Be There Then
A tip of the bike helmet to Ram Dass, who reminded us many years ago to Be Here Now. No offense to him, but it seems pretty easy to be here now, at least right Now. I'm at my computer. Bright sunshine is pouring through the windows. The iced tea I just made is cool and sweet in my glass--the one emblazoned with "Reno High School" lettered in an arc over a mighty fierce-looking husky head. I have an ice pack on my piriformis muscle. I can hear a weed whacker going somewhere in the neighborhood. Danny Mo, the world's best cat, is asleep nearby, on top of his favorite cardboard box.
That's my Now. Harder for me than being here now is being There Then--"Then" being the past or the future. Which means I'm assessing how engaged I was when "back Then" was Now and also forecasting how engaged I'll be when I get to the future and it changes over from being Then to being Now.
Case in point is the bike ride I just took along the Bay Trail. In the image above you get a glimpse of what the world treated me to--the Bay still as a lake, the smells and sounds of a quiet Saturday morning enveloping me via the fresh breeze. When the Now was Then, I was There. (Stay with me Here. Now.) But I was also not There--I was in the future extended and wonderful bike rides I was envisioning; I was in the long runs I recently did on this trail but can no longer do; I was in the old folks' home of my future; I was in the Key West of my past, some 33 years ago, in the Then of when I first started running.
So I started chanting to myself, Be Here Now. As I chanted, I dissected that sentence. It's phrased in the imperative, meaning that the subject, "you," is implied but not written. (Pondered whether when I'm talking to myself the subject might be "me," but that was confusing because me is the first-person objective pronoun, not the subjective. Decided to leave that grammatical conundrum and stick to the point. And hoped I remembered the point.) The verb is "Be," which is a reminder that collectively we're known as Human Beings, not Human Doings, so we need to breathe the very air that's around us right this very minute. "Here" is an adverb meaning, well, right here, in this one and only place. And "Now" is a second adverb, thrown in to remind us not to injure ourselves by trying to split our brains between the present and the past and/or the future.
About now you may have decided this would be a good time to see if there's any football on TV. I think if I liked football even a little I might decide the same thing. Now if there were baseball--but no. I got myself into this post, so I'm obligated to get myself out, and get you out too.
"Be There Then," then, for me is a reminder to reign in my consciousness and actually focus on the here and now. To acknowledge and dismiss those fantasies that have me turning some temporary bike-riding cross training into a serious athletic career, or that have me harking back to two weeks ago when I was able to run 10 miles from flat Berkeley to hilly Berkeley and back before breakfast and come home not even breathing hard. No. Those two places, and others like them, are the "Then." When they are the "Now" is the time to suck them dry for every pleasure and pain they might offer.
When I was looking out over the Bay was the time to give thanks for my of-the-moment (mostly) fit and healthy body and its ability to appreciate the beauty of just being alive.
I gave it a try Then. And writing this serves me as a reminder to try it as often as I can. My tea glass is empty and my post is about finished. The ice pack on my butt has lost its bite. I just gave a contented sigh. And that's where I am Now.
That's my Now. Harder for me than being here now is being There Then--"Then" being the past or the future. Which means I'm assessing how engaged I was when "back Then" was Now and also forecasting how engaged I'll be when I get to the future and it changes over from being Then to being Now.
Case in point is the bike ride I just took along the Bay Trail. In the image above you get a glimpse of what the world treated me to--the Bay still as a lake, the smells and sounds of a quiet Saturday morning enveloping me via the fresh breeze. When the Now was Then, I was There. (Stay with me Here. Now.) But I was also not There--I was in the future extended and wonderful bike rides I was envisioning; I was in the long runs I recently did on this trail but can no longer do; I was in the old folks' home of my future; I was in the Key West of my past, some 33 years ago, in the Then of when I first started running.
So I started chanting to myself, Be Here Now. As I chanted, I dissected that sentence. It's phrased in the imperative, meaning that the subject, "you," is implied but not written. (Pondered whether when I'm talking to myself the subject might be "me," but that was confusing because me is the first-person objective pronoun, not the subjective. Decided to leave that grammatical conundrum and stick to the point. And hoped I remembered the point.) The verb is "Be," which is a reminder that collectively we're known as Human Beings, not Human Doings, so we need to breathe the very air that's around us right this very minute. "Here" is an adverb meaning, well, right here, in this one and only place. And "Now" is a second adverb, thrown in to remind us not to injure ourselves by trying to split our brains between the present and the past and/or the future.
About now you may have decided this would be a good time to see if there's any football on TV. I think if I liked football even a little I might decide the same thing. Now if there were baseball--but no. I got myself into this post, so I'm obligated to get myself out, and get you out too.
"Be There Then," then, for me is a reminder to reign in my consciousness and actually focus on the here and now. To acknowledge and dismiss those fantasies that have me turning some temporary bike-riding cross training into a serious athletic career, or that have me harking back to two weeks ago when I was able to run 10 miles from flat Berkeley to hilly Berkeley and back before breakfast and come home not even breathing hard. No. Those two places, and others like them, are the "Then." When they are the "Now" is the time to suck them dry for every pleasure and pain they might offer.
When I was looking out over the Bay was the time to give thanks for my of-the-moment (mostly) fit and healthy body and its ability to appreciate the beauty of just being alive.I gave it a try Then. And writing this serves me as a reminder to try it as often as I can. My tea glass is empty and my post is about finished. The ice pack on my butt has lost its bite. I just gave a contented sigh. And that's where I am Now.
Comments