Moments at the Ready
I’ve been on a Schopenhauer and Buddhism kick lately. It’s pretty cool when two philosophies from opposite ends of the world have strong similarities, like they’re both mainlining the human condition into words.
These philosophies talk about the inevitable impermanence of life, our inclination to crave things, and the pain that results when we don’t get what we want. Schopenhauer calls it Suffering, the Buddhists call it Dukkha.
Finding suffering so prevalent in philosophy, it might be easy to grow discouraged about what’s in store for us. We’d like to think that a permanent solution to whatever issue we’re currently working through (our shitty job, our weight, our relationship status) lies just around the bend, and we’ll live happily ever after when we get there. But there is no happy ever after, because our brains are wired to adjust and always want more.
Since there is no happily ever after, how will we handle the large amount of suffering that’s in the forecast?
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Far from blowing up bridges or fomenting unrest in far-flung dictatorships, my job is pretty dull. I sit in an air conditioned office, clicking and key-stroking my way through the Microsoft Suite of Tools. Every once in a while I write a crisp memo or slide deck that pleases me.
If things continue this way, I may spend up to 83% percent of my pre-retirement life feeling underwhelmed, stressed, bored or irritable. I am fortunate to spend the other 17% enjoying myself, because my weekends are reliably fun, and I make the best of them.
But with 83% of my life having the potential to disappoint, and the proximity of 83% to 100%, I can see why its easy for people to reflexively view life as a homogeneous block of suffering.
But although we may see the majority of life as suffering, it’s important to realize that life is not experienced from afar; rather, our human consciousness processes existence in millions of discrete moments, hundreds each day. Most of us aren’t present in many moments, shackled by intrusive thoughts or other distractions that create suffering. Yet each moment offers our consciousness an opportunity to get caught up in it, to immerse, to chisel in and connect with the stimuli that surround.
So we have these many opportunities. But for some of us, our sense of “happiness greed” sees these millions of moments laid out before us, wants to enjoy as many as possible, and frets if we don’t enjoy as many as we’d hoped.
But it’s no big deal what percent of the moments we are present. Because in the instances where we do succeed at being present, our mode of consciousness changes in such a way that we no longer view life from afar. In this state, we forget about the moments we’ve suffered through before and the moments we may suffer through in the future.
So although you might regard the day at work or the week you had as one containing much suffering, remember that this is because you are viewing this period of time in the aggregate. Within that “bad day” or “bad week”, there are moments where suffering, and the regretful thoughts of not being present in other moments, do not exist.
Some moments will be harder than others to chisel into. Moments during a Tuesday afternoon in the office will take more effort to become fully present. Perhaps a mindful walk outside, or a 5 minute ‘micro-meditation’ in the car will do the trick. On the other hand, moments that occur on a Saturday morning playing hockey or brunching will require less effort to be present.
And whether we succeed at being present in a moment that occurs on a Tuesday afternoon or Saturday morning doesn't matter. The state of consciousness we attain through meditation or other mindfulness approach is similar: it’s one that pleasantly blocks us from viewing the big picture. Totally present, our state of mind prevents us from emotionally registering past regrets or future anxieties. We are connected with the stimuli that surround, whether its contemplating the texture of our office desk or the feeling of the paddle slipping into the water as we glide down the river. [~]
