Almost a year ago I drove over an hour to have lunch with two new blog-friends.  Jo from Mylestones and Corinne from Trains, Tutus, and Teatime.  Over flatbread we chatted and chatted and barely had time to take a breath.  The time flew by.  And then, over the summer, I got to spend lots more time with Corinne when we took the train to and from BlogHer.  We’ve had a couple of visits since then, notably to hear Gail Caldwell read from Let’s Take the Long Way Home.  It’s never enough though, and I am particularly hoping to meet Corinne’s delicious Fynn and Page, who feature prominently in her blog.

Corinne’s blog is a beautiful series of meditations on real, ordinary life.  She writes about her everyday experiences with her children, about her sobriety journey, and about her nascent but vital spirituality.  She and I have in common a passionate attachment to the ocean and the beach, and I particularly adore her posts about her visits there.  Corinne shares her beautiful photography, too, and I am often as refreshed and inspired by her images as I am by her words.  I urge you to click over to Trains, Tutus, and Teatime and to spend some time immersed in Corinne’s world.  I am certain that I am better for this immersion; there is something about Corinne, both in person and on the page, that makes me calmer, more patient, more open to my own humanity.

And more good news!  Corinne’s creativity has a new outlet.  She has thrown herself wholeheartedly into knitting, and I’m thrilled to point you to her brand-new etsy shop, A Soft Landing, here.  I am the proud owner of a pair of Corinne’s handwarmers, and I tell you I can feel the love that went into the knitting of them every time I pull them on.

In the meantime, I’m honored to host Corinne here today for Present Tense.  I know that the effort to remain open to her own life is important to Corinne, as she and I have talked about it.  I was delighted when she agreed to answer my questions.  So here is Corinne, with her trademark wisdom, humility, and flat-out wonderfulness.

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I read Laura Munson’s memoir, This Is Not the Story You Think It Is: A Season of Unlikely Happiness, over the summer, and adored it.  The book grew out of  Laura’s summer 2009 Modern Love column, which I remember reading with interest.  This Is Not the Story You Think It Is begins with Munson’s husband of many years coming home and telling her he’s not sure he loves her anymore.   Instead of responding with anger or throwing him out, Munson simply responds, “I don’t buy it.”  She commences a period of steadfast patience.  She is certain that her husband’s wavering has to do with him, and not her, and she is committed to waiting him out while he works through his crisis.

Munson’s memoir traces the months of this season, during which she waits, determined to save her marriage by demonstrating her deep commitment to it and to her husband.  This commitment takes the form of space, tolerance, and tremendous faith.  She chooses not to give in to the urge for drama, not to hurl accusations.  This is challenging beyond measure, and of course there are moments she loses her cool.  On the whole, though This Is Not the Story You Think It Is showcases the power of devotion and what can happen when we remember to put the prize we seek above our moment-to-moment personal needs.

Beyond being a story about marriage and midlife, though, This Is Not the Story You Think It Is is about becoming the source of one’s own joy.  It is about shifting the power over our own moods back to ourselves.  It is about the things that are possible when we fully commit to something, even when that effort is difficult and draining.

Munson talks about the teetering stack of books on her bedside table, many of which are about spirituality, peace, self-help.  She has been a lifelong seeker, she tells us, but it is not until this moment, with her marriage in crisis and fault lines running through a foundation she assumed was stable, that she really starts to understand what she has been seeking.

“But,” I whimpered, “I’m in a spiritual cul-de-sac. I don’t know how not to want. I’m very, very attached. Not in the least Zen. More . . . I don’t know . . . Episcopalian.”

It’s not simple, this letting go of how she imagined her marriage would be, this strident attempt to … not attempt so much.  Of course Munson falters.  She is funny and wise, humane and deeply human as she relates the ups and downs of her waiting season (an aside: like Munson, I’m an Episcopalian, very, very attached, and a lifelong seeker).

Munson wrote This Is Not the Story You Think It Is from the white-hot center of the experience; not for her was the advice to get a healthy remove from an emotional moment before writing about it.  No, she wrote in real time, as she lived through her summer of waiting, her weeks of doubt, her moments of surprising peace.  As she moves through time, she grows more and more clear about the process she is engaged in, which proves to go far beyond the situation with her husband.

“It’s about not taking things personally. Even when you feel the world is crumbling around you. It’s about choosing happiness over suffering. It’s about retraining the way we think.”

Of course, this is no small achievement; it might be the goal of a lifetime.  At least for me.  Many things go into choosing happiness; among the most important is learning to appreciate that which is right in front of you.  When Munson dives into what it means to not choose suffering, she hints at some of the nuances of her ordinary life, and suggests that it is in the embrace of these things that freedom, and joy, can come.

