We’re supposed to be at our best when we live in the moment. When we’re in a special zone of consciousness, focused only on what we’re doing right then, no other thoughts intruding. A kind of solitary confinement of the mind. This is an extremely rare condition for me. Tennis and bridge, sometimes. Writing, a bit. Reading almost never. As a child, I could be completely absorbed by a book. I miss that so much.
I run in the park pre 9 am and unleashed dogs scare me to death. Never been attacked, but one approached a sleeping Miranda aged 3 who was about to be interviewed for pre-school (which is absurd). Anyway: this unleashed mutt bared its teeth at my daughter (this was well after 9 AM) and was frothing at the mouth. not good. It was a pit bull mix with a bully's cherry red stains on its maw. So I kicked it as hard as possible in the face and it whimpered away. Its owner, a woman who resembled Kenny Rogers, told me to F myself. My reply: "Thank you but I'm spoken for." Which confused us both and away went Kenny Rogers and its beast.
Interesting thoughts, as always, and you prompt me, as always, to think back as well. So, I have a suggestion for your grandfatherhood. Jump in the ball pit. Let the parents gawk in shock at the grandfather swimming with the little kids. Do that and your day will be much more fun than theirs, who are constrained by some silly fear of embarrassment over (wait for it) joining their kids in the kid's world. Oh, and it will be much easier to get the little one to leave when you are going together, hand in hand. Another thing. It will not be lost on the young child that she/he is the only one whose parent or grandparent joined in the fun.
I was in my 60s, standing with a bunch of parents watching the kids lie down and roll down the small embankment in front of us -- maybe all of a 15 ft roll. I got down on the ground and rolled with my grandson. We two had the best time, I assure you. The parents' faces? I only glanced as I was busy with what mattered.
I can no longer beat any of my grandsons at basketball, only partly because they are all taller. But given a chance to take a few shots with them, I'll take my share and talk trash all the while. Oh, if I make my first shot I quit and challenge them to shoot 100% as I did.
In those moments, nothing else will be on your mind, I assure you.
I would challenge the premise: "supposed to be." I've been looking at the idea of "mindfulness / being present" in psychology and Buddhism, and neither indicates that fond remembrance is a bad thing. What both practices emphasize is when dwelling on memory or imagining scenarios gets to a point that it interferes with our present lives, then let go of those thoughts so you can be in your body and not in your head. Learning to be present is a tool to ward off unpleasant or recurring thoughts we spend time dwelling on, and not a mandate to exorcize the past.
Your story remind me of one of those animal videos I watched on youtube of an orangutan attempting mightily to drag its child from a playground. The struggle of parenting is real. For a giggle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=937b2sleUpU
All things merge. All things become one. The greater truth of living in the moment.
That aside, I think that large dogs belong on leashes.
I run in the park pre 9 am and unleashed dogs scare me to death. Never been attacked, but one approached a sleeping Miranda aged 3 who was about to be interviewed for pre-school (which is absurd). Anyway: this unleashed mutt bared its teeth at my daughter (this was well after 9 AM) and was frothing at the mouth. not good. It was a pit bull mix with a bully's cherry red stains on its maw. So I kicked it as hard as possible in the face and it whimpered away. Its owner, a woman who resembled Kenny Rogers, told me to F myself. My reply: "Thank you but I'm spoken for." Which confused us both and away went Kenny Rogers and its beast.
Like button didn't work, but you get it.
Interesting thoughts, as always, and you prompt me, as always, to think back as well. So, I have a suggestion for your grandfatherhood. Jump in the ball pit. Let the parents gawk in shock at the grandfather swimming with the little kids. Do that and your day will be much more fun than theirs, who are constrained by some silly fear of embarrassment over (wait for it) joining their kids in the kid's world. Oh, and it will be much easier to get the little one to leave when you are going together, hand in hand. Another thing. It will not be lost on the young child that she/he is the only one whose parent or grandparent joined in the fun.
I was in my 60s, standing with a bunch of parents watching the kids lie down and roll down the small embankment in front of us -- maybe all of a 15 ft roll. I got down on the ground and rolled with my grandson. We two had the best time, I assure you. The parents' faces? I only glanced as I was busy with what mattered.
I can no longer beat any of my grandsons at basketball, only partly because they are all taller. But given a chance to take a few shots with them, I'll take my share and talk trash all the while. Oh, if I make my first shot I quit and challenge them to shoot 100% as I did.
In those moments, nothing else will be on your mind, I assure you.
I would challenge the premise: "supposed to be." I've been looking at the idea of "mindfulness / being present" in psychology and Buddhism, and neither indicates that fond remembrance is a bad thing. What both practices emphasize is when dwelling on memory or imagining scenarios gets to a point that it interferes with our present lives, then let go of those thoughts so you can be in your body and not in your head. Learning to be present is a tool to ward off unpleasant or recurring thoughts we spend time dwelling on, and not a mandate to exorcize the past.
Your story remind me of one of those animal videos I watched on youtube of an orangutan attempting mightily to drag its child from a playground. The struggle of parenting is real. For a giggle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=937b2sleUpU
Thanks for the giggle!
I think your definition depends on where we draw the line on "interference" or, more aptly, where each of us is capable of drawing that line.