Being Present

It is early December and I am getting a little nervous about Christmas. It's a time of year I find quite difficult. Christmas has always made me squirm because its' conspicuous consumerism squares up to my anti-capitalist leanings. But this time of year is also about children's joy and for six Christmases  Ruby has not been here with me to enjoy it. It is my son Tom's birthday early December- he was nine years old last week- which can add to the mix of emotions too. Coupled with a nasty bug I have had for a few days which has stopped me exercising- very unfortunate for runner and cyclist like me- I have been pretty flat in my mood and a little fragile in my coping abilities.
Being as active as I try to be meant that I couldn't simply take time off to rest (I get too fidgety for that) but instead I had to use exercise as therapy somehow. A sore throat and blocked sinuses meant that a jog would be impossible. A lack of motivation meant cycling any worthy distance at any speed was unobtainable. The only type of movement that I knew I was capable of and which was likely to be rewarding enough for a positive effect was something short and tough. There are two options- I could go for a brief and intense mountain bike ride, preferably as muddy as I can get, or a short but mountainous walk.
I decided to walk over Belfast 's Cave Hill- short enough at only 7 km, and intense enough due to the vertical climbs. I could bring my DSLR camera as the sun was out and the views would be beautiful. I packed a sandwich, boots on, camera charged, drove to the car park nearest the summit and walked 2 hours up and down.
I had been feeling mentally untethered recently partly due to a sinus infection that made me feel disconnected from my surroundings and also because of my emotional state in proximity to Christmas. My walk made a huge difference- stretching my legs, heart pumping, fresh oxygen coursing my brain.
But there was more to it than the base somatic experience. It is empirically true that to experience movement and visual pleasure is rewarding, of course, but there was an immersiveness in my environment today that seemed to enable a connection between the ground and myself- an earthing. It helped exclude negative thoughts crowding my mind. It linked me with a sense of immediacy to the ground, to the trees, to the biting wind and the sub-zero air temperatures and by association brought me away from thoughts that were troubling me, that were encouraging me to drift and float away. I was, quite literally, grounded.
I perform the same action- deliberate consideration of my environment- for the same purpose when I wake from a nightmare. To open my eyes fully, to sit up, to reinforce where I am at this precise moment, rooting myself in the here and now. If I remind myself where and when I am I become disconnected from the grasp of the dream world. The same action for the same purpose is performed by a patient of mine who experiences flashbacks due to his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder- when he feels himself beginning to disconnect from his surroundings and his anxiety rise to a panic he eats the most sour, most strong and disgusting sweet he can buy (he has a particular dislike of lemons) and which he always has in his pocket for this exact reason. He is jolted into reality again and pulled away from his imaginary enemy because his sensory experience- the intense flavour- connects him to the present.
It is for this reason why going for a run in extreme weather can sometimes have such a rewarding effect and why sometimes I seek out the strongest wind, the heaviest rain on the darkest night, the tallest trees to run through. During those admittedly questionable endeavours I have little choice but to focus on the path directly in front of me- to not do this would be folly- and as a consequence I observe every detail, I cool with the wind flowing over my head and through my naked toes, I wince at the rain drops stabbing my cheeks, I hear the branches creek and the leaves rustle. I am not just in the run, I am within it.

It is a myth that humans can multi-task. We cannot perform more than one activity at a time that needs our attention (sometimes we can perform one that is automatic alongside, or in rapid succession to, one that is not automatic but this is not the same as multi-tasking). We are evolutionarily hardwired to focus but we rarely use this skill to its full potential. I would do well to recognise the importance of connecting to the present, to concentrate in that very particular way, and use that as a tool of adventure in my internal world and to define the border of what I am. Maybe I could explore thoughts I may not yet know how to think.
I can find ardent depth and profound connectedness from immersing myself in the present. The present wills me to take note of myself, to define the boundaries of my subjective experience and to recognise the relationship I have with my surroundings- the objective world. It reminds me who I am, who I could be and what I am capable of. Immersing myself in the present can provide me a victorious sense of enoughness.
And when I need to be tethered it saves me.