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If we were having coffee: Sunny day

A winter's day on Assateague Island.
A winter’s day on Assateague Island.

All our time disappears on us.  This is an incredible fact.  You are so knitted into a day.  You are within it; the day is as close as your skin.  It is around your eyes; it is inside your mind.  The day moves you, often it can weigh you down; or again it can raise you up.  Yet the amazing fact is, this day vanishes.  When you look behind you, you do not see your past standing there in a series of day shapes.  You cannot wander back through the gallery of your past.  Your days have disappeared silently and forever.  Your future time has not arrived yet.  The only ground of time is the present moment.

In our culture, we place a great and worthy emphasis on the importance and sacredness of experience.  In other words, what you think, believe, or feel remains a fantasy if it does not actually become part of the fabric of your experience.  Experience is the touchstone of verification, credibility, and deep intimacy.  Yet the future of every experience is its disappearance.  This raises a fascinating question:  Is there a place where our vanished days secretly gather?

~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

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