Living in the Present

It was 2019, a day I had envisioned countless times over the past five years, the day of my final PhD viva voce. I had prepared rigorously, pouring over every detail of my research, fine-tuning every slide, and imagining the questions I might be asked. I was confident and ready. Everything was perfect. That is, until the viva started.I delivered my presentation flawlessly, or so I thought. But the moment the external examiner asked the first question, my mind froze. Suddenly, all the confidence I had built over years of preparation evaporated. I couldn’t think clearly and started panicking. Random, disjointed answers spilled out, each one more off-point than the last. I could see it happening, knew I was going wrong, but I felt powerless to stop it. My mind spiralled into a chaotic future—imagining the embarrassment of failing my viva, the disappointment of my mentors, the wasted years of effort. I was stuck in my own head, spiraling further away from the present moment.And then, a quiet but firm voice inside me whispered, breathe deep.I took a moment to stop. I inhaled slowly, letting my lungs fill completely, and exhaled just as slowly. I reached for the glass of water, allowing the cold liquid to ground me. In those few seconds, something shifted. My mind cleared, and I came back to the room, to the moment. I returned to the examiner’s questions, answering them calmly, confidently, and to the point. What had felt like an impossible situation a few minutes ago now seemed manageable.Reflecting on that experience, I realised what had happened. I had allowed my mind to drift to a future that didn’t exist yet, imagining the moment I would receive my PhD, or worse, imagining the moment I wouldn’t. In doing so, I lost my anchor to the present, where I had the power to act and change the outcome.Interestingly, this same principle of being in the present seemed to play out on a much larger stage when Ding Liren, the defending World Chess Champion, faced a pivotal moment against the young prodigy Gukesh Dommaraju. Ding was in control, his position strong, his strategy flawless. But then, in an instant, he made a move that changed the course of the game—and his career. That one move handed Gukesh the victory, catapulting the young champion into the spotlight.What happened to Ding Liren in that crucial moment? Perhaps his mind, like mine during my viva, wandered away from the present. He may have begun calculating how the game would end, seeing himself as the victor or, worse, fearing defeat. In that split-second lapse of focus, the present slipped away, and the game was lost.Swami Chinmayananda once said, ’Being in the present means to fully focus on the here and now, completely aware of the current moment without dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.’ This simple yet profound philosophy highlights that the present is the only time where true action and creation can occur.Both my viva and Ding’s chess match taught me the same essential truth: the power of the present moment. It is only when we ground ourselves in the here and now—free from the clutter of what was or what might be—that we can act with clarity, purpose, and success.Moments of panic, doubt, and distraction are inevitable, but so is our ability to bring ourselves back. All it takes is a deep breath, a pause, and a return to the present. After all, life happens here, not in the past or future, but in this very moment.