By Dina Aldabbagh

I was at a beach, and I got the urge to go on my phone to look at something. Then I caught myself, “Dina, you’re at the beach. Be at the beach.” Be here, I meant. Be where I actually was. Don’t try to be somewhere else. I wanted to remember that moment. We spend our moments away from the beach looking at pictures of beaches, and our moments at the beach, looking at pictures of other things. When is it enough? What thing will finally be enough for you to be present and enjoy the actual thing you’re doing, instead of looking for something else? I put my phone down, and I enjoyed the beach. And actually, I think I will remember that moment forever — because I felt the wind on my skin, I didn’t just bear it. I observed the colors of the sunset bouncing off the ocean, I didn’t just look at it. I felt connected to my surroundings, I was mentally where I was physically.

Right now, I’m practicing letting the noise that’s around me be the noise that’s around me, not trying to fill my ears with what I think the noise should be. But instead, letting myself experience the sound of the world I’m in. 

This is a bit different from what I learned to do some years ago. At that time, I learned to fill my ears and mind with the programming that I so chose so that I could live the reality I wanted. While necessary at the time — and always, to some extent — at some point, it’s time to let the world back in. And not just from a place of “readiness,” but actually because it’s more enjoyable that way. I went on a trip to Morocco that really opened my eyes to what it means to just be present in what’s going on in front of me. I had been feeling this bug already in my day to day to just stop searching for other things at all times and instead experience the now, but during this trip, I realized what I truly gain from doing so. 

We were traveling from Marrakech to the Sahara Desert in Merzouga and back within a span of 3 days. This meant a lot of sitting in a caravan, driving. No doubt the destination of the Sahara dunes would be awesome, but what about the long journey there? The time actually in the Sahara was less than 24 hours, most of the trip was driving. Was most of the trip just going to be a dud? With a little glimmer of cool sprinkled in? Actually, no. Not super-intentionally, I put my phone and earbuds down for the majority of the ride. I just didn’t want to engage in the thing I was always engaging in. Instead, I wanted to see what there was to Morocco. The time was filled with a lot of talking to my friend and making new ones, a lot of listening to the music being played in the caravan, a lot of looking out the window, and a lot of silence. I absolutely loved it. 

I learned to allow in the slight dissatisfaction of the moment, rather than trying to run away from it and make every moment be the most fulfilling moment. It’s good to want to make every moment a joyful one, but there’s a balance that needs to be struck. You can’t be so committed to this that you try to escape from the present. There’s always going to be a little bit of dissatisfaction in the present moment. That’s life. But also, that’s when the opportunities arise to have the most beautiful moments. That’s when you’re open to little conversations sparking, overhearing something that sticks with you for life, observing things that make you laugh, hearing a snippet of a new favorite song for the first time, or being reminded of a song you long forgot about and never play for yourself. 

The drive was broken up with sightseeing and stops along the way, but the longest straight go at it was 13 hours on the way back. 13 hours in a car in the present moment seems hardly fun or durable, but it actually takes longer when you’re trying to spend the whole time escaping by fulfilling your time with something else, and failing. Nothing ever quite takes you there, not in the way you want. Because what you want is for your present moment to be more interesting, but sometimes it’s just not. 

That doesn’t mean never read a book, watch a movie, or scroll through tiktok during your day while something else is going on. It just means to be more intentional about when you’re doing it and trying your best to notice which moments you may want to remember in the future. My daily walk to the metro every morning is something I will always remember that I did, but I’ll always remember the feeling if I allow myself to just walk, with no extra stimulation, just go. To take in the morning air, the sounds of Madrid’s morning streets, the smells. Really be where I’m at. 

When I think about this trip to Morocco, I consider it really one of the most enjoyable of my life. Why? I’ve seen some cool things in my life and been to some cool places. Why was this trip so different — other than seeing the Sahara desert and going ATVing for the first time? Why? I realized it was because I was present. I was there. I sat in the silences and I was open to the noise that the trip had to offer. I experienced the space around me. I wasn’t trying to be anywhere else. I wanted to be there. 

