Revealing the Concealed

I was talking with a friend the other day about the whole concept of living more fully in the present. Those much wiser than me refer to this idea quite often. I think it is because the present moment is where life is. The present moment is actually the very source of life. True life is here and now (not yesterday, not tomorrow). But how many people spend their whole lives either living in the past or dreaming of the future?

A friend of mine is driving down from Northern CA to spend a day with me and get a tattoo for her 40th birthday. As she was telling me about this plan, she was describing how the design of her tattoo, the symbolism of it, and her overall impetus for getting it is a marker of how she currently views life. In essence, she was saying that it didn’t really matter if the meaning of the tattoo doesn’t resonate with her in exactly the same way several years from now, because it is meant to serve as a marker of where she is today, at 40.

Now, before you start to think I’m subtly advocating that everyone get a tattoo at mid-life, I’m not. The tattoo, of course, is not the point. It’s more an example of the whole idea of living life today. Neither our bodies nor our lives were meant to be preserved. They are meant to be used up in the grand plan of life. They are given to us for a reason – to be used, lived in, and offered to the world for some grander purpose, not tended to carefully and set on a shelf. To do this, we need to pursue life, and it can only be really enjoyed on a moment to moment basis. But we forget this in our constant planning and scheming about the future (or in our massaging of fond memories from the past).

It’s not that the past or the future don’t play a part in where our minds settle from time to time. As L. LaRoche writes, “It’s the future that gives our dreams viability and helps keep the candle of hope burning brightly.” But she goes on to say that when “we spend too much time using our hopes for the future as a way to take us away from the realities of the present, we turn our expectations into disappointments.”

So, we have to work a bit to silence the voices of “I will be happy/more fulfilled when…I get married, I have kids, my kids go to college, I get that new job, I move to this state, this city, that country, I finally take that dreamed about vacation, etc.” Western culture places such a strong emphasis on this kind of magical thinking and instant gratification. But, as anyone who’s lived more than a few years knows, it’s not true. No matter what we achieve in life nor how many different roads we take, it doesn’t change the fact that life can only really be lived now. There is no way around that. Every moment is “the” moment. To live otherwise is to be out of touch with reality and to deny the nature of our existence. True contentment lies in allowing the present to satisfy us, choosing to see the fullness that is there and allowing ourselves to dwell on it.

Without wanting to sound like someone spouting overly simplistic, feel good statements, there is something to be said for letting your mind dwell on the good things in life. This was my experience on my walk this evening. I left around 4:30, after the minor drizzle we’d been having all day stopped, and planned out a route that included all the local errands I needed to do. Along the way, a few things that I enjoy about living here started standing out to me and I decided to pay a little more attention as I continued my jaunt. My list of things that left me with a fuller heart is as follows…

The funky orange jeep that I’ve posted a picture of here was on a different side street, but this time was filled with red flowers (I assume for Valentine’s Day). This made me smile.

Two different photographers were roaming about the street with really long lenses on their cameras, capturing the water and sun and clouds, all mingling together.

Half of the sky over the ocean was covered with dense clouds, the other half was clear. Sun was streaming through right at the dividing line and shone down in rays visible against the clouds, leaving patches of sparkling light on the surface of the water.

The post office was full of people, some of whom were speaking various different languages.  This town, as small as it is, seems to contain a high percentage of people from Europe and the UK. It’s fun to live somewhere that has both a sense of community and a cosmopolitan feel.

Rediscovery of an old book and record shop that I had forgotten about led me to some additional books for my art supplies. The $1 a book shelf out front was cheaper than books from the thrift stores, where they cost $2 or $3 a piece. Now I have somewhere small and local to support when I need more books.

The view at the top of the hill on the way back allows you to see the ocean and the houses leading down to it. I passed it just as the sky was starting to turn orange and the clouds were lighting up in different hues.

A chat with the owner of a local mini market a few blocks from home about how cold it had been today (yes, my friends from elsewhere, it did get cold today :) left me appreciating familiarity. Recognition of faces is nice in this day and age of living anonymously.

So, as small as each of these observations was on its own, taken together, they left me with a fuller heart. Gratitude seems to work that way, huh. It seems to have a cumulative effect…like, the more you allow it in, the more it grows.

I am so grateful for the expanse of the ocean and its crashing waves and salty air, for the never-ending calm it exudes. I especially love the ocean at night. It seems so majestic and still, both at the same time. It affords solitude and time to think, refreshment and relaxation. Visiting its shores is like a massage and a therapy session rolled into one. And the best part is, it’s free for the taking. It’s remembering to take that is the hard part.