Sometimes it’s little things that capture the eye and draw you in. A detail, a tiny change in color or shape that stands out from the surrounding. A moment that causes you to stop the world, and see. 


I’ve been reading C. S. Lewis’ “The Screwtape Letters” this past week. One chapter at a time. Last time I read it I was in the second year of high school. Oh my, how this book has changed over the decades! … Or at least that bass-ackwards perception is what made me laugh this morning as I read the latest chapter. Screwtape’s clinical dissection of how to tempt Man with the notion of ‘the right to ownership’, of disguising the many flavors of ‘my’ and reducing them to one, and the seduction involved in making Man sensitive to ‘my time’ as if we had a right to Time … wow. 

At age 14 it could not have made any sense. At age 14 all of Time is in front of you, you cannot know mortality. It is that moment when we perceive the finiteness of Time that we begin to know our true selves. It is that moment which becomes the Now, the Present, the eternal instant of our lives. ‘My time’ indeed: we have no hold on Time, it slips inexorably through our fingers and into the Past, it bids us into the future, but all we really have is a quiet and lingering Present, a moment standing still in consciousness. 

Click. And it’s all there in the details. Now. This moment. This present. All moments. All we have. We cannot rush, we cannot dally. 

We are, and we are not.