I don’t have anything

I don’t have anything.

I don’t have anything.

I don’t have anything.

This house. The dog. Wife, children. Business. Career. Money in the bank. Skills.

None of that is mine.

All there is is Am. All there is is Is.

The present moment with all it contains. That’s all there is.

The sound of the air conditioner running at the next-door neighbor’s house. The sprinklers running in the front yard. The voices of the people walking by on the sidewalk out front. There and gone. The feel of cool outside air coming into the house through open windows and doors. The sound of the plane flying overhead. Parrots and crows squawking.

Immediately gone. A memory stored and quickly dismissed.

Today is a good day to be. To feel the Is.

Don’t even think about the Is. Thinking about the Is is pointless—I’m thinking about the Was as soon as I try to think about the Is.

Bob was onto something. “Don’t use your brain to think.”

I am living in the Is—whether I want to or not. I can be living in the yesterdays or tomorrows in my head, but in truth I’m in the Is now, whether I know it or not. What Is is at odds with the Should have tomorrow and If Only of the past.

That’s the source of discomfort. Get back to Is.

The stock market took a dump and the funny little numbers on my phone are lower than the funny little numbers on my phone were a week ago.

So?

Politics. It’s an election year. Noise from all sources. We are all doomed if X happens. Or X doesn’t happen.

So?

What Is?

Life is real only in the Is.

Let’s go to the gym. It’s a good day to be alive.