NOW. HERE. THIS.

"think of all that we miss today
that lay right before our eyes
think of all that fades away
in the hard-pressed compromise

and this is dangerous terrain
we're attempting to traverse
it's a crying shame
but it could be a lot worse

so you proceed with caution
though you're mumbling in the dark
and that one shot of perspective
has finally hit your heart"
- Vigilantes of Love - Could Be a Lot Worse

The past few weeks for me have been filled with anxiety the triggers for which I don't want to go into in such a public forum.  In reality my physical world has caused my spiritual life to tail spin.  When my anxiety is at its height the perceived issues are all I can think about and it sucks my soul dry, drains my energy and clouds my outlook making progress and participation a matter of sheer will power...if they happen at all.

Because of these struggles I seem to always be looking for something that will help me stay centered.  One of those things in recent months is something that the band Over the Rhine posted on Facebook back on January 24.  It read in part:

"I snapped a picture of Joe Henry’s boots last night right before our debut with The Cincinnati Pops Orchestra. Joe produced our last two studio albums – The Long Surrender and Meet Me At The Edge Of The World – and has become an important friend and mentor to Karin and I. One recent excerpt of a conversation with Joe: “People who live in the past are depressed. People who live in the future have anxiety. Only people living in the present can know contentment.”

I think about that all the time.  What does it mean to live in the moment and therefore, avoid both depression and anxiety?  I have reflected on this a number of times since I first read and re-posted it on Facebook.  My thoughts always ended unresolved.  I seem to fall asleep, or be dragged off to another thought while still being left with the lingering question - how?  How do I live in the moment?

For most of my life I have lived about 5 minutes ahead of real time.  This constant mental jumping ahead was made me a good teacher (when I'm on, being able to read the conversation moments before it unfolds) but a bad conversation partner (always thinking about what is next - the next meeting, responsibility, etc.).  I have lived seeing a problem coming.  I can't set a cup down without thinking ahead about what would happen if it spilled -  what it would douse if it tipped.  Thus, I spend a bunch of mental energy thinking about how to avoid trouble before it arrives.  For years I had no idea that this was what I did.  Now I realize it and realize just how crazy making it is - how exhausting - how defeating - how isolating - how un-Biblical this living in a constant state of fear really is.  

I think Joe Henry is likely right, if we can live in the moment we can be content.  I could be content.  But I'm still left holding  an empty bag that I wish was full of tricks, techniques, or tools that would keep me in the moment.  

Last weekend a tool arrived.  As I worked a floor buffers for hours removing the glue off the floor of the teen center that Parachutes (www.facebook.com/ParachutesMosaic) is building I binged on Podcasts.  One of those iPod delivered conversations was with Father Greg Boyle. (its an excellent listen, you should check it out: http://onbeing.org/program/father-greg-boyle-on-the-calling-of-delight/5053)  Boyle, of Homeboy Industries (http://www.homeboyindustries.org), was talking about an off-broadway play that he had stolen the title from to form a mantra aimed at keeping him in the moment.  The title?  "Now. Here. This."  Father G went on to explain that he has begun saying to himself before he enters a conversation, meeting, situation, etc. "Now. Here. This." and it has the effect of keeping him in the moment.

Over the past few days I have been trying to use that mantra and follow the example of Father Greg.  I have been pushing myself to say as I enter a room, a situation, a moment to say "Now. Here. This."  My prayer (there have been a lot of those too) is that this practice will become the first tool in my bag, something I can pull out when I feel that tightness in my stomach and drift in my brain.  My hope is that this simple prayer, this momentary centering will produce in me the ability to live the way Jesus taught us in the Sermon on the Mount when he told us not to worry, when he encouraged us to focus on today, when he told us to trust God to provide.

Now. Here. This.

Joel K