Uncompromising Alignment With the Present Moment

Carrying the dog while stepping into the gondola. The air teems with anticipation as the cabin's doors close with a hissing sound. One has instructed the daughters to behave calmly so the dog can reflect peace from the whole family's behavior. That way, he can better sense that everything's all right. The five-minute journey to the top of the fell goes smoothly even though the dog trembles and pants heavily, expressing some anxiety in a weird situation. The instant his feet touch the snowy ground on the summit, his energy shifts—the trembling turns to wholehearted curiosity and focused attention. His ears point up, his nose sniffs the air, his eyes shine with pure alertness, and his posture is intense. It's amazing how quickly animals can shake off fear and anxiety and shift to a mindset of total and uncompromising attention.

Why is that so difficult for humans? Why do past fears and threats linger for so long in the deep corners of a human mind, sometimes never letting go? The easy answer is, of course, that humans have the ability to think. A short contemplation reveals this answer as insufficient and far from truthful. A more likely explanation would be that the human mind is addicted to the idea of time. For a dog, there might be some echoes of the past but never a vision of a future defining his behavior. His present moment seems a place for a natural flow of the world, of external events, vivid sensory perceptions, and space for being. Not being something in particular, but simply being a dog to the full extent.

Some could argue that humans are blessed with the ability to perceive time, remember, and anticipate. Yet, a closer look at the blessing reveals only confusion and blindness—somewhat of a curse, almost. Being a full-fledged human has nothing to do with time, not with past experiences or future becomings. Instead, humanity expresses itself in a wholehearted alignment with the present moment, a world similar to the dog's: aliveness of external events, sensory perceptions, and one's own reactions to those events and sensations. In that, space for being emerges—a space where time cannot define who one is and what actions one commits. A silent space of awareness.

This space is not different from a dog's space of awareness. However, with a human being entirely aligned with the present moment, that space doesn't feed animalistic behavior or anarchy. Instead, it opens a natural inclination toward unleashed compassion and caring. One simply has to trust the present moment, not cling to past happenings or await something in a fabricated idea of a future.

The broad view from the top of the fell makes a human heart beat slower and steadier in delight, yet it's impossible to tell if the dog experiences the same. The light wind ruffles the dog's fur, and that simple sensation seems enough for him. Not the slightest hint of a stressful gondola journey seems to burden him, nor is there a sign of anxious expectation of the ride down the same way.

The dog's uncompromising alignment with the present moment anchors one more firmly to the space of awareness. No one produces or owns this space, yet it's shared with everyone.