This week I’m experimenting with the story in inherent in a single moment. A moment doesn’t necessarily need plot, or even character. The beauty lies in capturing the essence of a specific *now.* In the case of this week’s post, I’m also experimenting with the Japanese concept of mono no aware which, among other things, embraces beauty as an awareness of the transience of all things. “Afternoon Rain” is one of many moments I have shared with my cat, Vysarion, made all the more precious because these moments are fleeting.
To read more about mono no aware: http://sensitivitytothings.com/2008/07/25/mono-no-aware-beauty-in-japan/
The living room is dark and cool. Through the half-open blinds I can see the rain, falling in a muted torrent outside. A wall of water shutting out the harsh, restive world. Cradled in that protective rush, I stretch, my feet sliding out from beneath the quilt. After a few moments, I pull my feet back under and lie still, bracketed by the warmth of the quilt and the solidity of the couch.
There is a soft thump, and soon I feel the pressure against my belly as Vysarion settles next to me. His purr is too soft to hear, but when I move my hand to scratch his chin I can feel it. He stretches in response to my touch, becoming a comforting presence from neck to hip.
We lie there, human and feline, drowsing as the rain pours down outside. Eventually, the downpour will end, and the heat will return. Eventually, some call of nature will beckon, and one of us will move, breaking the moment. But until then, I bask in the fragile now.
This now is perfect.