I had a number of experiences recently that confirm the importance of being present and engaged. In one, I was walking down the street when a beautiful leaf caught my eye. The leaves all around had been in the process of changing color (late this year). This leaf was red with green and yellow around the edges and it had a drop of water sitting on it. Just taking a minute to look closely at this beautiful piece of nature provided me with a well-needed moment of respite from all else that was going on that day in terms of things to do.

It not only put me in touch with nature, but also enabled me to experience a sense of gratitude for the profound beauty that exists all around us if we are able to be present enough to notice it and take the time to really see it.

Another experience took place at the beach I was fortunate enough to spend a weekend at the Outer Banks in North Carolina to celebrate my birthday with some close friends. One morning, I went to the beach to watch the sun rise. It was incredible. At first I saw some pale pink mixed with pale blue in the sky. Then, I saw a dot of bright orange. For a moment, I thought it was a light on top of an electric tower. Then, as seconds passed, I saw a crooked line of bright orange glowing between a break between some clouds. Within a few more seconds, the sun became visible as a large glowing orange disk. It was a magical moment in time.

I stayed at the beach watching and listening to the waves. I watched them start as small peaks far out away from the beach, build momentum as they came closer to the shore, and then create that curve that surfers try to surf in with larger waves, and eventually crash in a splash of white. Then, after the violent motion of the wave breaking, water would gently run up the shore onto the sand. This water was completely clear except for the foam of tiny bubbles around the edges. And, while the waves crashed loudly as they landed, these small bubbles made their own quieter sound as they popped open on the sand.

Watching the rhythmic motion of the sea, I was struck with the thought that the rhythm of the waves is like the heartbeat of the ocean. They are constant and continuous just as our heartbeats are constant and continuous. No conscious human effort is involved in creating the waves just as there is no conscious human effort involved in maintaining our heartbeats. It was enormously comforting to feel that constancy. The waves just are. They may be larger or smaller depending on the weather and other factors, but they are neither “right” nor “wrong.” Similarly, as individuals, our living spirits are neither right nor wrong we just are. Sitting at the beach, listening to and watching the waves, and realizing that all I have to do is be, felt like a birthday present from the Universe.

So, while I am sharing some of my best moments of being present, I have to be honest about my ongoing challenges with being present as well. The experiences above are in complete contrast to what I have labeled my shopping cart fiasco. This occurred one day recently when I went grocery shopping.

I had driven to the store and remember it taking me about 10 minutes to find a parking spot (the wonders of living in New York City). After circling around a while, I finally found one and walked the couple of blocks to the Park Slope Food Coop where I proceeded to completely fill a large shopping cart with groceries.

One of the benefits of shopping at the Park Slope Food Coop is that one of the member work shifts consists of walking people to their cars with their carts and bringing the carts back to the store. I finished shopping and found the walker on shift who would accompany me to my car. It was at that point that I realized I had no idea where I parked my car. I stopped for a moment and tried to visualize myself getting out of the car and walking to the Coop. I drew a complete blank. I ended up walking around a few blocks, with the very patient and pleasant walkeraccompanying me, without being able to locate my car.

I had no choice but to tell the worker to go back to the Coop. I then walked home with the cart, emptied it, returned it to the Coop, and walked around until I was finally able to find my car. I realized that my mind had been so preoccupied with things other than what I was doing in the present moment that I was completely unable to remember the period of time during which I left my car and walked to the Coop. I had been anything but present. I had been so disengaged that I was literally out of my mind.

How much of life do we literally lose because of our preoccupation? How many moments of profound beauty do we miss and let pass us by?