Living in the Moment

Is this the only real way of finding inner peace? We asked seven writers how they have learnt to appreciate the present
From The Sunday Times - August 17, 2008 - Rosie Boycott

Is anything ever good enough for us? A few weeks ago, I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world: the Skeleton Coast in Namibia. The wind was whipping the sea into a frenzy, making swimming tricky. The day before, it had been calm, and I found myself thinking: "Why weren't we here yesterday?"

Recently, I was at a spa, having a delicious Thai massage. I'd booked a 90-minute treatment, and I decided to have an hour-long massage followed by a half-hour facial. But I was lying there thinking: "I should have made the massage shorter and the facial longer." I wasn't enjoying the moment because I kept thinking of ways I could improve it.

Both times, I let myself slide out of the moment, out of an appreciation of what is here and now. That annoying little worm of dissatisfaction was repeating its wicked mantra in my head: "There's always something better, or different, that I could be doing."

Our consumer society is greatly to blame here: if every advert promises you success if you'd only buy this car, wear this watch, acquire this handbag, then dissatisfaction with what you have and what you are is an inevitable outcome. Putting your life on hold, in the belief that this job, this thing, this event, will magically make it all right, holds no chance of peace. Noticing what is right under your nose - which is the wonder of being alive in a world already full of possibilities - brings riches no material item ever can.

Martha Gellhorn, the war correspondent and one-time wife of Ernest Hemingway, was a close friend of mine. By the time she died in 1998, Martha was in her late eighties, but she was still as alert and fiery as a woman of 30. Her body, which finally betrayed her, had aged, but her mind never did, and I think her secret was that she always lived in the present. Not for her harking back to better times, complaining that things today weren't as good as they had been; not for her complaining that if only this or that would happen, then her life would be magically transformed.

Most of us don't live like this. Our mental chatter, or the civil war in our head, as Bob Geldof once memorably described it to me, goes something like this: "If only I hadn't done that, then everything would be all right." If you think like that - and most of us do - you end up doing things not for their own sake, but for the result you hope they will have. So, when you go to a party and manage to strike up a conversation with a hot director, you'll be missing what he says, because what you're actually thinking is: "Perhaps he'll give me a job." The party passes you by as you're too busy concentrating on some future goal to appreciate what is going on around you.

I'm married to a lawyer. It's his business to deal with people who arrive in his office repeating the mantra, "If only I hadn't, if only she hadn't . . ." When we got married, I'd come home from the office and say, "If only this hadn't happened", and waste hours reliving a situation. He'd calmly reply: "Well, it has happened. You can't change it. Accept it."
And that's the real point: acceptance. We cannot change people, places or things - only our reactions. Someone said to me recently that thoughts of the past are generally full of resentments and thoughts of the future full of fear. How true.

Taking each day just as it comes is the true art of living. On my good days, messing about on the farm, watching a piglet trying to squeeze his chubby little body under a gate, eating a tomato I've grown myself, loving what I have rather than longing for what I don't, or just hanging out with my nearest and dearest, I know exactly what Joyce Grenfell meant when she said: "There's no such thing as time, only this very minute, and I'm in it. Thank the Lord." All we have is this very moment: don't throw it away, because it sure as hell isn't coming back.

Una and her wonderful sister, Broangh

Here is an extract of an email Una sent out and she has asked me to include it on our blog;

'I think of you often but life takes us on strange and difficult journeys and so here I am catching up at this time of big challenges. My sister ( Broangh who lives in Dublin and I stayed with during our Coach U Training) was diagnosed with Cancer just some 4 weeks ago. It is rare and aggressive and found originally in a fibroid they took from her womb when giving her a hysterectomy on the 18th June. I went home to see her that weekend as I wanted to be there as it was her birthday ( 51years) on the 20th and we are very close. She got the news a week later and it came as a big shock. She then planned carefully how she would tell her family and friends making sure everyone had someone to support them when they got the news. She has lived a life to this point which has been all about loving and giving and she is now reaping what she has sown. The out pouring of love and support is almost overwhelming. However this love and desire to keep my extraordinary and beautiful sister alive may be part of the miracle we need. The cancer is in her liver and lungs so it is not good. So far ( it is a very rare cancer) chemo has only halted it for a time but never killed it from the research documented.

We are a strong large extended family ( and friends) who live in hope and many have faith in God. Bronagh has done lots of bringing us all together where we have shared stories,laughed,danced and cried in the last number of weeks - surreal at times as she despite her increasing fatigue has managed to dance to Madonna ' Vogue' and' holiday' like a professional! She has so much life and love in her heart it is a puzzle to understand why her and so I do not try to understand. She cries seldom except for those she feels are being hurt by this difficult situation like our mummy of 84 years. She has no fear of dying but doesn't like the idea of losing her eyebrows in the short term!! She has nursed many terminally ill people so she has seen all this at first hand and comforted those close to her patients. She has ( as a midwife) brought new life into the world. As an IVF specialist ( her work in the last 10 years) she has helped couples on the journey to create their beautiful miracle babies. She has written and performed her own play 'Maiden Voyages' off broadway New York about women and childbirth and has written her own poetry. She has truly lived and given at every turn. She is the person who so many believe is their best friend, the friend you always want at a party as she is so warm andwill make everyone laugh with her own stories and cry as she recites poetry especially early Sheamus Heaney. Most recently she pushed herself to come to London for our dear Dylan's Holy Communion ( I say 'our 'as I truly share my children with Bronagh who calls them about 4 times a week. She does not have children of her own). We had the most fabulous day and evening and Bronagh and some Irish friends I had not seen in a while but recently re connected with entertained us most of the evening. Great songs and laughter.

And so am I so grateful to have her in my life and I accept whatever is to come. I will have my moments but I will do to my best to reflect the dignity that she is showing now as she embarks on this journey.

For those of you who pray please include my dear sister Bronagh in your prayers. Positive thoughts are greatfully received too.

Take very good care and go gently

BIg hug to each of you

Unaxx'