Time is many things. How you perceive it and define it change depending upon a myriad of factors: mood, circumstance, age, etc. There are those who tell you, “Time is an illusion”. Now, I get that on a metaphysical level, where indeed in the big proverbial scheme of things like eternity, time is unquantifiable. But, here in our earthbound existence, our lives are defined by time. You wake up at a certain time to catch the train to get you to work by 9 A.M. You set the timer on the oven for 30-40 minutes so the soufflé you made will be cooked properly.
Why am I going on about time? Well, today marks six months since Mom died and just like my father’s passing 31 years ago, my perception of that time is mixed. This was my first entry about her death. On the one hand, it feels fresh like it just happened today, while on the other hand, it feels like this new reality without her physical presence is not new at all. There are days when I’m doing well and making great progress on the “stuff” of death: closing accounts, opening new ones, paying bills. Time is my friend on these days. Then there are the days when I look around at all the clutter that still hasn’t been given away, sold, or otherwise discarded, the paperwork that still needs to be completed, and the memorial Mass that still needs to be scheduled and held for her, and I feel like time is my enemy.
I’m reading a book that I’ve been meaning to get to for years: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I’m about halfway through it, and while the concepts discussed aren’t new to me, I’m finding more of a resonance right now. The importance of living in the present is one such concept. Hey, I’ve read Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now, and didn’t the Buddha say, “Be where you are; otherwise you will miss your life”? Having a present-moment focus isn’t revelatory to me.
What is new is my desire to embrace the present moment. For far too long, life “right now” was the last place I wanted to be. The present moment was full of 24/7, 365-day “fight or flight” when it came to Mom and her health. I’d much rather remember the “good old days” before macular degeneration, mystery bleeds, and congestive heart failure. Or I’d dream of some distant future when I’d be doing creative work I loved and traveling. Neither living in the past nor the future was satisfying but they were better than the present.
I just came across these lines in The Alchemist and the profundity of its simplicity shifted something within me:
The secret is here in the present. If you pay attention to the present, you can improve upon it. And, if you improve upon the present, what comes later will also be better.
Here’s to a mindful present for us all.