“Suffering sucks. Don’t do it. Go home and love your wife. Go home and love yourself. Go home and base your happiness on one thing and one thing only: freedom. Choose freedom, not suffering. Create a life of freedom, not wanting. Have some really good coffee and listen to the red-winged blackbirds in the marsh.”

I’m so glad to have found Laura Munson’s words, in both her book and in her blog, These Here Hills.  She writes for the Huffington Post, the New York Times (her recent Lives column, about a mother and her growing-so-fast daughter, made me cry), and on her blog.  Go read her words now – you won’t regret it.

1. When have you felt most present?  Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

Giving birth to my children, writing books, riding horses.  All three of these things require us to be in the present moment.  Like no other experiences I’ve known, they warn of the dangers of the mind.  Of engaging fear.  Of not being present.  All require a loosening, an opening and letting go; non-resistance.  Receiving what is…the illusions of the past and the future melting away.

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?

I have a very busy mind.  So in order to quiet it, I need easy, broken down methods.  So it’s three deep breaths when my mind is a-whirl.  Or it’s saying a prayer that I memorized as a child in time to those three breaths.  Or a heart shaped rock I hold in my hand to take pause—I collect them and keep them all over my house.  It’s silent and it’s simple.  And mostly it’s about identifying those destructive thoughts we all have, and loving them into submission.  I used to think we needed to hunt them down and make them die violent deaths.  Now I realize that when we’re doing that, we’re at war with ourselves because we’ve created those voices.  They’re of us.  So to love them like a scared child works much better for me.

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present?  Who?  Where?  Any idea why?

The woman who I ride horses with is the most present human being I’ve ever met.  She has had a hard life and you never hear her complain and you rarely hear her speak about yesterday or tomorrow.  It’s “look at the immature eagle,” or “that mama doe has a new fawn hiding in that field,” or “that’s a mountain lion den” or “aren’t the larch trees stunning this year?”  We may get into conversation, but she is always keenly aware of what is happening around her and with her horse.  It keeps her calm and it keeps her safe.  I have worked with this woman for ten years and more than anything else, I’ve learned how to clean my mind and be present, all from our travels by horse in the woods of Montana.

4. Have you ever meditated?  How did that go?

Writing is my meditation.  It’s my practice.  It’s my daily prayer.  I have always been a seeker from a very early age.  And I’ve always had a rich prayer life.  My prayers have become lean.  More like little casts into a slow-moving stream—a few words.  Thanks.  Help.  Yes. I find great solace and inspiration in reading the work of the mystics from most religions who are all about love and the freedom of the present moment.  And yes, I have meditated in the sense of repeating a phrase in my mind in a deliberate way in a quiet place.  But for me a walk in the woods is the best meditation.  I always come back feeling clean-slated.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

I try to teach them to be aware in the moment.  That all the suffering comes in our attachment to the illusion of past and future.  To own what they can own and then let go of the rest.  I try to teach them the freedom that comes from that awareness.  I’m a student and a teacher then, I guess.  When there are people you love and you see them suffering and you feel you have ideas and practices that pull people out of suffering, it’s easy to go into teacher mode, but I find that it’s much more effective to simply practice more than preach.

6. And just cause I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

Jim Harrison is my favorite writer.  I love all of his work, and especially his poetry.  I love the book THE BROTHERS K by David James Duncan.  e.e. cummings and Rilke and Rumi and Neruda.  Salinger, especially FRANNY AND ZOOEY.  Truman Capote’s A CHRISTMAS MEMORY.  Annie Dillard.  And music…well…I love Bach.  I love the Durufle Requiem.  And old timey folk tunes.  My musical taste is all over the map.  From Puccini to Joni Mitchell to James Taylor to Ella Fitzgerald to The Velvet Underground to the Grateful Dead to the Violent Femmes.  Dixieland jazz.  Big Band music.  Depends on the weather.  The song I play on the piano, its lyrics appearing in my high school year book senior page, is CORNER OF THE SKY from the Broadway musical, Pippin, so there you have it.

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This winter a blog reader sent me a link to a YouTube video that I clicked on (uncharacteristically, since honestly I don’t much like watching video). Before a minute had elapsed tears were streaming down my face.  Before the video was over I’d ordered the book that Katrina Kenison read from in it, The Gift of an Ordinary Day.  I am eager to share this gift with all of you, and so please read down to find out more about winning a copy of each of Katrina’s books!

