Presence in the Present

Wednesday morning, I found myself surrounded by 15 other women of varying ages. At the very youthful age (had to force myself to say that one) of 26, I was the youngest in the room. We were in a computer room to learn a new program for work. From all different departments, it was obvious we had one thing in common: no one wanted to be there.

Our trainer tried to lighten the mood and asked us to go around and introduce ourselves, what department we were from and answer an icebreaker question. No one likes icebreaker questions. It requires vulnerability on some level. It breaks the ice, and forces us out of the typical response: “Hi. I’m Erin. I work in Neurosurgery. At south campus”.

The dreaded question:

“If you could choose to go into the past or future, which would you choose?”

*Please note the “why” is not included. It was not included as a part of the original question on Wednesday, but it worked itself into the answers of co-workers.

I’m not here to write about my response, because it was lighthearted and fun, the route I typically take with a room full of strangers, and I thought the purpose of the question in the first place. A rule follower and a protector of oneself. That’s me.

As I sat and listened to others respond to the question, I was saddened by their answers. The room was pretty evenly divided between choosing the past and choosing the future. But across the board, almost every answer was a way to escape the reality of the present.

Oh, how my heart broke for these women. Sure, they are older and have much more life experience than me. Don’t get me wrong; I have had my fair share of pain, regret, loss, and hardships. Are there things that I wish I could go back and change? Sure, but returning to change them would give me a different reality today. Do I look forward to things that will happen in this life? Sure do, but definitely not going to miss the moments that get me there.

Back to my co-workers. I admire their vulnerability to include answers to questions that were not asked. For those returning to the past, most were returning to a time when a loved one was still alive, to capture their smile one more time. Sit with them one more time. Eat one of their meals one more time. For those that chose the future, they wanted to get through life and get to their retirement, live on a beach somewhere with no cares.

Their responses made me realize that we, as a culture, have become numb to our present. We become numb because of our past: we live with so much regret and pain that we can’t fully engaged with the life at our fingertips. And no, I don’t mean your smartphone. We become numb because of our false hope in the future. What a lie to live for a retirement, or a season, that may not come, that may not satisfy. The present should be our least numb state. And it has become quite the contrary. We live in fantasy lands of “what could’ve been”, “what I should’ve said” and “one day when” instead of realizing that the only life we have is now. I’m not saying you shouldn’t think of loved ones who have passed and life choices you could change or not hope for things, or not plan for things. I’m simply suggesting that it is a new day. Not yesterday and not a day to come. Today.

I do not intend to preach, or yell at you to put your phone down, lay off Facebook for a while, or call a friend you haven’t spoken to in some time, but if that is what you are convicted about since reading, then I will leave that between you and God.

My intention, and prayer really, is to come face to face with your present, whatever that may be. If you stop for just a moment and look you will see the beauty of the mess that your past has created and that your future holds.

A peak into my immediate present: 

(outside of my computer and typing), my present is a sink of dirty dishes; only some of them are mine. An empty Starbucks cup. It used to have water. Can I get a refill? My left-over dinner-for-one dinner plate, still on the table, that still has some chocolate crumbs from part of a Hershey’s bar I ate for dessert. Johnnyswim Pandora station. My sound track- a must-listen-to! The sun is setting; some storm clouds are still out even though the rain has subsided. Would you believe me that my phone is less that a foot from my reach. I’m not expecting any calls tonight, but I wouldn’t dare leave the room without it. I spoke to soon; the rain is back. Thanks, Florida. Upstairs, I have a basket of clean clothes that are waiting to be put away. Books that are waiting to be picked up again, waiting to be read. There are gifts that are sitting unwrapped for friends and an unmade bed (sorry Mom) with pillows tossed calling my name… 

THIS is my present. Are there things I would change from my past? Yes! Probably should have put those clothes away a few days ago, whoops! Are there things I look forward to? Yes! My friends’ expression of opening unexpected gifts. 

But given the chance to rewind or fast-forward, I wouldn’t. This is my reality. This is who I am, an accurate picture, actually.

I’m pretty satisfied with my present. It is more beautiful because of the things that surround it. Take a look. What beauty is in your present?