pen

No, I’m not talking about a tiny rodent or a clandestine parakeet. It’s my Mont Blanc Meisterstuck pen. I made friends with this pen 22 years ago.  I bought it purely for status at the time and until I found an Internet resource for gel ink refills a few months ago, I’d relegated my friend to a display case.

But recently, over the past year I’d say, I’d begun using it as my sole writing instrument once again. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I’m a writer by trade and by design.  I’ve always had a fondness for quality writing instruments and use them daily for taking notes in meetings, crossing off items on my shopping list and writing in a journal.

Now for the bad news. I lost it earlier this week. And now that these pens retail for over $500, it wasn’t likely that I was going to replace it. Yes, these are expensive pens.  I believe I recall paying just around $100 for it nearly 20 years ago, but $500 is the going price for this model today.

Why so pricey? Quality: It’s made in Germany and has a black resin body (that’s never dulled) with 23.5k gold plated details.

The good news? I found it last night and the whole ordeal taught me a valuable lesson. I’d looked everywhere for it.  I was almost ready to give up when it occurred to me that it could still be in the shirt pocket of the dress shirt I was wearing on my trip to Salt Lake City last Monday.  I’d turned my office, car, and house upside down looking for it.

I immediately went to the closet and rifled through the hanging shirts. And there it was - waiting for me silently in the pocket of my shirt. My friend and I were reunited. I let out a yelp of delight to no one and felt like I’d been reunited with a lost love (of sorts). :-?

So, what’s the lesson I learned? Attachment is linked to suffering and suffering takes us out of the present moment.  Think about it: Over the past few days while looking for my pen, searching for it everywhere, my thoughts were totally in the past returning to memories of buying it, using it and losing it.  I’d even begun to postulate who might have stolen it - the cleaning crew at work, my seat-mate on the airplane, etc.

All of these took me away from the NOW, the present moment where life takes place. The past doesn’t exist and neither does the future. Only the present moment is here, right?  So what’s all this got to do with my pen?

My pen has become a silent, inanimate reminder of how precious the present moment is. It reminds me that peace and stillness in the present moment make up what we call life.  Life is nothing more than this moment.  And this present moment is complete and perfect and whole.

I’d urge you to take this present moment and simply enjoy it. Pause your life and recognize that it is your life. And appreciate the magic of the moment.

Now, stay here.

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