A guest blog by Sally Gardner Ward
Before I was diagnosed with stage four cancer, I could easily get on board with acceptance and commitment therapy’s stance of acceptance. A bit of anxiety or sadness shows up from time to time? Bring it on. However, once my lifespan had been severely shortened, time became a precious commodity, and I was struck with an overwhelming urge to savour each moment and make the most of my time left on this planet.
What do adverts tell us about savouring the moment?
Adverts suggest that savouring the moment involves a blissful enjoyment of something here and now, such as nestling into the sofa with a steaming cup of Nescafe or soaking up the rays on a Thomas Cook holiday. Spending the day crying, with a heart heavy with grief does not sell products. Nor does churning anxiety in anticipation of a dreaded blood test or scan result. Adverts never depict someone making the most of their time whilst being hit by a wall of fatigue. This gives the impression that we can only savour positive aspects of our experience.
Experiential exercise: ‘savouring the moment’
Imagine you are stood in a stunning woodland surrounded by wildflowers and butterflies. Near you is a babbling brook which is sparkling in the sunshine. The smell of fresh pine and flowers wafts past on a gentle breeze. A family of deer meander towards the brook for a drink, with a couple of fawns only a few weeks old.
You look up and see a huge comet. It is slowly filling the sky, casting everything in shadow. You have about a minute left before it collides with Earth and obliterates everything.
You have a few choices in how to spend your last minute on planet Earth. For example, you could retreat to the past and conjure up memories of your life and the special people who gave your life meaning. Or you could imagine the future devoid of everything you ever loved.
You chose to be present and savour your final moment. However, there’s a choice in how you savour the moment. See for yourself which option you prefer.
Option one
Spend your final minute totally ignoring the comet and focussing on the beautiful scene in front of you. Focus on the wildflowers, the breeze, the butterflies and the babbling brook. Focus on the family of deer.
Using a countdown timer, spend one minute attempting option one.
How able were you to remain focussed on the pleasant scene when the comet was drawing closer, becoming noisier, darkening the sky and terrifying the animals? Were you able to repress your fear and grief as your time ran out? Was this experience as pleasant as you were hoping for?
Option two
Spend your final minute embracing it all. The beauty, the loss, the texture and sound of the incoming comet, the coldness of the comet’s shadow against your skin, your terror, the deer’s’ terror, the babbling brook, the clueless butterflies. Soak it all up.
Using a countdown timer, spend one minute attempting option two.
What differences did you notice between the two options? Which option required a mental struggle? Which option allowed you to fully experience the last moment of our planet? Which option felt more profound? Which option was superior for savouring the moment?
What does savouring the moment look like in reality?
Can we truly savour any moment when we are not willing to experience the entirety of what that moment entails? Beauty in any artform stems from raw human experience. Think of your favourite painting, song, novel, film etc. Now try to edit out the pain that is inevitably included within this artform. How much do you resonate with this edited version? I’m guessing it has become lifeless and dull? This is what happens to our own lives when we attempt (and fail) to cherry pick the good experiences and feelings. Our lives soon become devoid of meaning. Alternatively, we can open our arms wide and accept the entirety of each passing moment, in all its glory and horror. This is what it means to be alive.