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Monday, April 29, 2013

Staying Present (flash fiction . . . well, mostly non fiction, really)

She shook her head at the sight.  Even the kid riding the bicycle is texting.  Fatal car accidents on the rise because fools think they can text and drive. She threw her stuff in the trunk and got behind the wheel.  Errands to run.
     Look at that.  People can’t even take a walk without rolling through a song list or reading an iphone.  Even Wendy plays games on her phone when she’s just walking across campus.  What is wrong with people? She’s in and out of the grocery store in less than a half hour, only two people chatting on a cell as they shop.  She’s called her mom before to double check a brand name but this lady was gossiping about somebody.  Pushing a cart!  In the cereal aisle!  Seriously? In the grocery store?  Slowing everyone else down!
     Short drive home she noticed several drivers on the phone.  It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the temptation—that’s why her cell was normally in the trunk.  But walkers?  Or waiting for someone, anyone, even a doctor, you people can’t just enjoy your own surroundings? Be where you are?  Pay attention and find peace in the moment?  She often had imaginary conversations with the world.  Be aware and be connected—why are you people so bent on escape...from everything? 
     Being aware of your surroundings is the first lesson of Buddhist meditation.  It is also at the core of Christianity to see someone in need and respond to it, see past the initial appearance with intuitive and reflective depth.  It takes practice.  In meditation, even as you are detaching from all cares, you are to remain aware and the master who carries the bamboo stick knows when you are present and when you have allowed your mind to become distracted.  A slap on the back of the head with a bamboo stick will bring you back into the present. 
     She was aware of her short comings.  Knew her flaws and imperfections.  But this?  She would never text, much less text and drive.  And when she walked she enjoyed looking at and seeing the nature around her.  She might read upon awaiting a doctor or appointment, but she always had that feeler out, aware of her surroundings and the others in the room. Though in a different story the focus might be on her restraint from grabbing a noisy digital game from some prepubescent and hurling it across the room.  Children need to learn to interact with other people—even adults, and especially at a meal.  But back to the story at hand....  The point is even if she were reading a book or thumbing through a magazine, she could still be polite with someone in her vicinity.  One thing she knew for sure, she was in the moment. Paying attention.  People have even commented on how street-smart she is.  She made it a concerted point to be present.
     Took in her groceries and then headed for the front door to go back to the street for the mail.  Probably two days since she got the mail.  Bills only came maybe three times a month and otherwise it was trash, so she didn’t always get the mail.  She froze at the sight.  The front door was unlocked.  Damn. Sometimes it happens.
     Next morning she put everything in the trunk, car keys in hand but no office keys.  She searched the house twice—once on the surface, the second time into the seams of the sofa, in the silverware drawer.  Where in this world...I had them yesterday to get into the room...played with them in my pocket on the way to the time clock.  Didn’t I? She searched the car twice in between searching the house.  Could have dropped under the front seat...under the passenger seat.  In the trunk—maybe came off her finger as she chucked everything back there?  Maybe I left them in the media center when Sandra and I were looking at that stuff on her computer.  Even considered perhaps they fell out of her pocket at the grocery store.
     Not in the media center.  She began to tremble a little bit at the thought.  No keys. Could be anywhere.  How could she lose them.  For real.  She decided she’d call the grocery store in an hour when it opened.
     She put down her things outside her door, having walked with a friend who was chatting about some things going on in her life.  As they stood talking, across the hall the admin. assist. came out dangling the keys from her fingers.  “Custodian found them in your door handle after you left and gave them to me.  I told him I’d get them to you this morning.”
     Some bamboo sticks are heavier than others.  They make a loud hollow noise when they hit the back of your head.

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