when emotions outlast memory

Continuing yesterday’s theme of mindfulness, learning attentiveness to the here and now, and living in the present moment. Since our grandchildren moved near us last month I have been very aware of the blessings intrinsic to allowing yourself to be present to small children.

When I was a young, I confess that I was often too busy taking care of the practical realities that come with becoming a mother to our awesome foursome in our first six years of marriage.

Being a grandmother, on the other hand, lets me have a certain distance and space that is new to me, and allows the grace present, for example, in completely surrendering my attention (and self) to the baby girl blowing bubbles in my face!

But this week I’m also pondering how to live in the moment with someone who suffers from memory loss, be it because of stroke, aging dementia, or as in my case, Alzheimer’s disease. After all, why does it matter spending time with someone if that person may not even remember that we were together?

I have a dear friend in her early 60s who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s four years ago, and it’s truly painful to watch this person whom I love dearly diminishing with each visit. In a very real way it feels like my friend is dying, even though physically she’s in better shape than I am.

When I’m with her, I try very hard to be deliberate about how I say things, but above all, how I respond to her, especially when she repeatedly asks the same question only minutes apart. I find that it’s not so much an exercise in mindfulness as it is a loving act, rooted in living the moment, each se-pa-ra-te mo-ment, without concerning myself with the connectedness of the whole conversation.

Two Peasant Women and a Child Seen from Behind, from the Foresteria Guesthouse 1757

By Giovanni Domenico Tiepolo (1727-1804)

It’s also been very helpful to remember that although she may not remember the details of our time together, my friend will remember the emotions, how she felt when we were together.

According to scientists, for people like my friend whose short-term memory is fading, the feelings (good as well as bad feelings) that are triggered by meaningful events actually linger. They are captured by a different part of the brain.

So, if the “good feeling” that my friend feels during our visits outlasts her memory, then, I pray for the grace to simply love on her from moment to moment, to let myself laugh long and hard—every time, and to find deep joy in what we’re doing, even when the story repeats itself several times in one night.

This, too, must be what Jean-Pierre de Caussade meant when he said: 

“Our only satisfaction must be to live in the present moment as if there were nothing to expect beyond it.”

to strip ourselves naked before God

In his book “The Mindful Traveler,” author Jim Currie describes the Buddhist practice of mindfulness or attentiveness as an invitation to pause and take in the marvel of the moment. 

“The Buddha taught that on everyone’s path are a series of opportunities, hindrances, and obstacles that in some way reflect what is inside us. Inner and outer reality dance together, giving us a chance to affirm our own higher powers and break out of our conditioned responses, attachments, and self-limitations. In some cases this simply requires breathing deeply and letting anxieties pass. In other cases, it requires taking stock of our surroundings, penetrating self-created distortions, asking ourselves--what is the big picture here? What is the pattern that I am caught up in? What choices am I making that determine my day? What forces and energies are at work that I am pointlessly opposing?”

Every day we are engaged in a miracle, wrote Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh, a miracle 

“which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child––our own two eyes. All is a miracle...[M]indfulness itself is the life of awareness: the presence of mindfulness means the presence of life, and therefore mindfulness is also the fruit. Mindfulness frees us of forgetfulness and dispersion and makes it possible to live fully each minute oflife. Mindfulness enables us to live.”  

All we have to do, he said, is “enjoy each step you take.”

In our Catholic Christian tradition, living in the present moment is at the heart of living in the Spirit, of knowing that God is––and that He lives––in the here and now. Saints, mystics, and contemplatives throughout the centuries have written about the importance of recognizing the presence of God in each moment. 

In the brief yet powerful work “Abandonment to Divine Providence,” the 17th century French mystic and Jesuit priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade challenged believers to embrace the present moment as an ever-flowing source of holiness. He explained it this way, 

“Every moment we live through is like an ambassador who declares the will of God...Everything works to this end and, without exception, helps us toward holiness. We can find all that is necessary in the present moment. We need not worry about whether to pray or be silent, whether to withdraw into retreat or mix with people, to read or write...What does matter is what each moment produces by the will of God. We must strip ourselves naked...so that we can wholly submissive to God’s will and so delight him. Our only satisfaction must be to live in the present moment as if there were nothing to expect beyond it.”

[from "The Journey: a Guide for the Modern Pilgrim," a book I co-wrote with my hubby of 31 years, Michael]