Letter by Letter: on the sacredness of the present moment

There exist moments in our lives when we wake up in the early hours of the morning with an utter feeling of dread. Fear and trembling seem positively welcoming “friends” compared to dread. This can arise from many reasons, and reasons are different for each and every one of us. For me, the dread arose from the incredible need to “get things done” as quickly as possible. These “things” to be done had no specificity and yet they could also comprise a laundry list of endless tasks.

That seemingly nasty word “task” kept floating about in my mind, already capturing me and placing me in prison made entirely by my own choices. I want to be done with the task before it even began, which is one of the reasons why dread becomes my regular visitor.

This morning, just for the heck of it, I decided to do something else. I consciously said to myself: “Where are you rushing to?” “Nowhere,” I replied. “Good; glad we got that established,” said my more reasonable self. I was brewing coffee (a smell and taste most welcome and appreciated in the early hours of the morning) very slowly. What use is it to me if I rush through the task? Is there a big reward waiting for me at the end, if I move as fast as I can, never allowing myself to enter the sacredness of the present moment? No, there is nothing to be found, except an illusion of human success, whose randomness wishes to assert its power over my existence, over my own everydayness. It is the anti-Yes existence, and it certainly denies the meaning of our everyday tasks.

I should say that even this realization does not certify me “saved.” Put a stamp on it! No, I don’t think so. It merely gives me more responsibility and awareness. But I am not suddenly immune to the hollow existence of “No.”

I think of all those monks copying manuscripts, every day, slowly, carefully. Quite literally, letter by letter. And guess what? They finished it! And it was beautiful. I think it was Mother Teresa who said “do small things with great love.” Why in the world am I so afraid to do so? It’s quite simple really: letter by letter.