“There would seem to be nothing more obvious, more tangible and palpable than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact.”

(Milan Kundera)

Read that again. Slowly.

Then take a breath and think about it. And think about today. From the moment you got out of bed until now, how often have you actually, truly been IN any moment? Any moment. The moment you took your first sip of coffee. The moment you gulped your first breath of fresh air as you stepped outside to walk the dog. The moment you stopped for a lunch break or the moment you received a funny text from your best friend. How many of those moments were you really in?

We just blast through our days willy-nilly, flitting from one task to the next, one interaction to the next, one breath to the next. We DO all the moments. We accomplish moments. We might even fulfill moments. But how many are we truly present for?

Crazy, right? Because the moment we are in is THE moment. The ONLY moment. And yet we are so immersed in future moments or past moments, we stupefy ourselves into completely ignoring that which is the most tangible, the most obvious. The NOW.

When I was living in an unhappy marriage, my head was always in some faraway moment. Some moment I could dream about and dwell in (delusionally, of course) to offset the disappointment of my present circumstance. Sure, there were times, especially with my child, that THE moment demanded (and got) my full attention. Even moments of sheer bliss when I was able to stop and recognize the magnitude of that moment. But there were far too many other moments when I attached my ultimate happiness to some future occasion. Some eventual development that would rain rapture on my head.

Not nearly enough times did I attempt to stop, breathe and take in completely the moment I was experiencing, negative as it may have been. Not nearly enough times did I stop, breathe and analyze what I could do to facilitate more productive moments. More moments that I wanted to be in. Fully. It was far too easy to dwell in dreamland, imagining my best life. Instead of living it.

Why do we do this? Are we just plain lazy? Are we just plain dumb? Just plain unaware? So sure of the infinite number of moments we have left to us we’re fine and dandy with squandering a billion or two along the way?

When my Prince Charming ultimately showed up and I left my marriage (leaving in my wake a mess of misery), I learned how to “live in the moment” instantly. Our moments were so jampacked with intensity and passion and angst and vulnerability, it was quite impossible to stray too far afield. Mentally or emotionally. I was living on high-alert and that meant I was living like stalked prey, head spinning constantly, eyes darting in all directions, ever vigilante for the next grenade.

Sounds nullifying, right?

It wasn’t. I mean, sure, there were moments of despair, but I learned then that living in each and every moment for whatever it was, well … it was electrifying. Life-affirming. Bordering on magical. I would fall asleep late every night in mid-conversation, so desperate was I to hear every word, experience every feeling, live every single moment to its fullest until my exhausted eyes finally won.

I go to bed pretty early these days. Perhaps it’s because I’m older, or maybe my living situation is less volatile or maybe it’s simply because I can handle only so much Netflix per evening. Irrespective, I no longer possess that burning desire to be present in my life indefatigably.  

I will admit there are times this makes me sad. Leaving all that heightened ardor in the past. I will also admit that I love my bed. And the moments of rest it affords me are not to be sniffed at.

And so, the question begs: do we need to live a life of fierce struggle or profound drama to recognize the value of every moment? Does our country have to be at war, does someone have to be ill or dying, do we have to be enthralled by a sporting event or musical extravaganza to totally surrender ourselves to the exact moment we are in?

I don’t think so.

Recently, I read that as we age, it behooves us NOT to pop out of bed in the morning like a jack-in-the-box. Our systems need more time to get vertical, without blood rushing to the wrong places or hearts beating too irregularly. And so now I gently ease my legs over the side of the bed and I sit. For maybe 20 seconds. I sit in that very first moment of my morning and I express gratitude to the Universe that I’m still here. That I get another day. That I’m really close to getting my first latte and my puppy-dog kisses.

And then, as the day goes on, I try (and don’t always succeed) to check in with as many moments as I can. The good ones (when my son calls), the mundane ones (when I scroll through my socials), the fun ones (when I do my radio show) and the ones that remind me to be grateful (dinner with my beloved, a walk in the woods, a warm bed at night). Even the negative moments, the disappointments, the anxieties and the irritations remind me that I am alive. Still in the game. Still looking forward to any number of MORE moments.

Moments that I can squander. Or savour.

If you are feeling more sadness than you would choose, I gently suggest you start monitoring your moments. Consciously. Like brushing your teeth or washing your hands or thanking your server or hugging a friend, self-audit your moments so that are compelled to be IN them. Wholly. Heart and soul. Gratefully.

Maybe if we learn to live in what is tangible and palpable, moment by moment, the present moment will no longer elude us. It will become everything to us. Because the truth is, it really is the only thing that is guaranteed.