I woke in a bubble of calm. It’s the weekend so I don’t have to face the daily commute to Belfast, I don’t have any office drama to deal with. I don’t have to worry about masks and social distancing and work colleagues spluttering and coughing. The world with all its incessant drama can wait for a few more hours. I don’t have to shave, I don’t have to look in the mirror. I am in no rush to do anything in this very moment, this very tranquil slice of now.
That will all change shortly of course. There are errands to run and relatives to visit later in the day. There are work meetings next week lurking on the horizon, waiting to grab my attention and drag me under. There is always something just around the next corner, waiting to pounce and burst the bubble. Such is life, such is responsibility and commitment. The wheel spins by and soon it is your time again to play the game.
I choose to live and I chose this life, so I have no grounds for complaint. There is no option to return to sender and ask for a full refund or substitute product. This is it, these are the cards you were dealt. The decisions you make cannot be undone by a flick of a magic wand. Life is frustratingly solid and real. There is no rewind button and even the pause option is but a temporary reprieve. The game awaits you upon your return.
The walls of the bubble are closing in on me as I type these words. Soon it will be time to throw back the covers and do that whole ‘carpe diem’ thing. Needs must. But in a minute, not just now. In this second, this instance there is no need for anything. For need relinquishes our control of the present, it pushes us forward into vistas new and often unwelcoming. Right now I don’t need anything, Right now I have everything I’ll ever need. Right now, there is no need for need.