And since the day I watched that YouTube video, the universe has been taking very good care of me.  One morning this summer I bumped into Katrina, in my town, by chance, and at a small coffee shop around the corner.  I recognized her, at first noticing that she was reading a book by Sylvia Boorstein that Dani Shapiro wrote about in Devotion.  We talked, we made a date for the next morning, and I fell more deeply into my admiration of all things Katrina.  Sometimes I feel as though life is one great stream, and all I really should do is stop trying so madly to direct everything and just let it carry me.  And reading Katrina’s words, discovering the connections we had, and then meeting her in person all felt like that.  I’m immeasurably grateful to know Katrina, both as a writer and as a person, and am already hard-pressed to describe fully the profound impact she’s had on me.

The Gift of an Ordinary Day moved me when I read it, and I’ve returned to it over and over since then, recalling resonant themes and specific images recommending it to everybody who will listen.  I’m just finishing Mitten Strings For God now and it is having a similar impact.  The book is inspiring me in a very real way to be a better and more present mother.  Just today, I surreptitiously read it in between interviews I had with candidates for my “real job,” and came home newly reminded of how important it is to be engaged for Grace and Whit.  We ate a relaxed dinner, enjoyed a long bath time full of laughter, and forfeited television in lieu of reading.  I doubt it’s a coincidence that this was one of the smoothest and most joyful evenings that I can remember with my children.

Katrina is, as I wrote in my review of The Gift of an Ordinary Day, a poet of the everyday.  In her sure and gentle hands the most ordinary moments are burnished into gems.  Through the lens of her eyes I am reminded over and over of the holiness that exists in every single one of our days, and I am called back again to the practice of noticing it.  Katrina writes often on her blog of her own struggles with the very things I grapple with every single day: how to cope with the transience of time, to accept the loss that limns every day, and to be more present in her own life.

If I have learned anything at all these last couple of months, it is that I am still learning how to let go, still caught so often between my wish to stop time in its tracks and my longing to accept with more grace the transience of all things.

When I read these words a couple of weeks ago I gasped audibly: I’ve never heard such a lucid and elegant description of the central tension of my own life.  How did this woman climb into my head?  My heart?  Never mind.  I don’t care how.  I’m glad she did. Katrina expresses the ineffable sadness and incandescent joy that dance together at the heart of the human experience with an eloquence that I regularly feel so keenly it’s like an ache in my chest.

I urge you all to read Katrina’s work – her blog, her books.  She will move you, I guarantee it.  When she read at the Mother’s Plunge on September 18th there was not a dry eye in the room.  Yet they were the special kind of tears that inspire joy, commitment, and engagement even as they acknowledge sorrow.  Katrina’s books stir something deep in me, touch that molten core of what it means to be a person in this world.  Run, don’t walk, to read them.  They will change your life.  That is not an exaggeration.

Because I believe so fiercely in Katrina’s work, and can speak so personally and authentically about how it has affected me, I’m eager to share this with you all.  My first giveaway!  I’m delighted to give away a signed copy of both Mitten Strings For God and The Gift of an Ordinary Day.  Just leave a comment and I’ll draw names in a couple of days.  You won’t regret it, I swear.  The only person I know lucky enough to have a signed copy of The Gift of an Ordinary Day is my own mother (no pressure, Mum, but you can read that at any time), and that’s because I got it for her the other weekend.

And now, without further ado, I share Katrina’s wise, and incomparably thoughtful responses to my questions.

1. When have you felt most present?  Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

Surprisingly, some of my most difficult, painful moments of parenthood have also turned out to be the moments that remain indelibly imprinted on my brain.  An unexpected turn of events, a child’s poor decision, a surprising discovery or confession — and suddenly we are both in brand new territory.  That can be pretty scary, knowing that my reaction in this moment could either support my child’s growth and continued trust in me, or make an already distressing situation even worse.  Whether it’s having third-grade son come to me in tears because he’s being bullied in gym class, or walking in on a sixteen- year-old sneaking a cigarette, these are the kinds of memories that remain sharp and viscerally clear for years afterward.

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My friend Kathryn introduced me to Laura, because she thought Laura’s new book, 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, and the philosophy it evinces, would be of interest to me. In our very first exchange, Laura wrote: “I think one of the reasons people feel like they have less time than they do is that they aren’t present when they’re doing whatever they’re doing.” And I just nodded and said, well, yes. At least that is true for me.

Laura’s book “is a fun, inspiring, and practical guide that will help men and women of any age, lifestyle, or career get the most out of the time and their lives.” Kathryn is interviewed and profiled in one chapter. I had three immediate reactions to this idea, at least with respect to the issue of presence. The first is that yes, it is absolutely true that careful allotment of our time can result in more time, or at least in the hours rolling out in a more orderly fashion. A correlated observation that I’ve long wanted to write about is that the way we spend our hours really says a lot about what our priorities actually are (more on that another time).

