The Present Moment Is the Only Moment

One of Drew’s first teachers was Thich Nhat Hanh—affectionately known as "Thay”— a world-renowned Zen master, peace activist, poet, and gentle revolutionary who encouraged people to bring spiritual practice out of monasteries and into kitchens, gardens, grocery stores, and daily life. His ten core teachings distill ancient wisdom into practical, down-to-earth guidance for modern living.

Thay's Core Teaching Number Two is all about right now.

2. The Present Moment Is the Only Moment

The past is a memory. The future is a mystery. The present moment is the only place where life actually unfolds.

That may sound obvious, but most of us spend very little time here.

We revisit old conversations and imagine how we should have responded. We replay regrets and missed opportunities. Or we race ahead, worrying about what might happen next week, next month, or next year.

Meanwhile, the only moment we can actually touch is this one.

Thay often said, “The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.”

That joy may not arrive with fireworks and a brass band. More often, it slips in quietly: a comfortable chair, a bird at the feeder, sunlight on the kitchen floor, a warm shower, a kind text from a friend, or the scent of rain drifting through an open window.

Life whispers before it shouts.

The present moment is where healing happens. It is where we forgive, breathe, laugh, and love. It is where we notice that, despite our worries, much is still right with the world.

Right now, your heart is beating.

Right now, your lungs are breathing.

Right now, the earth is holding you.

That is no small thing.

Astonishingly, thousands of things are going right this very second without our supervision. The sun rose. Flowers opened. Trees quietly turned sunlight into leaves. Somewhere, a robin is singing because that's simply what robins do.

Of course, the mind likes to time-travel. It is forever digging through the attic of the past or peering nervously through the curtains into the future.

When that happens, smile kindly at your mind.

“Thank you for your concern, but for now, I'm going to sit here and enjoy my tea.”

The present moment may not be perfect, but it is real. And in its reality lies peace.

As Thay taught, if we know how to dwell fully in the here and now, we touch the deepest dimensions of life. We discover that this moment—exactly as it is—contains enough.

Enough beauty.

Enough wonder.

Enough grace.

Enough.

And perhaps that is one of life's great secrets: the ordinary moment we are rushing past is often the very moment we will someday miss.

As Thay taught, and as Drew gently reminds us, the doorway to peace doesn't open tomorrow.

It is open now.

This breath.

This sip of tea.

This birdsong.

This beautiful, fleeting moment.

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