In the world of “mindfulness” – if such a world even exists – there’s a strong emphasis on being present. But when the present moment is filled with pain, like deep and immovable feelings of loneliness, staying present can feel almost impossible. So what can we do?

One option is to avoid the present altogether. We might drift into nostalgia, remembering how things used to be. Or we leap into the future, telling ourselves, “When I finally do that thing, then I’ll be happy.”

But the past can carry its own weight – all the unanswered why questions, all the things we’ve already lived through and tried to leave behind. Instead of bringing relief, it can pull us backwards like a heavy magnet into the shadows of what once was.

The future isn’t much easier. It can be filled with longing, uncertainty, or fear. For example, we might think, “Next September I’ll finally take that trip, maybe to a spiritual retreat – something I’ve wanted to do for ages.” But nothing gets booked. Life gets in the way. “There’s still time,” we tell ourselves. Then September comes – work piles up, school starts, the to-do list grows – and we push the dream further away, like a carrot dangling in front of us.

Even so, I don’t believe we should dismiss the past or the future, or soothe ourselves with platitudes like “The past is gone” or “The future hasn’t arrived yet.” The truth is, both are woven into the present. The way I see it, the present is like sitting on a moving train. I’m in one of the middle coaches – behind me is the past, ahead is the future. But the entire train moves as one, moment by moment.

From this perspective, I see that while I’m being carried into the future, I’m also constantly shaping the past – leaving traces on the tracks behind me. And somewhere in that ongoing motion, a new feeling arises: presence.

Train journeys have a way of slowing down time for me. It’s not because I’m impatient or wondering, “Are we there yet?” I know we’re not there – we are here. I am here, in this moment. Everything outside the window – or inside the train, if I choose to look – is part of this shared experience. We are all moving together.

I find myself gazing out, almost compelled to take in the landscape: the rhythm of movement, the hills, the sheep, the birds, the fleeting scenes of life unfolding outside. It gently reminds me that presence isn’t about escaping discomfort. It’s about allowing ourselves to notice – to be with what’s here, however imperfect – as we continue to journey through the unfolding story of our lives.

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A Moment for You

If you’ve made it this far, I invite you to pause for just a few breaths.

Notice where you are right now.
Feel the weight of your body, the rhythm of your breathing.
Let your eyes settle on something around you – a colour, a shape, a shadow – and simply be with it.
No need to judge, solve, or change anything.

This moment, however it feels, is part of your journey.
Like a train gently moving forward, you don’t need to rush.
You’re allowed to simply be – carried by the present, connected to your past, and unfolding into your future.

What do you notice, right here, right now?
Let that noticing be enough.