Be. Here. Now.
It looks like I’m here, but I’m not.
I mean, sure, my body is in the room, that’s not an illusion or anything. But I’m afraid that my thoughts are — quite often — somewhere else.
I imagine you know what I mean. It goes like this:
I’m resting, but I’m thinking about what I need to work on. I’m swimming with the kids but ticking through dinner tasks and the night routine. I’m eating dinner and thinking about dessert. I’m watching TV and wondering what my husband is up to and pondering what I want to be when I grow up and debating a snack.
A solid 75 percent to 85 percent of the time, a narrative that’s completely unrelated to what I’m doing is running under the surface in my head. That internal side-talk is sometimes random and meandering, your average daily rumination. The rest of the time it ties back to one of three particular reoccurring trains: what I need to do/what’s next; what I’m going to cook/eat; where my life is going. (My general existential angst is always right there. I don’t know, maybe that one is just me).
This is all to say that I’m almost never where I am — my head is not in the room, not in my body, not in the here and now. I’m not present.
This is unfortunate, especially for someone who meditates and reads and studies mindfulness and spirituality. I know, intellectually, the fundamental value of the present moment.
Only now is where we have power to do anything, to experience anything. The present is where we have access to intuition and real connection with ourselves, other people, nature, life. Our lives are only happening now, and if we’re inside of our heads instead of fully embodied in the moment, we miss out on so much of the sweetness of being alive.
And yet, that’s what I’m often doing.
I’m relentlessly caught up anticipating, planning, processing, analyzing — all things that are necessary, sure, but in their time and place, not as often as I (and I assume, many of us) tend to do them.
My longtime friend brought this to my attention recently.
Without getting into details, she’s been going through some pretty major life challenges in recent months, and she hasn’t known which way to turn. I keep trying to prod her to dream, think about what’s next, take action steps, get out of this low point as surely and swiftly as she can.
She has gently asked me to stop.
She told me that she needs to find her feet, her voice, her way again, and she doesn’t yet know what that looks like. She has to go back to basics. She explained that she can’t get ahead of herself, and she doesn’t have the energy to, anyway.
What she can do is take it slow, collect herself day by day, and follow the small clear steps in front of her. As she put it, she can just: “Be here now.”
Well, shoot.
Isn’t that actually the answer for us all?
Following my friend’s lead, lately, I’ve adopted “be here now” as a mantra of sorts. When I notice I’m mentally wandering off in a moment where doing so isn’t necessary or helpful, I offer those three little words to my own mind and heart.
I also find it helps to turn my attention into my body. Feeling my feet press into the floor, the tingling in my hands, or any sensation under my skin (particularly from the shoulders down), helps me to more fully arrive.
The other piece of this is acknowledging what I need. I’m sometimes not present because I’m distracted by a pull in another direction — something that I would be better served to honor and move toward. So, part of “being here now” is considering “What do I need right now?” and responding accordingly. Maybe I do need to get the kids out of the pool and myself organized for the night.
My impression is that focusing on this — on being present, on wholly showing up — is our best bet for a rich and satisfying life. I believe this can pave the way toward the answers and depth that I seek, and toward my friend’s healing and new horizons. But I’ll be honest, this doesn’t necessarily click right away, and it can be uncomfortable. I’m increasingly understanding why we depart the present moment in the first place.
For one thing, “being here now” means my friend has to stick it out in this tough spot.
For me, more silence and stillness feels almost dull or eerie at times. It’s like I’m so used to being in constant motion and having that ticker running in my head at all times that stepping off the hamster wheel and just being here feels abrupt and unusual. I hate to admit it — I want to declare that it’s been pure bliss — but I suppose I was used to all that constant noise and distraction.
I still think focusing on presence is the way, though, so I’m going to keep playing with it. I don’t want to miss out on life’s sweetness.
I want to be here, for real.
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If you would like to join me in focusing on mindfulness and presence, I’m launching a new meditation program in May. “Meditate to Integrate” features one, three and five-minute meditations in your inbox daily. It’s a practical way to infuse purposeful, restorative timeouts into our summer days. Find more information here.
