On being present

What does it mean to “be present”?

Immediately, an image of a clock flashes in my mind. I associate the words “present” and “moment” with time. Further more, I associate “time” with a clock — hours, minutes, seconds and further subdivisions. Quantitative measurement of the movement of the sun.

Back to the question — what does it mean to be “present”?

Is it this specific second? Is it a minute? Is it an hour? Is it a day?

I do not understand the relationship of the word “present” and the subdivisions of measurable time. It seems incongruent.

It seems that the “present” is not a quantity. It cannot be represented in numbers. It seems that the word “present” is a quality. When I stop relying both on memory (past) and imagination(future), I am “present”. When there is no analysis or speculation, I am “present”.

I find it extremely difficult to not rely on memory or imagination. Who am I without memory and imagination? The answer terrifies me. Am I nothing? How do I navigate this world without an identity? I’ve been trained over and over again to think about and protect my identity, who I am and who I am not, take pride in who I am, and continue to be a better person. Is that whole construct false? In any case, it does seems that construct is not as reliable as I’ve been led to believe.

On closer examination, I cannot even find a difference between the experience of memory and the experience of imagination. They’re indistinguishable from each other. They have the same quality of vagueness.

We have developed various devices and tools to capture memories — photographs/videos and such, that capture imagery. However, I cannot always remember what was really happening in those moments with any clarity or certainty. There are gaps and I fill those gaps with deductions and imagination to maintain a narrative.

There’s always some fiction, some details embellished, some bias embedded in every recollection of a memory.

Similarly, the speculations about the future are also assisted by memory. Who I think I was/am informs who I think I will be or want to be.

It’s the fiction of continuity. I notice that’s what I rely on heavily. I call this fiction — my belief system, my conditioning. I protect it. I am afraid of losing it. I desire to retain it.

Memory + imagination is fuel of the ego/the sense of self.

I give all my attention to both of them.

And in that, I do not give any attention to what is actually happening around me.

I’m stuck in the fictional narratives of continuity — playing hide and seek in the corridor of identity. I play the game of self importance and seek out the music of praise amidst the noise. I associate the momentary sensory relief it brings me as joy and I seek more of it as if it’s a quantity.

That’s the recurring theme — there seems to be a desire to treat everything as a quantity. A society that measures everything is a society built on the paradigm of scarcity. Scarcity of time and resources. In this paradigm, it is not just preferred but it is required that I hop from limitation to limitation in the hope of “improvement”.

In this paradigm it is preferred that I don’t confront or question the origin of limitation itself — to understand the nature of it. The paradigm of scarcity worships limitations because limitation is the ground where the seed of power is sown. Anything that can be quantified/measured can be controlled is a popular belief that I’ve heard numerous times in work meetings. Control is power.

Attention is not a quantity. It is a factual quality of human existence and inherently has no motive. It exists outside the phenomenon of causality.

Attention, compassion, kindness, happiness, love — these are qualities of the human existence. They don’t have a cause or a motive.

When these qualities are misrepresented or treated as measurable quantities, there is great confusion.

When we examine social media companies and the “attention economy” in this context, the nature of this confusion becomes clear.

In this confusion, I measure my happiness and compassion and love to others. In that I am inattentive and lost in that corridor of identity, wandering, seeking and measuring sensory hits in the name of happiness. I jump from limitation to limitation using quantitative paradigms of “progress” and “improvement” and applying them in relationships with my partner, child, friends, colleagues. This tiny miserable self separates itself from the rest of it, fighting with itself to retain and hold on to every fictional narrative at any cost; unable to make sense of it, fully accepting and defending the idea that this misery, this hopping between limitations is the nature of life itself.

So now back to the question — what does it mean to be “present”?