“Forever is composed of nows.” - Emily Dickinson
Ernest Hemingway’s famous novel, For Whom The Bell Tolls, is built around a few days in the life of an American volunteer, Robert Jordan, fighting in the Spanish Civil War in 1937. He was tasked with a dangerous mission he knew he likely wouldn’t survive. Jordan was the consummate soldier, never worrying too much about his own safety. However, as he lay dying and the fait accompli of his work comes into focus, he ponders a bigger theme:
There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that? There is only now, and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion. This is how you live a life in two days.
This is powerful stuff. How would you live your life if you knew you only had two days?
Some of us can’t stop dwelling on the past and miss out on today. I tend to error in the other direction, as I’m impatiently always thinking about what’s next. It’s the moments in between that really matter and yet are often missed. As the dying soldier Jordan understands, it’s all about appreciating today, without regard for yesterday or the assumption there will be a tomorrow.
I took this lesson to heart last week. My wife turned forty and she wanted to do a trip with our three children. Truthfully, I was hoping she would pick a “couples destination” but she and the kids decided we should all go to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I quickly realized it wasn’t going to be just the two of us on a remote beach. But Florida in December sounded okay, too, and I agreed.
In recent months, well after our travel was booked, I began reading tales of the terrible crowds and heinous lines that would greet us at Disney. I asked my wife if she was aware of this. Of course! It’s their busiest week of the year. I realized I had a choice to make.
I could pout and complain. I could sit a few rides out, taking calls and responding to emails. I could be there but not really present, thinking about the week, the month, and the year ahead. I could be a drill sergeant, pushing our tired bodies all over so that we “accomplished” all we wanted.
Or I could enthusiastically participate in the fun. I could let whatever happened happen. We could see what each day brought. We would do as many rides as we were able, not any more, not any less. And when we had a free day, we would figure it out that morning – like visiting Cocoa Beach or going to a college bowl game. And I didn’t complain. I lived in the moment. And I enjoyed every single minute of it.
I read a blog post recently that summed it up well:
- The present moment is the only one you have control over right now
- Each moment is a gift
- Being present is a great stress reducer
- Plans often don’t manifest themselves the way you want or expect
- Living in the present will make you happier
What’s The Risk?
The risk is letting your experiences of the past paralyze your ability to enjoy the present. Just as damaging is the need to live in a perpetual state of planning, missing all that is going on right now.
This reminds me of a scene in the Ben Stiller and Jennifer Anniston movie Along Came Polly where Irving Feffer, the father of Stiller’s character Reuben Feffer, addresses his friend Sandy Lyle, a former child star played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
Irving Feffer: It's not about what happened in the past, or what you think might happen in the future. It's about the ride. There is no point in going through all this crap, if you’re not going to enjoy the ride. And you know what... when you least expect it something great might come along. Something better than you even planned for.
Well put, Mr. Feffer. There really is nothing else but now.