My second reaction to the blurb about Laura’s book is that well, yes, that’s true … but. I’m a very organized person and I have been known to structure my time with ruthless, military precision. My obsession with timeliness can make me humorless, and I certainly struggle to relax and let go of the fourteen other more efficient things I could be doing at any given moment. And yet, despite all of that, it took me a long time and a far more ineffable kind of effort to finally figure out how to be more present in my life.

The third reaction was to hear in my head one of my very favorite quotes. At least daily this scrolls through my consciousness, and I immediately thought of it when I read about Laura’s book:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. (Annie Dillard)

So what’s more important than a thoughtful approach to how we fill our hours, for example the 168 that we get each week? I would posit: nothing. I was thrilled when Laura agreed to be interviewed for Present Tense, and think her answers perfectly conjure the combination of careful, logical planning and inspired, emotional commitment that I believe can add up to a life of really paying attention.

1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

I try to enjoy moments as often as I can. One of the great things about writing 168 Hours is that it’s forced me to really think about my own time, because enjoying your life is largely a matter of enjoying your hours. I try to build joy into my days: savoring a cup of strawberries, for instance, or since I work out of a home office, sneaking in a quick snuggle with my baby when I’ve got a break. But here’s one that popped into my brain when I read this question. I was in Israel about ten years ago, and riding a bike on a road along the Egyptian border. The sun went down, the moon came up and looked so ghostly on the sand. There is something about riding a bike, pedaling hard, feeling the night wind on your arms, that just forces you to be in the moment. Pure bliss. I think the moment stood out because it seemed so much holier than the Disneyland atmosphere around the actual holy sites I’d also visited on the trip. Perhaps I’d been hoping for some grand religious experience at the site of Jesus’s tomb. The night wind was like a reminder that the divine is all around, that it’s silly hoping for a religious experience at the tomb, because the whole point of the religion is that He isn’t there.

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?

Running keeps me firmly in the present tense. While training for a marathon recently, I did weekly speed sessions and long runs (up to 20 miles). By the last lap of an 8×800, or mile 18 of a 20-miler, there is no where your mind can be but where you are. You may wish it to be elsewhere, but somehow your mind keeps coming back to your breath and the rhythmic pounding of your feet. I also keep a journal. I don’t write in it nightly, but I do most days, and recording the days helps cement them in my mind.

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present? Who? Where? Any idea why?

My apartment balcony is nice for this. When I get the chance – the kids are asleep or I have the house to myself – I like to sit and watch the city 43 floors below. When I’m sitting in my living room, I usually think I should be picking the toys up off the floor. I don’t feel that way when I’m outside, taking in the view.

4. Have you ever meditated? How did that go?

Not as such. Sometimes I repeat certain phrases while running to get through those last miles. Sometimes I count my blessings while waiting for the elevator. I find that’s a good way to use those few minutes.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

Having children has made me try to appreciate the little happy moments that the universe grants in abundance if you’re willing to pay attention. Small children are obviously a lot of work – work that takes up a lot of our hours – and there are certain moments that no one enjoys. Changing multiple kids’ dirty diapers at the same time comes to mind, or having your own breast milk spat back up on you. But then this morning as I was getting everyone dressed, we started jumping around on my 3-year-old’s bed. He was just wearing a Pull-up and my 8-month-old was just wearing a diaper, so it was all one jumble of baby fat and little limbs and giggles. I try to burn these images into my mind, because I know time keeps passing and they will grow up soon.

6. And just cause I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

Too many books to mention, but my favorite work of music is Bach’s B-Minor Mass. I’m mildly obsessed with it. I learned it in choir in college, and I continue to be amazed by the absolutely intricate polyphony of the choruses. The Agnus Dei is one of the most amazing alto solos ever written. It is mostly low and hushed, but then the occasional high note pierces through and just compels you to listen – and be present.

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Laura, thank you! I love this sentence: “Having children has made me try to appreciate the little happy moments that the universe grants in abundance if you’re willing to pay attention.” Thank you for so elegantly and lucidly saying the very thing I keep stumbling around in this space!!

I relate most powerfully to two of your responses. The first is that running is where you find yourself, eventually, to a place where your mind and your body are one. I agree entirely with this. And you are so right that sometimes I wish my mind could go elsewhere, do the jumping monkey thing it seems to do the whole rest of my life … but at mile seven (I have not done a marathon, thank you very much!) I simply can’t get it to go away from my lungs, my legs, the distance from here to there.

The second is the memory from Israel, and the observation that the spiritual moments are sometimes different than we might have assumed, somehow less obvious, more around the edges. Or simply the recognition that, as you say, the “divine is all around.” Indeed, it is. I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that the task of my life now is realizing that. And living in accordance with that knowledge.

Thank you, Laura … I can’t wait to read the book. You can learn more about Laura here, about 168 Hours here, and can pre-order it here!

