Possibility

I’m addicted to the moment immediately preceding a kiss, that place where time stands still, lips poised for the blessed contact. I’m a sucker for the first kiss in movies, on TV, because it signals a shift in dynamic, a moment of pure truth and honesty of feeling. There is no moment more magical, erotic. Like the tremble of water’s glasslike surface as it edges up to kiss a fingertip, giving in to the natural forces that exist within or around it, there is where potential lives. The same is true with a touch, if one slows down long enough to notice. Possibility exists in the electric moment when bodies are that dangerously close to touching. Possibility exists there and, if one can slow down long enough and hone one’s senses, enlightenment lives there too.

My children have been electrified by their anticipation of Christmas. They are full of an energy they are not quite sure how to express, which lends a deliciously and, at times, frustratingly frenetic quality to our already chaotic home. They are excited by the possibilities for magic and fulfillment, albeit in relation to material gain, but there is something more to their excitement. At eight and ten, my children still believe in Santa Claus, although begrudgingly so at times. It’s hard to know whether their belief is anchored in naivete, or whether Santa still exists because they need him to be real. The magic inherent in that belief is in part what fuels their excitement. Anticipation, bolstered by the knowledge that anything can happen, anything is possible.

One problem with life as many of us live it is that we have ceased to believe in magic, in possibility. The problem with kissing or touching a long-time partner is that we become de-sensitized to those electric moments. Kissing, touching, become routine, a means to an end. We know how the story will turn out, after all, the same way it always has. There is a need to know the outcome, to plan for it, expect it. Plan has replaced the deliciousness of spontaneity. At its best it's a comfort, at its worst, self-fulfilling prophecy. Either way, the magic is gone.

Sad but true, both kissing and Christmas have at times become items on a TO DO list, a series of activities necessary to move life on into the next action item, activity, hour, day. Santa has ceased to exist, except as an alter-ego of overburdened parents everywhere. At times I have become jaded, or simply unobservant, inattentive to the magic moments that precede most any action, moments in which anything is possible. I am aware that I must cultivate mindfulness in order become awake to possibility. In this, my fortieth year, I am making tremendous progress. I’m coming to the party late in this regard, but am thankful, nonetheless, to be here. My anticipation for 2008 is finally palpable. The new year holds tremendous promise, even in amidst the shortcomings of our world, and the suffering within it. We are capable of anything, most importantly compassion. But we must remain mindful, fervently so. Magic is everywh ere. It is all around us, in the pause before a kiss or a touch, and in the eyes of my children, and yours. Awake, my friends. Enjoy….