My three-month old son is sleeping beside me as I write this. Infants are great examples of living in the present moment. When he is hungry—he cries. When he is full—he stops eating. When he is tired—he cries and then falls asleep. When he wants to poop or pee—he poops and pees.
At this point, his brain is already quite well developed and he is an amazing little scientist taking in new information. But he hasn’t quite moved to the point of manipulation. He has no hidden agenda, he is completely and utterly present in each moment.
As I watch him sleep, I think of how my brain races from one thought to the next. I’m trying to text on my phone, while feeding him, jotting notes in my book and eating my breakfast. Not staying much in the present moment.
But then I stop and breath with him. He has a touch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he knows he’s helped to bring me back into my own awareness. We are breathing together. I am aware of my breath. I am aware of his breath. I am in that moment.