Taking Refuge in the
Now - Jan Frazier
December 9, 2020
What is it to be in the
now? ItÕs to gently allow
awareness to take in whatever is
immediate, inside yourself and
in the present-moment scene.
ItÕs to register what is being
actually experienced Ñ
apart from what might be thought
about.
To be in the now is to
sense, to feel. ItÕs to taste
the sensation of aliveness, of
being here. ItÕs to notice the
difference between what-is,
right here, and what has been or
could be, or what seems to be
true Òout thereÓ somewhere.
The moment is what
you are.
If ever there were a time
when taking refuge in the now
could be a true blessing, the
situation weÕre all collectively
in surely would be it.
* * * * *
When you are fully
absorbed in a physical act,
whether itÕs digging a hole or
jogging, washing a dish or
painting a landscape, or looking
into the eyes of a loved one, in
that moment the activity itself
is your entire sense of reality.
You may notice that in such a
moment, the things of the mind
are briefly set aside. ItÕs life
itself Ñ not a memory or an idea
of life, but the thing
itself.
The moment is what
you are. Then
it passes, and itÕs something
else. If you drift into your
head, what you ÒareÓ then is the
movement of thought, the
sensation of what itÕs like in
the body to be absorbed in a
story, with all that may entail.
Do take care to notice
the critical distinction between
two thought-related phenomena:
on the one hand, observing
the qualities of
egoic thinking (effort, angst or
desire, resistance, circularity,
remoteness from the immediate
scene); and on the other,
being lost in the
content of thought
(as though occupying an
alternate reality). Learning to
tell these apart Ñ which
includes, most critically, not
missing the taxing effect of
mental activity Ñ is a key
element of growing
self-attunement, leading
naturally to increasing peace.
Noticing the difference
between the two is one of lifeÕs
finest teachers, as the ordinary
day unfolds, one now at a time.
* * * * *
Any time youÕre wholly
absorbed in the present reality,
itÕs not actually that ÒyouÓ are
ÒinÓ the now; itÕs truer to say
that you are the
now. And that (contrary to what
the ego-mind insists) is all you
are Ñ ever.
Talk about shocking
revelations! And radically
unnerving ones, to the
self-important ego-mind. All
thatÕs directly experience-able
of Òyou,Ó ever, is right
now: whatÕs felt
within (human feelings, physical
sensation, the movement of
thought), plus whatÕs observed
via the senses of the immediate
setting and activity. When
awareness is simply taking it
all in, without mental
processing, you are separate
from none of it. Whatever else
seems to be ÒyouÓ is stored in
the mind, retrievable only as
memory, idea, identity.
That glibly tossed-around
notion of being Òone-with-allÓ Ñ
what else could it mean but
this? Not something ÒknowableÓ
with the mind (despite what many
a well-intentioned seeker claims
to understand the meaning of),
but something only experience-able, and
only in the here-and-how, when
the mind is still and awareness
is utterly enlivened.
If you are singing a song
you love, putting your heart and
soul into it, in that moment
you are the
music. If someone youÕre with is
pouring out their heart to you,
and youÕre truly listening (not
thinking what to say), whatever
problems you have, whatever
might otherwise be occupying
your mind, is Ñ for the moment Ñ
Òout thereÓ someplace. Have you
noticed this? If you are a
runner, or a mountain climber,
or one who loves to fish or to
garden, you will notice that
when youÕre purely engaged in
the physical act, you are not
separate from the thing youÕre
doing. You are the momentÕs
activity. This is not about
identity (which requires the
mind), not about defining
yourself as
one-who-listens-well, or one who
sings or fishes. ItÕs about
there being no separation
between ÒyouÓ and the thing
youÕre absorbed in.
* * * * *
The only place authentic
refuge is to be found is the
now. We tend to seek escape or
consolation in beliefs, in a
picture or story of another time
Ñ all of which requires the
engagement of the mind. But when
attention is on the now, whatÕs
engaged is not the mind but
awareness. To be aware is
to be peacefully here, to
viscerally register aliveness,
however it may be expressing
itself just now Ñ which is, of
course, in ceaseless flux.
To experience the
difference between thought and
awareness is itself liberating.
Awareness is what senses
aliveness. This is what
wakefulness is about: not
ceaseless ecstasy or distance
from regular life, not a system
of otherworldly ideas, but plain
hereness. ItÕs got to do with
pure attunement to reality, sans
mental handling or the attempt
to alter or escape.
Oh, but how the
ever-vigilant mind wants to
insist that many other things
not perceptible in the now are
also real: the pandemic;
personal history; the political
situation; distant loved ones
youÕre missing, perhaps
concerned about. But see how the
mind must be engaged in order to
ÒvisitÓ anything not immediate,
not experience-able in the now.
