On savoring the here & now
“If we knew each morning that were was going to be another morning, and on and on and on, we’d tend not to notice the sunrise, or hear the birds, or the waves rolling into shore. We’d tend not to treasure our time with the people we love. Simply the awareness that our mortal lives had a beginning and will have an end enhances the quality of our living. Perhaps it’s even more intense when we know that the termination of the body is near, but it shouldn’t be.”
— Madeleine L’Engle, A Ring of Endless Light
I think about time far too often. Not so much in the oh shit time is running out in my life sort of way, but more so in the sense that I think about the future at the regrettable expense of today. It’s always been a struggle for me to stay in the moment — these fleeting bits of time that always seem to escape my grasp. Maybe my inability to savor moments has to do with my overarching existential anxiety about my life and what I’m doing with it. But hiding behind that excuse is a simple realization, one I’m afraid to admit: I’m taking my time here for granted.
It’s worse when I travel, particularly so when I went to London and Edinburgh. It’s funny, the more I think about it, because I spend so much time looking forward to big trips like this, and yet when I finally get there — after months of anticipation and excitement and a 10-hour flight — I’m solely focused on what’s next. My mind is a barrage of thoughts about what we’re doing this evening, tomorrow, two days from now. Let’s see this next, I tell my husband while snapping a quick photo in the very place I dreamt about for months on end, and oh, then I wanna go here after. What time is our flight on Thursday? I ask over breakfast on Tuesday and what are we doing next weekend?
It’s far too easy to get caught up in what’s happening next in our lives. We have all these amazing dreams — a better job, more money, owning a home, raising a family — but when we achieve one thing, we often don’t stop to savor it. We move right on to dreaming about something bigger and better than what we currently have, where we’re currently at. We miss out on enjoying the dream that was realized.
Don’t get me wrong — it’s great to be excited about your future and plan things to look forward to. But for me, and many of us, it’s become a hyper-fixation. When we’re constantly looking forward to what’s next, we miss out on where we’re at right now. It’s like those people you see sometimes in art museums — you know, the ones who walk up to priceless paintings, snap a quick photo, and then walk on to the next in three seconds. They’re not even looking at the masterpiece in front of them. They’ll get home and realize they actually missed out on the whole exhibition they went to see.
Life’s like that too. If we spend our days waiting in expectation of what’s to come, always looking ahead to what’s next, we’ll miss out on truly living. We’ll look back and realize that we spent our time here constantly waiting for the next big thing, rather than enjoying the moments. In all my planning and anticipation and anxiety about the future, I’m reminded of this verse from James:
If we spend our days waiting in expectation of what’s to come, always looking ahead to what’s next, we’ll miss out on truly living.
“Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit’— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.’”
— James 4:13-17
We often plan ahead in our lives like we’ve got all the time in the world, and yet, as James reminds us, we could be here today and gone tomorrow in the blink of an eye. And what would we have to show for it? A life where we’re never content to just be where we are, but always hoping/wishing/dreaming for something better? We barge ahead and make plans like we know what the future holds, when tomorrow’s not even guaranteed.
Now, I don’t advocate for going all-in on the “I'm living like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't one” Don Draper mentality here (even though, yes, technically I agree there is no tomorrow yet). But it does beg the question — how are we living if there is no tomorrow? If there’s no next week or next year? How does that reality change our day-to-day lives? Maybe we’d put our phones down and be more present with our loved ones. Maybe we’d actually notice the beauty of each sunrise we’re blessed with. Maybe we’d look around us and admire how far we’ve come, how we’re standing in the dream of years ago.
We might not be exactly who or where we want to be in these moments, and that’s okay. I’m not exactly where I want to be, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come. We can learn to be more present in the midst of our messy lives and still take steps to get where we want to be.
For now, as my husband loves to remind me, all will be well. That’s what I need to focus on, when the thoughts of tomorrow and next week and next year creep in like unwanted guests with their constant barrage of worries and plans and schemes. All will be well, I say as I slam the door on the future’s scheming and embrace the only time I do have — right here and now. God willing.