Category: Being Present

Busy happens when you’re here and you can’t stop thinking about being there.

It’s the byproduct of planning too much into your day, too closely in a row.

…Or, maybe worth considering, it’s the byproduct of simply not being able to be here.

What I’ve noticed is that the people in my life who regularly define themselves as “busy,” tend to be that way on every single one of their days—regardless of the number of tasks they have to complete. And those who never make mention of being “busy,” tend to follow the same pattern.

Now, this might very well be because “busy” people have an increased overall average number of tasks to complete.

…Or it might be because “busy” people have an increased overall tendency to pack their days with tasks so they can intentionally invoke the feeling of busy so as to distract themselves from the here.

My challenge for you, dear busy person, is to challenge “busy” and bring to question how you’re filling your days. Are you really as busy as you’re making yourself out to be? Are there tasks you can delegate, delete, or automate to add more downtime and in-between time? Can you make more of a deliberate effort to be where you are throughout the day and focus less on the next place you need to be?

What a shame, after all, to be so busy getting to the next task that you never have time to be present for the current one.

…What a shame, after all, to be so busy “life-ing” that you never have time left for living.

Here’s an idea: Wake up earlier—not so you can get more done—but so you can move slower throughout your day.

…Move slower from bed to shower; from one exercise to the next; while eating; while driving; while walking; when speaking with people; when arriving back home and reacquainting with family; while cooking dinner; while reading; while writing; while watching the sun go down.

We’ve been brainwashed to believe that rushing is the key to productivity.

…It’s not.

If anything, rushing is the thief of presence. It steals away from us our connection to the present moment and has us constantly refreshing our awareness of what needs to happen next, next, next. So much so that there’s no awareness left for where we are—physically or mentally—throughout the day.

And so our day slips away. Time and again.

…And how much time does rushing ever really save us anyway?

I’ve rushed to work and I’ve casually commuted and the difference—at max—has only ever been 1-3 minutes. I’ve rushed to get tasks done versus got them done with full presence and have often lost more time than gained in silly mistakes and errors. I’ve scarfed down food and I’ve sat and enjoyed a meal—and maybe 15 minutes were accounted for.

…But is time gained from rushing really time gained?

My argument is that what’s “gained” from rushing is lost in presence. And the loss in presence is the far greater loss in comparison. Which is why, for those used to rushing, sprinkling 30-60 additional minutes throughout the day for intentional slowness could result in a pretty significant and noteworthy gain.

I’m the work hard, play hard type.

I have a hard time letting myself relax and play if I haven’t gotten my work done for the day first.

And once I’ve completed my work or exhausted whatever energy I had towards it, I try and cut loose from it completely and relax and play fully—I try not to let work bleed into play.

That said, I’m usually doing one or the other: working or playing. And what I recognized in myself just yesterday is that there’s a third option that I’m skipping over altogether: being.

While this might sound new-age-y… here’s what I mean: after work this past Saturday, I came home and did some additional work that I had on my to-do list. I lasted around 2 hours before I completely zonked out from fully depleted mental energy.

But, it was too early for me to “play hard” and so I found myself in this unusual gap where I didn’t have the mental energy to work, but didn’t hit the time in my schedule where I could play.

And then it occurred to me…

This is precisely the kind of time gap that I’ve been hoping for. A time where I had nothing pressing that needed to get done so that I could practice being present—aka meditating for extended periods of time.

And so I tried it.

I sat in my backyard, eyes closed, for double the time I would normally sit—40 minutes. And just practiced being. It was quite refreshing and something I think needs to be added to the work hard, play hard formula. At least it’ll be something I add to mine.

This weekend, I had the great pleasure of looking through my grandmother’s personal photo albums which included never before seen pictures of my dad, grandmother, grandfather, aunts, uncles, and various other associated parties.

In fact, it was just this weekend that I saw baby pictures of my dad—something I had never seen prior.

It struck me how grateful I was that those pictures were taken, collected, and saved.

And what I found most interesting was how much was coming back to my dad and uncle that they, just then, thought to share—things that I suspect would’ve never resurfaced otherwise. Memories that needed that trigger of a picture—taken during what would’ve been, I imagine, seemingly normal and nonspecific moments in time—to be revived in their minds.

…Moments that I, in my life, constantly question for validity and worth.

Like, why capture this moment? Why now? Why not in the next moment? Why not stay present and as aware of the moment as I can—minus the thought of how to best capture it? How to know what’ll serve the most long term value—capturing or thoroughly soaking in?

What I don’t know is how to answer those above questions.

What I do know is that, like my dad and uncle, there are countless memories laying buried in dark corners of my mind that need but a picture to be excavated and revived…

And no picture was taken.