Before we brought our clocks and our “hurry up” ways to the Native American peoples, and before we (the Europeans who came here) had the need to rush around and always be busy (perhaps in order to disguise the nagging sense that we aren’t really living our purpose and meaning in life…), , we were all at peace with living in the present moment.
Some native cultures in the world still function this way, eschewing rational time, much to the dismay of someone whose clock isn’t aligned with the sensing/feeling clocks of many indigenous peoples.
That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t or isn’t planning in these cultures; people stored food for winter and thought ahead to the next solstice. But each day and each moment was lived as if it could be your last.
But why should we care? What does living in the present actually do for anybody?
There’s a ton of research out there on how much less stressed out this adopting this mindset can be, but I’m too lazy to go look it all up and cite it here. (I’m living in my present moment!)
But what I will tell you is that for me, the more that I can really sink into where I am, right now, the better I feel. Worries about both the past and the future just fade away.
Today is a good day to die
Crazy Horse is quoted as saying hese words before the Battle of Little Big Horn.
How present moment is that? To be able to say: I am living my life as fully as I want to, and if this happens to be the day that I kick the bucket, well, so be it.
It’s hard for us to wrap our Western minds around this – this concept that death waits for us all and could be just around the corner – but truly living that way, knowing that at any moment a leopard (or a bus) could just jump out and eat us means that we must live fully in this moment, savoring it, even if it’s what we’ve designated as a shitty moment.
So how do you actually live in the present?
Yeah, yeah, you’re saying. Live in the present moment, Erin, but when shit is going haywire (maybe even right during the Thanksgiving meal), how do we do it?
- Breathe. Take a Pause.
It always drives me kinda crazy when people say “take a few deep breaths.” I don’t know why; it’s as if they think that can solve all of the world’s problems that way.
But somehow, if I can remember to do that, if I can remember to pause before I speak, then this kind of does solve all of my problems. Focusing on your breath brings you back to the present in a really quick and easy way.
Guess those sages got something right, after all.
- Stop nexting
Yes, it’s a thing. Not being able to be present when you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself (or even when you’re not) because you are thinking about what you need to do next.
What helps me here is making a list, even if it’s for something silly like “things to do before I go to the grocery store”. Then I don’t have to worry about what comes next – it’s already written down.
- Do you really need to solve that future problem, right now?
One of the other things that works for me when I’m stressing about something in the future (I call this “pre-stressing”) is to tell myself: that is a problem to be solved when I get to that point in time.
I.e. “Cross that bridge when you come to it.”
I only need to worry about what’s right in front of me, focusing in on whatever I’m doing right at this current moment.
- Define your worst case scenario…and then see if you can live with that
Another way to take away that pre-stressing is to break your future worry down into the harshest possible scenario, to go into the really deep dark place of your fears.
For me, that goes something like this: I will never have another client. People won’t come to my workshops and no one will ever buy my books.
Then I walk myself through that actual scenario. If all of those things really and truly happened (which is highly unlikely), would I be out starving on the street? Would my family be able to eat tomorrow? Would we need to sell the house?
Would I still be me, even if no one else likes what I have to offer?
And then I remember: no matter what happens, I will still be me, the total awesomeness of me. (And it’s also really unlikely that we’ll starve to death.)
Seeing the worst case scenario somehow reminds me of all of the things that I have to be grateful for: a loving and supportive husband, an extended family who wouldn’t let us starve, and an amazing, awesome career and life that I love, no matter who shows up.
That little circle of gratitude then helps to bring me back to appreciating the current moment, reminding me that while we may not have grown up with the idea of total presence, we can live it and model it for others.
Even on Thanksgiving.
So thankful for all of you who read, comment, and appreciate these words. Happy Thanksgiving!
