Astronomical Clock Tower in Prague
Catching Ourselves
I saw it all the time. It was hard not to notice a pattern in many of the stories I watched.
First, someone would make a mistake that needed to be undone. Then came a plan to fix it. And finally—after a string of far-fetched justifications—time travel would happen. Whether in TV shows, movies, or books, the theme of going back in time came up again and again.
Clearly, we’re fascinated by the idea. Otherwise, why would it be so common in our entertainment?
Personally, I was always drawn in whenever time travel was part of a storyline. Yet, I couldn’t explain exactly why it resonated with me so deeply.
Maybe it’s the chance to change our past. Or maybe it’s the appeal of feeling more in control.
Eventually, I realized that in some ways, time travel is something we already do. Not physically, but mentally.
We can’t hop into a time machine or wear a magical necklace to repeat past events. But our minds can escape the present whenever we want.
We can mentally check out—dissociating without even realizing it. It’s a habit we may have picked up over time.
After all, so much of our lives involves constantly looking back or planning ahead. But sometimes, this mental time travel can pull us away from what’s actually happening right now.
When we drift into the past or future too often, we miss something important: the present moment. And that moment can quietly disappear under the weight of our own distraction.
Power of Habit
It’s easy to mentally drift when we’re bored. When routines get repetitive, it’s natural to lose interest.
But what’s strange is how something that once excited us can suddenly feel dull. Is it the repetition that drains the joy—or is it us?
Autopilot is helpful, no doubt. It lets us walk, drive, or bike without overthinking every move. Our brains rely on it to save time and energy.
Still, being on autopilot has its drawbacks. It frees our minds to wander—sometimes too much.
When we’re not paying attention, our thoughts take us out of the moment. I noticed this while teaching English in Prague.
There was a stretch of time when I felt mentally checked out. I had created the lessons, but I was bored by them.
Teaching used to excite me. But over time, it felt like I was going through the motions.
Eventually, I realized it wasn’t the content that had changed—it was my mindset. I was resisting the moment without noticing and letting my thoughts shape the whole experience.
In The Power of Habit, Charles Duhigg writes:
“Almost all of the other patterns that exist in most people’s lives—how we eat, sleep, and talk to our kids, how we unthinkingly spend our time, attention, and money—those are habits that we know exist. And once you understand that habits can change, you have the freedom and responsibility to remake them. Once you understand that habits can be rebuilt, the power of habit becomes easier to grasp and the only option left is to get to work.”
Time Stands Still
When we’re kids, time travel doesn’t matter much. Everything feels new and exciting.
But as we grow, we start chasing goals and obligations. That’s when we begin to lose touch with the simple joy of being present.
I still remember how it felt to read a book as a child. The texture of the pages, the smell of the paper, the stories that pulled me in—it was a full-body experience.
Back then, I was all in. It was like meditation: my mind focused, my imagination engaged.
But somewhere along the way, I lost that feeling. Reading became a task to finish, not a moment to savor.
It wasn’t until I read a book on Eastern philosophy that things shifted. At first, I just wanted to get through it. But something about it slowed me down.
As I read, I began to quiet my mind. I stayed with the moment—and for a brief instant, it felt like time stopped.
As usual, I was on a mission, but this was no ordinary book. With every flip of a page, I started to comprehend what it meant to actively quiet my mind and be still, despite the pull of my thoughts.
This takes a lot of time and practice, but like a sudden burst of light, I somehow got a glimpse of it in one random instance. What I did not expect was for the book I was holding to appear so vividly in my hands, the way things used to feel for me as a child.
For some reason, my perceptions were heightened and everything seemed to vibrate with life around me. I could enjoy reading once again in such a state where time stood still.
My presence gave me a sense of timelessness, and I immediately knew how powerful it can be to seek wonder in even the smallest of things. In The Light We Carry, Michelle Obama writes:
“In all my decades of staying busy, I had always presumed that my head was fully in charge of everything, including telling my hands what to do. It hadn’t really occurred to me to let things flow the opposite way. But that’s what knitting did. It reversed the flow. It buckled my churning brain into the back seat and allowed my hands to drive the car for a while. It detoured me away from my anxiety, just enough to provide some relief. Anytime I picked up those needles, I’d feel the rearrangement, my fingers doing the work, my mind trailing behind.”
Power of Now
The more I put off any chance to time travel, the more I see the positive effects of practicing presence. Understandably, I still rely on time for practical things like day-to-day tasks and responsibilities.
But at the very least, I am learning to catch myself from defaulting to autopilot mode when I can much rather enjoy the present moment itself. This shift first happened during the year I was struggling to express enthusiasm in my TEFL classes.
But soon after my enlightening discovery, I sought to reverse this by using what I learned to enhance my attitude during my classes. It did not take long for me to find out that the more energy and attention I gave in this setting, the more others opened up in return.
It became clear as day that my level of presence instantly affected the quality of my interactions. My conversations with others transformed in a deeper and more authentic way.
Students had a lot more stories to share, and I felt a greater sense of connectedness. It did not matter that I needed to repeat some course material for certain students in the same skill level.
What mattered was how much of myself I was bringing to the table. In doing so, I found the gifts of nuance, spontaneity, and improvisation—elements that bring life to any repetitive structure and loosen up any rigidness in what’s familiar.
But the only way to attain them is through full participation in the process. In The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle writes:
“Always say ‘yes’ to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say ‘yes’ to life—and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you.”
One True Present
It’s hard to embrace life when we’re unknowingly shutting it out. So maybe the real issue is our own lack of awareness when our minds keep us from opportunities sitting right in front of us.
Some might argue that the idea of presence is useless—that everyone is present and that it is impossible not to be. But in my opinion, that could not be further from the truth.
I find that hard to believe when you can literally spot the difference between someone sleepwalking through the day and someone listening to you with their undivided attention; someone drifting off to where they would rather be and someone consciously willing to show you how much they care.
It matters, and it makes a difference. This makes me think about one of my favorite movies involving time travel, Richard Curtis’ About Time.
In one scene, the main character experiences a disastrous day in which everything seems to go wrong. In the next scene, he follows his father’s advice by traveling back in time to relive that exact same day.
What he discovers is that there were numerous beautiful instances that he failed to see. He learned that in between all the bad things, there was potential for good as well—finding out for himself what it took to finally take notice and transform his one true present.
We all have this ability to travel in time, concerning ourselves about the past and future way too often. Sometimes, we can get so fixated on where we are going that we forget to appreciate where we are right now.
Because all we ever really have is this precious moment and what we choose to do with it. We can allow our mental noise and clutter to take us over, or we can do something else entirely.
Instead, we can go back to what we always knew—back to the space where we can breathe, laugh, and naturally be; back to the place where we’re always free.
