Sunday

Today marks another Sunday. I have a love/hate relationship with Sunday. This morning, Jon and I slept in and then sauntered over to our neighbors' house to have morning coffee on their deck and share their newspaper. Sunday morning is a time for slow waking, brunch, and a time when you have finally settled into your weekend. Pleasant. But by Sunday afternoon, you feel the uncomfortable pressure of a day of relaxation teetering on the edge of the knowledge that tomorrow you must return to the weekday rigor of work.

We had our semi-annual neighborhood association meeting this afternoon. We deepened our connection with the people we already knew and met quite a few new folks, including a couple from New Orleans that bought and are renovating a house in the neighborhood. Their story of losing a business, their home, and all of their belongings to Hurricane Katrina, as well as a friend's recent diagnosis with breast cancer have provided a reeling perspective on attachment and loss. Each time I try to think about or try to plan for my own future, I am yanked back into the present moment, because I am reminded that not everyone has the luxury to think about what lies ahead. And then I remember that to live in the present moment is a most sought after and self-realized state of being. I can't imagine that I would willingly endure loss and sickness in exchange for self-realization, but I think that the least I can do is to be aware of the fact that as of right now, I have a choice to live in the moment. And as such, I have a cosmic responsibility to be here, be now.