How can I sink, even more, into the moment?

This last trip (Barcelona, Ibiza, Malta, Munich for Oktoberfest, a dream!) reminded me of how putting ourselves into new contexts, places and spaces is really sooo beneficial to developing ourselves more, and solidifying one’s sense of self—especially when it’s some new aspect of ourselves and identity. We get to put more into practice and play, whether by invitation, like when introducing ourselves to strangers (who do we want to be? How do we want to be?), or, perhaps, by a little bit of force, like when sprinting through an airport to make a connection. (Just because I’m moving quickly doesn’t mean I have to become stressed about it, and that realization was new and nice! Also, we made it.)

One thing that I was interested to be with on this trip was my personal shift to no longer drinking alcohol, really; like more than a drink here or there. I was going to a bachelorette party in Ibiza and Munich for Oktoberfest, after all, and I was curious to see how I would feel. It’s a change I felt called to make a little over a year ago when I moved from NYC to LA, and realized that I just didn’t really like how I felt physically or mentally because of it. I wanted to feel good, and I wanted to be as present as possible to my life.

Over the past year I’ve gotten more comfortable not drinking in certain contexts, and I’ve realized no one really cares. (Or even knows, especially when you’re holding a sparkling water with lime.) Rather, people are often very supportive and even curious. My close friends in LA don’t drink much, and even on the bachelorette trip, 1/4 of the people there weren’t drinking and it was totally cool, fun and easy.

Throughout the trip there were a few moments where I felt a little odd about it, though I know full well those were my own slight feelings of judgment and questioning, and no one else’s. Like when everyone was toasting and I’m just, like, smiling, and wondering. should be toasting? Would that be more participatory? (We’re over “should’s,” or more over them than ever before, but sometimes they happen!) At this point, though I know well enough that those little feelings are fleeting, not worth paying much attention to, and that almost certainly no one else is even having that thought.

What was fun, though, is that I found I developed a little trick, or tool, for those moments of slight discomfort. I found myself taking a moment to look around, breathe deep and ask myself, “How can I sink even more into this moment?" As a result of thinking that simple question, I shifted more into presence, and into the present. I dropped more into my body and that place and time, exactly as they were, and could be with it all with a newfound appreciation. I saw my friends singing, laughing, sitting together in this place and in celebration, at everyone gathered there altogether, sharing this one moment, and my heart would become so full. I was so happy. And, I was out of my head.

I’ve tried it out in different contexts, too, and it always feels good, always makes things better. Like, when trying to fall asleep on the plane, when navigating a crowd in the rain, when feeling into a connection to someone new. As Caroline Myss writes about, “this day will never come again.” We’ll never be in this moment, in this way, again, so how can we be here, even more?

How can I sink even more into this moment? How can I be in this moment, even more? (Also, Oktoberfest is still super fun, still super joyous, still the best time, even without the beer. Ibiza, of course, too.)

Let yourself have this

This phrase of invitation, allowance and permission often comes to me when I first sit for meditation. I tend to fidget, wanting to find the “perfect” seat (reminding myself that “perfect,” is always; perfect is what we create, what we allow to be), something probably related to a pattern in our capitalistic society of wanting to, feeling like we need to, Always. Optimize. Everything. (Anyway!)

“Let yourself have this,” I find myself guiding myself in response. Just let yourself have this time to be in this moment, this meditation. Let yourself have this, whatever is pulling, whatever is presenting. If it is a slower week, if you’re desiring more rest, if you find something seemingly silly and nonsensical to be bringing you joy, or something feels good and makes this easier. (Like, I recently got a fidget toy to help me focus when I’m working!) Let yourself have it! You deserve it, all of it.

So, let yourself have this, too. Slowness, stillness, a burst of energy and excitement, or some other gift of emotion coursing through. Let yourself have minutes to space out and dream, to visit memories, other places in your mind and create other realities and timelines. Let yourself have this, whatever it is.

Do this one thing

A pattern I’ve noticed with myself, based on past tendencies, is to want to change everything when I want to change something. Sometimes it’s a charged with an energy of positive excitement, of thrill at all of the possibilities I can peel back, all the ways I go and grow, and other times, when it feels out of need, it has tinge of panic. Regardless of the reason, I’ve found that bringing myself in to focus on doing one thing, any one thing, is the best thing. And then, magically, predictably, physically, it results in so many other changed things. Sometimes it changes my perspective, a desire, an assumption. Sometimes it changes a priority, or even just my mood.

Do this one thing, and then see.

In particularly overwhelming moments of the pandemic and life as it ebbed and flowed concurrently, it’s been a coping mechanism, I’ve relied on to get through. A micro gear I engage to ensure forward motion, even when it’s small, so small, to prevent it from feeling like everything is caving in. I am standing up. Now I am going to get a glass of water. Now I am drinking the water. Now I am looking outside. Now I am breathing deep. OK, now, I am OK. I had to do one thing, even one little thing, to be able to do anything.

I did this one post. And now, I think I want to revisit another post.

Be with this

Be with this one thing. The sound of the keyboard, the words on the page the trees rustling outside. The extra minutes before your friend arrives, this feeling that’s right here. Where do you feel it most? Is it a thickness in your throat? Be with it there. Now a flutter in your stomach? Be with it here.

Be with this one thing.