ThereÕs a life-altering
difference between what the mind
has access to and what
present-moment consciousness
opens to.
Yes, you surely can Ñ in
this moment Ñ sink into the
feeling of deep love for someone
not physically with you. But
discover what itÕs like to feel for
this dear one, without drifting
into whatever familiar story
tends to Ògo withÓ the person.
How liberating to explore the
distinction between these two
things, which habit has taught
us to believe are
all-of-a-piece.
And of course there will
be times when you will want to
reflect on matters of concern to
you that are not apparent in the
now. The point is to realize, by
experiencing the intermittent
refuge of the now, that just
because a situation is ongoing
does not mean attention must
dwell there in an uninterrupted
way.
To take periodic refuge
in the now is nourishing and
deeply restorative. It enables
you to cope more sanely with
times of stress and uncertainty.
The mind-accessed parts of the
larger situation need not define
your entire sense of reality.
* * * * *
The refuge of the now is
not about the present moment
being somehow ÒperfectÓ (or in
denial of the larger picture of
a situation). It simply feels
good to be with whatÕs real Ñ
even if that happens to entail
physical discomfort, or a
breaking heart. Being in the now
is not always a feel-good
experience. But it does Òfeel
goodÓ to relax entirely into
whatever is real inside, to
allow whatever is there, without
fighting it. To do so feels
alive. It feels spacious, at
ease.
The sensation of refuge
comes of the disengagement from
the mind, and with immersion in
the reality of here-and-now. It
comes of experiencing life
itself as it is happening. The
restfulness that arises is due
to the relaxing of all effort
(much of which we arenÕt even
aware of exerting . . . until it
melts away). The you as
experienced in the moment is
entirely receptive, aware,
noticing. YouÕre simply seeing
and feeling whatÕs here, inside
and out, allowing all. ThatÕs
it. Breathtakingly simple.
The mind is required when
entering the future or the past,
entertaining the apparent
reality of something in time or
elsewhere. The mind does not
experience; what it does is
process, often with an attempt
to understand or control.
Awareness experiences, and only
what is here-and-now. We donÕt
experience time: we think
about something in
time.
Remember that (contrary
to the mindÕs persistent pull)
it is not necessary to
understand Ñ most anything at
all.
Nor is it ÒnecessaryÓ to
fully be with whatÕs happening .
. . unless peace feels better to
you than angst.
* * * * *
How does one Òget there,Ó
to the now? It begins with
becoming conscious. You are not
(alas) in control of when or
whether that occurs. Conscious
awareness may dawn because some
discomfort (likely
mental/emotional) has drawn your
attention. If you become
curious, you will surely see
that the mind has been active.
However the spacious noticing
enters the now,
simply notice its blessed
arrival. Explore what plain
awareness feels like, as you set
aside whatever has, just before,
captivated the thinker.
When conscious attention
comes onto the scene, it then
becomes possible to observe that
thought is (or has been)
occurring. Simply seeing that
fact indicates that awareness
functions outside the
thought stream. The seeing is
happening from the unresisting
spaciousness of the now. Allow
yourself to register that. Then
tune into any sensation
(pleasant or otherwise) inside
your body.
Notice what your senses
are able to detect in the
immediate scene. If you are
doing something, allow attention
to go to the movement of the
activity. Discover that there is
actually latitude in where
attention goes Ñ when
you are conscious. See
how it can gently be moved from
what-youÕre-doing to the
interior of the body. YouÕre not
thinking here, or trying to
change your thoughts or felt
sensations; youÕre simply
noticing whatÕs (already)
happening.
Nature takes its course.
If you notice yourself being
drawn back into your head, it
may help to redirect the focus
to something sensory, either
inside your body or in the
immediate scene.
Above all, this: If the
urge to Òmake it lastÓ occurs to
you, invite awareness to notice
that this desire occurs in the
mind, which has convinced itself
that future moments are real,
controllable, predictable. Or
that one sort of now is
preferable to another. Awareness
does not have such an
aspiration.
Which is one of the
reasons present-moment immersion
is conspicuously peaceful. All
effort has been relaxed.
You may notice Ñ or
perhaps can see this, looking
back Ñ that trying to make
anything ÒlastÓ or recur (or
stop happening) has one reliable
outcome: it keeps you living in
your head, reinforcing the
compelling illusion of control.
None of which is living.
Moment-to-moment
awareness, sans mental handling,
is what living is.
ItÕs what we hunger for all our
struggling lives. Nowadays,
maybe, even more than ever.
HereÕs wishing you
profound refuge, any moment it
blessedly arrives. Be kind to
your dear self.
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