Living in the Moment
Are you living in the moment!
Well, sure, I must be. I’m still breathing. I just crammed a bunch of almonds in my mouth to crunch up – you know, like baseball players in a dugout cram those little pistachios in their mouths, or, whatever they are.
No, no, what I mean is, what is meant by the phrase, living in the moment?
My moments are solidly predictable. At this exact moment and for the rest of the moments during this day, I’m sitting in my comfy recliner writing a blog post and/or writing in my WIP…a new genre for me – a paranormal piece that I absolutely don’t know where it is leading me.
Now, if you’re after the philosophical living in the moment, I need to explain some not so healthy, not so philanthropic, some wacky and wild truths about myself. One truth is, I’ve already written a lot in blog posts and books about my living in the moments, and I am not taking a huge risk here of overamplifying just who the hell I really am. Nobody knows me anyhow.
Living in the moments of Childhood was psychologically conflictive in terms of inharmonious family situations where ugly behavior was pretty much the norm. My wonderful Mom tried very hard to make life good and wholesome, but she was a child of her times, as was an itinerant Dad, and the latter and former would argue, the latter placing thug emphasis on his side of any argument and beat my Mom. Now, I won’t dwell on those bruising one-sided bouts that left two siblings collectively traumatized ‘big time’, except to note that, well, they were children of their times.
Living in the moments of Adulthood was so much like those little wedges of vanilla fudge I would buy for a penny at the local grocery store – delicious, sweet moments…actually, I allowed my taste buds to rule my existence – that is, my moments. I joined the Navy and saw ‘the world’ of Adak in the Aleutian Islands – not living in the moments of frivolity and fun, just a barren wasteland where booze, jokes, and dreams of naked women helped us 150 dit-dah-dit boys in what was called ‘Radio City’ get through eighteen months of isolation, snow, and gray skies.
Ah, but back in the states, the country boy came alive to the neon glitter, California, and gorgeous ladies. Now, those of you who have read my blog posts know of my use of the words, lotus eaters…if you have read Homer’s Odyssey, Book IX when the Greek hero, Odysseus, was on his return from Troy, he encountered a tribe of people who ate of the lotus fruits and flowers because they were the only food source, and because of their narcotic value. Today, lotus eaters are the figurative euphemism for people who spend their time indulging in pleasurable pursuits in lieu of dealing with the practical concerns of their lives.
That was I for a long spell, drank, loved the ladies, and slept until mid-morning, neglecting my work. I did manage, after a time, to get a college degree in English, taught school for a while, started books that never got finished, did a little acting, some commercials, and continued living in those moments, until I met, married Julie Anne and started writing for real. I’m currently working on my 20th book, and I just throw them out there and see if they might sell. I surely don’t live in the moments marketing the books I’ve written and cannot tell if they are indeed marketable. Do I think they are? Darn tooting, I live in those moments. My books meet my standards, and, yes, that might seem foolish, but that’s who I am – I write them, I edit them, I publish them, and truly believe people would like them. Julie Anne likes them, and she’s, people.
Maybe the bigger question on readers’ minds at this point is, why did I write this post?
Well, dagnab it, I knew a minute ago when I was in those moments…
BR Chitwood – June 20, 2019
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