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I think anyone who’s been reading this blog knows how profoundly touched I was by Devotion, Dani Shapiro’s memoir that came out this winter. I was very privileged to meet Dani at a couple of her readings this winter; she is everything in person that you’d imagine from her graceful, honest memoir, and more. Devotion has stayed with me months after I finished it, its lines presenting themselves fully-formed in my head, its lessons growing ever more compelling and wise, its elegant language prompting me always to try to write more carefully, more lucidly. Dani also has two fantastic blogs, both of which I now eagerly follow.

One reason I identified so strongly with Dani from the start is because she is clearly interested in the central issue that preoccupies me now: presence. In both her memoir her blogs she wrestles with questions of how to be more engaged in her life, less distracted, better able to live within the shadow of time’s relentless passage. These are all questions I struggle mightily with, daily, and I have already learned so much from Dani’s writing about them.

You can imagine how elated I was when Dani agreed to participate in Present Tense! There aren’t really superlatives strong enough to describe how my I admire Dani, so I’ll just say she’s both a role model and an unwitting teacher. Thank you.

1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

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1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

The times I have felt most present for extended periods of time (like, an hour or more) have been during the labors of all three of my sons, in yoga – specifically savasana, when making art, or listening to live music. I also have a lot of random instances I could mention. There are times I intentionally remain where I am, taking in the moments with all my senses rather than letting my mind wander. Lying in bed with my 6 year old talking about his day, hanging out with my 3 year old just the other day, or on the bus on the way to work. I’ll keep my iPod tucked in my bag and my book closed, and I’ll take it all in. The road, the people out the window, the other passengers on the bus. I watch what people are doing, I listen to the snips of conversation around me, I smell the mix of perfume and coffee and cigarette smoke lingering on someone’s jacket, I feel the hard seat and the bumps of the drive. Sure, there are days when I travel that whole route without paying one bit of attention to where I actually am, letting my music or my book or my mental anxiety or to-do list transport me. But most days, I like to be where I am, fully.

All of it – I soak it all in, let the experience add another layer of texture to me, let it become part of me as I move on, take the next step, inahle – exhale. It’s so easy to run through life on Auto-Pilot, getting from Point A to Point B without noticing where we are or what we’re actually doing. I could hop on the bus and end up at work without noticing one thing about the weather or what’s going on out the window or in the seat next to me because I’m so distracted by my own brain. But when I mentally put down the juggling act in my head and just focus on being where I am, I feel my pulse slow down and a (relative) calm set in despite whatever is on my plate for that day (or month, or year).

Geez, the last thing I want to suggest is that this is easy or that I handle it the way I’d like to all the time. But through practicing yoga and meditation, it has come much more naturally than it used to.

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present? Who? Where? Any idea why?

Yoga, contemplative writing practice, the shore of Lake Michigan, the early days with a new baby (I rarely read or watched TV while nursing. I liked to just watch my baby. To be there mentally. It’s amazing how easy it is to be in the middle of next week or next year when really you’re sitting on the couch in your living room with a baby on your breast). On the flip side, where have I been least present? In church, growing up. I would spend the entire service following a train of thought, and then randomly stopping and asking how I got there, then following the train of thought backwards until I got back to where I started, which I had always forgotten until I got back there. It was my favorite game. And also – driving. I am rarely really where I am when I’m driving. My mind is back in high school or it’s 20 years into the future or it’s solving the sorrows of the world or it’s on Mars or wherever, but certainly not on that stretch of road that I’m driving at that moment.

4. Have you ever meditated? How did that go?

Yes. I am part of a contemplative writing practice (ala Natalie Goldberg) that meets weekly. We start the practice (after a brief check-in and hello) with a sitting meditation (then we listen to a writing prompt and follow with 20 minutes of free writing). I love it. I also meditate during Savasana in yoga practice, and during Restorative Yoga sessions. I keep my attention on my breath, when I notice thoughts and obligations and next week’s worries or my grocery list popping up or lingering, I acknowledge the thoughts and then release them. They are bound to pop up, at least for a novice like me. A visualization that helps me is that of raindrops falling in a river. Whatever these thoughts or worries or to-do’s are, I see them falling, they’re very much there. But when they land in the river, they dissipate and flow downstream. And I stay where I am, letting the river flow past and through me, letting thoughts flow on past while I just stand there, just being, in the river and the rain. It has been an incredibly helpful visualization for me.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

Truthfully, I never gave any thought to being present before I had kids. Looking back, I see that I fluctuated between extremes. In college I was always multitasking, finding distractions to help me escape the present when I needed it. But then also being able to fully just be wherever I was and to soak in my surroundings through all of my senses without any thought to tomorrow’s schedule or obligations. Right before we got pregnant with our first son, my husband and I took a several-month-long road trip with no itinerary or schedule. We traveled down Highway 1 from Seattle to San Diego and then into the southwestern states and eventually back to Wyoming (from where we started). I was incredibly present on that trip. We drove until we felt like stopping, and we stayed where we were as long as we felt like it. Sometimes staying four weeks in one place, other times just an afternoon. It was incredibly freeing and we grew so close on that trip. And now, with kids, I can’t even imagine taking a trip like that. I’m sure it’s do-able, but I think it would be a lot harder for me.

