Presence (and Gratitude)
“This moment is the best moment.”
Says the rubber bracelet given to me by a stranger in Costa Rica earlier this year. In March.
I haven’t taken it off since.
I was briefly without it, only once, after I peeled off a wetsuit. It was momentarily lost and suddenly, I had no reason at all to believe that this moment was the best there is. No. I was filled with something akin to dread.
I was fully present then, that’s for sure. Isn’t it curious how in moments of heightened sensation and awareness, nothing else exists outside of it?
The bracelet was on the ground. Only feet away.
But I don’t really need the bracelet. I know what it says. It’s just so comforting to have a physical reminder of that thing we all recognize as true but is still so hard to grasp: the current moment is literally the only thing that is real.
It’s all that we have. And it deserves all the attention we can give it.
The nature of the present moment is so special, so endlessly investigated, in that it only exists once and then never again.
We are eternally searching for this quality of presence — of focus, of mindfulness, whatever you’d like to call it — all the while being stuck in it. Our minds just beg to differ.
It is so difficult for me (and everyone) not to romanticize the past. To fantasize about the future. Yet, thanks to things like meditation, I also recognize the unparalleled peace of being fully present.
It is a peace not easily obtained. But meditation offers a glimpse. And though my practice is not perfect — by nature of the thing, it never will be — I am grateful for even a fleeting moment.
This brings me to a second access point to presence: gratitude.
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You will read about 600 different articles, emails, Instagram posts on gratitude this week. It’s Thanksgiving. It’s giving thanks. Whatever. They all say the same thing: it’s a nice time of year to recognize the things which you are grateful for.
But none of the articles really explain why. It’s a lot of: “Do this and your life will be better! Be grateful and don’t ask questions, damn it.” Very little: “Why is it important to practice gratitude?”
For me, it’s about connection to the present.
You may have heard of a gratitude journal. I keep one — fairly irregularly. But repetition is key. The idea is that every day, you list 3 or so things which you are currently grateful for. What this does is forcefully extract you (for at least The Moment) from your greater feelings of impending doom and remind you that oh, I have this hot cup of coffee and my favorite sweater and I’m healthy —
I’m okay.
Then your feelings might naturally drift back to doom. But at least there was that moment.
Gratitude, and the practice of recognizing the little things that give life, is a sure fire way to connect to the present.
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Throughout this week of Extra Gratitude Giving, I am making an effort to more fully experience The Moment during a period of time in which it has not been easy for me to do so.
I’ve been home in New York for 2 months now which, for various reasons, is too long. There are too many things to do out in the world. Most of the time, I can’t focus on the task at hand because my mind is busy planning summer festival season in the Balkans and where I’m going to surf this winter and if I’m going to get back to Amsterdam in time for King’s Day and when the hell am I going to make it to Chiang Mai again? All at the same time.
But the thing is, home is nice. I’m not unhappy here. It’s just that I have other places to be. (And I will be.) So, I’d like to enjoy the time I do have here while I can.
On that note, please enjoy Maggie’s Official Home Gratitude Journal.
My bed, and my stuffed animal who has stayed there since I was 2 days old
My ancient Flywheel spin bike (RIP), also Hannah Frankson
The sound of the train from my house while it’s still quiet in the morning
Old friends, and old habits returning to remind me how I’ve grown
Brix City baby
Reading in my favorite green velvet chair by the window
Fall air and early winter sunsets
The feeling of knowing where everything is in the supermarket
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Oftentimes, something in a conversation will lead back to the words on my bracelet. And I will stick out my left wrist and ask the person to read. That’s why I keep the text facing away from me.
I love being able to share it. Because the moment might be there and gone. But that little piece of rubber is forever.
At least until it decomposes… a few centuries from now.
ONWARDS,
Mag