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Today I am thrilled to bring you Present Tense with Gretchen Rubin, author of the #1 New York Times bestselling book, The Happiness Project.

Gretchen really needs no introduction. But, as you can see, she is a redhead. Which makes her automatically dear to my heart. Seriously, though, it is my honor to have Gretchen respond to my inquiry and engage in these questions. I’ve long been a loyal reader of her blog, I read and enjoyed The Happiness Project, and I was happy to hear Gretchen read and talk in Boston a few weeks ago. Many things about Gretchen’s story and message both impress and touch me, but it wasn’t until I saw this video that she made that I realized, with that thunderstruck sense of oh-of-course, that this was all, in its own way, about being present. I had heard the adage “the days are long, but the years are short” before, but Gretchen emphasizes it and makes it real in a newly visceral way for me. In her words: this mundane moment is life.

Gretchen’s basic premise, of realizing her life was richly blessed but still wanting to make a conscious effort to be happier within it, resonates powerfully with me. I also find her basically pragmatic approach really compelling – she makes changes which feel big within the context of a reality she knows she is not going to materially change. I think this is part of what has made her book such a success: she makes the desire to be happier concrete, and this makes it feel tangible, reachable.

The book is definitely worth reading, as is her blog, which is chock-full of fascinating quotes from a dazzling range of sources, always-interesting links, and thoughtful suggestions. It only took a few chapters for me to be inspired to take 10 bags of books and stuff to Goodwill, and to clear not just one but two empty shelves of my own.

The book has stayed with me after I finished it, too, which is in my mind the true mark of an important work. I took from The Happiness Project specific, actionable suggestions of choices I can make daily to make myself happier. But, perhaps more lingeringly, the book impressed on me a few ways of thinking about the world and how we live in it. Two examples are the distinction Gretchen draws between moderators and abstainers (this insight was really new to me and deeply true) and the sense of sadness she articulates as part of following her #1 rule: “Be Gretchen.” She speaks articulately and powerfully about the fact that to accept ourselves as we truly are (which she asserts, compellingly, is the first step towards any real happiness) we must accept all of the things we are not. This is not without sorrow, and Gretchen treads this line gently, acknowledging this loss without becoming gloomy over it.

And without further ado, here are Gretchen’s thoughts on presence:

I’m not much of a music person. Books – where can I start? I love fiction, non-fiction, biography, memoir, children’s and young adult literature … I’m a book nut!

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I think my favorite thing about Gretchen’s approach to being present is her firm belief that by active commitment to the goal of consciousness we can improve ourselves on that dimension. This is inspiring to me and, I imagine, to many others. We can identify some concrete choices, make them, stick to them, and things will improve. I like this because it is so much more actionable, and approachable, than my impression of much of the previous writing about happiness.

The do-er and the list-maker in me very much responds to this philosophy, which I see played out in these answers. Gretchen has had epiphanies while walking or (famously) riding the bus. So, commit to not being distracted when in those modes, to maximize the chances of inspiration coming again. That makes sense and sounds simple, but of course it is not: it is an active choice, that Gretchen makes daily, to invite reflection and thoughtfulness into her life.

The answer about staying home is imbued with other writing of Gretchen’s about accepting herself for who she is. About Being Gretchen. As I wrote before, doing this has loss contained in it, since we must acknowledge all of the things we are not. But as Gretchen writes of liking being at home, I am reminded of the same instinct in myself, and also of the tremendous friction I feel between my desire to stay home and the pressure I feel to Be More Social. I can then hear Gretchen’s voice in my head saying: Be Lindsey. And she would encourage me, I imagine, to accept my deepest instincts and to accept the things that this means I am not. And to embrace my predisposition towards quiet and books and homebodiness – as I sense that she has.

Gretchen, thank you for your wise words, your inspiring example, your generosity with your time and your spirit. You are a shining role model of a writer and of a woman – thank you, thank you.

