For thirty years, I was a devotee of self-help books, each one helping me see life through a clearer lens. I have given some away, but there are several others I'll never part with; one of them is Ekhart Tolle's The Power of Now. It carried me over the threshold from oblivion into awareness....over and over again. I bought the book in 2001 and read it once a year for six years. Then one day, I put Tolle back in his place on the shelf, alongside Wayne Dyer, Pema Chodron, and Thich Nhat Hanh, thinking I finally got the message.
As I approach 65 years of age, thoughts and fears still drive me to distraction. I acutely remember the aging process of my parents and wonder if I will have to endure the same indignities and frustrations. Am I going to drive my kids nuts? Will they be understanding and patient with me when I start to forget things, ask them to repeat everything they say, or fall asleep at the drop of a hat? What if I start calling them several times a day? What if I have to give up my home someday?
Recently, I got out The Power of Now and re-read this quote: "Do you have many 'what if' thoughts? You are identified with your mind, which is projecting itself into an imaginary future situation and creating fear. There is no way that you can cope with such a situation, because it doesn't exist. It's a mental phantom." According to this statement, I'm an expert on mental phantoms. I'm replacing the current moment with anxiety over something that is yet to come...if it comes at all. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow or die of a heart attack before I have a chance to get old. If I can't get back on track, I will miss the joy of living my life to its fullest.
Being in the moment isn't just about not worrying; it's about focusing on what I'm doing all day long. Why is it so difficult to think one thought at a time, take one day at a time, and do one thing at a time? The older I get, the more I realize this is the only moment I have. This very moment is my life and it's up to me to make the most of it. I've lost precious time by mindlessly multitasking, looking back, and planning ahead. "Live each moment completely and the future will take care of itself. Fully enjoy the wonder and beauty of each moment", said the Indian yogi, Yogananda. I've squandered too many precious moments thinking about the future.
Non-awareness puts me in an unconscious state; and if left to continue, will claim my life. I'm sure of it; I'll be 85 and wondering what I did all these years. I'll have photos, paintings, writings, and knitted garments galore; but was I really focused on them when I shot, painted, wrote, or knitted them? Will they just be part of a collection, or will they represent one woman's consciously lived life? I'm the only one who can answer those questions.
I wrote the following in my journal less than a month before my mother died: I feel as if I'm standing inside the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet, still, serene. Mother is stronger; Dad is more cheerful. It's a blessing fraught with dread; but here and now, we rest together -- maybe for a week, maybe for just a few hours. I have a short while longer to study their faces, treasure the sound of their voices, listen to them breathe. I won't lose this moment.
Since then, I've become acutely aware how short life really is. Thanks to Ekhart Tolle, I'm getting better at staying aware of the moment, in spite of the random, racing, brain activity that still has its way with me on a daily basis. It takes commitment and re-commitment to live in the moment. But the pay-off is well worth it; when I live in the moment, I never lose it.
I used to write in a diary as a young girl. Each day, I would jot down everything I did that day. A few of the entries were simply, 'boring day'. In my early 30's, I learned about journals and filled notebook after notebook, going into much more detail about my thoughts and feelings. Now, I've gone back to writing in a diary. There's something comforting (and very simple) about keeping track of what I do each day. Not only can I look back on the week's activities; I can check in with myself to see if I engaged in those activities with awareness.
Another moment has arrived: my fingers are clicking away at the computer. Ice cubes in my glass of iced coffee are getting smaller and smaller, and the quail is calling to his mate. Right this minute, I'm living my life the way I intend - without a worry in the world.
(c) Sally Z McBain
Adapted from my former blog, Sojourn