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The Art of Being Awake

We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our handand melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late (Marie Beynon Ray).

Recently my son, Alex, sauntered upstairs and suddenly, without warning, he was six feet tall with an auburn mustache. Panic shot through my body like a kind of adrenaline after a scarefor just yesterday, it seemed, I was changing his diapers, burping him, kissing his beautiful bald forehead, and reading him The Velveteen Rabbit. I still smell the fragrance of baby powder on his skin; the sweetness of his milky breath on my face.

There appeared to be a beginning and an ending, but somehow, I had missed the middle. Was I sleeping during this transformation? A Buddha was once asked, "Are you God?" "No," he replied" Are you an angel then?" they asked. "No." He replied again. "What are you then?" They asked. "I am awake," he replied. Obviously, I was not, and when one neglects the middle, they neglect the extraordinary heart of living.
Most people spend their hours worrying about the past and contemplating the future. We try to grasp onto what is slipping away; we try to embrace what is already gone, without success. Why are we so obsessed with yesterday and tomorrow? In the midst of our obsession, we miss out on the present moment, the inhaling and exhaling of irreversible moments.
While chatting with my girlfriend the other day, we had discussed how we could make time last longer. "I just can't figure it out," my friend said, unsmiling. "I've even tried getting up early and going to bed late, but this hasn't added any more minutes to my day, only exhaustion and black rings under my eyes. It's as if I'm holding one of those hour glass timers, and the sand is spilling out over all over the place!"
Sometimes I feel as if I am scooping up the spilled sand as urgently as I can, as fast as I can, holding onto as much as I can carry, but the moments have already evaporated. The only thing we can do is love the moments when they hit us directly in the face; gulp them down like long cool drinks.
My son, Alex, was in Pampers just yesterday, and today he could have braided the auburn mustache on his sixteen year old face. Was I too busy rushing through life, grasping onto things that didn't matter? Admittedly, I was excessively consumed with the past and the future to savor the momentsall of those beautiful, impermanent, irretrievable moments.
Living in the present moment takes practice. One cannot just

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