A LUCILIUS PARABLE: THE MOMENT'S MOOD

November 3rd, 2019

Lucilius was slumped over a computer, staring into the bright screen.  A giant list scrolled on and on as his fingertips brushed the track pad again and again.  He was looking for something to watch, a movie, or a show, but none of the titles he read registered with what he was feeling.

He didn’t want any of those actions movies, none of that drama.  He was a little tired, but calm.  He felt easy and relaxed, if still yearning for something to watch.  He scrolled some more.

There had to be something he could watch.  Something steady, something almost quiet.  Whatever it was, it was probably a movie where not much happened.    It was just a mood really that he was hunting for.  Something meditative, contemplative, passive almost.

But each and every title his eyes scanned held some unwanted spark, something loud, and disjointed almost.  None of these movies were . . . smooth, he thought.  Perhaps he was looking for something that’s only in music, he wondered.  It was about time, he realized.  Something to mark the minutes, but not with the staccato of a second hand, nor the frenzied beats of a song. 

He scrolled further, and then finally sighed and sat back from the computer, his eyes drifted off to a corner of the room.  There was nothing there but the sight held him, like a trance.  He felt himself breathe, the mood of the moment washing over him.

A corner of his mouth pulled away slightly.  He slowly closed his laptop, and sat staring at nothing, feeling himself persist through time.  The mood he’d been looking to match was still there, but now without the list of movies, it seemed to expand, until he could see it in the blank walls of the room, the closed computer, and his hands hanging in his lap.  Dimly, he could hear his slow breath and tried to catch the moment when the world seeping in started to rush out, but the switch was too sly, as each moment seemed to unfold seamlessly into the next.