Learning to Live in the Moment

Learning to Live in the Moment
On that bright-sunny Saturday morning in mid February, 2008; my family (in US) was having a video conference with my family back in India. When my father inquired about my 9 year old daughter’s food and environmental (from cashews, pistachios, and dust mites) allergies, we told him that the things were improving. My daughter herself told everyone merrily about all the good foods she had started eating again. That conversation ended happily.

Since the weather was extremely good after a long spell of storm-rain-and-chilly days, I decided to help my daughter with her math homework at the park. So, she rode her bike (with backpack on her back), and I walked along with her. Together we reached the corner square wooden table in our lush green campus.

As she opened her book to “Finding Averages”, I found her rubbing the eyes. I got up, fixed her hair band to keep her hair out of the eyes and signaled her to start.
When she started reading the definition and the example, I noticed that her eyes had started watering. To take some invisible irritants out of her hands, I helped her wash her hands with the water.

Then I started explaining her how to solve the sample problem. But instead of solving the problem I saw her scratching herself. Minutes later, she got up from her seat, came and sat on my lap; hugging me tightly with her head buried inside my shoulder. I heard her saying (almost crying) that she was feeling extremely itchy. I immediately poured out 1 teaspoon of Benadryl from her emergency kit (which she was carrying, just by chance) to calm down her body.

We returned back to her homework. But I noticed that her reaction was continuously increasing. In that moment, it struck me that she had accidentally touched one her big allergens cashews or pistachios; perhaps from the table. I realized that her body needed another dose of Benadryl. Since I knew that would put her to sleep while standing, I decided to rush back home immediately before.

As soon as we stepped inside home, I administered the second dose of Benadryl. I hurriedly washed her hands with soap, changed her clothes, and tucked her inside the bed. Standing there, looking at her sleeping; I thanked God and breathed deeply realizing that she was out-of-danger.

I found myself in a state of shock, experiencing for the first time how things changed by 180 degrees in less than an hour. In that fearful moment, I registered that “Life is Unpredictable”.

***

I trudged down the steps with an increased sense of fear. My body wanted to crash, but I knew I could not sit down unless I had washed each and every thing she had touched; to prevent the recurrence of such a reaction.

I started washing the bike handle, the helmet, and the door knob with a wet cloth. Next, I emptied her backpack and put it on top of the pile of her clothes to be washed. While tearing away the pages from her notebook, I felt my heart tearing apart with a question as to why on earth do these reactions happen only to my daughter.

While opening the water tap with a tissue paper and washing her pencils in running water, I contemplated if I had committed the mistake by taking her to the park.
While wiping the thick pages of her Math book with a fresh damp cloth, I heard my alarmed mind. It was warning me that since such a reaction can take place anytime and anywhere, while coming down the slide or doing the monkey bars in the park. Therefore, for her safety I should simply keep her inside home.

When I was finally washing my hands with soap, I heard the garage open. I heard my husband and son walking in cheerfully. In my low-fearful voice, I told them all that had happened while they were gone. Since, I was feeling very low, I asked them to attend the send-off party for our neighbor as per our plan. We decided that I will go there once they were back; so that our daughter could continue to sleep.

***

Once they left, instead of going in for a shower to get ready; I found my drained body dragging me towards the bed.

I lied down next to my sleeping daughter with silent-continuous tears streaming out of my eyes. I started seeking God’s guidance for the security and clarity of my thoughts. I felt my palms placed (facing down) on my belly rising high and low with each passing breath.

In that quiet-and-still moment, when I could hear the birds chirping outside through the sound-proof windows; I recollected one of my beliefs. I always believed that everything happens for good, even if I am not able to see the good in it in that moment. When that surfaced, I saw my thoughts taking a U-turn.

Searching desperately, for a positive lesson in this mess; I made a conscious effort to tune into my heart and out of my logical mind. I heard a soft voice tell me that it is only “a” moment that I have in hand, nothing else; because life really is unpredictable. “A” moment in which, I can either choose to complain-brood-feel-insecure or enjoy-with-a-bigger-trust-and-security.

