I have such an established pattern of rushing to the next moment. I am looking ahead, where I am going, what I am going to do next, what I intend to get from the other side of the room. I learned a long time ago that when I am using my bandsaw to cut wood, it is always better if I focus about a quarter of an inch ahead of where the blade is cutting. It is much easier to cut on the line if I am looking a little bit ahead.
My life is not like that. I find I am better if I pay attention to what I am doing right now, and only think about the future as needed. This is where I live. I miss something if I rush into the next moment or linger in some memory of the past. My mind loves to plan and to remember. The rest of me seems to thrive best when I am paying attention to the moment.
For me that doesn’t mean paying attention to something happening outside of me. My greatest delight is when I am absorbed in watching myself pay attention. If the bell is ringing, I hear it. But I am absorbed in the act of hearing, not so much in the ringing bell. For me it is almost a paradox that when I am attentive to the act of hearing, I become most intense in my awareness of the bell.
It becomes a ringing bell in a most intimate way. I don’t particularly feel alert or attentive. I am quite relaxed, and I enjoy the bell as it rings. It takes on a reality and my curiosity rises.
Some day I hope to understand this.