I’m honored to be hosting a guest post by The Kitchen Witch today.  TKW is one of the blogs I read every day, and I have grown to adore her particular combination of humor and wisdom.  I love the way she writes about life, often, through the lens of food.  And some of her recipes are inspiring – as a paltry cook myself I haven’t tried any yet, but I will!  Please go visit her blog – you won’t be disappointed.

My sister’s best friend in North Dakota was a girl named Lisa. I liked Lisa–she didn’t care if I followed her and my sister around like a hungry dog. This was a bigger deal than you’d think, because I had no friends of my own. Thus, she pretty much had to tolerate me all of the time. Because, much to my sister’s disgust, mama insisted that we were a package deal. “But I’m 3 years olllllllder than her,” my sister would protest. “I don’t see why I have to drag that baby around when I play with MY friends.”

Looking back, my sister sort of had a point, but Mama was too busy and too smart to relent. She knew that if left to entertain myself, I’d hurl myself to the floor, threatening to die of boredom, within 5 minutes. So Tagalong I was.

Sometimes we ended up at Lisa’s house, which I found thrilling. Lisa had two much older brothers, and spying on them (without detection) was one of my favorite pastimes. I studied them voraciously, not altogether unlike Goodall and her apes. They talked on the phone to girls and had pimples and listened to music other than The Osmond Brothers. Quite exotic, I tell you.

Lisa’s mother, Barb, always wore perfume and lipstick and was the only woman I’ve known who actually smoked cigarettes in those long holders, like Cruella DeVille. She was perpetually on a diet and dressed provocatively. I remember eyeing her breasts with suspicion, wondering when those globes were going to go AWOL from her clingy shirts. To my disappointment, I never witnessed it.

My mother tried to be friends with her, but Barb was, in the end, just too racy for mama. I think the clincher was one fateful trip to the movies, when my mother discovered, to her horror, that the film Barb had chosen was X-rated. Mama didn’t say a word, but I’d have given a million dollars to have been a fly on that wall.

Barb wasn’t much of a cook, but she was generous with invitations to dinner, which was nice. Except. Barb followed a strict weight loss plan and once a week, that plan advocated eating liver for dinner. Now this would have been okay if there was one night–say Wednesday–that was Liver Night. Then, no problem. I could be permanently busy on Wednesday. But Barb wasn’t that organized. Liver Night was frighteningly fluid in that household, and mama told me it was bad manners to ask what was for dinner if invited. I do beleive the threat “beat you until you can’t sit anymore” had been uttered regarding that breach of etiquitte.

But it also wasn’t polite to always refuse an invitation to dinner, so I spent a few nights in flat-out terror, eyes glued to the stove, wondering what menace was lurking in the pot.

Luckily, I never got liver, and luckier still, my problem got solved for me. Not long after my 4th birthday, I got bronchitis. My nasty, phlegm-soaked ass was stuck in bed. Quite gleefully, my sister set out for Lisa’s house on a rare solo venture.

When she came back, I was huddled in a blanket, on the kitchen floor, watching my mother cook dinner, fuming at my sister the traitor.

The Traitor poured herself a glass of Hi-C and said casually to my mother, “Mom, what does screw mean?”

There was a long pause. Then my mother continued peeling potatoes. “You mean like when you screw in a nail?” my mother said.

“Nooooo, I mean screw like what Barbie does with Ken,” my sister said, rolling her eyes in disdain.

We learned two lessons that day. One of them was a vocabulary term. The second: do not play Barbies with Lisa’s older brothers in the room.

Lisa spent most playdates at OUR house from then on. Liver Night Problem solved.

This recipe for revolting (I assume) Sauerkraut Salad came from Lisa’s grandmother. Suffice it to say that I know now why Barb wasn’t much of a cook.

