In the book The Tao of Daily Life is a parable about the present moment. As he is chased by a tiger, a man comes to a cliff and escapes by climbing a vine down it. Upon climbing downward, he sees a tiger at the bottom of the cliff. As if things aren’t difficult enough, two rats – one black and one white – appear and start gnawing on the vine. While he clings to the vine, the man suddenly notices a strawberry, thick and ripe. As he holds the vine, he lets go with one hand and plucks the strawberry. He eats the fruit and discovers how delicious it is.

Each element is metaphorical, says author Derek Lin in retelling this tale. The top of the cliff signifies the past, the place where the man had been. The tiger lurking there represents the danger of dwelling too much in the past. The bottom of the cliff, Lin writes, is the future. The tiger awaiting there is a sign of the finality of death. The gnawing by the two rats captures the passage of time, in day and night. The scene, in essence, is the situation of life.

Thus, the man finds himself squarely in the present, between these two places of past and future. In the present moment, the man sees the strawberry, notices its beauty and goodness, and plucks and enjoys it. By doing so, the man seizes the moment.

This is our choice in our moments, and it is by no means easy. Our lives are made up of a series of moments, and today is the one certainty. It is literally the time that each of us is creating and molding, like a sculptor carving a piece of stone. Our tiniest movements of shaping will create the ultimate form.

Like that man in the parable, we have the “strawberries” around us, the gifts of today. It’s up to each of us to take notice, be aware, and be grateful for these gifts. As Derek Lin writes, “The strawberry represents the astounding beauty, bliss, energy, and vitality of the present moment. It is always there, always available for those who have the ability to see it and experience it.” The Thanksgiving holiday is a fitting time to remind ourselves of this gift and to ask if we are living with present-moment thankfulness.

The Door to Our Awareness

What a gift it is – the beauty, sustenance, solace, and challenge of being fully present in the moment. It’s encapsulated in the wonders of this planet and nature, of love and loving beings, of the miracle of new life, of grace in life’s transitions, of survival and persistence despite daunting odds, and of honorable creation and endeavor by mankind. This is all around us, but each of us alone is the keeper of our awareness. Do we notice and appreciate in each day the beauty that is in our midst and the sustenance and gifts of life that have been freely bestowed to us? Being mindful in the present moment can be a supreme challenge.

When our brains are programmed to keep turning over angry thoughts or regrets about past events or anxieties and fears about the future, how can we dwell in this moment? Nature and other simple elements around us are our teachers – and can aid us in changing this programming. Buddhist monk and author Thich Nhat Hanh talks of eating mindfully as one way to bring us back “to the here and now,” explaining this practice in his “tangerine meditation” in Peace Is Every Step. If we are free of anxieties and worries, we will taste the tangerine and enjoy it more. If we are consumed with anger or fear, “the tangerine will not be very real” to each of us.

Nhat Hanh illustrates this lesson in a meditation he did with a group of children when he offered tangerines to them. He invited them to meditate first about where the tangerine came from, to visualize its blossoms and the sunshine and rain that helped it grow and to consider how it was a small green fruit before it ripened. Each child then peeled the tangerine slowly and took careful bites of it, smelling its fragrance and delighting in its juicy, vibrant taste. We could redefine wealth by looking into a tangerine and eating it in such a way.

Each of us has some daily elements that bring us back to the present moment and our true selves. It may be in nature, the animals around us, the moments we experience with the people in our lives, or works of art or music. I especially am brought back to the present, its beauty and gifts, when I take in nature. Another way is when I look at the details, designs, or art of buildings and landscapes. An orange-pink sun rising, a wave breaking powerfully over rocks, or a leaf in autumn glory of reddish orange, gold, and yellow call me to the present. Each has a past and a future, but the particular expression of it exists only in this moment. Likewise, this can be said for a mosaic in a building. It has a past – the original idea and design for it and the intricate work that others did to create it many years ago – and it has an unknown future. As I view and appreciate it, the mosaic exists in this moment.

One Tree’s Message

If we really open up and look around, we see this “now” more and more. If we all did so fully, I believe we would build in a much better way. Would we have so much sprawl containing masses of boxy and ugly buildings or streets that are full of litter if we valued what our senses take in each moment much more?

It’s sometimes very difficult to be mindful in the present when we have deep grief or intense fears. How can we dwell in the present when we are anxious about the results of a medical test, we are worried about a family member who is ill, or we feel horrible grief after the loss of a loved one? This is the time when the present moment can impart a lesson or provide solace or serenity.

An experience after my mother’s death comes to mind. In the autumn after my mother died, I felt very lost. As a young adult just out of college, I was in my first job, as a reporter at a daily newspaper. I did not know how the pain would ever ease and I felt frightened that I would not be able to handle life without my mother. Driving to the newspaper one day, I spotted a very tender young tree, apparently newly planted, on the side of the road. I noticed its fragile branches and how small it was. I felt akin to this tree. I told myself that I would look at the tree each day, appreciate it being there, and see how it would do with the passage of the seasons. If this tree could make it through winter, so could I. I watched as the tree grew and survived the winter. By spring, it was still there and so was I, still feeling the loss of my mother but sensing that I was growing a little stronger.

The rocks that were formed millions of years ago, the icy lake that glistens on a wintry evening, the trees that have lived for decades but change each and every season, the child who grabs our hand, the pets who make us laugh and smile today, the paintings that amaze us as we gaze at them…all tell us that something in this moment is most real. It may be bountiful and peaceful, or imperfect, difficult, or lacking, but it’s what we have. “In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime,” Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden. “But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages.”

It’s all here, it’s all now.

Please enjoy this slide show as a collection of present-moment beauty and gifts.

View the slide show larger in Flickr.