Cause for Pause
Bobby Darin sings, the chocolate melts, and the cat reprograms your homepage. This post lingers in the soft collisions of music and mindfulness — where sensory awareness meets poetic purpose, and every interruption becomes an invitation to feel. It’s a serenade to the present moment, paws and all.
I was just skipping about, listening to Bobby Darin sing Mack The Knife, and being in the moment, and thinking suddenly about how this is a moment, and its best to seize and savour it, for it would soon be gone. And about how many moments are often gone too soon to lost opportunity.
Last night I watched Beyond the Sea, the movie about Bobby Darin, where Kevin Spacey excels as Bobby Darin. His vocal renditions as well are superb. And I’m a big Bobby Darin fan. This all adding to the moment.
And how it’s important to use moments wisely and to not always procrastinate and put things off. And about how there is only so long you can put things off for anyway. And after that. you’re screwed.
And how now maybe, if you are here, reading this, you are in this moment, this being right now and all. That this moment might give you cause for pause. So you might want to stop, and pick it up on all your sensors. You know, notice stuff, see-hear-feel-smell-taste of it. Get into it and get it into you. Mantra. mantra. mantra.
I’ve got Bobby Darin and Eighteen Yellow Roses here, three cats not so subtly ushering me kitchen-ward. A quarter-finished chocolate web form on screen, an urge to sing, mess akimbo, head a jitter, heart, a tack.
And so now in this moment. What is it you are putting off. What needs saying? What needs doing? Who needs helping? Who needs calling? What are your priorities in this moment. What matters?
And since we have made an occasion of it, if something rings a bell in it, maybe consider acting on it. Yeah, should a nerve be hit, or a chord struck, then best of luck, yuk yuk, yuk yuk.
Gonna sing some Bobby Darin. And as for you damn co-conspiring cats!…
Harry is a recovering satirist, part-time philosopher, and full-time tinkerer of tags. He once wrote a poem about recursion that never ended, and a JavaScript confession that crashed three browsers. His archive spans two decades of metaphysical mischief, theological punchlines, and nostalgic detours. He believes in the transformative power of satire, the elegance of well-placed meta tags, and the occasional necessity of poetic nonsense.
This one’s a vibrant blend of mindfulness, musical joy, and existential nudge — part Darin-fueled reverie, part call to action, part feline chaos. It’s warm, witty, and gently urgent.