We long for the past and what once was.  We miss that past, its places and people.  And we long for the future.  Even later in life we look forward, maybe to new places and people—maybe just to visits from those we love.  We miss the past, and in a strange sort of way in our longing for the future, we miss what is to come as well.  The past is everything that was.  The future is everything that will be.  And the present rests on a knife's edge between them, so infinitesimal in time, so incredibly momentary that it almost doesn't exist.  Almost.  But, it is on this knife's edge between yesterday and tomorrow where we live, move, and have our becoming.  From the moment of our birth until we die, we are constantly becoming so that the true art in living is not to live for past or future or even the present.  It is, rather, being at rest in motion—growing out of the past without clinging, growing into the future without anxiety, and growing in the present without haste or regret.  At rest in motion.  Amen.