I’m floating a lot these days. Sipping my way through caramel delights, wafting along the rich aromas of grounded darkness. I can feel the air in my lungs, it’s soothing moving deeply through me, connected in blood my life. I’m in a new a coffee shop sitting across from love, has today begun yet? Morning should always be like this, drifting from clouds of happiness appreciating the time I have to myself as well as the moments of those around me. I can still feel the water from this morning, smooth and crisp, moving through it, flying and watching, always watching. I can feel the slickness left in my hair reminding me of how I like to start my day. Like I said I’m floating these days, groggy in the mornings, feelings of contentment as my head dunks under that first wave, followed by that ache you feel after putting your all into something that makes you happy. And now I sit sipping my crème brûlée reminding myself of how to live in a way I can put on repeat, like the songs you wake up to in the morning stuck in your head reminding you of days gone, but not forgotten. Fleeting moments as you stop dead, feeling that click you get in the moment, “Oh yeah I remember that.”
Weeks should always be like this, a break in between to reflect and rewind, preparing for the days to follow. I remind myself how hard it can be to remember the moment. I’m here now though wondering how light my body can feel sipping the darkness, but I guess that’s how it always is light and floaty, placing the moment into a type of writing. But I want to understand how you can merge the ideas of the past with the thoughts of the present and communicate the ideas for the future. I guess sometimes I forget how hard it can be to remember thoughts being processed and expunged onto the page during it’s creation, but I love the idea of the now, the consistent inference of wondering what’s next? Can you feel it? The now, followed by this and that, understanding the engagement of the present. You wonder Dear, reader what stream of consciousness is? It’s here with me now, it’s running alongside you as you read this asking you to focus on why the actions you feel now aren’t as important as they should be. But you wander away, I can see the ebb, moving away from this moment processing your thoughts, distracted perhaps on the future. But can I tell you a secret? Distractions are part of the now, we are everywhere at once flitting from moment to moment captivated by everything around us.
Clink, my last sip. I’m burning now. An erratic pulse of the darkness mismatching my breathing as it looks for a way to release itself, energy being driven by need, excitement and fluttering motion, I’m shaking, riding the high and living in this dream of the now. But it’s fading blurring into the thoughts of tomorrow, of the obligations of my life, of the people who depend on me, of learning and conversations and I waver, moving into the future. I can still feel the past of the morning, reminded of this moment two minutes from now wondering how quickly time flies, driven into a stream of consciousness I can float in, having that last bit of caffeine satisfaction end.
Alas, we all need to be reminded of the chase, of the ability to reflect in the now, hounded by the past and cognizant of the future. But I’ll be back, drifting along the rivers of caramel consciousness, of thoughts I have, fading into the darkness, one sip at a time.
In this place, a place I keep coming back to.