There could not be a more beautiful  morning. 

The sun is just barely up –  no clouds in the sky. The temperature is perfect – you can sit quietly on a bench without feeling a chill or ride your bike without breaking a sweat. There is a light breeze coming out of the southeast. The palm trees are gently swaying.

But me, I can’t stop thinking about that stupid meeting Thursday afternoon and how frustrated I got when my idea – which I have been working on for a month – was shot down as soon as it came out of my mouth. I hate that.

I am stuck back on Thursday, missing this beautiful Sunday morning. I am missing the fact that at this moment in time, everything is wonderful. My dog is trotting the perfect distance in front of my bike without tangling his leash. My teenage daughter is still in bed after spending her Saturday night hanging out with friends in our backyard. I seemed to have lost a couple of pounds when I got on the scale this morning. My bills are paid and I made my last car payment this month. Best of all, I have no hangover – I am sober.

But I am stuck on that damn meeting on Thursday. What is WRONG with me? I have a really hard time being in the now.  I am always three days in the past – still at some stupid meeting – or ten years in the future – worried about my 401K. NOW passes me by.

I know this is bad. It is this kind of stinkin’ thinkin’ that triggers anxiety, anger and fear – essential ingredients for my depression. I have been working on this for years. I do not know if I have made much progress beyond recognizing that I am doing it. But I keep trying.

My first lesson in NOW began about years ago when I took off my watch. I had a really nice watch – a Cartier given to me for my 20th anniversary of writing for the newspaper. I gave my watch to my daughter. I realized that looking at a watch made me think about where I needed to be in two hours or where I had been six hours ago. Not knowing what time it is forces me to ask “What time is it?” The answer is always “NOW.” Amazingly, I am never late. 

This morning I practiced another lesson. I used my senses. I asked myself: What do you hear? Birds, my dog’s claws clicking on the sidewalk as he trots in front of my bike, the rustle of wind through the trees. What do you smell? The jasmine on the fence, and – unfortunately – dog doo. What do you taste? Coffee. What do you feel? The wind on my face, the tug on the leash and the sun on my skin. What do you see? 4 ducks, 1 egret and 1 anhinga drying her wings at the pond – and a very happy dog.

This is why I ride a bike. It is always NOW on my bike. On my bike I can smell the jasmine on the fence, I can feel the wind on my face, I can hear my dog’s nails on the pavement and I can see the ducks, egrets and anhingas. I miss all that in a car. I look at the cars whizzing by and I realize they don’t see the ducks, egret and anhinga. They don’t smell the jasmine or feel the breeze or hear their dog’s nails on the sidewalk because their windows are rolled up and they are going too fast. 

The road they are on does not take them close enough to the pond to see the birds. Their road does not lead to the swingset where I stop and do a little swingin’. They are going too fast to say “Mornin’” to the other folks walking their dogs or working in their yards. It is not NOW when you are in a car. It is always WHERE and WHEN – “WHERE am I going?” “WHEN will I get there?” I gave my car to my daughter.

And now I am ready to start my day over again.  Good mornin’. What time is it?

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From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (April 26, 2009)

    Last reviewed: 26 Apr 2009