Living in the moment has been a thought that has raced through centuries of our existence. And yet, we plan and think and hesitate and wait. Why?
Human lives are unbelievably complicated. I mean, look at zebras. What do they have to worry about? Grass, and running fast enough so as to not be the dinner for some royal lion family. But us? We have to worry about jobs, housing, education, surviving a pandemic, telling our crushes that they are actually pretty awesome and asking them for coffee dates, a Netflix show worth binging and our last words before we die. And these are just a fraction of the long list of things humans worry about every single day.
Worrying is good. Worrying is what keeps us going. Worrying makes us plan ahead and mitigate certain damages. But worrying does destroy a lot of things too. And one such thing is that it stops us from appreciating the moment we are in, right then and there.
Living in the moment is tough, because detachment is something humans don't want to practice. As a species, we are wired to be attached, to be social, to have a life that is divided into productive and meaningful parts. And we reason our structured, and often times cramped lives by saying that we were gifted with a brain so that we could have a life that is of some value, not because we were supposed to while away time in the meaningless aspects of existence.
Yes. A life lived must have a purpose and a value to it. However, the metrics used for determining this value cannot be restricted to economic meters of measurement. A life lived in the moment is also of value: perhaps greater value than one lived in the fear of the future or a regret for the past. Thus, detachment becomes important in creating a life of value and joy.
By focusing on the beauties of small pleasures like a good poem or a lyrical play, we are not diminishing our chances at a great future. By allowing ourselves to experience life as it is happening instead of trying to predict it's course, we are not being callous. We are just trying to play the game, and hoping for a win.
So don't stop planning, or remembering. Those are things we must all do. But please, try and break from that routine and smile a bit at the today and now that you have.
“Forever is composed of nows”
As Emily Dickinson reminds us ever so gracefully, forever is a beautiful song, composed of all the nows we live. And all these nows are awaiting us in our own floating worlds.
So take a pause, a breath. Find some poetry to read. Hum that old song your mother would sing while cooking your breakfast every morning. Imagine all the colours your first painting ever had. Have a world apart from this bubbling, busy entity that belongs to all of us; have a world that is just yours. And find time to visit it every now and then to see how the great song of forever is being composed.
Picture: An Edo era painting of courtesans hosting a tea ceremony
Courtesy: Library of Congress
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