If you had to describe the past 12 months of your life in just one word, what would it be? Over the years, I’ve asked this question to friends and family, and the most common answer—by a long shot—is “busy” or variations like “blur”, “chaos” or “rollercoaster”. I mean, are we really surprised?
As last year ended, I asked myself the same question. It was a full year: three international trips, growth in my business, new friendships and many good memories. Surely it should be an exciting word! But as I thought about it, panic rose in my chest as I realised that the most honest word was, indeed, busy. Like a bullet train speeding through the countryside, a whole year had flown by and I’d been travelling too fast to smell the wildflowers.
Determined to make a change, I resolved that this year would be different. I’d move more slowly, be more present and “live in the moment”. But a few weeks in, as old habits returned, I realised that “living in the moment” is far more complicated than it seems.
trying to figure it out
We often throw this phrase around as inspirational advice, hoping it will help us control the passing of time or squeeze more out of life. It’s a lovely thought, but unfortunately the aspiration of “living in the moment” is often out of touch with reality. Think dreamy Pinterest boards of young adults soaking up European summers or yogis meditating on sun-dappled cliffs. The first obstacle to “living in the moment” is that it’s often reduced to an aesthetic—spanning everything from adrenaline-fuelled adventures to the slow-living movement and even Eastern spirituality.
For years, I pinned posts and followed slow-living influencers, hoping by some miracle of osmosis that they’d transform my hurry addicted personality. But ironically, my obsession with this aesthetic never slowed me down. If anything, it made life feel more hurried.
While slow living may be inspiring, it creates an impossible standard. For the average person juggling work, family and life’s daily demands, just surviving means a packed schedule. Trying to slow down can feel impossible—especially when it requires lifestyle additions like morning meditations or replacing all your cleaning products with ethically-sourced essential oils. You get the idea.
What we often fail to realise is that slowing down life (beyond an aesthetic) requires radically removing or reprioritising work, commitments, even people. This can disappoint loved ones, squander opportunities, require financial sacrifice or fundamentally alter people’s perceptions of our “success” as human beings. It’s no wonder we struggle to slow down.
environmental sabotage
If the sacrifices required to slow down weren’t enough, the fast-paced nature of modern cities—like Sydney, Australia, where I live—makes it even harder. Life becomes a blur of deadlines, commutes, appointments, to-do lists and distractions. We are constantly focused on the next thing.
Daniel Milo, in Good Enough, calls this phenomenon “elsewhereism”—the constant urge to seek a “better” elsewhere, whether it’s a job, a partner or even a new country. While this drive fuels progress, it also breeds dissatisfaction. We fail to realise that every “better” comes with its own set of challenges and we remain convinced that fulfilment lies just beyond our reach.
Erich Fromm in To Have or To Be? observes, “Modern man thinks he loses time when he does not do things quickly; yet he does not know what to do with the time he gains except kill it.” In other words, we optimise every moment for efficiency, yet when we do manage to carve out time, we inevitably fill it with more tasks—convinced that once we get “on top of everything”, we’ll finally be able to enjoy life.
One of the best descriptions of this paradox is found in Oliver Burkeman’s book Four Thousand Weeks, where he describes how internet productivity tools like Facebook or email, while promising to make life more convenient, ultimately expose you to vastly more potential uses for your time, creating a trap:
“Facebook, for example, is an extremely efficient way to stay informed about events you might like to attend. But it’s also a guaranteed way to hear about more events you’d like to attend than anyone possibly could attend. Email is an unparalleled tool for responding rapidly to a large volume of messages—but then again, if it weren’t for email, you wouldn’t be receiving all of those messages in the first place. The technologies we use to ‘get on top of everything’ always fail us in the end, because they increase the size of the ‘everything’ of which we’re trying to get on top.”
We think that if we just work faster, we’ll have time to live, but the more we optimise, the busier we become. The real issue isn’t how much we have to do—it’s the belief that our value is tied to how much we can get done.
a better solution
Ironically, we often think we’re “living in the moment” when we rush through tasks or strive for a future ideal. But in truth, these are all vain attempts at escaping reality. To truly live in the moment, we need to engage with reality. Practical steps like setting boundaries with technology or spending quality time with loved ones can help, but true presence requires a shift in mindset, starting with gratitude.
Engaging with reality means acknowledging what we already have, rather than seeking fulfilment elsewhere. This is radical in our society, where progress is driven by focusing on what’s missing. This constant striving, ingrained by capitalism, fosters a sense of scarcity—do more, get more, be more. Gratitude, however, grounds us in what we already possess. It forces us to stop looking ahead and notice the richness of our current moment.
Unfortunately, we’re often too consumed by to-do lists and distractions to even remember gratitude. A key remedy for this, is to step back and engage with nature. There’s a reason we associate existential longing with gazing at the stars or across the vast ocean. Nature provides a bigger perspective on life, reminding us of our own mortality and insignificance. As astronaut Carl Sagan in Pale Blue Dot famously said, “Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us . . . on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” King David in Psalm 19:1 agreed with Sagan, saying, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.”
While facing our mortality may be overwhelming, it isn’t something to fear. Rather, it helps us prioritise what truly matters: relationships, purpose and connection. Living in the moment is about aligning our lives with these values, which helps us slow down.
Finally, we must redefine our worth. In a world that links value to productivity, we must remember that our worth doesn’t come from what we do, but from our identity as children of God. True contentment comes when we accept God as our Provider, trusting that He will meet all our needs (Philippians 4:19). As Matthew 11:28 reminds us, we don’t have to strive. Jesus invites us to rest—not because we’ve earned it, but because we belong to Him and He will provide for us.
Living in the moment isn’t a luxury for the few—it’s a choice we can all make. While it does require a fundamental shift in perspective and priorities, we can fully engage in the present and experience a richer, more meaningful life, trusting that God is with us every step of the way. Even in the busyness and imperfection, we can have peace in knowing that what we have—and who we are—is enough.
