We’re always looking ahead aren’t we. Looking at what we can accomplish. Having goals. To do well at school. To get to Uni. To get the best job we can. To have money. To have the nicest home we can. To have that new floral skirt. We need those Nike trainers. And that handbag. And definitely that perfect relationship. Need need need,
I fall into it like everyone else. But I’m trying to climb out of it. I’m always going to be lured by the next pair of Fly boots or that coat from H&M. I’m still motivated by my career. However I’ve read a lot lately about minimalism and trying to live with less. Old habits are hard to break and I don’t actually want to break them all. I love shoes!
The part of living minimalistic that draws me in is less clutter, not just things, but in the mind. Having more time for the here and now. The living for this moment and not always focussing on what’s coming up. Or more importantly not worrying about what’s coming up. I’ve still a long way to go in that department.
What about now? What about enjoying this moment, this time. Maybe it’s an age thing but I’ve come to realise if we’re always looking ahead you can’t fully enjoy the present.
Maybe part of me is more attracted to focussing on now because the future I thought I’d have is gone. My future included two children growing up to adulthood, being happy, travelling, going to college. Being independent. Being there. Always.
It’s not easy letting go of our future. We’ve been moulded to keep looking ahead. Save for the future. Plan for the future. Worry about the future,
How many times are we encouraged to think about today? Don’t worry about what lies ahead. When is the last time you heard that? If we’re not planning ahead we’re almost viewed to be neglectful of our future self. But what about today? Who is looking after today?
I’m still learning. I’m less about running around every weekend filling it with all the things I thought would make me better and happier. One change is that I spend far more time outside.
Yesterday at the beach I took a few minutes alone and looked at the slate grey frothing sea. I looked properly. I followed the tiny swell of the distant wave. I studied as it slowly formed and gradually peaked, glistening in the winter sun, building up speed it hurtled towards me, finally crashing and eventually disappearing. I listened to the sound, the dangerous thunderous sound of the sea. It was beautiful.
I only noticed how beautiful it was because I stopped for a minute.
We could all do with stopping for a minute. Life is now.