Making Friends with the Present Moment

February 10, 2022

I was dragging myself through Friday. It was cold, grey, I was tired of the pandemic, not in the mood for any of the work that was on my list…blah blah blah.  I shut the computer to instead have a little fun with art making and within seconds I couldn’t see a thing- my mask fogging up my reading glasses. I had to laugh at my state.   

I was looking through Eckhart Tolle videos for my class (and noticing how Oprah won’t let the poor guy get a word in edgewise). He pointedly said “People don’t understand the power of the present moment… They make an enemy of it.” I thought ‘yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing now’. 

It felt good when I went outside to walk home with Pauli.

She was in a funk too. 

“We’re making an enemy of the present moment”, I told her.

“That ain’t right” she said without a lot of enthusiasm. 

‘This is the practice’, I reminded us both.

‘We feel blah, we look for reasons why. We land on the weather, the lack of sun and the covid restrictions, and we think these are legitimate reasons to internally (or externally) complain.’ 

‘But you know, come summer, even if the pandemic is over and it’s warm and sunny, we’ll find something to complain about. You know we will.’

‘It will be unreasonably hot’, she said.

‘Some-one or some-thing at the restaurant will be extremely annoying.

Yes, if I am in the habit of finding fault with the present moment, that habit remains, regardless of the circumstances. 

This cold, dark, pandemic winter - I mean, this crisp, cozy, spacious winter - is the perfect time to work on this life-dulling habit because it is so challenging.  When we hit our edge and go just a little bit beyond it, we strengthen our practice, our capacity to enjoy (or at least accept) the moment - independent of circumstances.

Over and over, I can just notice the story, drop it, and come into the present moment with freshness. 

‘What is perfect about this moment?’ is a great question to pull me out (quiet studio, Pauli’s company, fresh air, people bustling about in the street, high boots). Or as our beloved Thich Nhat Hanh would remind us, ‘Have you noticed you don’t have a toothache?’

We got home, played an excruciatingly slow game of cards. We had potato chips and vodka tonics for dinner. We watched a show, and another, and went to bed. We went in and out of boredom (we’ve done this a few times this year), appreciation (for each other), grasping (for pleasures), and smiling at ourselves for all our shenanigans.    

On Saturday morning I put my snow pants on over my pajamas and walked out to see the predawn sky. I was expecting color (which is what got me out of bed in the dark), but what I got was the moon. A gorgeous crescent practically touching the bump of the CN Tower against an exquisite indigo backdrop of sky - with a bright dot of a planet on the other side. I am not kidding you. I walked along College Street and drank it all in. People passing by all bundled up in their hoods and tucked into their masks responding with a muffled ‘good morning’ in answer to mine. Thank you for the company of strangers, the silhouettes of the tree skeletons, the blinking palm tree of the El Mocombo sign. The clock tower and the enormous willow.

Those days when the practice is truly an effort and we’re doing it imperfectly – remember - we’re just doing it.  And things will shift both of their own accord, and because of our efforts. 

Keep on beginning again.  We got this.