Living in the Moment

In our fast-forward culture, it is inevitably difficult for many of us to "be there" completely. As I drive my brand new car out of the auto-mall, there is a 2009 newer rival waiting in the shadows. When my child is talking to me, it's hard not to notice the pile of work waiting for my attention. When I purchased a new computer, I knew it would just be a year at most before a better one would emerge.

So instead of living the now, I find myself constantly looking ahead, looking to what I will buy, what I will do, what will happen. Which makes the concept a worn-out cliche: Live in the moment, stop and smell the flowers, stop waiting for things to be over.

Certainly, it is good to have a well-rounded perspective, leaning into the past for insight, savoring the present mostly, and thinking about the future to be prepared.

But what happens when we're too absorbed in our problems, waiting for things to be over, or living in the future? What happens when we spend our precious time with our loved ones, worrying about what will be with this, that and the other thing?

Sometimes, the real way to accomplish something, is to do nothingWe become like the little baby in utero at a symphony orchestra. Wrapped in concealing layers. There, but not all the way there. Perhaps hearing, but not fully experiencing, the music.

Needless to say, worrying doesn't help the problems. For me, it only enables them to grow bigger in my mind, bigger than my child's desire to have me dance with her all around the kitchen. And she can sense that detachment.

Sometimes, the real way to live in the moment, to accomplish something, is to do nothing. To sit on a park bench, with my earpiece off, my laptop out of sight, simply present. So that as my children climb up the monkey-bars, they have the delight of knowing that Mommy is there, available to be impressed by their ability to get to the top.

So my resolution is to try to retire from my constant absorption and worry. To close my eyes and fully concentrate on the beauty of music. To open my eyes to the wonder of these precious moments with my children while they are still young. To enjoy the magnificent scenery as I drive each day. To live in the here and now. It's not that I'll be naive, pretending that my problems don't exist. It's just that life is too short to dwell on them non-stop, when I could be dancing - truly dancing - with my daughter in the kitchen.