Beltane Emergence Moon
Ah, an irony. Bringing myself into the now is as simple as clicking on Perseus, opening up Book I of the Metamorphoses and starting to translate. There is no room for the past or the future (except of course the reality of the past present in Ovid’s Latin, thus the irony) when I have to consider the muddy earth, heated by the sun in the high heavens, bringing forth countless forms, some from before the flood, but also some new monsters. This is ancient science which understand the moist earth as a creative force.
(Eugene Delacroix, Apollos slays the python, 1851, Musée du Louvre, Paris, France)
As long I stay with the act of translation, I’m in the moment. That tether, established by the hour or so spent with four verses, continues to anchor me even after I’m done.
Now, considering the move is not enough to draw me away from the present once my tether has been fixed. In the moment I can identify tasks related to the move that I can handle now. And do them with no propulsion into the future. Ah.