6. And just cause I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

Oh, with music I am remarkable fickle. Lately, I find myself coming back to Mike Doughty – both the Rockity Roll album (especially Down on the River by the Sugar Plant and Ossining) and Haughty Melodic. Also anything by Ben Folds, and randomly — very old school Smashing Pumpkins. I also could listen to the Garden State soundtrack on repeat for the rest of my life. Another song that pops to mind with nostalgic value: Pictures of You by The Cure. Have you heard the PS22 Choir from NYC sing this? My lord. Search my blog for a clip. Tears, every time. Oh, I love Ingrid Michaelson, although I haven’t listened to her in months. This really isn’t even a slice of the songs that move me.

And books? I haven’t had time for fiction in years. I read mostly collections of essays, anthologies, or nonfiction with short chapters. I, like every woman who writes, adore Anne Lamott and consider her my personal therapist and life coach. I recently was enamored with If You Want to Write by Brenda Ueland, which is really a book about art, inspiration and life. She was so ahead of her time in so many ways. And right now I’m finishing up The Wisdom of No Escape by Pema Chodron. Although I am not Buddhist myself, many of the teachings compliment my Christian faith and resonate with me.

Well, there is so much here that I relate to that I have to be careful not to just quote everything Elizabeth says. Never gave much thought to being present and aware until I had kids? Um, yes. Never even occured to me. It was not until I had these living, breathing yardsticks of time’s passage in front of me that I realized how much I was missing. It’s amazing, how true that cliche is about children being our teachers, isn’t it?

The contemplative writing group sounds extraordinary, and I think I need one (any takers in the Boston area?). Fickle with music (and yet needing to turn it off to have a prayer of being focused?)? Moi aussi. Labors being among of the most vivid and present moments of your life? Yes. The powerful lessons of Buddhism, that for now feel complimentary to a Christian upbringing? Yes.

Elizabeth, I am impressed and inspired by you, by your commitment, by the strength of your spirit. You are an example, a shining and honest and human one, of what it looks like to really let your minutes be 60 seconds long (to paraphrase you). Thank you for sharing your kindness, your wisdom, your brilliance, and your humanity with us today. Thank you for you.

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Today I am delighted to welcome Jen Lee to Present Tense. Jen was one of the first bloggers I read regularly, and it is a distinct honor to have her words here in my humble space.

Jen is a storyteller, a writer, a photographer, and, in my opinion, an all-around exemplar of a life thoughtfully and beautifully lived. Her writing glows with truth and her photographs capture the beauty in the everyday life of her neighborhood and city. Jen starts from the premise that we all have a story to tell, and this inclusive, supportive attitude towards other people emanates from everything she shares.

Through Jen’s photographs, and through her words, I have the wonderful sensation of seeing the world through her eyes. And what eyes! She seems to see things through a lens of compassion and faith, of patience and trust. It is such a gift to be exposed to this world view, at least for me, who tends towards anxiety and fear so much of the time. In fact, it’s not an exaggeration to say that just spending time in Jen’s space is healing for me.

Jen hosts retreats and teaches workshops where she shares her warmth and brilliance. Her stories of her retreats, and the way she shares what she learns both from those who are formally the students and those who are formally the teachers moves me deeply. It is this interplay between teacher and student that Jen seems to understand intimately: she impresses me with the way she seems open to insight, and wisdom, no matter what the source.

Please go check Jen’s work at at her blog. You can also check out the books she has published and the upcoming opportunities to meet her in person. You won’t be disappointed: her space is warm and welcoming, calm and creative, and is simply one of my favorite places to go read and think.  There is something about Jen’s presence that is steadfast, patient, supportive.  Jen speaks the language of the soul.   In the embrace of her words and images, I begin to trust that I might learn that language someday too. What a gift.

1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

When I’m playing with my children on the floor or eating lunch with them on the kitchen windowsill. When I’m spending time with people I love, especially those I don’t see often. When I’m in a conversation that someone is bringing 100% of their listening and attention to. In the bath tub. Over a cup of tea.

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?

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Today I am thrilled to bring you Present Tense with Gretchen Rubin, author of the #1 New York Times bestselling book, The Happiness Project.

