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Since the 1980’s it’s been popular to “live in the moment.”  That’s what a therapist told me I should do more than thirty years ago.

While I understand the concept, I’ve questioned the necessity of the advice.  How is it possible not to live in the moment?  “The moment” is really all we have.

The therapist was really recommending that I pay attention to the moment, and not dwell excessively on either the past or the future. It’s what we now think of as “mindfulness.” To be mindful we simply pay attention to our bodies, our thoughts, and our surroundings.

After my mother died my father dated Barbara. Over a period of seven or eight years we got together once or twice a week. I don’t remember a single time when Barbara failed to talk about her former husband. I know that he played football for The University of Southern California in the 1940’s. Though I don’t know if he died or if they separated, he was always the topic of her conversations, which became predictable and boring.

I don’t much dwell on the past. But the past is helpful to me as a guide to the future. I like to return to the restaurants I have enjoyed, and I prefer to avoid the people and places I didn’t like. My past helps me to improve my life in the present.

Athena has been my friend for more than fifty years. When she was younger she only looked forward to the future – her next date, her next vacation, her next relationship. She never seemed to value whatever she was doing at the time.  Today Athena is retired and fortunately she finally seems able to savor the moment, spending much of her time with her daughter and granddaughter.

I don’t live for the future, but I do enjoy planning for the future – what movie to see tonight, where my business might be six months or a year from now, and where in the world I might travel next. I’m clear about that process – I am living in the moment while I am planning, enjoying both the process and my anticipation of what may come.

Many experiences, such as a fine dinner, are best savored entirely in the moment.  Some experiences, such as a great vacation, I might enjoy more in memory. I can relive the best parts, such as visiting the British Camp in Antarctica that was abandoned in about 1955, and forget about the worst parts of the trip such as being cold. Other experiences are best enjoyed in anticipation. I enjoy the thought of seeing a new movie more than the actual experience because few movies live up to my high expectations. Of course, while seeing a bad movie I can also enjoy the thought of complaining about it later.

You can live in the moment and still enjoy a memory or a pleasant expectation.  All we really have is right now.

Happy Fourth of July!

Alan

World peace depends on the fears, thoughts, and actions of a whole lot of people outside of me.  My personal inner peace depends exclusively on what goes on inside my mind.

When we’re upset it’s easy for any of us to point the index finger of disdain at a spouse, politician, friend, or boss. But such mental finger-pointing provides, at best, short-term consolation.  Respite is fleeting, inner struggle endures.  The opiate of blame is brief balm.

Is there a reliable path to inner peace?  Yes, there is.  But it’s up to you, and you alone, to regain and sustain your personal inner peace.  Ay, there’s the rub.

From 2008 until two weeks ago I’ve been unhappy (no reflection on Sprite or anyone else).  I personally blamed the economy, with more than a little justification.  From 2008 through 2012 my business hemorrhaged money, investors lost a great deal of income, and I’ve never in my life received so many letters and telephone calls of complaint.  I read news stories about people losing their homes.  Many of my friends lost their jobs. I came to understand why my father would walk half a mile to avoid a twenty-five cent parking fee.  He was in his teens when the Great Depression hit and left its mark.

Ed, a long-term friend of mine, recently said, “Alan, for the past year you’ve seemed a lot happier than you used to be.”

Many other friends and family members have mentioned that I’ve seemed happier during the past twelve months, and I suppose I have – at least on the outside (stiff upper lip and all that).  But inner peace remained elusive, obscured behind my continuing inner turmoil.

Like my father, I’m always thinking.  My inner conversation has no “off” switch.  I always ask myself how I can improve [fill in the blank].

Two weeks ago, for no particular reason, I experienced an “Aha!” moment.  I said to myself:

“I’ve been pushing too hard.

“I’ve been married to my business for 50 years.  During the past twenty I remember only two days when I left my office satisfied with what I’d accomplished.  Two days in twenty years.  That sucks.  I’ve pushed myself hard regardless of my personal situation, the policies of the president, or the state of the economy.”

Though all of the above still concern me, I realize that my inner peace has nothing to do with any of that.  As they say, we can’t control what happens to us but we can control our reaction to it.

During the past two weeks I’ve been authentic.  I’ve relaxed and enjoyed conversations with friends.  I’ve been more productive at work because the boogeyman of “never enough” has left the building.  Today I’m exactly as happy as I seem.

I must also mention that for many years my father has been a gem.  He’s always upbeat, considers each day a bonus, and says “thank you” whenever I call or visit.  He uses many medications, but not the drug of blame.  Despite inevitable physical decline, Dad seems far happier than he was at the youthful age of ninety.

Today is a great day.  My inner peace no longer hides behind a cloud.  So now I’m free to focus on world peace.  Your suggestions are welcome.

Alan

One of my favorite musicians is Gordon Lightfoot. Last Friday evening Sprite and I attended his concert at the Rose, a dinner theater in Pasadena.  I typically object to being required to arrive by 7:00 pm for a 9:00 pm concert, but I’m happy to report that both dinner and the show were excellent.  We were seated about twenty feet from the stage. I have found over the years that my enjoyment of a performance often depends on how close I am to the stage.  After all, none of us would enjoy a conversation if we were seated two hundred feet apart.

Gordon and his band appeared on schedule, and I was delighted that he performed well even though he is a year older than I am. When I was thirty I started paying attention to the age at which writers were first published.  I was happy to find that most were older than me.  At age sixty I stopped that foolish comparison.  My first book, People Tools, was published when I was seventy-four.

One benefit of aging is that you don’t care quite so much about what other people think of you. Gordon, who suffers from allergies, used nasal spray, followed by Kleenex, several times during his performance.

He shared stories from his life. Early in his career, he was hired to appear on a Square Dance show that was televised live.

“I never could learn the difference between an ‘Allemande Left’ and a ‘Dos-e-do.’  And it was a live show.”  He did not last long on that job.

Gordon also shared that Elvis Presley sang one of his songs, “Early Morning Rain,” at a concert in New York.  Gordon and his friends crossed the border from Canada to attend the concert.  They were invited to meet Elvis, but after the show it was difficult for them to make headway through the tide of people exiting.  When Gordon and his group finally arrived backstage at Elvis’s dressing room they were told the now proverbial, “Elvis has left the building.”

“I never did meet Mr. Presley,” Gordon said, a bit wistfully.

I was reminded of a charity performance I attended years ago hosted by Paul McCartney.  Major Hollywood stars, including Tom Hanks, seemed thrilled to be performing with Paul.  We all have our heroes.

Our Friday evening at the Rose included many of my Gordon Lightfoot favorites, including “Rainy Day People,” “If You Could Read My Mind,” and “Sundown,” which was his only song to reach No. 1 on Billboard’s all-genre pop chart.  The audience responded to many songs with a standing ovation.

Gordon and I and perhaps you, either now or in the future, share a fate in which our lives move from having only a few accomplishments and a dollar in our hand to a great deal more success and, hopefully, money.  But when we do it’s no longer so early in our lives.

Welcome to the fulfillment of Late Morning Rain.

Alan