Living in the Moment

I began this post with the idea of writing about spring coming - my favourite season in the year. Spring is the awakening of the outside world again after months of slow, indoor living. During spring, I walk my gardens daily, marveling at the changes each day brings.

Definitely my favourite time of the year. But wait. If asked in July which season was my favourite, I would say Summer! If you ask in September, I’ll say it’s Fall.

How it is that I can think of several seasons (let's leave winter out of this discussion) as my favourite. Am I shallow? Fickle? Incapable of having an opinion?

The more I consider this, the clearer it becomes. I’m not fickle: I'm living in the moment. I love the growth that takes place in spring but summer is such a ripe and relaxing time. Autumn brings the cooler temps, sweaters and candles I love just as I am ready for them.

I remember other 'living in the moment' times.

Many years ago, one of my employers had a tradition of sharing a cake to celebrate birthdays and leavings. It wasn’t until we were enjoying the chocolate cake for my final day in the office that I was told I had said with each and every one: “This is the best cake we've had.”

Luckily my co-workers didn’t think me a flake. They seemed to grasp that, to me, each and every cake truly was the best. I enjoyed every one as though none had measured up until that moment. Of course, each and every best cake experience likely had more to do with the employees we were celebrating or what we were sharing in that moment than the quality of the cake.

But I wasn’t born living in the moment.

As a child, I remember excitedly building up in my mind what was to come. So much in fact that I often felt disappointed when what was to come came and went. All those weeks of waiting and, bam, it was over (whatever ‘it’ was).

I was in my teens before I realized that the expectation I had for each and every ‘something’ was taking away any joy that might have accompanied the moments that led up to it. I literally lost that time before each highly anticipated something in my excitement for the future. I began to understand that I was creating the disappointment I felt when something came and went. What could possibly measure up to such anticipation?

I began to put each thing I was excited about into its place; to await its time. In doing so (taking each day as it came), I discovered that the time before presented much to be enjoyed as well. When the something does arrive, I’m certain I don’t enjoy it any less than I would have had it been on my mind for days or weeks leading up to it. 

The extra benefit of dealing with life this way is that I have space for unexpected pleasure in little things that were not anticipated.

Funny thing is, during my middle years, I bought into the talk about the need to live in the moment and how essential it is to cultivate to help us truly get the most from our busy lives. It didn't occur to me at the time that I was already doing it.

In my attempt to adopt the practice du jour, I practised yoga; attempted meditation; read self-help books; and listened to many wizards with advice on how to live in the moment. None of it stuck, I thought. 

Now I see clearly. Putting a title to it and making it something we all should strive for made it seem more elusive, and more complicated, than it is. We all live in the moment when we use our senses to appreciate the world around us, the people in it and the sensations our body is feeling.

I (and you) live in the moment.

Makes me feel like Dorothy. Excuse me while I click my heels together. “There’s no time like this moment.”