A number of years back I did a day's training on supporting people with dementia from a spiritual/chaplaincy perspective, and this was the title of one session.  The idea was that connections can be made, if only temporarily and fleetingly, that bring joy/delight/hope to the person whose life is blighted by the disease.  However, I think as a phrase it also expresses something of the 'present-mindedness' we considered on Sunday.

The phrase 'present moment' as used in Leicestershire equates to the 'just now' of Glasgow or the 'at the minute' of Northamptonshire... it is a slightly woolly/slippery term, but everyone seems to know what it means, that it is more than merely this precise point in human chronology.

The joy of the present moment, then is something about indefatigable positivity in the here-and-now, the meantime now-and-not-yet, in which our lives are so often spent.  The joy of the present moment means not being bound by our past (whether happy nostalgia or bitter regrets) at one extreme nor our future (hopeful ambitions or evasive procrastination) at the other.  Both past and future have a place in our thinking, and each will shape our living, but present-mindedness means most of our energy centres on 'now.'

And so present-mindedness, if joyful, has a 'attitude of gratitude' as I found myself saying on Sunday, that counts its blessings and looks for silver linings without sliding into unhelpful Pollyanna fake-gladness.  Present-mindedness helps put meaning back into waiting time.  Rather than empty time until the thing we are waiting for happens, it is, in and of itself, valuable... whether as time to reflect, time to pray, time to relax or whatever it is.

I'll try to remember that next time I'm stuck in a traffic queue on the motorway, or a medical appointment is delayed by two hours, or the queue in the post office  seems to have ground to a halt...

Today, being my day off and the sun shining, I jumped on a train to Edinburgh.  Once there, and realising how much has been dug up for the ill-fated tram system, I eventually wound up at the castle where my English Heritage card got me in 'free' as part of the reciprocal hoojamaflip.  And so to nostalgia... I think it is forty years since I was inside the castle walls.  A rare trip to visit my grandparents in Glasgow which, so far as I recal,l also included days trips to Blantyre and Dunoon... best revisit them again too!

I can't recall all that much about the last trip to Edinburgh castle, apart from the one o'clock gun.  A memory that is aided I am sure but a now faded black and white polaroid photo taken by my Dad.  I remember seeing soldiers in tartan trews, and am fairly sure that the man who fired the gun wore camouflage combats; failing that it would have been khaki.  I remember the soldiers with very short hair, shiny boots and almost equally shiny faces.  You could get right up to the gun and it was exciting for a child to witness.

Today the gun is in a chained area to keep the public a safe distance away - though one small boy of overseas appearance ducked under two sets of chains to take a photograph causing consternation for the staff.  No mishaps, fortunately, it was still a few minutes to one.  And the soldier came out, loaded and fired the gun, cleaned the breach and posed for photos with the tourists who wasted no time in grasping the arm of one of HM's armed forces.  The soldier, in dress uniform with white gloves and shiny shoes was a woman, about my age, with a rather dishevelled pony tail... I smiled to myself.  A lot has changed in the last forty years.

I wonder if in forty years time a man will scan old photos for his childhood holiday in Scotland and remember ducking under chains to reach the one o'clock gun?  I wonder if he returns in forty years, will the gun still be fired?

A good day, a day of gentle pleasures and happy memories.