Present: A Moment in Time
Original Publication 18/11/20
Photo courtesy of Kasha-May Benson
We’re in a pandemic, just in case you’ve found yourself living under a rock for the past well several months. While I find this stop-start pace of life to be at times frustratingly monotonous, it’s been of great benefit to my writing. My largely proactive imagination has produced musings that I can run away with on the page and I’m lucky to have you, curious reader, to share them with. On that note, I’d love to share with you my latest.
It concerns a quality of life that humanity has pandered after achieving for countless generations, with limited success. It’s a state of being personified in Buddhism, practised in meditation and yoga, and embodied in the core of many of our arts. It’s the quality of being present.
I’m no different. I find myself drawn to practices that elicit this quality with an often irritating dependence. My need to write feeds my deep interest in literature. My love of cooking is equally reciprocated in eating the end result, and my deep passion for nature runs hand in hand with the enjoyment I find in physical activity and just being outside. If you broke down a day in my life, you’d essentially see a semi-entertaining portrayal of these acts in motion.
Only in the last few years have I given a great deal of thought into deciphering just why I hold them in such high regard. In truth, it had never seemed imperative enough. I adored them for one reason or another and that was good enough for me. Indeed, it’s only during this drastically altered way of life that I’ve discovered the source of my fulfilment and my need for acts such as these that ground me, holding me in the present and allowing me to focus on something much more profound than myself. In turn, bringing me out of introspection.
For several hours, I’m able to imagine an alternate reality and depict it on the page or indulge myself in creative catharsis. For the duration it takes to prepare a meal with love and admiration, I’m first transported back to a family memory, or a distant land I’ve visited in my past. Then I’m pulled into a present moment that wills me to recreate those flavours. In the intimate embrace of nature, my worries and anxieties soon fade, replaced with a state of intense appreciation.
These practices hold me in a deeply meaningful moment in time that simply puts everything else into perspective. I’d argue that this alone justifies their status in regard to my own sanity. Were it not for these, I’m apprehensive to think of where I might be. Surely, a life less sweet.