Gretchen really needs no introduction. But, as you can see, she is a redhead. Which makes her automatically dear to my heart. Seriously, though, it is my honor to have Gretchen respond to my inquiry and engage in these questions. I’ve long been a loyal reader of her blog, I read and enjoyed The Happiness Project, and I was happy to hear Gretchen read and talk in Boston a few weeks ago. Many things about Gretchen’s story and message both impress and touch me, but it wasn’t until I saw this video that she made that I realized, with that thunderstruck sense of oh-of-course, that this was all, in its own way, about being present. I had heard the adage “the days are long, but the years are short” before, but Gretchen emphasizes it and makes it real in a newly visceral way for me. In her words: this mundane moment is life.

Gretchen’s basic premise, of realizing her life was richly blessed but still wanting to make a conscious effort to be happier within it, resonates powerfully with me. I also find her basically pragmatic approach really compelling – she makes changes which feel big within the context of a reality she knows she is not going to materially change. I think this is part of what has made her book such a success: she makes the desire to be happier concrete, and this makes it feel tangible, reachable.

The book is definitely worth reading, as is her blog, which is chock-full of fascinating quotes from a dazzling range of sources, always-interesting links, and thoughtful suggestions. It only took a few chapters for me to be inspired to take 10 bags of books and stuff to Goodwill, and to clear not just one but two empty shelves of my own.

The book has stayed with me after I finished it, too, which is in my mind the true mark of an important work. I took from The Happiness Project specific, actionable suggestions of choices I can make daily to make myself happier. But, perhaps more lingeringly, the book impressed on me a few ways of thinking about the world and how we live in it. Two examples are the distinction Gretchen draws between moderators and abstainers (this insight was really new to me and deeply true) and the sense of sadness she articulates as part of following her #1 rule: “Be Gretchen.” She speaks articulately and powerfully about the fact that to accept ourselves as we truly are (which she asserts, compellingly, is the first step towards any real happiness) we must accept all of the things we are not. This is not without sorrow, and Gretchen treads this line gently, acknowledging this loss without becoming gloomy over it.

And without further ado, here are Gretchen’s thoughts on presence:

I’m not much of a music person. Books – where can I start? I love fiction, non-fiction, biography, memoir, children’s and young adult literature … I’m a book nut!

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I think my favorite thing about Gretchen’s approach to being present is her firm belief that by active commitment to the goal of consciousness we can improve ourselves on that dimension. This is inspiring to me and, I imagine, to many others. We can identify some concrete choices, make them, stick to them, and things will improve. I like this because it is so much more actionable, and approachable, than my impression of much of the previous writing about happiness.

The do-er and the list-maker in me very much responds to this philosophy, which I see played out in these answers. Gretchen has had epiphanies while walking or (famously) riding the bus. So, commit to not being distracted when in those modes, to maximize the chances of inspiration coming again. That makes sense and sounds simple, but of course it is not: it is an active choice, that Gretchen makes daily, to invite reflection and thoughtfulness into her life.

The answer about staying home is imbued with other writing of Gretchen’s about accepting herself for who she is. About Being Gretchen. As I wrote before, doing this has loss contained in it, since we must acknowledge all of the things we are not. But as Gretchen writes of liking being at home, I am reminded of the same instinct in myself, and also of the tremendous friction I feel between my desire to stay home and the pressure I feel to Be More Social. I can then hear Gretchen’s voice in my head saying: Be Lindsey. And she would encourage me, I imagine, to accept my deepest instincts and to accept the things that this means I am not. And to embrace my predisposition towards quiet and books and homebodiness – as I sense that she has.

Gretchen, thank you for your wise words, your inspiring example, your generosity with your time and your spirit. You are a shining role model of a writer and of a woman – thank you, thank you.

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It is my honor to introduce the wonder woman I am featuring in today Present Tense conversation: Taylor Wells. Taylor and I met in August 2000 at a yoga retreat in Montana. It was a trip that changed her life in enormous ways, and I have had the privilege of watching those changes and of experiencing first-hand the growth of a person into their dharma.  Taylor absolutely radiates peace. I asked her to participate in the series because I know she has thought deeply on the issue of consciousness and her answers affirmed this. More than anyone else I know, Taylor takes concrete steps and makes specific decisions to support this path. The peace and sense of being centered that she gives off is testament to how effective this practice is. Read and learn:

1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

Every single day after my yoga practice

When painting, playing, and/or reading with my three children. Whenever I’m in nature – especially hiking up a mountain or at the ocean,

When cleaning and organizing. Very Virgo! So our home is very organized – effortlessly. A nice perk for my husband and kiddos!

When writing.

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?  

