Coming Back to the Present

Occasionally, my brain and body rebels in most inconvenient ways. My mind refuses to stay on task with big deadlines approaching. It indulges distractions, like finding the right holiday photo card instead of finishing the library book due the next day. I get body aches and chills without a fever, nausea of unknown origin, headaches no painkillers can penetrate.

Just weeks after a glorious trip to Maine, I suffered from all three ailments. I didn’t have the luxury of curling up on the couch or in bed for a few days to restore my health. So instead, I leeched mounting stress with useless flu meds, a few over-the-top outbursts, and one heart-stopping nightmare.

This was not the homecoming I anticipated after my time in the Northeast, anchor of my ancestry and place I miss most each fall. At the invitation of a dear friend with a lovely vacation home, four of us ignored the first day’s rains to explore beautiful Bethel, followed by two days of the best hiking conditions – sunny and mid-60s. Mother Nature put on her best party dress for us, with pleats of crimson, orange and yellow as far as the eye could see.

We ate exquisite meals I devoured despite never feeling hungry. We sat around talking (me, too much) in our PJs with steaming mugs of coffee or hot tea. We swapped jackets and pants for thinner tops and shorts on the trails. There was a watering hole where one of us (not me) decided to go skinny dipping. We rarely saw other people despite it being a weekend with prime weather, and those we did encounter were friendly.

The ascents through thick woods and along technical trails kicked my butt a bit, but those climbs and switchbacks were a breeze for the others based on their pace and seamless conversations. I stuck to the back, obsessed with tripping over hidden tree roots.

I still, a month later, remember every detail because I remained present. I didn’t let my mind wander in the woods or the museum or shops or at meals. This, I suspect, is the payoff of a dedicated meditation practice. It takes work to teach your brain not to move around so much.

It’s harder than you think. When alone with your thoughts at 3 a.m., do you let your mind still, or do you wonder what happens if you don't fall back asleep? On a morning run or walk, do you study the molting trees towering over a trail, or do you focus on how much farther you have to go? Sitting in a chair with your eyes closed, do you fixate on the sounds in the room, or wonder what's for dinner? 

That’s just some small instances among many in a day in which we fail to appreciate the now, too eager for the next. If I have more work to do, it’s in shutting up to savor the sounds around me. See silence as an ally. I bet my productivity would soar, even when experiencing symptoms of exhaustion as I recently did.

I could maybe whip out my camera a lot less, too. I take those photos and videos for future projects. Memories fade. Minds too. But the decline can be slowed if we stay present, like soaking in the smell, feel, sights and sounds of fall in full bloom before it too continues to decay.

Photos of places near the Maine-New Hampshire border