I feel like I have been (or at least had been) living more in the moment than I ever did in my life before this, not because I’m suddenly more evolved and hence successful at doing what I’ve aimed to do for the past 20 years! But because circumstance has forced me (in a beautiful, welcome way) to be more present. For example, because I don’t know how I’m going to feel from one day to the next, me, the great planner of all kinds of events weeks and months into the future, rarely plans anything at all anymore—and when I do, it’s always with the caveat that it’s tentative. There’s been something so liberating about this for me, one piece of which is that it keeps me in the moment in ways I haven’t been in the past. This state feels almost the opposite to waiting; it feels instead like simply being.
Already I feel this state of being slipping through my fingers. In past posts, I’ve written about how, as soon as I start to feel better, my mind gets busy planning-planning-planning the shoulds and coulds and want tos: I want to finally get that mediation practice up and running; I want to finally get my long-fantasized writing project off the ground; I want to finally organize 9 years of kid photos and baby books; maybe it’s time to go back to work; how about all those house projects I never have time for; and of course there’s exercising and parenting and cooking and cleaning and laundry and and and and…. suddenly I’m no longer in the moment like I was all those weeks that I was mostly couch bound with only two or three simple options before me for days on end: reading, listening, watching TV.
How do I hold onto the couch-bound, in the moment mind-state as I venture off the couch and back into the world? How does one (how do I) hold onto the many gifts of an experience like this as the experience passes? I know I am far from being through it, but already, I feel how tenuous everything is: life, certainly, but also life’s lessons.