Wilfred dress (similar)
Zara sandals (similar)
Celine sunglasses
Mejuri bracelet (c/o) (similar)
Maris Pearl Co. earrings (similar)
Location: National Library of Greece – Athens, Greece
The idea of living in the moment, of being present and focused on what you’re doing when you’re doing it, is one that’s been getting traction for years now – probably because, with every year that passes, we compete against more distractions that threaten to split our focus. Phone calls, instant messages, texts, direct messages, push notifications… and the list goes on. But the reality is, we were distracted long before the advent of the internet. And being present wasn’t always a requirement, so much as a personal choice.
Think about it – really, for a minute. When you were in school, when your teach took attendance, did you answer, “Present!” or, “Here!” At my school, we always said, “Here.” And while it was just the way we spoke in that particular time and place, it was also vastly more accurate, most days, for most of us to say we were physically there rather than actually present. For the amount of time that I spent paying genuine attention to lessons versus scribbling in a notebook concealed within my binder, I was very rarely present during my lessons. (Occasionally, I was lucky enough to have a teacher who made me want to pay attention. They were few and far between, and surely under-compensated for the extra effort they made to engage students.)
Distractions aren’t new. They’re just different. Life before the internet and smartphones was rife with pointless intrigue. We gossiped like it was normal to have a vested interest in things that were absolutely none of our business. In fact, I think we often thought that the decisions other people made really were our business, which is nonsensical in retrospect. In school, we passed notes in class. Often, I had three different conversations going on different sheets folded paper at the same time. How I managed to take a single note in between all of that is beyond me. I certainly wasn’t hearing anything meaningful from the lesson being taught.
I’m a lot more mindful of trying to be present now. And I think that’s all it is, really; we’re not more distracted, it’s just we’re all aware of the importance of being present in a way we didn’t used to be. For me, it’s not because it’s more important now, not because technological distractions making it harder to focus (although I’ve learned to turn off notification volume, because no one should have to listen to pinging all day, everyday) but because I’m conscious of the choice I’m making. When I was in school, I chose to simply be there. And, admittedly, sometimes I still make that choice in my daily life – there are moment when, like in school, where I need to be is tedious, or dull, or both, and I know my time would be better spent elsewhere. That’s a choice, too, and it’s mine.
What’s wonderful about knowing it’s a choice, to be distracted or to be present, is getting to make it. Every day. Every time. It’s owning where you are and what you give your energy to. It makes the moments when we choose to be present that much more meaningful. And the moments when we can’t imagine being anything other than fully present, like holidays, when everything around us is new and exciting, so much more special.
This all probably seems a bit derivative, but there’s a point I’m getting to. It’s a simple one, but an exciting one, too – at least for me. When we were in Athens, I spent every moment fully present. I always do, on holidays. And ten days from now, I’m going on another one: to London. After eighteen months stuck at home during the worst days of the pandemic, I’m back to travelling whenever I have a few spare days. And what a joy it is to feel the kind of exhaustion that comes from the relentless pursuit of discovery again.
School was tedious, for me, because it’s experience that excites me. I learn by doing, not by listening. (School, in my dreams, was one endless field trip, punctuated by occasional trips to the library. If only the reality of it could have lived up to that.) Travel allows me to keep learning. It inspires me to be consistently present, even if that presence is temporary. The distinction between life on holiday, when I’m fully present for every single moment, and everyday life, when I make choices about what to give my energy to, is what makes me appreciate how important, how significant, presence really is.
I’ll only be in London for four days. That probably seems crazy. And while I understand that for most people, travelling overseas for such a short time would be far too much effort, for me, it’s a dream. To be able to be fully present, discovering a different city anew, even for a short time, is what keeps me going through moments of tedium that I’d rather not be present for but need to be. So given the choice, it’s the one I’ll make every single time.
