I’ll sometimes notice myself wanting to grip, to cling to a moment, an experience, a feeling—wanting it to linger, continue, carry forward, wanting to take it with me.

I’ll feel myself wanting to hold onto it, keep it with me, have it stretch out, last longer.

But I can’t. And I know this.

Every moment passes. Everything changes. Everything shifts and moves and flows into something else.

This wanting to cling, to stay, to linger, to hold onto something, to take it with us, is so natural. It’s such a natural part of our minds, of parts of us. But it’s also an illusion and impossibility—everything is always shifting and changing. Nothing stays the same. Nothing lasts forever. We can’t make anything last forever.

We have to understand this and allow the awareness of it to sink into us.

This part of us that wants to cling may think, “Just one more minute here,” “Just one more bite,” “Just one more walk in this beautiful space….” Yet nothing will ever be enough for it—for this part that wants more, that wants to cling, that wants to hold on.

We have to acknowledge this, and we have to understand it.

We can only ever really experience our experiences while we’re experiencing them, in the moment.

We have to learn to be present in the moments we’re living while we’re living them.

We can learn to soften, breathe into the moment, intentionally bring ourselves to our present space, the places where we are. We can look and hear and feel and sense and experience what’s happening in the moment—allow the different parts of our experience, of the moment, to rise into our awareness, feel it all fully, wholly, and completely.

We can bring awareness, attention, to the moment, to what we’re experiencing, to what we’re feeling.

Once a moment passes, all we have is a faded, hazy memory, a reflection of something that was vibrant and full while we were experiencing it, while we were living it.

So, if we can bring more attention to our present moments, to the moments we’re in, we can allow the fullness of them, of the experience, to fill us.

We may want to hold onto the beauty of a city skyline or the feeling of being with someone we love. It could be a feeling of happiness or peace or fulfillment. It could be part of a grand, once-in-a-lifetime experience, or it could be a beautiful, simply daily moment. It could be a delicious meal or a feeling of connection or a deep feeling of relaxation.

But we can’t hold onto it or grasp it or take it with us. We can’t recreate it or carry it with us in the way that parts of our minds might like. Its wholeness, its fullness, can only ever be fully felt, taken in, embodied, basked in, in the moment we’re actually in it.

And when we’re fully present, allowing the moment to fill us completely, we feel whole, full, connected. It feels full.

Our moments can become beautiful memories we carry with us, but they’re only truly, fully, vibrantly alive while we’re in them, while we’re experiencing them.

This can be our practice—to come back to the moment, over and over again.

To be present, breathe in the moment. To feel the fullness of it.

To be fully in the moments we’re living while we’re living them.

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