Finding the Now Again

A pivotal point on my journey to find some relief from suffering came when I read that anxiety is living in the future and depression is living in the past.

It made immediate sense to me and the understanding of that dynamic clarified that the route to peace is in the present moment. It remained a theory, as for some reason as humans we seem hardwired in a way that the present moment is elusive.

Around the same time, I came across Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now. For some reason I can't recall, I was listening to the audio book -- something I just don't do. I don't mind audio books, I just have a strong default mode to reading. If for some reason you have not yet read it, I highly recommend it. And in this case, the audio book was absolutely fantastic. It's read by the author, and his personal account of his awakening experience at the beginning of the book is captivating.

This week, I've been in a funk. After several weeks of unprecedented productivity and optimism, I found myself lethargic, worried, and burdened with a headache that just wouldn't quit.

I've been ruminating -- lightly, but ruminating nonetheless -- on some critical feedback on my work that was carelessly delivered and that in part unwarranted and indefensible.

I didn't argue it. I accepted it and moved on. Some suggested I do differently. Respond to it. Put forth my point of view. I choose not to. 

Maybe that's why I've ruminated on it -- it's trapped in a swirl inside my head and needs to be released.

Or maybe the moment is in the past, and I'm still there living with it.

This morning, I had a glimpse of the present again.  I found the Now. I sat to meditate right after I awoke. And I was in pain. I could feel the front edge of my body as thoughts of the past persisted. First, I stepped into the pain. I've been so much freer from it lately, that I actually did find a little gratitude in having the opportunity to try this maneuver -- moving toward the pain rather than trying to suppress it or avoid it. And it dissipated.

Then, I asked what was different about how I was feeling now versus how I had been feeling the last few weeks. Where did the peace go. And it descended upon me like warm liquid light: my breath, the cool air on my skin, the car driving by in the early morning hours.

Now is now. It's real, and the only thing that's real. Everything else is a thought. It's an illusion from the past that pulls the spirit away from the present.

It was fleeting. I'm still not yet able to embrace the moment and exist there like I seem to have done more consistently lately. But I'm releasing the bonds that bind me to the past. Writing helps.