Now is the time for now

The fleeting beauty of spring is present in many parts of the world. (Image by shell_ghostcage)

I tend to spend a lot of time in the future: Making plans, envisioning how things will be.

I relish the sense of anticipation I feel thinking about an upcoming trip. I work with my team to come up with long-term plans for business development. I prepare students for high school, three years away.

It takes practice to visualize events and conditions that haven’t happened yet. You play with variables and adjust the model, then change your assumptions and do it again and again. What if this? What if that? I usually enjoy this activity very much, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

Now, with the future thrown into turmoil, such visualization is even more complex. It’s necessary for some, especially those whose livelihoods have been completely upended by recent developments. They need to find a new way to survive.

For me, though? I’ve realized that I can’t play in the future too much. I’m needed in the now.

On March 12, when Georgia governor Brian Kemp announced that churches should stop meeting in person, we saw the writing on the wall. My schools canceled their in-person classes and moved online. And that meant just about everyone on my team needed to learn a whole new way of doing their jobs within one business day. All of our students and clients needed support to figure out the new system. It’s been quite an undertaking, learning new things and problem-solving hour by hour.

As a leader, I spend some time every day keeping abreast of news and trends and forecasts and assessing what they might mean for the people I serve. But I can’t stay there for long. I have to return to the present moment.

I’ve gotten a lot of well-meaning advice in the past couple of weeks, mostly centered around shifting my mindset. Maybe I should do more meditation or yoga or stop watching the news. Maybe I should go for more long walks, do some journaling, spend some time thinking about positive outcomes I could try to create.

The underlying assumption is that I’ve been stressed as a result of negativity — because I haven’t been paying attention to the right things. But no, I’ve been stressed on purpose: It’s been a temporary circumstance meant to enhance my performance in the short-term. Without the sense of urgency brought on by stress, my team and I could never have pulled off our pivot to online work. For a period of time, we’ve been utterly absorbed in the project before us and have given it everything we have. No time for journaling. Together with my team, I’ve been paying attention to exactly the right things.

Unlike our heroic doctors, nurses, and other health care professionals, the period of stress for my team and me won’t last too long — we will get the chance to rest. Spring break is coming up, bringing a few days when I can completely shut down my laptop and rejuvenate. I will play some musical instruments, read, knit, spend time with the people I’m “quarantined” with. And yes, I will continue to meditate, journal, and go for long walks. Even when resting — especially when resting — I’ll do things that keep me in the moment.

That’s because the future isn’t a source of pleasant anticipation or intellectual stimulation today. The future is anxiety-inducing. I can’t control any of it, and the resources I have to react to it are limited. I’m better off keeping my focus on what I can truly influence and whom I can effectively serve. As the days go by, perhaps the news will be less bleak and there will be more choices — I will once again be able to play with possibility. For now, I’m focusing on the now.