LIFE LESSONS

How I Learned to Live in the Present and Not in the Past

Taming my time-traveling brain and learning to love the now

KayDee
Ellemeno
Published in
7 min readJul 3, 2024

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“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.” — Alice Morse Earle

Have you ever found yourself stuck in a time machine of your own making, constantly revisiting the past or fretting about the future?

Yeah, me too.

It’s like we get stuck in some kind of never-ending rerun of the greatest and not-so-greatest hits of our lives.

But here is the thing, when we are so busy going backwards and forwards in time, mentally, we overlook the only moment really at our disposal — the present one.

We’re about to make it through this present moment, and I promise that’s way more fun than when you accidentally liked your ex’s Instagram post from 2016.

Let me tell you a little story.

A few years ago, I was the undisputed champion of living anywhere but the present. My past was like a clingy ex who wouldn’t stop texting, and my future was this shiny, elusive mirage that I was constantly chasing.

Meanwhile, in the present?

It was just this annoying waiting room I had to sit in while I obsessed over everything else.

One time, I was so caught up in thought about some stupid argument I’d had with my roommate three years ago — seriously, who cares who ate the last Pop-Tart? — that I walked straight into a lamppost.

In public.

On a crowded street.

Wearing my favorite “I’m a genius” t-shirt.

The universe has a rather weird sense of humor, making the best of times out of the worst.

Standing there, nursing my bruised forehead and bruised ego, I had an epiphany. Maybe it was time to take some consideration regarding where I was really going as opposed to where I had been or where I thought I should be.

Well, so how did I learn to live in the present?

First off, I had to realize that my brain was basically just a hamster running on a wheel, time-traveling. It was tiring, and, to be quite honest, the hamster deserved better.

So, I decided to try meditation.

By “try,” I mean I sat in a lotus position on my floor, closed my eyes, and right on out — face-planted into sleep. As it would turn out with my body, “be present” translated to “take a nap.” Not really what I had in mind, but at least I was getting some rest!

That really epic failure at becoming an overnight Zen master brought me to the realization that I needed to start small — in theory, microscopic.

I started small.

Every time I felt the familiar spiral of the past or future, I’d stop and name five things that I could see, four things I could touch, three things I could hear, two things I could smell, and one thing I could taste.

It felt sort of like playing I Spy with myself, except instead of looking for Waldo, I was looking for my sanity.

It had this weird side effect: I started becoming conscious of all kinds of things I’d never noticed before, like my cat’s twitching whiskers when she dreams or how the sunlight worked patterns on my wall late in the afternoon.

Suddenly, the present moment wasn’t just a waiting room again.

It was a treasure hunt.

I mean, come on, living in the Now is not all rainbows and unicorns.

Sometimes Now flat-out sucks, like when you’re stuck in traffic and your bladder is screaming at you louder than a heavy metal concert is wallowing in decibels.

In those moments, I learned to practice what I call “creative presence.” Instead of wishing I was anywhere else, I’d make up stories about the people in the cars around me.

That guy picking his nose? Obviously, he is a secret agent on a mission to save the world from an alien invasion.

That woman singing her heart out? Obviously, she is practicing for her Broadway debut.

Soon, even the most humdrum moments were turned into adventures.

Now, I hear what you’re thinking.

“But what about all the important stuff I need to plan for? I can’t just live in la-la land all the time!”

And you’re right.

Living in the present doesn’t mean becoming some flaky airhead who forgets to pay the bills or show up to work.

It’s about balance.

I like to think of it like this: the past is such a great teacher, and the future can be fun, like a playground for our imagination.

But the present?

That’s where magic happens. It’s where we actually live life, make some choices, and create memories.

The practice of gratitude was one of the biggest game-changers for me.

No, I don’t mean writing saccharine posts on social media about how #blessed one is. Rather, it means sincere — even begrudging — gratitude for the little things.

When I wake up and knock my toe on something and really feel like cursing the universe, I attempt instead to be thankful that I have toes to stub.

Another trick that I have learned is to treat your thoughts like those flimsy clouds that you see in the sky: They will come and they will go; you do not have to chase every single one down. This always works best with thoughts of anxiety over things yet to be.

Instead of getting caught up in a tornado of “what-ifs,” I acknowledge the thought and let it float on by. It’s kind of like being a meteorologist for my own mind, except I don’t have to wear a cheesy suit or point at a green screen.

More surprising than the workplace effect was the change learning to live in the present brought into my relationships.

When I’m present in conversations, as opposed to running through how I’m going to respond or replaying that really dumb thing I did in third grade, I relate to people on a much deeper level.

As it turns out, people give a shit when you actually listen instead of just counting the word count until you get to have your turn. Whoa.

Of course, there are still days when I find myself slipping back into old habits.

Like when I’m in the middle of a Netflix binge and the crap Crusher said at that party five years ago comes flooding back.

At those times, I try to not be so hard on myself.

Living in the present is a practice, not a destination.

It’s all right to stumble sometimes, so long as we keep trying.

One of the more unexpected byproducts of my process of living in the present moment has been an appreciation for boredom.

I mean, in our super-connected world, we’re always hit with stimulus. But when was the last time you just sat and did... nothing? No scrolling, no TV, no podcasts—just existing?

It’s surprisingly hard, but amazingly rewarding. Some of my best ideas come from those moments of “productive boredom.”

As I’ve gotten better at living in the present, I’ve also noticed a shift in how I approach challenges. Instead of catastrophizing about worst-case scenarios or dwelling on things that happened in the past, I try to focus on what I can say right now.

It’s like being the protagonist in my own choose-your-own-adventure book. Each moment is a new page, a new choice, and a new opportunity.

But probably the deepest change has been within me, in my perception of happiness.

Earlier, I used to feel that happiness was some sort of elusive ideal state that I would get to once all was really well with my life.

Spoiler alert: That never happened.

Happiness isn’t a destination. It’s how one travels.

It’s the very moment — like an ideal cup of coffee, a laugh with a friend, or just the pure joys of completion. And thus, when we live in the present, we will be able to embrace them, not letting those moments get away in our lives and out of reach.

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So if you’re sitting there, caught in the time machine that is your brain, let me invite you into the present.

It’s not always easy and certainly not perfect, but that’s where life actually happens.

And, trust me, it’s way more interesting than playing that argument about the pop-tarts over in your head for the millionth time.

Remember, the present moment is a gift — that’s why they call it the present. (Okay, okay, I know I started with that quotation, but it’s just too good not to use twice.)

So unwrap it, enjoy it, and maybe try not to walk into any lampposts while you’re at it. Your forehead — and your ego — will thank you.

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KayDee
Ellemeno

Ex Investment Banker writing about Self Improvement, Spirituality, and Economy