Becoming Present

Step by step. Thought. Why is it that they never cease? Never ending. The future, the past... never the now. Count your breaths, watch your steps, listen to the surrounding sounds. Thought. Why must you keep interrupting my peace of mind? Judgment upon the thoughts, not consciously, only out of habit. Lawnmowers, cars. Which side of the street should I take? Does it matter? Be present. Come back to now. One, two, three, four, fuck, I’m no good at this. What defines good from bad anyway? If Buddha had any inclination of intelligence, I can be present and good isn’t an opposite of bad, more of a mesh. It is what it is. Or is it perhaps what its not? If I’m analyzing it so closely, there’s a slight chance that my feelings are correct. Being indifferent to the present is so much easier than fighting my departing thoughts. It’s a mere choice of minute-by-minute intellect. Sure, I punish myself. Which way should I go now? I assumed I didn’t know the way. Too bad there isn’t an invisible yet handy off switch to these chaotic distortions of myself. Connect. That’s what I need to do, just connect. What would walking on the other side of the road feel like? I’m too close. Closter phobia is kicking me in the ass, over and over and over. At last, my destination. Calmer? Check. More relaxed? Check. Just as she said I would be. Maybe my thoughts can comprehend the twisted intentions of my wise mind after all.