The Art of Being
Present
By
R. Cody Smith
From Footsteps May 19,
2004
I
remember in grammar school, the
teacher would call out our names and all us kids responded by saying
"present," a classic oxymoron of course, since there is nobody
less present than a first grader. While our bodies were ensconced in the
miniature chairs, our minds were somewhere else, anywhere else but in that
classroom.
Comedian Woody Allen once said,
"Ninety percent of life is just a matter of showing up. Certainly
showing up is a good thing but the postmodern definition of being present
means a lot more than simply occupying a space.
The contemporary idea of
"being present" means being completely available and
aware of real-time life events about us, living in the reality of this
moment, and at it's best also conveys a sense of being available not only
for ourselves but for others as well.
Unfortunately
this is not my natural state, instead it seems I am subconsciously
avoiding it. When not engaged in some absorbing activity my mind
automatically turns away from the present to dwell on thoughts of either
the past or the future.
The
Past:
Even
though the past is over and cannot be changed, I still seem to spend an
inordinate amount of time there. I rehash my mistakes, relive my regrets
and recount all the injustices perpetrated on me, everything from a
disappointing childhood experience to this morning's slight from my
wife.
Occasionally an issue gets
resolved, mostly because I finally decide it's no longer worth fretting
about-actually it never was. At moments like these my mind flits right on
through the very uncomfortable present and resumes it's other endless
struggle.
The
Future:
If
the past is unchangeable the future is so full of variables that it
practically guarantees to provide a near constant state of anxiety. I
worry about the future trying to anticipate the unknowable, maneuvering,
strategizing for control. There is a fear, that if I stop obsessing over
the future I might loose control and something bad could happen. It's as
though my obsessing is some kind of power that holds the very stars aloft
in the heavens. Believe me it's not.
In my more passive moods I find
myself daydreaming, or simply killing time while waiting for something to
happen. I waited to be sixteen so I could drive, twenty-one so I could
drink and vote, then I waited for maturity so people would trust me in
business. Right now I'm waiting to collect Social Security, and then I
suppose I'll be waiting to die (finally, the end of waiting).
It is in the midst of all this
distraction that I am expected to live. As John Lennon sang, "Life is
what happens to you while you're busy making plans."
The
Present:
Every
once in a while I have a moment when past and future struggles cease and I
actually find myself present. I spend so little time here that it makes me
feel uncomfortable, and insecure; there is a sense of loss, the loss of
the familiarity of my own compulsive self-talk. The absence of all this
tension seems so strange that I am only able to endure it momentarily, and
then quickly I plunge back into the struggle.
Safe from reality, moving
between past and future I have carefully constructed my ego self. This is
who I prefer to think I am, but in the present I might suddenly encounter
who I really am. I seek it yet I fear it, I don't know who I really am,
and it frightens me.
Surely
I want to live life as the person that God made me to be.
Conclusion:
Being
present requires that I begin to trust God and let go of the uncertainties
of the future and the injustices of the past in order that I can become
fully engaged in the reality of the present moment. There is a freedom
here, freedom from self; it is here in the present that I begin to think
less and less about me, and more and more about others.
My need for intimacy with other
human beings springs from my need for intimacy with God, both are
satisfied only in the present. The present is also the habitat of the Holy
Spirit making it the only place in time when where I can truly commune
with God.
Being
present seems to fit nicely with the description of the ancient mystics as
the meditative first step to communion with God. Extending this focus into
the rest of my daily life could then result in a continual abiding in his
presence (an inspiring thought).
God,
living in the vast continuum of time, became flesh and made his dwelling
among us. There was no guile in him, when you talked with him he hung on
your every word. He wasn't preoccupied with himself, with what he was
going to say next. He was totally present for you in that moment. It gave
you the sense that he came for you and you alone; This God-man who defines
love, waits on us still.
His
hope is that we will become more like him, living more presently, more
available to him, and for others.
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