Last week I enjoyed a lovely evening bike ride along the Rillito River next to our seasonal home in Tucson. For people who haven’t lived in the desert southwest, “river” means a dry wash that occasionally has flowing water if there is enough rain or snowmelt.
I found myself observing my own flow of thoughts. At times, I was very much in the moment, seeing the stunning beauty of the range of Catalina Mountains in the setting sun, experiencing the sensations of riding in my legs and arms, and being aware of feeling blessed to be where I was, with the dear people who are in my life. At other times, I was aware of having ridden a couple hundred yards and having no recollection of doing so. I was mentally somewhere else, thinking about the next teaching session, the task list, and whether or not there is any hope for the so-far-mediocre Red Sox.
Observing my thoughts in this way prompted the question of when it’s appropriate to be in the moment… to be present to our current experience… and when (or whether) it is not.
In recent years, the idea of being in the present moment has been a theme (and often, a spiritual article of faith) in both professional health care research and in pop psychology. Distress, the argument goes, comes when our attention and hearts are focused on suffering in the past or in an imagined future, and the antidote to this process is to be fully present to the current moments of our lives.
Certainly, this is sometimes true. There are thoughtful voices, however, making the case that there are good reasons sometimes not to be in the moment.
Two recent articles in the New York Times Sunday Review stand out. Journalist Ruth Whippman (“Actually, Let’s Not Be in the Moment,” November 26, 2016) argues that some present moments just aren’t very compelling (“I’m making a failed attempt at ‘mindful dishwashing’”) and, more notably, argues that a focus on mindfulness can be an indulgence of material comfort and security that skirts around real sources of suffering; “So does the moment really deserve its many accolades? It is a philosophy likely to be more rewarding for those whose lives contain more privileged moments than grinding, humiliating or exhausting ones. Those for whom a given moment is more likely to be “sun-dappled yoga pose” than “hour 11 manning the deep-fat fryer.”
And last week, world-renowned psychologist Martin Seligman (“We Aren’t Built to Live in the Moment,” May 19) cites brain and social science research in making the case that for most people, thoughts frequently turn to future possibilities, and that this tendency is innate and beneficial. Seligman suggests that, more than “Homo Sapiens” (“wise man”), our species could be more aptly called “Homo Prospectus,” in recognition of the central human role of considering future prospects.
We are not in the moment (appropriately) when we wonder whether we have enough cheese for the taco salad and where we’ll go to get more if we don’t. How we’ll plan to avoid Aunt Myrtle (who doesn’t like Uncle Don) making a scene at the family reunion. When was the last time we remember holding the sunglasses and where we might have put them. What we can do in the next six months on behalf of social justice and world peace.
So when may it be helpful or meaningful to immerse ourselves in the present moment? (I’m back now; sorry, I was daydreaming for a few minutes.) I think of four circumstances. I invite your comments.
For the most part, the circumstances that prompt such suffering are beyond our control. We can’t fix a history of abuse, or larger economic conditions, or your boss’s behavior. Nor can we typically (or, at least predictably) control our own internal reactions to these circumstances, which come to us as unbidden and unwelcome intruders. Anxious thoughts, angry feelings and fearsome images just appear, involuntarily.
In suffering, focusing on the present moment offers a pathway to control and integrity. “Here is my suffering. Now, who am I?” “How am I going to live my life, in this present moment?” “How can I best be faithful, right now, to the values that I hold that signify a good and honorable life?”
The world, is it not, is filled with majesty, large and small? Beholding the vastness of the Grand Canyon for the first time. Seeing your child pulling herself up to a standing position. Being greeted joyfully by your dog, even after you’ve left him at home for eight hours. (It’s beneath the dignity of most cats to show such reactions.) Looking at the moon and knowing that people have been there. Cutting your finger slicing carrots and, a week later, having no indication whatsoever that this had ever happened. Seeing the resilience of a man who has been though unspeakable horror in his home country to seek asylum in America, and is ready and willing to make a positive contribution to his new home. The list is endless.
In awe, being in the present moment means to pause to really experience such majesties, and let them form as images in your soul.
There are, of course, formal meditative and mindfulness practices. A subject for another time.
So, may you invite your attention and your heart to the past, the future and to the present moments of your life in ways that bring joy and honor to your unique journey.
Blessings,
Fred
I found myself observing my own flow of thoughts. At times, I was very much in the moment, seeing the stunning beauty of the range of Catalina Mountains in the setting sun, experiencing the sensations of riding in my legs and arms, and being aware of feeling blessed to be where I was, with the dear people who are in my life. At other times, I was aware of having ridden a couple hundred yards and having no recollection of doing so. I was mentally somewhere else, thinking about the next teaching session, the task list, and whether or not there is any hope for the so-far-mediocre Red Sox.