Sauerkraut Salad

1 green pepper
1 small onion
3 stalks celery
1 can (1 lb.) sauerkraut
1 cup chili sauce
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon paprika
3 tablespoons lemon juice

Chop green pepper, onions and celery fine. Then mix with sauerkraut and all remaining ingredients. This is very good with cold cuts.**

**Her endorsement, not mine!!

It is my honor to introduce the wonder woman I am featuring in today Present Tense conversation: Taylor Wells. Taylor and I met in August 2000 at a yoga retreat in Montana. It was a trip that changed her life in enormous ways, and I have had the privilege of watching those changes and of experiencing first-hand the growth of a person into their dharma.  Taylor absolutely radiates peace. I asked her to participate in the series because I know she has thought deeply on the issue of consciousness and her answers affirmed this. More than anyone else I know, Taylor takes concrete steps and makes specific decisions to support this path. The peace and sense of being centered that she gives off is testament to how effective this practice is. Read and learn:

1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

Every single day after my yoga practice

When painting, playing, and/or reading with my three children. Whenever I’m in nature – especially hiking up a mountain or at the ocean,

When cleaning and organizing. Very Virgo! So our home is very organized – effortlessly. A nice perk for my husband and kiddos!

When writing.

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?  

Yes. I do them every day faithfully. It’s a practice, and I’m very disciplined and I practice daily. I cultivated this discipline at a very young age – when training for the Olympics in ice skating at age five and up, and training for the pro circuit in tennis while living at Nick Bolletieri’s at age twelve and thirteen.

I practice prana power yoga every single morning – first thing. While practicing, I read flash cards I’ve written with inspirational, spiritual, be here now, and be grateful quotes. My two year old son, Phoenix, puts them out in front of my mat for me – about 6-8 of them. He knows the drill. I have hundreds of them and I choose them at random each morning. Those are my lessons/my mantras of the day. This is my way of setting the energy/the template for the day, much like putting twigs into a fire that burns all day long

I put only raw high vibration vegan food into my body. This keeps me in the now. Cooked, processed and animal foods cause our bodies and minds to go on auto pilot. They cause us to zone out and exist like the “living dead.” Food really is a drug. Use it wisely

Very first thing in the morning – when I open my eyes and before I get out of bed – I thank the universe for everything I am grateful for. This takes a while! I have a lot of gratitude. I cultivate an attitude of gratitude first thing in the am. Then I visualize my day, going exactly as I ant it to go. It’s mostly energetic – things flowing beautifully and easily, lots of smiling and laughing, efficiency, joy, and love.

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present? Who? Where? Any idea why?

Talking with my soul mate/husband, Philippe. We are very in sync and very connected and just talking with him brings me back, if I’ve drifted off somehow. I remember years ago, when we were first dating, telling a dear girlfriend how Philippe and I would lie on the couch together and talk for hours – like three or four hours. She smiled and was happy for me, and said gently and sweetly that that would probably change with time, as our relationship evolved and responsibilities accrued, etc. I’m happy to say that we can and do still talk for hours, amidst all of our co-adventures and responsibilities (Prana yoga centers, Prana cafe, consulting, co-parenting, homeschooling, etc). And the reason why we can and still do is that when we talk, I truly let go of everything and am totally present. I’m not thinking, “Oh, I have 200 emails to respond to, so I have to go now,” I’m just there with him. That’s a blessing that I always cherish.

4. Have you ever meditated? How did that go?

I used to meditate daily – twice a day. Now after studying a lot of Abraham-Hicks, I’ve learned that “we didn’t come here to be on pause.” 🙂 So instead I’ve trained my mind to think positive thoughts – things that I want and aspire to – instead of blanking my mind out. Abraham says that meditation is great if your mind is negative/racing/etc, but with the time and practice, it’s best to learn to train your mind to think positive thoughts – to create what you want, using your thoughts. I’ve gotten pretty good at this, with time and practice. It’s called manifestation, and it’s very fun.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

OMG Yes. The day I had my first child, I changed forever. And with each child since, I have continued to transform. I also transformed during my first yoga practice, and continue to transform each time I get on my mat. However, having a child is a slam dunk. My children are my biggest teachers (as I said above) and also they are a reminder to be present so I can teach them to do the same. We are so blessed to be able to spend a lot of time together (my husband and I homeschool and don’t use nannies or day care because we are able to do so – since we run our yoga centers and cafes out of our home), and they watch every move I make and mimic me. That’s a lot of responsibility – the biggest ever. And I take it seriously – and with joy and honor.

