee pot ready for the following morning that I realise I'm in The Moment, and where I hopefully will be the following morning, rinsing the same pot and starting the day.
Prized 70s coffee pot given to us by friends who knew we would love it