Feeling the Now.

It was a warm, still, sunny day today, and since I’d got most of the early spring gardening work done over the last few days, I decided to go for a walk.

As I walked down the path I could see the kids playing in the sunshine, over on the village school playing field across the lane. For a second or two I was taken back to my own childhood. I felt again the innocent joy of going out on the first warm, sunny day of spring without a coat. I remember taking a simple, spontaneous delight in the feel of the sunshine and the sight of a world that had been coloured dull browns and greys and whites, but now looked resplendent in vibrant greens and yellows. I remember sensing that there was a mellow freshness and life about the air. I remember feeling alive and happy.

As I started my walk down the lane, I asked myself the question: what was that feeling all about, and why don’t I get it so easily any more? The answer, I think, is simple. Children naturally live the Now far more readily than adults do.

As we grow older we create a history, and we become inclined to remember and reminisce. The older we get, the bigger the history becomes and the more there is to reminisce about. We even use that history to define ourselves, because we naturally see ourselves in terms of our experiences.

But we don’t only look backwards. As we grow out of early childhood, we become aware of expectations – those we have of ourselves and those that others have of us. Expectations are all about future consciousness, and that consciousness leads us to consider where we’re going - or think we are. We begin to have aspirations, and aspirations lead us to plan and set goals. But we also come to realise that the future is essentially unknowable because luck plays a part, as do the actions of others. And so we develop the habit of worrying about what might or might not work out, or whether the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune might pin us to a stake or push us over a precipice. It affects some of us more than others, but I’ve never met an adult yet who didn’t suffer from it to some extent.

And the more we look back and forward along the conveyor belt that is life, remembering the past and fretting about the future, the more we forget how to live in the present moment. There are plenty of self-professed sages telling us it’s what we should be doing, but I haven’t encountered one yet who can tell me how to do it.

Happy footnote:

On my way back from the walk I was slowly overtaken by Sarah (she of the inner beauty and possessor of a lovely Cocker Spaniel) and her sister, Rebecca, out riding their horses. Sarah was friendly and talkative, which she hasn’t been for some months, and even Rebecca spoke amicably to me, which she’s never done before. (Rebecca usually stares at me silently and inquisitively. I don’t know why.)

As nice as the experience was, I really must try not to remember it, mustn’t I?