Imagining and working towards the future is fun. It’s lovely to be creating your dream life — but if you’re always living for some future, “better” reality, then you’re never here. But that’s what we want, right? We just want a better here to live in. We want a better present, that’s why we’re putting in all the work that we are. Well, at some point, you have to recognize that you’ve done all this work on yourself and your life and it will still never be perfect. There’s always room for growth, but no amount of growth will negate the fact that there will still be these moments of dissatisfaction or boredom. That’s actually just inevitable. Once you accept that not every moment needs to be the most exciting moment, you open the floor for the unplanned, exciting moments to come. But if you’re always trying so hard to control the present moment and make sure that it’s fulfilling, then your tight grasp around the present doesn’t allow something unexpected to be put into your hands. 

I keep thinking about these Madrid rains — they’ve got everyone in a frenzy. I haven’t met one person who’s had something positive to say about them; everyone’s pissed and everyone’s complaining. I understand. When I first arrived in Madrid, there was so much rain that I, too, was pissed. I left the gloomy Chicago for the Spanish sun just to get rain? But this time around, I didn’t find myself getting upset about it — without even trying, I just didn’t. For whatever reason, I kinda enjoyed the rain. I thought Madrid looked pretty in the rain. 

It wasn’t bothering me and I didn’t know why. And then I thought to myself, “Who said it was supposed to be sunny?” Who said it should be sunny right now? Did any God or power above say that? Or is that the expectation people put on Madrid? It’s the expectation of the “should be” of our reality and the fact that it’s currently not happening that has people upset. When what “should” happen doesn’t, something feels wrong — like it’s going wrong. But I’m sitting here wondering, who said it should be sunny right now? Even if every year is during this time — which according to the locals, it is — who said this time around is supposed to be sunny as well? Does not the earth and the city of Madrid know exactly what she needs? If these weeks call for rain, is that reality not what’s meant to happen?

And the thing is, I understand. I felt this way when I arrived. I thought, ‘I left Chicago because I wanted consistent sun, and for some reason Madrid is getting more rain than it’s ever gotten?’ But this time around, I ask myself, “Who said the present moment is supposed to go any differently?” Nobody. 

That framework of thinking has made me feel a lot more at peace — because I know the sun will come out again, and I will enjoy it when it comes. But my current reality isn’t horrible or not worth living just because it’s not the “ideal.” It’s okay. It’s okay. The sun is okay and the rain is okay. They’re different kinds of pretty. They’re different vibes. 

Right now the rainy weeks are the reality of my home. I’m not worried that the rain will stay forever. I’m not even thinking about how long it will stay and saying to myself, “Oh gosh, I hope by mid March they’re gone!” I’m just taking it day by day. Rainy today? Okay. 

Today doesn’t need to meet certain criteria in order to be a valuable day or to be enjoyed. What makes the present moment special? The fact that we’re present. There’s no rush to better. This is just what I have right now. And funny enough, when I stop trying so hard to get to what I think is the best thing or place at this moment, I feel like I get exactly what I want at the perfect time. “Perfect timing,” I keep hearing myself say when I stop trying so hard to rush to something and it comes exactly when I arrive. 

I may have spent 13 hours in a caravan in Morocco barely listening to my own music or scrolling on my phone, but the time flew by, and I think I’ll always remember the views of that road trip — because I was watching. I was paying attention. 

There are these times where I get a whiff of something, hear the chorus of a song, or get hit by the wind in a certain way that I’m teleported back to another time in life — just for a millisecond. I always love those moments. I realized, those moments are only memorable, and are even able to be remembered in my body, because I was there. I was present in that moment, and it left a little mark on my subconscious that will always call my body back when it’s experienced again. Well, now is the present moment that is the material for your memories of the future. This, right now, is the material for your future memories. But, not just what’s happening on the outside, it’s what’s happening on the inside. If you avoid being physically and emotionally here in what’s happening now, all these times will just blend together. Morocco wasn’t just fun because I saw dunes or went ATVing, it was fun because I was fully experiencing what was happening. I was there. 

Life is a lot more fun when you’re actually here. And, the present? This is just the only thing I have. I’ll never know the future. I may be in the future for a past version of me, but it’ll just look like the present — it won’t look like anything else.

So…the present? I think I’ll give her the time and attention she deserves from me. She doesn’t ask for my attention, and doesn’t even notice if I withhold it, but she rewards me when I give it freely.