There is Never Nothing Going On

In the movie the Peaceful Warrior, a professional gymnast’s guru says “take out the trash” from his mind. Because the gymnast is unable to be present. Then in an overdramatized moment of heightened awareness he’s finally “in it,” in this moment, in the elusive “zone” professional athletes aspire to... He sees each individual water droplet falling onto his face in the rain and suddenly has a heightened awareness of everything occurring around him. Time freezes as he notices two beautiful old friends mid embrace, a smile creeping onto a man’s face as he waves to his partner, a cool wind wafting through dangling leaves... This scene is a vivid visceral, almost dystopian, portrayal of the overwhelming sensory experience that is being in a moment.

I had to pause after watching it to take in the connotations. I let my eyes wander around my environment where not much seemed to be going on. The guru has said, “there is never nothing going on...” There is never nothing going on... I’d recently read an article on cells and molecules in the New Yorker that illuminated the vibrant microcosm of atoms thriving below the surface of our vision. I imagined the atoms buzzing and humming to keep me alive, holding out my hand, I wiggled my fingertips and pictured them talking: “Hey, Noel!” (That made me chuckle.) And, time suddenly felt malleable as bendy as my thumbs... as if the mere process of me acknowledging time’s existence caused it to stop. I felt like the athlete in the peaceful warrior, acutely aware of how infinite yet confined the moment was... static yet a current of microscopic movements happening around me. Now keenly aware of the fluttering of my dogs whiskers, the murmur of my coffee brewing, I took a deep breath and felt peace.

I thought I’d practice my new magical skills of stopping time– what some less mystical folks call “meditation”–while I was on a yacht over the weekend. (Yes, I said yacht! I’m leaning hard into my new role as a Real Housewife of Marina Del Rey... minus the husband and the trust fund... I got a taste of the good life and I'm not going back!) Sober, perched in a jacuzzi atop the pacific ocean, I realized now was the time.. This was a decadent moment I wanted to savor... nay soak in, nay suck dry until I couldn't BE any more serene. I drew a deep breath... There is never nothing going on. I scanned the wiggling noses and dilated pupils of boaters mid-conversation and couldn't help but notice everyone had drinks in their hands. My meditative moment was interrupted by a nagging tongue twister that took my attention: are we so conditioned to escape that even when in an experience is an escape we need an escape from the escape? Bear with me, are we so conditioned to need a forceful kick in the brain, booze, to appreciate a moment? We can’t just relish the moment for itself?

Am I the only one manipulating my own brain chemistry, getting high off the experience itself? Am I a chemist? Nay, an alchemist! Harnessing the power of the Peaceful Warrior I focused back in on the moment, becoming acutely aware of every tiny drop of water bubbling to the surface of the jacuz, tiny noise vibrations off the boxed speakers, lint fluttering down a man’s sweater his arm outstretched...There is never nothing going on. I closed my eyes and opened them realizing no one noticed that I’d stopped time, if only for a moment. The big hand of the clock ticked past the minute hand as another moment began...

Instead of heeding the innate call to escape I was diving into the deep end of my thoughts, fully aware, fully present... Sensory overload to the fullest.. I’m in it, a rebel. It felt radical.

Alcoholics Anonymous preaches how “powerless we are over alcohol” and for me it's being powerless over an urge to escape. Our culture prevalently glorifies an escapist mentality. Often it’s subliminal, passive, and subconscious such as the instant escape of an Instagram notification that pulls me into the timeline of other people’s realities. After bragging about how freaking zen I’ve become after watching the Peaceful Warrior, I must admit I’m a hypocrite. I did spend an amazing sober weekend with friends at social gatherings (including the yacht). But, I had FOMO come Monday sitting at my desk. I knew I’d gotten more from the experiences by staying sober than if I had escaped/imbibed yet here I was with a nagging urge to drink. A moment of someone yelling “shots shots shots...” echoed in my head. Now, this didn’t seem like a particularly exciting or appropriate time to relapse. But, I ordered sake (after googling the health benefits of sake, because of course health *eye roll* )

Mmm... okay this is tasty. No harm, no foul. Giddy feelings fluttered my insides. Time raced ahead out of sight, with mounting levels of inebriation. And I woke up wading in a pool of my impending doom. My phone screen was cracked, yet I still managed to scroll through the barrage of texts I'd sent. It was like watching a horror movie that I’d never heard of yet somehow starred in. I withered in pain as my phone anthropomorphized (think Transformers) strangling my gut, the part where I’d felt butterflies was now seized in pain. Pathetically, I moaned as I hurled all regrets into a trash bin beside my bed.

I want my moments back! Life’s short and there isn’t an infinite amount of time left. So, I’m doing ninety AA meetings in ninety days over Zoom! This embarrassing public recounting of a recent relapse (with such a decadent build up) is my commitment to being present. Let’s be rebels together and lead a rebolution against escapism lets be powerfully, painfully, purposefully present— disconnect from the hynotizing blue light, put down the drink, and make people think we’re really fucking weird as we hyperfocus on a drop of drool coming out of a dogs mouth in the park. Yell back to them, “I’m in the moment baby!”