6. And just cause I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

I love all Krishna Das and Loreena McKennitt. I also love James Taylor and Elton John! They are classics.

I love most every spiritual book I’ve ever read, especially all Sanaya Roman (have read most twice or more), Louise Hay, Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson, Wayne Dyer, and Stuart Wilde. I am not a fan of fiction. Can’t get through a page. My spirit only likes spiritual books and nonfiction.

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What Taylor’s answers tell me, most of all, is that
presence is a practice. As she says. This is something you can commit to, and with effort it can become more of a habit. I am inspired by all of the things you do, Taylor, by your discipline and commitment to living an engaged and aware life. I remember visiting your old house, years ago, and seeing index cards taped up around the kitchen with inspirational quotes. I turn to my own quote books (hand written, filled over the years) almost daily; it is only a small leap to make these an explicit part of my everyday environment.

Your answers about meditation remind me of what Danielle said, and both make me recall Thich Nhat Hanh, whose writings I’ve long admired. The lesson I take is that life itself, even (especially?) in its most mundane moments, can be a meditation. It is in our attitude, in our own minds, that the meditation occurs. Perhaps to cultivate a mind that is capable of this we need to
formally sit and chant, but the end goal seems to be actually engaging in our lives with the kind of mindfulness we might bring to a traditional meditation session.

Taylor, thank you. For those of you who want to learn more about Taylor, you can read her blog at www.super-mom.com, learn about the yoga studios she and Philippe founded and run at www.pranapoweryoga.com, and about their raw food cafe at www.thepranacafe.com.

Today is day four of Present Tense, an exploration of how various wonderful, wise women work to be more present in their daily lives.
Today I bring you the unique perspective of Ivy League Insecurities’ Aidan Donnelley Rowley. Aidan is my first real blogger friend, and I’ve since had the privilege to meet her in person. First we emailed up a storm. The similarities were myriad, the differences interesting, the connection immediate. She wrote me a birthday post that made me cry, I reciprocated with my own much less elegant testimonial on her birthday. We then met in September at the Firestarter with Danielle LaPorte that Aidan hosted at her apartment. The session was immensely moving for me in ways that I am still sifting through.

And after the Firestarter, Aidan and I were lucky enough to share lunch with Danielle. Then, continuing my great afternoon of immersion in People I Met Online, Aidan and I shared some rose and some more conversation. That afternoon, that in-person meeting, was an exact analog of our online relationship. It was like we had known each other forever, and it still feels that way. We never run out of things to say.

Aidan inspires me with her brave and bold example of walking away from a life of conventional achievement to pursue her dream. She took this risk with characteristic aplomb: I’ve had the privilege of reading a few very short passages from Aidan’s upcoming novel, Life After Yes and it’s beautiful. Circle May 18th and get ready to pre-order on Amazon. She makes my dream seem within reach. She makes me brave. That example is beyond price, and I don’t think I can ever thank her enough.

Not irrelevant, also, is the fact that Aidan named this project. I was emailing with her about how I wanted to investigate the various ways, small and big, that people strive to live more engaged lives and she offered, instantly and with the humor and brilliance that I now recognize as her special brand of magic, “Present Tense”! And yes. Here we are.

Aidan, thank you.
1. When have you felt most present? Are there specific memories that stand out for you?

2. Do you have rituals or patterns that you use to remind you to Be Here Now?

I wish I had rituals or patterns to use to remind me to be more present. But, alas, I really don’t. For me, consciously thinking about being present, pondering ways to be more engaged, actually seems to remove me further from life and from the present moment. So, there’s the rub: how to become more present if thinking about becoming more present makes me less present?

