I’ve been to two funerals recently. One was of my oldest client, who lost her struggle against frailty and old age at the beginning of June. She was 79 when she died. It is quite an inspiration that she worked with me as her coach to feel more confident and assertive right up to the end of her life. Since her funeral, I’ve struck up a warm relationship with her daughter, who is delighted that her mother had my support.
The other funeral was for my friend Christopher, an actor who returned to London from Los Angeles at the end of last year to have a tumour removed. We all hoped he would get better, so many of us were shocked to learn three weeks ago that he had died quite suddenly.
A poem was read at Christopher’s funeral that told of his recent assertion that he was “deeply well”. A passage of the poem really stuck in my mind. It describes Christopher playing on a beach with his friend’s dog. The dog was enjoying jumping around in the waves, running after a stick that Christopher was throwing for him. The writer of the poem observed how the dog was “abandoned to the present”, and wondered whether we humans could learn from dogs about the wisdom of being utterly rooted in the present moment. Dogs don’t worry about the future. They don’t have regrets about the past. They live in the now.
We all make mistakes. When somebody dies, it’s natural to feel regret, to wonder if we could have done more for or with them, made one more visit, or had one more phone call. It seems to me almost inhuman to live without regrets. But I think it’s important to use regrets as present opportunities for learning and change, rather than as ammunition to berate ourselves for the past. There may be things we wish we had, or had not said or done. But what’s said and done, is said and done. It is finished. The vital question for me is, “what now”?
Being abandoned to the present also means letting go of second guessing the future. Another wonderful feature of humans is our ability to plan. Most of us have active imaginations. It saddens me how many of those I know use their imaginations to see pitfalls and mistakes in the future. I know that I can do this too. But over the years I’ve learnt to replace negative fantasies with positive ones. So instead of putting energy into imagining how things could go wrong, I see, in my mind’s eye, how well things could go. This is so much more empowering, and allows me to live in the present, confident that I will find the way to deal with whatever happens when it arises.
My challenge for you, and for me, is to become more like that dog, abandoning ourselves to the present. Make the most of where we are, and avoid draining preoccupations on things that have happened, or may happen. I profoundly believe that this is the route to greater happiness, effectiveness and fulfilment. In this way, splashing in the waves, we honour those who have gone by truly living.
Tips for splashing in the waves
1. Use your senses
One way I’ve found of routing myself in the present when I realise that I’m mulling over things from the past is to use my senses. Ask yourself what you can hear. What do you see if you look out of the window? What do you feel in your body about the way you are sitting or standing? Can you smell the fruit in the fruit bowl, or the fragrance of trees outside? If you spend some time consciously connecting with your senses, you cannot but be in the present.
2. Let go of the past
We so often expend energy on things we can’t do anything about. Everything that has already happened is like this. We can’t rewrite history. There is absolutely no point in beating yourself up over what you’ve done. What’s done is done. My experience is the more we focus on what we should have done, the less able we are to do the right thing now. I know that letting go of the past is not always easy. We can’t undo the consequences of our actions. We have to live with them. But given where you are, what are you going to do now?
3. Trust to the future
Trust is such a powerful commodity. We all know how empowering it is when we feel truly trusted. And how undermining it is when we sense that we’re not. Why not do yourself the honour of deciding to trust that you will find the right words, that you will act in the right way, when the circumstances arise? This may require practice at first; if you’re used to over-planning it will be odd to let go of this. But my experience of dealing with all sorts of situations, from giving presentations to dealing with difficult people, is that the more that I trust myself to handle them well, the better I deal with them.
4. See what’s good
Part of what has allowed the human race to develop is our desire to perfect things. When I run a workshop, I can find myself more alert to the one person who seems withdrawn and disengaged than the 19 others who love what we’re doing together. We seem more inclined to dwell on the birthday cards we forgot to send than those we did! I think it’s important to focus on what we’ve done that is good, rather than putting too much energy into thinking about what could have been done better.
5. Have fun
Laughter is the best medicine I know. You can’t hear dogs laughing, but you can see how they give themselves wholeheartedly to whatever game they are playing. What can you do that’s fun? I love dancing and dressing up. Some love skiing or kayaking. What can you do that’s going to make you whoop with joy in the next few weeks?
Whether you find yourself playing on a beach, or working in an office, may you find ways to abandon yourself to the present this summer. Have fun, and celebrate life. Get out into those waves and have a splash. And to my recently departed friends, rest in peace.
Image courtesy of Praveen Mutalik at Greyhounds Reach the Beach
