Being in the moment means your attention is on what’s actually happening now, rather than replaying the past or rehearsing the future. You notice the conversation you’re in, the food you’re eating or the road ahead, instead of half-living it while your mind is somewhere else. It doesn’t mean having no thoughts. It means noticing when your mind has wandered off and bringing it back. Writing is my best tool for staying in the moment because each morning, wherever I am in the world and in my life, I sit and contemplate what’s on my mind and what I want to write about. Some friends wonder how I come up with things that interest me enough to write about every day, but I rarely have a problem with that. I am sure that I often pick trivial issues which only interest me or write about things that others find self-indulgent, but I have no shortage of thoughts that are on my mind and that I deem worthy of a bit of reflection. The older I get and the deeper into “retirement” I find myself, I find myself appreciating these moments of thought each morning. I suppose they are my equivalent of evening prayers because they tend to make me thankful for all I have and the life I find myself in…and that always makes me happy.
Thinking of the benefits of being in the moment implies a few things. First, it suggests that much of our unhappiness lives outside the present: regret and rumination tend to be about the past, and worry is about the future. The present moment itself is usually manageable. Second, experience only happens now, so a life spent mostly in your head amidst regret or worry is partly missed. Third, it’s a skill rather than a personality trait. Meditation traditions treat it as attention training, and it gets easier with practice. I’ve never been a formal meditation person, but I am starting to realize that meditation takes on many forms and the most common for me are writing and reading (technically listening, since these days my reading is in the form of listening to audiobooks). Reading is mind expanding and makes me think about far away places and other times and that is certainly a form of meditation. But writing is about crafting a narrative in the here and now and that makes it all about being present.
Being a natural planner and also a realist who does not ever want to engage in avoidance or denial, I don’t think I run the risk of letting being in the moment allow me to ignore things that need to be considered, whether in the past or future. I do not use it to dismiss real concerns. Instead, I think some of life’s best thinking happens when the mind drifts and that’s what happens when I write. Sometimes it drifts naturally and readers can see the shifts in my thoughts as my stories develop. People have commented that they expect my drifting or shifting and while occasionally surprised by where I take my stories, they mostly have come to expect this of me. Other times the drift happens because of the research I engage in while writing most stories. I learn things with every story I write and that changes me and often changes my storyline as well. It’s a wonderful method for rejuvenation and inspiration to feel that every day is a learning experience and when combined with a creative process, that makes for a powerful cocktail with which to start the day. My version of realism id not to ignore the past and future, but rather to visit them on purpose rather than living there by default, and then coming back to what’s in front of me and recording all the reasons I am fortunate to be where I am in life.
This morning it is sunny and warm. That alone makes for a great start to any day. To the east I see a lovely sunrise and a sky filling with hope for a special day. To the west I see clear out to the horizon over hills and at least 50 miles of Pacific Ocean. There is literally not a cloud in the sky, but there is the slightest of breezes that is gently moving the Palo Verde tree outside my living room window. Miguel is here today (still filling in for Joventino) and I have tasked him with cutting down the giant marsh grass clumps that live down by my faux riverbed. That was his idea the last time he was here and I decided to go with it. He likes the work and I like trying to always improve the property in little ways. Rosario is also here cleaning half the house like she does every Monday. She has just finished washing down the deck and it’s gleaming out there. Both Kim and I consider ourselves to be very lucky living in an area where there are so many nice hard-working people to help us out with things like the garden and the house. They like the work, they are reasonable in their expectations and cost, they are appreciative and we are equally appreciative. It works out for everyone. It always makes me mad that there are people who want to deny people like Rosario and Miguel the opportunity to make their lives better (and our too) for some selfish and antiquated notion of nationalism and inherent racism. People like Rosario and Miguel add so much to the texture and quality of our lives that it makes no sense to do anything but support the idea of a more open immigration system. I’m sure there are bad people who immigrate, but I’m equally sure that there are just as high a percentage of bad people who are here legally and have perhaps been here for generations as full-blooded Americans.
Before I head off to get myself stretched out after spending 90 minutes in my garage gym both on the treadmill and with Albert (another Mexican American I rely on as my trainer three times a week), I want to remind myself how happy I am to be feeling so healthy after my weight loss journey and my year spent increasing my workout routine. If someone asked me what the best part about retirement is, I would tell them that its about having the time to be in the moment almost all of the time. I get my dose of the past through things like the books I listen to, the movies I watch and the pictures my iPhone serves up to me. I get my future thinking by planning our next trips. But mostly, I get to spend time writing about the moment.