Posts Tagged ‘how to live in the moment’

The secret to an increased level of contentment and peacefulness is to live in the present, see the good in the moment, embrace the “is.”

The current is has the best fizz.

One of my favorite is’s today was a sip of espresso this morning. Sip pause, swallow —- “Ah.” And hold.

They say “seize the day.” Usually we wrestle the hour, but I say unto you sit in the second.

When we arrived at the top of the Coronado bay bridge today the Pacific opened up in front of us with clear views all the way out to the Coronado Islands — halcyon, blue sea, silvery shimmery expanse, Coronado red tile roof tops aglow, green palms lining the white beaches, puffy clouds above in a brilliant azure sky.

I sat in the second. Seized it. “Gorgeous world! I love you!” It is still with me.

To live inside the here — gawk, clap, hoot and cheer!

Take a moment now. Close your eyes. Take a long slow deep breath’s. Imagine the most beautiful things you saw today. Those were today’s beautiful moments of “is.”

Now open your eyes and gawk, see clearly what’s near you — perhaps someone you love, perhaps the view through the window, perhaps a piece of art in your home, perhaps your precious hands.

Hug the now; kiss the “Wow!; take a vow.

Take a vow to banish what is negative, for even just a moment, banish the negative past and negative present too, and also refuse the future that scares you, even just for a moment, and wrap your mental arms around what is in front of you, what is real, what is good.

That is your reality if you let it be.

Fools drink a case of was; the wise drink up a lake of is.

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Philippians 4:8

Just before we left the house I remembered my binoculars. “What the heck?”

That was the whole point of the thing — the swirling, milky Andromeda galaxy; the flaming red Ocotillo against the cornflower blue sky; a crisp, white quarter moon; a perfectly pink, finely needled pincushion cactus — and not thinking about my dental appointment next week.

Sometimes it is so freakin’ deliciously and precisely, so fix-brainedly, knob-focusedly, fine-tunedly all about paying attention, which means not remembering and not imagining.

Sitting around the fire that evening I assembled Dale’s telescope on my lap. It was operating-room team work.




“20 mm lens — no not the 9mm — too much for the optics.”

I honored each piece of technology with nomenclature, a moments-techno-touch, a loving-looking-pause.

We know the names of what we take the time to see.

We flipped a lawn chair on its side and made a table for the telescope.

Boom — there were the mountains and craters of our mad-circling moon, in crisp, blazing white — always there, seldom wooed, never won.

And then later, after we had talked the dry dust, desert wind and gas fire into oblivion — sighting the scope off the car hood — we ogled the moons of Jupiter, glittering in a row next to the giant planet, posing there for us in a way we could take in, the size of an @ in an email address.

Gorgeous — drop-dead-come-back-alive gorgeous!

Awareness is the thing, conscious, woken-up, fix-eyed, mind-sighted, calibrated awareness, in the moment — not tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

As we sat over dinner earlier in the evening, I made a conscious decision to take in the moment — the pianist, hunched over his swirling, finger-tipped atmosphere, the mushroom crusted scallop posing on my fork, our friends all holding knives while spinning stories of the children we have named, of calving glaciers and orca whales.

We weren’t thinking about the possibility of any of us getting cancer.

The other day I noticed that when I post a set of my freshly crafted modern proverbs on my website, I do so by touching the screen of my iPad, copying them from my “notes” program with my finger tip and then springing them — again from the tip of my finger — into a new post! Bam! — my finger-wand casts word-wisdom into the waiting world.

I reach out, riding on a cloud, finger extended — and living in that moment and no other possible one — I create, my world!

This morning my wife and I sat outside our room and watched the sun come up on the mountains in the Anza Borrego desert. Bright light flooded the alluvials and tipped the peaks.

The real trick is paying attention — and not worrying.