This is what I’m doing right now. This is what I’m doing right now.
Those seven words are my new mantra. My only mantra.
For a long time and still to this day, I’ve struggled with staying in the present moment. In fact, earlier this year I e-mailed one of my best friends, a yogini, about my frustrations with the present. I wrote:
For yogis, living in the present moment is inherent. But for our Western culture, we are essentially raised with the thought that if we live in the present moment we’ll be left behind because the present becomes the past so quickly. Living in the future is how you get ahead in our world. So I have a question about this:
What is the purpose of living in the present moment?
What’s so great about it anyway?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that we have all of the answers to our own questions. We’ll hear them loud and clear only when we are ready. I guess I’m ready.
I’d barely considered the present moment since shuttling off that email almost six months ago. But lately, the present moment question has made itself apparent and is at the forefront of my mind. And it happens that I am finally hearing the answers.
Question: What is the purpose of living in the present moment?
Answer: Joy lives in the present moment.
But when you show up to the metaphorical table with everything you’ve got—your humor, your kindness, your sweetness, your frankness, your quirks and the rest of your lovable self—and take in what everyone else has to offer, that’s when life becomes blissful no matter what you’re doing.
I’ve found this to be true in even the smallest things. You know how I love my walks with my dogs, but I’ve become aware that when I am not living in the present moment—when my body is moving, but my mind is still at my desk—I hardly notice its effects. I return to my iMac with exactly the same attitude that I left it. (Typically tired and perhaps a little frustrated.) But when I show up fully for my walk and feel the warm sun on my (sunscreened) skin and the cool breeze whispering across my (sunscreened) cheeks, I feel lighter, renewed, and invigorated. It’s like giving my internal Etch A Sketch a rough shake so I can start over.
Ditch the present moment and I reap none of those benefits.
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