Emersonian

So yesterday, the first day of Spring, I was sitting at Starbucks enjoying a cigar and a latte. And coming out of a rough period. I had just had the double whammy: realizing that my financial straits were too dire to afford a trip down to Florida; and having that man from LA with whom I'm totally smitten inform me, without a trace of 'gosh sorry' in his voice, that although he knew I'd be attending Session A of Inferno, he was opting for Session B. (I give, and I give, and I give...)

But the night before, I had taken Faithful Companion for his last walk of the day, and the night air was thick with fireflies. Millions of them. Everywhere. It was just breathtaking.

And then there I was, soaking up the sunlight, enjoying a very good cigar, and watching the seemingly endless parade of Really Hot Boys that seem to be swarming around Starbucks in Doylestown this year...

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, I just had this sense of myself as... nothing. As a chance agglomeration of energy, just like the trees. Just like the chair I was sitting on. Just like the air moving in and out of my lungs. And so ephemeral. Since the Big Bang until the end of time, I'm not even a blink of an eye. I am nothing. Nothing at all.

Kooky, I know.

But it was just so amazing.

I've never been good at meditation. Never able to quiet my mind. Stop the endless thoughts. The best I can do is to count.

But yesterday, without even trying, there I was in Zen bliss.

So nothing is wrong. Nothing is bad. Because nothing is.

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