I remember a number of years ago, when Jim and I were first traveling together in the United States, we sat under a tree and shared a tangerine. He began to talk about what we would be doing in the future. Whenever we thought about a project that seemed attractive or inspiring, Jim became so immersed in it that he literally forgot about what he was doing in the present. He popped a section of tangerine in his mouth and, before he had begun chewing it, had another slice ready to pop into his mouth again. He was hardly aware he was eating a tangerine. All I had to say was, “You ought to eat the tangerine section you’ve already taken.” Jim was startled into realizing what he was doing.
It was as if he hadn’t been eating the tangerine at all. If he had been eating anything, he was “eating” his future plans.
A tangerine has sections. If you can eat just one section, you can probably eat the entire tangerine. But if you can’t eat a single section, you cannot eat the tangerine. Jim understood. He slowly put his hand down and focused on the presence of the slice already in his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully before reaching down and taking another section.
Later, when Jim went to prison for activities against the war, I was worried about whether he could endure the four walls of prison and sent him a very short letter: “Do you remember the tangerine we shared when we were together? Your being there is like the tangerine. Eat it and be one with it. Tomorrow it will be no more.”
Thich Nhất Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness, ~2008
I’ve been biking along a trail lately, and most days I run into the people that feed the local feral cat colony. They’re lovely people, the sort that would welcome you into their home for dinner on the day they met you.
I’m always struck by how they talk to me. Most of them are in the 50-70 age range, and there’s the sense that they’re desperate to pass on advice. One of them talks to me about how to live a good life every time he sees me; he says he wants to leave a positive impact on the world, even if it’s small. He tells me to appreciate every day I have because they won’t last forever. His health issues are catching up with him.
Another person is writing her autobiography. She told me today that she’d reached page 100 after 7 years of work, then lectured me on the Bible not being literal and the nature of good and evil (I’m not even Christian!). She told me that her brother had died of AIDS and had tried to push her onto a better career path at the end of his life.
A third person has family in Germany but lives here. She hasn’t seen them since her father died 15 years ago and wants to go back before her mother dies too. She told me how beautiful her hometown is, and how much she misses it. She wants nothing more than to go home and visit the butcher and the baker with her siblings.
All of them have these stories. They’ve lost family and friends, and they’re very aware that life doesn’t last forever. They’re pushing forwards with as much joy as they can muster and are doing their best to enjoy the moment. Every time we meet, they tell me to enjoy youth while I have it and live life one moment at a time. They tell me to appreciate my family and live authentically. And they’re right.
I read an article a few years ago about what people said they regretted most at the end of life. A lot of them said they wished they’d been more present. They regretted spending too little time with the people they loved and worrying so much about things they couldn’t control. They wished they’d taken that chance and worked towards that dream. People wished they’d lived. It stuck with me.
Life doesn’t last forever. All you can do is enjoy the moment while you have it.
Self-authored, 2022
When you are walking along a path leading into a village, you can practice mindfulness. Walking along a dirt path, surrounded by patches of green grass, if you practice mindfulness you will experience that path, the path leading into the village. You practice by keeping this one thought alive: “I’m walking along the path leading into the village.” Whether it’s sunny or rainy, whether the path is dry or wet, you keep that one thought, but not just repeating it like a machine, over and over again. Machine thinking is the opposite of mindfulness. If we’re really engaged in mindfulness while walking along the path to the village, then we will consider the act of each step we take as an infinite wonder, and a joy will open our hearts like a flower, enabling us to enter the world of reality.
[…] But active, concerned people don’t have time to spend leisurely, walking along paths of green grass and sitting beneath trees. One must prepare projects, consult with the neighbors, try to resolve a million difficulties; there is hard work to do. One must deal with every kind of hardship, every moment keeping one’s attention focused on the work, alert, ready to handle the situation ably and intelligently. You might well ask: then how are we to practice mindfulness? My answer is: keep your attention focused on the work, be alert and ready to handle ably and intelligently any situation which may arise - this is mindfulness. There is no reason why mindfulness should be different from focusing all one’s attention on one’s work, to be alert and to be using one’s best judgement.
Of course, walking alone on a country path, it is easier to maintain mindfulness. If there’s a friend by your side, not talking but also watching his breath, then you can continue to maintain mindfulness without difficulty. But if the friend at your side begins to talk, it becomes a little more difficult. If, in your mind, you think, “I wish this fellow would quit talking, so I could concentrate,” you have already lost your mindfulness. But if you think, instead, “If he wishes to talk, I will answer, but I will continue in mindfulness, aware of the fact that we are walking along this path together, aware of what we say, I can continue to watch my breath as well.”
If you can give rise to that thought, you will be continuing in mindfulness. It is harder to practice in such situations than when you are alone, but if you continue to practice nonetheless, you will develop the ability to maintain much greater concentration. There is a line from a Vietnamese folk song that says: “Hardest of all is to practice the Way at home, second in the crowd, and third in the pagoda.” It is only in an active and demanding situation that mindfulness really becomes a challenge!”
Thich Nhất Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness, ~2008
It’s not about others or goals or even strictly presence. It’s about accepting what is there and allowing it to exist within you. Sitting next to yourself and listening to the wind through your ears. Letting everything go but the present moment and present self- it will be there when you need it, but the present self exists only now.
Self-authored, 2024
The Buddha taught that the only way “not to be assailed by past and future” was to be mindfully present moment-to-moment in your life, without attachment to the outcome of your actions. Living in this manner is to trust in the eternal now, and that is the one trust that matters most.
Phillip Moffit, Trust Issues, 2002