I.12 — Then and Later

Two of the largest grips are on things that are not here.

One holds the past. It replays a scene, edits it, argues with it, keeps the old room furnished exactly as it was. Regret is one form of this. So is the fond return to a time when everything was, you are sure, better. Both are a hand closed on what cannot be touched.

The other holds the future. It rehearses tomorrow's meeting, tonight's bad news, next year's shape. Dread is one form. So is the plan gripped so hard that every day between now and then is only a corridor.

Neither thing is here. The only place a hand can actually hold anything is now, and now is the one time the gripping mind is least interested in.

Watch for an hour. Count, roughly, how often attention goes then or later, and how often it stays. Do not judge the count. It will be lopsided for everyone. Simply see that most of the day's clenching is done on air, on things that have no surface to be held, and that the hand tires just the same.