It’s 6:45 a.m. I’m drinking honey and ginger tea in the hopes it relieves my sore throat and coughing for the next hour. Last night was my first night here, and I slept blissfully well, elongated, on my spine, as opposed to on the plane. My duvet here is fantastic, and my house mate seems really nice. We watched a couple episodes of “The Crown” together last night, which is being heavily promoted here in the U.K. We both enjoyed it.
Yesterday I was reflecting on what it means to be present. Not what it means to be a present, but what it means to live in the moment. It’s something I’ve always struggled with. I grew up in a typical French Canadian household, with a French Canadian mother. While eating one meal with my 23 cousins, our mothers were already planning the next meal, and the meal afterward. We would sit, hardly enjoy the meal at hand, already contemplating the next. This was normal.
I didn’t really learn how to enjoy the present moment. Sensuality, sex, and desire were my first gateway into what it means to exist in the moment. It’s hard to disassociate from sex, right? It was the first time I thought “oh, so is this what it means to be in the moment?” Of course, I wasn’t thinking that WHILE having sex, but afterward, in a post-sex cuddle haze. When I’m stressed, sensuality is often the best way to bring me back to the present. A light tough along my arm, a massage, someone playing with my hair. All of these things are like a ‘zap’. My brain says “pay attention to this lovely thing happening to you” mmmm.
Yoga was my second entry into being present. Yoga is a moving meditation. Movement usually occurs on the exhale. Coordinating this takes a great deal of focus, and with focus often comes a lack of thought. It’s in yoga that I learned to be present but also compassionate with myself. We are told to recognize the thoughts as they come, acknowledge them, and then let them go (it’s not a big deal).
I try to apply that into my everyday life, now. I realized recently that I often live in the future. I’m constantly planning ‘the next thing’, like my mother and her sisters. Is there anything I would change about ‘right now’? Probably not. I think my life is pretty perfect as it is. I’m surrounded by people I love and appreciate, and they love me in turn, I love my jobs. I love my condo. I love my neighbourhood. All of these things are pretty darn perfect. Why change anything? Why not just enjoy what I have right now, in this moment?
Those are my reflections at (now) 7 a.m. Time for me to take a shower and see if the steam clears my sinus!