Then, I remembered seeing handicapped kids in the park who cannot walk, see, or use their minds as per their age. I zoomed into the pain and the helplessness on their parents faces. In that moment, I realized there are so many other kids and mothers who are dealing with much bigger problems each day. Compared to that, my daughter’s allergic reaction is nothing. I heard myself say, “I am luckier than so many parents.” I felt my hands wiping my last-set-of-tears.

Then, a soft voice from within asked me what could have been better circumstances than this to shatter the illusion that my daughter is out of her allergies? In addition, what could have been better this that, I was with her and did all I could do to prevent it from escalating? I heard myself say, “Yes, Nothing could have been better.” I felt reassured that taking her to the park was not a mistake. What happened had to happen.

With more such positive thoughts rising up, I heard myself saying that I will not stop my daughter from going to the playground or the park in a bigger trust. Though, I will make a conscious effort to make sure that she carries her emergency kit everywhere.

Feeling recharged with those secure thoughts, I rose out of the bed smilingly.
In that wonderful moment, I brought out a brand new heavy salwar-kameez suit and my favorite-yet-always-kept-away-for-a-very-special-occasion jewelry set to wear at the party. Even though, I was aware that the occasion did not call for “such” dressing up. But, I chose that outfit simply because I might never get a chance to wear it; for KAL HO NA HO (meaning I may not live the next day).

***

Ever since that day, I am finding inspiration everywhere.

During one such inspirational moment, I got inspired by a 4 year old girl (in my son's class) coloring a flower with her head placed on top of the left arm, thereby resting it completely on the table. What caught my attention was the contentment on her face and the ease in her body while coloring. I saw that she was 100% focused, while coloring; both physically and mentally.

It made me realize how-I-am-never-present in most of the things I do. When I am on the phone talking to a friend, I am either checking emails or cooking dinner. When I am driving alone, I am constantly thinking about what I have to do next or what someone had told me. In other words, I am always, either in the next moment or in the past moment, but never 100% in the present moment.

This realization made me wish to be like her, to be fully present; even if it is only for a few seconds each day.

I remembered when I was growing up in favorable circumstances with no responsibilities; I was like that little girl. However, with time, as responsibilities increased and circumstances turned out to be challenging, I started taking pride in multi-tasking; even while doing my favorite activities.

***

Something happened, the other day while walking. I was looking towards the far away beautiful sunset and I stumbled on a piece of sharp rock lying in my path. In that moment it struck me that I got hurt because I was walking with my attention on far away distant point, without paying attention to my immediate step; which seemed really foolish to me. I felt as if God was holding my ear and showing me that this is what happens when you are not paying attention to your immediate step. It felt as if He was warning me not to get distracted by the beautiful/worrisome future, and suggesting me to pay attention to the present moment.

During that blessed walk, I also remembered how, I often find my kids playing “walking backwards” game. They love playing that game and stop playing it, only after they get hurt. In that divine moment, it struck me that walking backwards is like clinging to the past moment. As if, God was telling me, that too leads to accidents.

During that very special evening walk, everything seemed conspicuous. That walking backwards is like clinging to the past and walking with focus on the far away sight is like focusing on the future. Just as I am bound to have an accident because I am paying attention to anything other than the immediate step. Similarly, I am bound to suffer, if I am paying attention to every moment other than the only-available present moment called “now”.

***

Now, that I have realized, the significance of the present moment. I feel it is more than just a wish; in fact to be joyful, it is a NEED to be fully present in the moment.

As a conscious effort trying to fulfill that need, I have now started running through the sprinklers with my kids and sometimes even alone during my morning walk. I have started calling up dear people, as often as possible. I have started hugging people. I have started singing and almost dancing to the music playing in my car, without caring about the opinion of people driving cars around me. I have started pausing, to listen to the chirping of the birds. I have started walking closer to the flowers to appreciate their beauty. And, I have started diverting out of the walking trail, just to have a closer look at the toothless-innocent-pure-giggles of the infants in the park.

Presently, I am enjoying; learning to live in the moment.