Living in the Now: Misunderstandings and Freedom
So much is written and spoken today about “living in the present.” We are told that the past is gone, the future is uncertain, and therefore only the now truly exists. On the surface this sounds wise — but is it really so simple? To live thoughtlessly in the present, without awareness, is also merely living according to the philosophy of the past.
To dismiss the past and future entirely is not only impractical but misleading. The past contains factual memory: learning a language, recognizing a face, remembering how to drive. The future too has its place: without it we would never plan a journey, plant a seed, or save for tomorrow. These are forms of chronological time, and they are necessary.
But there is another kind of time — psychological time. Unlike practical needs — such as hunger that calls for food or the lack of a house that calls for shelter, which are real and achievable — psychological time arises when we try to change our inner states through effort based on past knowledge or future goals. For example, if we are greedy and try to be non-greedy, we are still greedy to be non-greedy and therefore not free from greed. If we try to be fearless, we are already running away from fear, which means we are afraid of fear itself. These efforts to improve our psychological state are illusory. In contrast, tangible goals in the physical world — finding food, buying a house — can be achieved through action. Living fully in the present, free from psychological time, is therefore not a matter of effort but of understanding — seeing clearly how these mental projections shape our experience and letting them dissolve.
Without that freedom, the so-called “present moment” is never truly fresh. If I enter the present with a mind clouded by yesterday’s resentments, my response today is still dictated by the past. If I meet you while carrying the image I have built of you, I am not meeting you directly — only my memory of you. The freshness of the present is lost when the past or imagined future dominates our present experience: old hurts, unresolved fears, and lingering images of ourselves and others. That is why living in the now cannot be a practice, a technique, or a philosophy; it requires the ending of psychological residue that distorts perception.
Knowledge and Intelligence
Knowledge has its place. When there is a physical challenge — building a house, treating an illness, or even choosing how to cook a meal — knowledge is indispensable. But intelligence does not live in the past; it looks at the present challenge freshly and uses whatever knowledge is relevant. If circumstances change, intelligence may discard one set of knowledge, seek expert advice, and remain attentive to the signals of the body and heart, allowing a natural harmony between mind, body, and heart. In this way, knowledge is used, but it does not dictate. The action is born in the present. To explore this topic more deeply, it may be helpful to read the chapter on Authority (Authority, Intellect, Emotions, and Intelligence).
Psychologically, however, the movement of knowledge can become a trap. To follow a method or pursue a goal in order to overcome fear or sorrow is still to remain in the same state in a modified form (refer to the chapter on Non-Duality). Here, no technique brings freedom — only direct understanding does. While investigating a problem may involve words and thought, the essence of understanding is choiceless awareness, not adherence to a pre-decided path.
Living in the Now in Daily Life
Living in the now is not a mystical abstraction but something that can be seen in the small and large moments of daily life. Suppose a parent is dealing with a child’s sudden outburst. If the parent responds according to a formula — “I must always be strict” or “I must always be gentle” — the response is dictated by the past or by an ideal of what parenting should be. But when the parent listens without such formulas, there is sensitivity to what the situation actually demands. Sometimes that may mean firmness, sometimes quiet patience, sometimes simply holding the child close. The action arises in the present, not from a predetermined rule.
Similarly, consider a conflict at work. If one reacts from past grievances — “He always undermines me” — the response is already conditioned. But awareness of that conditioning allows one to meet the colleague freshly, without being bound to yesterday’s images. In such clarity, action is intelligent, not mechanical.
Living in the now does not mean rejecting the past or refusing to plan for the future. It means that neither past resentment nor future ambition dictates the present response. Knowledge may be used, but the center of action is free, flexible, and sensitive to what is.
The Subtle Trap of “Acceptance”
Many modern approaches advise us to “accept” our psychological pain, suggesting that by doing so we’ll be freed from it. But this is still a method with a goal: “I will accept my pain now so that I will be free of it tomorrow.” This is the movement of time, of “becoming,” and the mind remains caught in the same loop.
If there were no tomorrow but only today left to live, would I still play this trick of accepting pain in the hope of a better future? Most probably not. I would look directly at the cause of my pain and understand it, which itself brings freedom, and try to live today as best as possible. This staying with pain does not mean we like it or think it’s good. It means we are no longer trying to escape it through a method. In such honest observation, the mind naturally begins to inquire: What is causing this pain? What role does thought play? When the root cause — the “self” or “ego” — is actually seen as unnecessary and harmful, the structure loses its grip. Freedom is not achieved later; it happens in the moment of seeing.
The Clarity of Crisis
In moments of real danger — when a tiger stands before us, or a car swerves suddenly into our path — the mind forgets all philosophies, ideals, and formulas. There is no time to calculate or consult an inner authority. In that intensity, action is immediate, intelligent, and free. That is why crises often bring unusual clarity — the brain operates with full attention, unclouded by memory or fear of outcome.
But daily life rarely presents such urgency. The mind, no longer pressed by immediate danger, slips back into old patterns of habit and conditioning. We fall back on formulas — “what I should do,” “what others expect,” “what worked last time” — and actions are again guided by the past or imagined futures. This is why awareness is necessary: it allows the clarity of crisis without waiting for an actual crisis. Attentiveness reveals the root of fear, desire, and conflict, and naturally brings freedom.
Freedom and Responsibility
Freedom is not about following the philosophies or ideals of others — but it is also not about creating a rigid self-made formula and living by it. Even if one tries to do only what one wants, one is still bound by that self-made rule. True psychological freedom arises when the mind is no longer tied to any formula, whether from others or oneself.
This freedom does not mean acting without care or indulging in self-centered desires. On the contrary, when the mind is free, there is acute awareness and sensitivity, from which a natural flowering of love, compassion, and intelligence arises. Freedom naturally carries responsibility — not as an imposed duty, but as the effortless expression of this love and intelligence. One sees that actions based solely on desire create conflict, whereas actions flowing from awareness and understanding are aligned with life and well-being. True freedom, therefore, is inseparable from this natural sense of responsibility.
To explore these topics more deeply, it may be helpful to read the chapters on Authority (Authority, Intellect, Emotions, and Intelligence) and Non-Duality. The full book is available to read for free on this website and may be best understood if read in its natural order.