3. Do you have specific places or people that you associate with being particularly present? Who? Where? Any idea why?

Childhood. (I think that childhood can count as a place and a grouping of people.) I think one of the reasons I am so reluctant to grow up is that childhood, for me, was a time of unadulterated engagement and enjoyment, a time when I immersed myself in my days and experiences, and didn’t think so much about them. Somewhere along the way, I started evaluating my experiences, analyzing their metaphysical fibers, and asking questions. These days, my brain buzzes incessantly – with words, ideas, theories, questions. I would never change this, but it can be exhausting and can also alienate me from practicalities. As a writer, life is a constant source of material. As a mother, my girls are a constant source of life. But it is almost impossible these days for me to be purely present in any given moment.

Frankly, I am beginning to wonder whether being removed from the moments and worlds in which we live is part and parcel of adulthood and fighting this distance is ultimately futile? I don’t know.

4. Have you ever meditated? How did that go?

I have never meditated. Meditation would probably benefit me though because it seems that I have completely lost the ability to relax. To be honest, I don’t even think I comprehend what meditation is. I do have a hunch that whatever it is (and I am sure it is a somewhat subjective phenomenon?) would help quell all those anxieties and insecurities that pepper my days.

5. Has having children changed how you think about the effort to be present?

Having children has changed everything for me. For one, I am constantly cognizant of the cruel passage of time, of the miraculous and heart-wrenching milestones. I want to experience the little joys and the big victories with my children. When I miss something, however small, because I am physically or mentally absent, it makes me sad. (And we will always miss things and so there will always be a lingering sadness. A fact of motherhood in my estimation.) Moreover, my kids are the best teachers of how to be present. I watch them play and learn, utterly unfettered by that adult breed of anxiety, and I think this reminds me – in intangible, but potent ways – of how to be a kid again. Today was the perfect example. My girls sat under our new Christmas tree, sniffing branches, passing ornaments back and forth. I was reminded in that moment of my own childhood and of how simple and sweet things can be.

6. And just because I’m curious, what books and songs do you love?

Currently, there is a lot of Christmas music blaring in our home. I love this time of year. Songs? There are so many I adore. I love U2’s “All I Want Is You” which was the first dance at our wedding. As for books, I wish I read more than I do. But my all time favorite book is Charlotte’s Web, a story which plays a seminal part in another book I kind of love called “Life After Yes” which I hear comes out this May.

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So, Aidan, no, I don’t think it’s a bad sign that you think these are hard questions. I feel the same way. I do think it might be symptomatic of a particular orientation towards the world, one of engagement and inquiry, of both emotional and intellectual curiosity, that might make one’s relationship to consciousness complicated. And by “one” I mean you, me, and everybody else I’ve written about so far in Present Tense. I think you touch on something really profound with your question: how to become more present if thinking about becoming more present makes me less present?

You and I have talked about this a lot, wrestled with the ways that writing makes us simultaneous more firmly rooted in our lives and more removed from them. This is a very real question. I suspect that a mind that is always processing and a heart that feels so deeply it sometimes needs to shield itself both contribute to a certain degree of remove from our own lives. But maybe this is not such a bad thing? Maybe it is, as you say, inevitable and we ought to just stop fighting it so much?

I totally agree with you about how children change everything – on this score and all others. As their pants grow short and their teeth fall out we have tangible proof of time’s inexorable passage. But, as you say, they also hand us back a glimpse of the wonder of childhood, that wide-open time that you so aptly describe, of experience unfettered by analysis. Clearly in the end the deal is worth it – I doubt any of us would go back. But there’s no question that children open up a seam of sadness in many of us, an awareness of mortality and a fear of missing moments (even as we know the inevitability of that). Your story of your girls under the Christmas tree is lovely, and captures precisely what I mean when I say that children open up a window on our own childhood for us.

Aidan, thank you. I am blessed by your presence in my life, I mean that. And thank you for your help in the genesis of this project and for your thoughtful participation today. Thank you, thank you, thank you.