We are vastly capable of change.
There is a saying from the ancient Chinese religious tradition known as Taoism that goes like this: “If you are depressed you are living in the past, if you are anxious you are living in the future, if you are at peace you are living in the present.”
Upon hearing this, it certainly makes a lot of sense. In terms of living in the past, I’m sure I’m not alone in looking back at choices I’ve made and things I’ve done and wondered what my life might have been like had I made different choices or, frankly, behaved better in my earlier years. And it’s not just looking back through the years, either. I can think of things I said or did last week that I wish I’d done differently. Or even this morning.
Such second-guessing is a kind of emotional self-flagellation, a diving down into the valley of regret. No wonder we get depressed when we fall into these proverbial rabbit holes. Yet we can’t help but go there sometimes, even though we know that to live with regret is kind of a waste of time. Regret, after all, is simply doubt in the rearview mirror.
Likewise, worrying about the future also feels like time wasted, because the future hasn’t happened yet. As a Zen Buddhist would say, tomorrow does not yet exist. But again, we can’t not fret about what tomorrow may bring sometimes. We’ve lived long enough to know that some of the future things we once worried about actually came to pass. We’ve learned that anything can happen and often does. So we’re a bit gun-shy. No wonder we get anxious.
That leaves us with the present. The Tao Te Ching,[1] the foundational text of Taoism, tells us that living in the present is a key to feeling peaceful. And I get that. We often hear that we should live in the present; it’s where the expression, “Stop and smell the roses” comes from. The German spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle has made a good living writing and speaking about what he calls The Power of the Now. Whenever he writes the word Now, Tolle capitalizes it, as if it were a proper noun, an entity unto itself.
Tolle has said, “Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have. Make the Now the primary focus of your life.”
Again, when I hear this, it makes complete sense. Nobody is guaranteed surviving into tomorrow. We assume we will because that has been our experience, also if we are not catastrophically ill or because we are generally free in our lives from life-threatening events, we can pretty much count on going on living. Sunday turns into Monday, Monday into Tuesday, and our days roll on, turning into weeks, weeks turning into months, and months turning into years. It’s very likely we never stop to think that none of this was guaranteed.
There is a poem by the late Jane Kenyon called “Otherwise,” which Kenyon wrote after receiving a diagnosis of leukemia. Although she did not live to see it published, and perhaps because she did not, it has become a much beloved poem, a loving ode to the present. Kenyon writes:
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
We grab the steering wheel and swerve to avoid driving off the road into a ditch, and we drive on to arrive at our destination. It might have been otherwise. We catch ourselves at the top of the stairs when we slip on the first step, after which we descend the stairs slowly, spooked by what could have happened. It might have been otherwise.
At the other end of the rainbow, we learn we’re getting a raise even though our company just announced some budget cuts following a lean year. It might have been otherwise. A sibling you had a falling out with calls to apologize. It might have been otherwise. The temperature soars into the high forties after a major snowstorm, and snowdrifts begin their retreat. It might have been otherwise.
So, yes, it is important to remember to live in the present and appreciate that this day is all we have. The Now is all we have. Still, we can’t help but count on the very real likelihood of more days to come—and that, perhaps, is why we afford ourselves the luxury of dwelling on the past and fretting about the future. We’re pretty sure there are boatloads of nows to come.
Still, I have a problem with this now thing. I see a glitch in the logic of focusing on the present, and it is this: What if the present feels exhausting or unbearable? What if the present is causing us to walk through the valley of regret? What if the present is what is causing us to worry about the future?
What if you are just waiting for today to turn into tomorrow? What if, every year on New Year’s Eve, you pray that the new year won’t be as crazy as the one wrapping up? (It’s kind of funny that on New Year’s Eve, even atheists pray to God, as in “Thank God that’s over.”)
That’s living in the past and future at the same time. And the turning of the year as New Year’s Eve becomes New Year’s Day, that present moment, is over at 12:01 a.m. Over in a minute. Over in a second if you want to get granular about it, the first second after midnight.
