A Saturday of possibilities
As I write this article on a quiet Saturday, I’m at my go-to café, sitting in my favorite booth— it’s in the back corner next to a large window. The sky is bright, but full of clouds. There are several crepe myrtle trees with pink flowers in my view. I’m wearing comfy clothes and listening to jazz music. I can smell coffee. I’m noticing myself breathing in and out, and I’m slowing down to take a deep breath. To be here in this moment is to feel relaxed, alert, and overall present. And then I’m swept away.
What time is it? What’s on my schedule for this week? Should I be doing something more productive right now? Who is going to be reading this? What will they think of me writing this? My mind starts to run into the past and future, and the present moment gets further away. I can see my thoughts running away from me as I sit here, but sometimes it’s not always obvious. Often times, I’ll be sitting in the present moment, and — without any awareness of doing it — I’m suddenly scrolling on social media or checking to see if I have any messages. As I’ve written about in the past, I am a prolific thinker. I could zoom around in my head all day. Our brains are wonderful, powerful tools, but I am not my thoughts. Just like social media or my laptop, sometimes I just need to close my brain down for a bit and come back to reality. It’s a tool to use when needed.
But why be present for this moment? Is this not the same booth and the same café and a nearly identical Saturday to every other time I’ve found myself here before?
There’s a Tao parable about a farmer and his horse that might be useful here.
Once, there was a Chinese farmer who had a strong, dependable horse to help him take care of his land. His neighbors often told him how lucky he was to have such a magnificent creature! “Maybe,” the farmer would reply to them.
Then, one day, the farmer’s horse ran away. This would undoubtedly impact his ability to provide for his family. The farmer’s neighbors felt so sorry for him; how awful of a situation this was! “Maybe,” said the farmer.
Unexpectedly, the horse returned the following day, and it brought back a large group of wild horses with it. Wow! The farmer’s neighbors couldn’t believe it. What a miracle. “Maybe,” said the farmer.
The farmer’s son began to train the wild horses. While trying to break one in, the son was kicked off and broke his leg. Once again, the neighbors came to the farmer with sympathy. This was so unfortunate. “Maybe,” said the farmer.
Later in the week, an enlistment officer came to the farmer’s village and began to round up all able-bodied, young men to serve in the nation’s army. The farmer’s son, with his broken leg, was left behind. The neighbors came to the farmer with such delight that his son had been spared. How amazing! “Maybe,” said the farmer.
The truth is, I don’t really know how this Saturday is going to shake out. Though I might have a solid guess, I really don’t know what the next five minutes hold. I don’t know if this is going to be a good day or a bad day. I don’t know if something important will happen today or if it’ll be quite boring. While this truth can bring a level of discomfort (it definitely does for me initially), there’s also a bit of excitement to it, wouldn’t you agree? If I can find a way to approach this lack of control and unknowing with a sense of curiosity instead of fear, I’ll be doing myself a lot of favors. After all, I surely haven’t experienced all my best days yet; maybe the next one is just around the corner?
I could see the argument that this Saturday might not be worth staying totally present for. So much effort! Perhaps we should just focus on the big, important days coming up on my calendar. Of course I’ll stay present for major holidays and a chat with a friend I haven’t seen in awhile. Weddings, births, deaths — I can be here for those. These are undoubtedly important events; much more important than a random Saturday… right? Maybe.
I have a lot of nature-based tattoos at this point, with one of them being a swallowtail butterfly on my right arm. You might think I got this tattoo because I like butterflies (and you wouldn’t be totally wrong), but — as with most things involving me — it’s associated with some sort of deep feelings or meaning. I am reliably, intensely poetic about most things. The primary reason I got this tattoo is because I really like chaos theory and the butterfly effect.
With the butterfly effect, Edward Norton Lorenz explains how even the smallest of moments can have ginormous impacts on our lives. He used the example of a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil causing a tornado in Texas. You might’ve come across the butterfly effect in popular culture. “A Sound of Thunder” is a short story written by Ray Bradbury where time-traveling game hunters change the course of history by accidentally squashing an insect. My Papa shared with me the movie “Sliding Doors” long ago, which shows a woman’s life unfolding in two timelines: one where she makes it onto a subway train and another where she doesn’t quite get to the train door in time. One of my favorite shows, “Broad City,” did an episode including the butterfly effect as well. It’s a fun concept to think about.
I can see how the butterfly effect has played into my life, and how seemingly small moments have resulted in great shifts. I found the job that kicked off my career and moved me to a new state on an obscure, internet message board. What if I had never seen it? Dating apps often let you choose who to match with using a simple left or right swipe of a finger. If I hadn’t of seen my partner on Tinder or had carelessly swiped left, my life would look incredibly different now. If I hadn’t of gotten into a scary car accident, would I have still had an unexpected pregnancy? What would my life look like if the car that turned into me had waited just a couple of seconds for me to pass them? So many small, unexpected moments turned into life-defining experiences.
Not every moment in my life is going to have the feeling of an exciting unknown just around the corner. There will be sad moments and moments of anger. I’ll have days where I can write calmly in a café and days where I can’t seem to get it together. Buried memories will reappear, old hurts will return, and I’ll find myself facing totally new challenges as well. I’ll struggle, and then the struggle will end, and I’ll find myself enjoying a calm Saturday again. Please someone remind me of this as my toddler is screaming and totally inconsolable because I won’t let him swing around a dangerous object; those difficult moments, too, shall pass.
I’m not always going to get the “be present” thing right. Being here in this moment, in my favorite booth at my go-to café on a Saturday, feels easy. I know being present brings more contentment and peace into my life. So, even in tough moments, I’ll do my best to sit with my present experience. And in these easy moments, I’ll remind myself to close my laptop and go be present in the world — which is what I’m off to do right now. This could be the best Saturday yet!
