This is a photo of what brought me back to the present moment yesterday.
Bonnie Raitt sang, "Life gets mighty precious when there is less of it to waste." I think that's true. I've read many books about living in the moment. I understood the concept intellectually. Throughout my life, given the right circumstances, I could feel truly present. But in 2020, my life's journey placed me in a situation where I experienced being fully present for sustained periods. It wasn't because life was perfect. I wasn't on a serene beach or a grand mountaintop. I was dealing with a cancer diagnosis and treatment.
During treatment for myeloma, I often had the most wonderful days. I remember being hooked up to an IV for immunotherapy, surrounded by others receiving treatment through the same plastic tubing. Yet that wasn't where my attention stayed. I became keenly aware of the connections between people when they interacted. I noticed the expressions on their faces when someone spoke kindly to them—but it was more than just expressions. I felt as though I was absorbing the very force that sparked the positive shift in their demeanor. I became attuned to how the mood of the room could lift with a kind word or gesture. It was beautiful to witness and feel. I would often gaze out the window, watching the palm trees sway against the sky, and feel a profound sense that all was as it should be. There was so much to be grateful for. My focus rested entirely on the present moment, and I intended to soak it all in because it felt so good.
Fast forward—my treatment yielded excellent results, and the possibility of an extended future is now real. I'm deeply grateful. But am I living in the present moment throughout my days? Not entirely. My thoughts often drift to the future: What if? Should I? I don't want to regret... I've improved at redirecting my focus, but lingering feelings can still arise. I've become better at observing myself and serving as my own counselor, asking questions like, "Does that feeling make sense?" or "What could have prompted this reaction?" It can sometimes spiral into an all-day conversation with myself. However, I've learned some ways to bring myself back to the present.
Recently, I felt a sense of impending loss and emptiness. Perhaps it was in anticipation of a dear friend's departure, the reality of aging, or thoughts about the future and change. I had heated up some cornbread for us. As I began eating, the vivid color of the plate caught my eye, and I felt a deep appreciation for its richness. Then, I noticed the taste of the cornbread with the sweet date syrup—it seemed to expand, becoming more alive. I sipped my tea and became immersed in the sensations. Without even looking across the table, I suddenly felt my friend's presence as a radiant energy, like sunlight reaching me. The feelings of emptiness and loss vanished. I took in the moment deeply, as though breathing it in fully, determined to absorb every bit of it. In seconds, my experience transformed. It was truly magical.
What beautiful thing do you see? What can you feel on your skin? What do you taste with your tongue? What do you smell in the air? Can you be grateful in this moment? What wonderful sound do you hear? What wondrous thing are you near?
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