All The Present Moments are Connected

Not like WiFi but like Sunlight

Dad was sitting across from me in a blue chair with high arm rests, which he could prop up his elbows on to give his low back some traction. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch facing him. It was the summer before my father passed away, and I was spending a week with him. The room was dark, and cool, and quiet as I awkwardly tried to teach him how to meditate.

I did my best to explain to my very down-to-earth, well-done-steak-and-mashed-potato, Sundays-are-for-football father, how we can shift all of our attention into our feet, and begin to watch the movements of our breath, and how we can move our attention up from where our feet touch the ground through our whole body, as we notice the ways our bodies change shape with each breath we take.

When our attention was in our chests, the familiar feeling of nowhere-else-to-be emerged and closed in on both of us. It felt as obvious as a flock of birds flying into the room. I opened my eyes, and so did he. My dad was right there in the present moment with me, understanding, agreeing, vibing. We were in it together.

I experience presence like a portal. When I feel immersed in the present moment, there is a sensation of plugging in that occurs; I am connected to all other moments in my life when I have felt similarly present.

I have come to realize, it wasn’t only that moment of sitting in meditation with him that allows me to feel alive with our relationship. I have other portals as well. One of them being sitting on the sidelines, watching my kids play sports. Through the act of doing something for his grandchildren that he once did for me, I sense his presence. When I play catch, the muscle memory grants me access to all the times we played, or likewise for the times we went for long drives, or when we sat by the fire when I was a kid, or when I have to hammer a nail.

This all makes me grateful for my imagination, for my ability to layer images and stories together in ways that are both fictional and real.

Imagine it: All the present moments connected. The irrelevant, mindless, rushed, scattered, in-between times sloughed off. The present moments condensed, compressed, shining, connected. Not like WiFi, but like sunlight. Not like the desert, but like a sauna. Not like rivers, but like a pond. Not like forest fires, but like a match. Not like monarchs, but like milkweed. Not like calendars but like holidays. Connected through singularity, through contraction, through containment, through concentration, through time.

With his passing, I’ve come to understand how fortunate I am, because I had a dad who taught me to be confident in myself. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times in my life when my confidence has shattered or been scared off, but my confidence has also proved resilient, and when I look under the hood to understand how this is possible, I find little things my dad always said to me. He said, “Joycie, you can do anything you put your mind to,” so many times, that if I ever wonder what he would say, I know.

I think what I’m trying to say is: there is something about simplicity and repetition and breath that feeds the present moment, and something about presence that fuels the soul. Perhaps little daily movements, repetitions, meditations, and affirmations are more important than we know.