"You made me forget myself"

In his Confessions, St. Augustine grasped the inescapability of time in a very advanced way. Commenting recently on Augustine's take on time in the Confessions, Rowan Williams observed: "'The problem isn’t that God’s not here. The problem is that I’m not here.' I’m everywhere but here in this moment, in this particular prosaic, ordinary, physical environment." After posting this observation on another social media platform, a well-read friend noted: "the key insight of Augustine on time is that the present is so fleeting as to never really be. It is always not yet or already past, with the instant always fleeting." I don't see any particular difficulties in reconciling these two statements.

The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali, 1931

At least on my reading, in his Confessions Augustine deals with the fleetingness of the present moment in terms of the nagging thought that persists throughout a time of contentment; the realization that this contentment won't last because time shoves me inexorably forward. From a Christian perspective, time presents a bit of a difficulty, one that is usually dealt with by making an appeal to God's eternity, which is often described as an "eternal now," a never-passing present. It seems to me that for Williams God's presence is what makes it possible for me to be present in the present. My presence is the gift of attention, which requires me to make the effort not to be distracted by the fleetingness of the present moment. The problem is, the more of an effort I make, the more I fail.

It is interesting to examine what is meant by "Being present to/in the present moment." In short, for people who are existentially aware of their finitude being present in the present is much harder than it sounds. It's not necessarily the case that no sooner do I become present than the moment slips away. Rather, as I become conscious of my contentment, I realize it won't last forever. Or, to deal with the relativity of time, a few seconds or minutes of discontentment seem to last forever. No sooner do I think to myself "this is wonderful," than my next thought is, "this will end soon." This is the genesis of saying something like, "I wish this moment could last forever." Frankly, it's a little like facing death.

Our traditio for this Third Friday of Lent is Lou Reed's "Perfect Day." Initially, I was going to post the scene from the movie Trainspotting that features this song. Punks used to wear jackets with many buttons stuck on them. One button I remember featured the words- "Reality is for people who can't handle drugs." When I think I about time in an existential, as opposed to an abstract, vein, I think that mildly humorous observation might contain more truth than I care to admit.

Rather than the scene from Trainspotting, I decided to post Reed singing "Perfect Day" with Luciano Pavarotti.

The fourth verse of "Perfect Day" contains a clue for resolving the dissonance wrought by becoming present to the present moment. Describing why the day in the song was perfect: "You made me forget myself." Like Pater Tom taught his Trappist novices about contemplation, the key is not to become aware that your are contemplating, meaning it is important not to "step outside" yourself and "look" at yourself in the act of contemplation. In Anam Cara, John O'Donohue addresses this well: "If you are outside yourself, always reaching beyond yourself, you avoid the call of your own mystery" (pg 101).