Observing my thoughts in this way prompted the question of when it’s appropriate to be in the moment… to be present to our current experience… and when (or whether) it is not.
In recent years, the idea of being in the present moment has been a theme (and often, a spiritual article of faith) in both professional health care research and in pop psychology. Distress, the argument goes, comes when our attention and hearts are focused on suffering in the past or in an imagined future, and the antidote to this process is to be fully present to the current moments of our lives.
Certainly, this is sometimes true. There are thoughtful voices, however, making the case that there are good reasons sometimes not to be in the moment.
Two recent articles in the New York Times Sunday Review stand out. Journalist Ruth Whippman (“Actually, Let’s Not Be in the Moment,” November 26, 2016) argues that some present moments just aren’t very compelling (“I’m making a failed attempt at ‘mindful dishwashing’”) and, more notably, argues that a focus on mindfulness can be an indulgence of material comfort and security that skirts around real sources of suffering; “So does the moment really deserve its many accolades? It is a philosophy likely to be more rewarding for those whose lives contain more privileged moments than grinding, humiliating or exhausting ones. Those for whom a given moment is more likely to be “sun-dappled yoga pose” than “hour 11 manning the deep-fat fryer.”
And last week, world-renowned psychologist Martin Seligman (“We Aren’t Built to Live in the Moment,” May 19) cites brain and social science research in making the case that for most people, thoughts frequently turn to future possibilities, and that this tendency is innate and beneficial. Seligman suggests that, more than “Homo Sapiens” (“wise man”), our species could be more aptly called “Homo Prospectus,” in recognition of the central human role of considering future prospects.
We are not in the moment (appropriately) when we wonder whether we have enough cheese for the taco salad and where we’ll go to get more if we don’t. How we’ll plan to avoid Aunt Myrtle (who doesn’t like Uncle Don) making a scene at the family reunion. When was the last time we remember holding the sunglasses and where we might have put them. What we can do in the next six months on behalf of social justice and world peace.
So when may it be helpful or meaningful to immerse ourselves in the present moment? (I’m back now; sorry, I was daydreaming for a few minutes.) I think of four circumstances. I invite your comments.
- In suffering. If it’s the past or the future, it’s not necessarily distress. If it’s distress, it’s very likely to be the past or the future. For most of us, suffering wears the face of emotionally-laden thoughts, feelings or images about failings, abuses or losses in the past, or about ways that we envision the future unfolding very differently from what we might wish. How could this have happened to me? How could this have happened to our nation? What if this happens to me? What if this happens to people I love? What if this happens to our country?
For the most part, the circumstances that prompt such suffering are beyond our control. We can’t fix a history of abuse, or larger economic conditions, or your boss’s behavior. Nor can we typically (or, at least predictably) control our own internal reactions to these circumstances, which come to us as unbidden and unwelcome intruders. Anxious thoughts, angry feelings and fearsome images just appear, involuntarily.
In suffering, focusing on the present moment offers a pathway to control and integrity. “Here is my suffering. Now, who am I?” “How am I going to live my life, in this present moment?” “How can I best be faithful, right now, to the values that I hold that signify a good and honorable life?”
- In awe. Years ago, I remember the comment of a dear sister-in law that, in our culture, we too often rush to take photographs of things that inspire awe, rather than experiencing them.
The world, is it not, is filled with majesty, large and small? Beholding the vastness of the Grand Canyon for the first time. Seeing your child pulling herself up to a standing position. Being greeted joyfully by your dog, even after you’ve left him at home for eight hours. (It’s beneath the dignity of most cats to show such reactions.) Looking at the moon and knowing that people have been there. Cutting your finger slicing carrots and, a week later, having no indication whatsoever that this had ever happened. Seeing the resilience of a man who has been though unspeakable horror in his home country to seek asylum in America, and is ready and willing to make a positive contribution to his new home. The list is endless.
In awe, being in the present moment means to pause to really experience such majesties, and let them form as images in your soul.
- With other people. How often have you been in a conversation with somebody else and found them focusing somewhere past your left shoulder? Not good. Being present to people honors them and, really, honors us all because it affirms the richness of humanity that is lived in relationships with other people. If you’re in a conversation you don’t like, learn some assertive skills to change the subject or make a graceful exit.
- As a discipline. Finally, I suggest practicing being present. Cultivating, by practice, the ability to be present. Pick a regular time… pick a random time… and just be where you are and be open to your experience. What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel? What do you observe going on in your body? Your mind? You may become an explorer of majesties yet unknown.
There are, of course, formal meditative and mindfulness practices. A subject for another time.
So, may you invite your attention and your heart to the past, the future and to the present moments of your life in ways that bring joy and honor to your unique journey.
Blessings,
Fred