I’d like you to try an experiment. Think of one thing going on right now that is vexing you, something that is causing you pain or even a twinge of anxiety. If you’re like me, you can probably think of several things, but for the sake of this experiment, really try to home in on one challenge, one heartache, one problem you face in your life right now. Or a longing. It’s important to make it a personal one, too. In other words, not about our troubling political landscape and its moral upheaval, as anxiety-provoking as that is.
It might help to close your eyes. Think of one thing. A stalled career? An ambition you’ve had that you think you’ll never achieve because you suspect you just don’t have what it takes? A setback in your finances? A chill in an intimate relationship and you’re feeling guilty about your role in it? Why don’t I do something about this? Where is my courage?
Or something physical: hip pain, and you’re avoiding the prospect of surgery, and meanwhile, you’re limping. Weight gain, and you’re beating yourself up over your lack of discipline. A heart murmur you know you need to check out but you’re afraid of what the tests may say.
Focus on one thing. Now ask yourself three questions about it:
Question One is about the past. Am I blaming myself for this because of my own actions or inaction? Am I feeling guilty?
Question Two is about the present. Do I sometimes feel paralyzed by this problem in my daily life? Does it prevent me from living in the moment?
Question Three is about the future. Do I worry that this problem will go on and on if I don’t change something? Am I doomed to live with it forever or a least a very long time?
In short: Is this thing you are reflecting on dragging up the past, is it dulling the present, or is it casting a pall over the future? Or all three?
Now, in your mind, hold this thing out at arm’s length, take a good look at it. Try to see it as almost a physical thing, look right at it, and say this to yourself: This is just for now.
I have regrets about the past. This is just for now.
I feel paralyzed here in the present. I know something needs to change. I just don’t know what. But this is just for now.
I can’t look at the news; the world is on fire. This is just for now.
I’m worried about what the future may hold, either in my own life or in the world. I’m worried about other people.
That feeling? It’s temporary. This is just for now.
If you have ever invested any money, whether into a retirement account or buying stocks and bonds—you’ve seen the big, bad disclaimer when you go to fill out the forms: Past results are no guarantee of future performance. It’s the same way with our lives.
Oh, maybe we are where we are because of things we have done or not done in the past—investments we have in ourselves. But the results from those decisions, those choices, are no guarantee of future performance. After all, we are not the same person now that we were then. Heck, we are not the same person we were last week. Or, as Alan Watts, the British philosopher who embodied Buddhist, Taoist, and Hindu teachings, once said, “You’re under no obligation to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago.”
So take joy and not despair from this. The present moment is but a fleeting glimpse of your heart. This is not just true of negative feelings like regret and anger. It’s also true of joy and happiness, emotions we also experience time and time again. The loves we share. The goals we do achieve. The fun we have. The triumphs we witness both in our own lives and in the actions of those fighting forces of tyranny and systems of oppression. These feelings, too, come and go. And if they do, how could it be any different for anything weighing us down?
Whatever one’s circumstance, whatever the state of the world—this is just for now. It feels like a corollary to the Taoist teaching to stay in the present, or Eckhart Tolle’s advice to stay in the now: Yes, live in the now, but go gently on yourself, knowing that the now is just for now and it’s over pretty quickly.
For many, the now right now out there in the world feels full of despair and it has the unfortunate side effect of stultifying our inner worlds as well. Some of that despair comes from feeling stuck—when, in fact, we are anything but. Just look at all those nows coming down the road. For unless and until you know otherwise, tomorrow may not yet exist, but it will arrive, and with you in it.
We still have agency; we still govern our emotions and our own actions. There is nothing in the rulebook that says you are not allowed to try to change something. In a time when the powerful are flexing their muscles and testing the limits of human bravery, we are not powerless. We are vastly capable of change.
And that is because every moment could very well be otherwise. Take heart. More nows are already on their way.
May it be so. Blessed be.
[1] Literally, The Way and Its Virtue.