Yes. I do them every day faithfully. It’s a practice, and I’m very disciplined and I practice daily. I cultivated this discipline at a very young age – when training for the Olympics in ice skating at age five and up, and training for the pro circuit in tennis while living at Nick Bolletieri’s at age twelve and thirteen.

I practice prana power yoga every single morning – first thing. While practicing, I read flash cards I’ve written with inspirational, spiritual, be here now, and be grateful quotes. My two year old son, Phoenix, puts them out in front of my mat for me – about 6-8 of them. He knows the drill. I have hundreds of them and I choose them at random each morning. Those are my lessons/my mantras of the day. This is my way of setting the energy/the template for the day, much like putting twigs into a fire that burns all day long

I put only raw high vibration vegan food into my body. This keeps me in the now. Cooked, processed and animal foods cause our bodies and minds to go on auto pilot. They cause us to zone out and exist like the “living dead.” Food really is a drug. Use it wisely

Very first thing in the morning – when I open my eyes and before I get out of bed – I thank the universe for everything I am grateful for. This takes a while! I have a lot of gratitude. I cultivate an attitude of gratitude first thing in the am. Then I visualize my day, going exactly as I ant it to go. It’s mostly energetic – things flowing beautifully and easily, lots of smiling and laughing, efficiency, joy, and love.

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present? Who? Where? Any idea why?

Talking with my soul mate/husband, Philippe. We are very in sync and very connected and just talking with him brings me back, if I’ve drifted off somehow. I remember years ago, when we were first dating, telling a dear girlfriend how Philippe and I would lie on the couch together and talk for hours – like three or four hours. She smiled and was happy for me, and said gently and sweetly that that would probably change with time, as our relationship evolved and responsibilities accrued, etc. I’m happy to say that we can and do still talk for hours, amidst all of our co-adventures and responsibilities (Prana yoga centers, Prana cafe, consulting, co-parenting, homeschooling, etc). And the reason why we can and still do is that when we talk, I truly let go of everything and am totally present. I’m not thinking, “Oh, I have 200 emails to respond to, so I have to go now,” I’m just there with him. That’s a blessing that I always cherish.

4. Have you ever meditated? How did that go?

I used to meditate daily – twice a day. Now after studying a lot of Abraham-Hicks, I’ve learned that “we didn’t come here to be on pause.” So instead I’ve trained my mind to think positive thoughts – things that I want and aspire to – instead of blanking my mind out. Abraham says that meditation is great if your mind is negative/racing/etc, but with the time and practice, it’s best to learn to train your mind to think positive thoughts – to create what you want, using your thoughts. I’ve gotten pretty good at this, with time and practice. It’s called manifestation, and it’s very fun.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

OMG Yes. The day I had my first child, I changed forever. And with each child since, I have continued to transform. I also transformed during my first yoga practice, and continue to transform each time I get on my mat. However, having a child is a slam dunk. My children are my biggest teachers (as I said above) and also they are a reminder to be present so I can teach them to do the same. We are so blessed to be able to spend a lot of time together (my husband and I homeschool and don’t use nannies or day care because we are able to do so – since we run our yoga centers and cafes out of our home), and they watch every move I make and mimic me. That’s a lot of responsibility – the biggest ever. And I take it seriously – and with joy and honor.

6. And just cause I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

I love all Krishna Das and Loreena McKennitt. I also love James Taylor and Elton John! They are classics.

I love most every spiritual book I’ve ever read, especially all Sanaya Roman (have read most twice or more), Louise Hay, Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson, Wayne Dyer, and Stuart Wilde. I am not a fan of fiction. Can’t get through a page. My spirit only likes spiritual books and nonfiction.

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What Taylor’s answers tell me, most of all, is that
presence is a practice. As she says. This is something you can commit to, and with effort it can become more of a habit. I am inspired by all of the things you do, Taylor, by your discipline and commitment to living an engaged and aware life. I remember visiting your old house, years ago, and seeing index cards taped up around the kitchen with inspirational quotes. I turn to my own quote books (hand written, filled over the years) almost daily; it is only a small leap to make these an explicit part of my everyday environment.

Your answers about meditation remind me of what Danielle said, and both make me recall Thich Nhat Hanh, whose writings I’ve long admired. The lesson I take is that life itself, even (especially?) in its most mundane moments, can be a meditation. It is in our attitude, in our own minds, that the meditation occurs. Perhaps to cultivate a mind that is capable of this we need to
formally sit and chant, but the end goal seems to be actually engaging in our lives with the kind of mindfulness we might bring to a traditional meditation session.

Taylor, thank you. For those of you who want to learn more about Taylor, you can read her blog at www.super-mom.com, learn about the yoga studios she and Philippe founded and run at www.pranapoweryoga.com, and about their raw food cafe at www.thepranacafe.com.

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