Here Now; Nothing to Grasp
In accepting what is, we let go of what isn’t.
Nothing to Grasp
I’ve been contemplating a new tattoo. I have only one, a small cursive “here now” inscribed on the inside of my forearm. I know plenty of people who are far more lavishly decorated than I, tattoo-wise, and I sometimes consider filling my arms or shoulders with art. The only persisting inclination I’ve ever really had to get tattooed, however, has been to add words to my body—words I know will forever be something I need to read, a reminder I could always stand to be reminded of.
This new tattoo inspiration has come from a book I ordered recently and have neither received nor read yet. Already I want its title engraved in my skin: “nothing to grasp.” I want to wake up with this in my mind, fill moments of my day with this incantation: [there is] nothing to grasp.
It’s the sister to my only other tattoo: here now, nothing to grasp. It’s the other half of the sentence. “Nothing To Grasp” is the book title of the writer
, an impossibly smart woman who writes in clear, artful prose about all that spiritual seekers seek: peace from suffering, ‘enlightenment’, acceptance of what is, letting go. Though the main ideas she touches upon are simple, and not anything necessarily new, she gives them a body that makes them easier to mentally comprehend and not shy away from putting these ideas into practice. Generations of people, sages, mystics, and writers go their lives discovering and forgetting what she writes about with such honest grace: this moment is all we have, all we will ever have. It could never have been any different than how it is, now, because it’s like this, now. Thus, we ought to just accept this moment, now—because this is how it is.In a nutshell, this is what Joan Tollifson is all about:
“We habitually search for special experiences, for certainty and something to grasp. But in holding on to nothing at all, there is immense openness and freedom.
Being awake as I mean it is simply an openness, a willingness to live without answers, to be here in all simplicity, to see through the stories and beliefs that create suffering and confusion or that provide false comfort, to not land in any fixed view.1
As I read these paragraphs on her website over the weekend, my heart started racing—yes, I thought, this is exactly it. This is as close to truth as I can get. It felt, at first, like I had already written these words, or maybe I’d thought them, though I am certainly not talented or clear enough to have done so in such a succinct way as she. The words I have read by Joan Tollifson thus far (she also has a Substack) resonate with something so deep inside of me that they echo: I feel as if they simply must be true. In reading these words, I’m remembering them.
There have been moments when I have experienced the truth of these words: “in holding on to nothing at all, there is immense openness and freedom.” Those moments are enough to keep me on the path, seeking more. There really is freedom and peace found in holding on to nothing at all—and, as Joan Tollifson teaches, you can experience it directly.
What is offered here [in my work] invites firsthand exploration and direct discovery, not belief or dogma. There is no finish-line, no formula, no method, only this ever-fresh aliveness, this one bottomless moment, right here, right now, just as it is.”
No formula or dogma; no finish line? Not even a belief you have to adopt? What a radical pivot from so much of status quo self-help. It’s obvious that we’ve overcomplicated that industry. There is no end to books, courses, teachers, and regimes that advise and prescribe what we should change and how we should do it. A large part of the economy relies upon self-improvements, through various avenues of spending more and more money to pamper or change aspects of ourselves.
I’ve been a willing and earnest participant in such self-improvement programs, and am undoubtedly American in my attitude toward what people want to do with their lives: if it’s not hurting anyone, it’s not my business. Lots of people reap bountiful benefits from subscribing to a variety of self-improvement methods, and derive fulfillment and community from them. The self-help industry is going nowhere, and that’s fine.
But, my goodness—how much money and time and sanity could we save by abandoning the idea that someone else has the answers to our lives? Even if some practice, person, routine, or program has helped you tremendously at one point in your life, chances are it will not continue to work in the same way forever. Life changes. Circumstances change. Desires and demands and responsibilities change. The real ability to ‘help yourself’, most of the time, lies in the ability to adapt to what life brings each moment.
Are we meant to simply just swap out practices and regimens and coaches for different ones at different stages of life? Or is there something that stands the test of time—advice for sustainable peace and satisfaction that reliably works, when practiced?
This very advice is what Joan Tollifson does best—she teaches a way toward sustainable peace and satisfaction, that is always accessible.
“What if we can relax and simply be, just as we are, which doesn’t exclude being moved to meditate, exercise, eat well, undergo psychotherapy or anything else life moves us to do, but it doesn’t require any of that either. In fact, is it ever possible to be anything other than exactly what we are in each instant?”2
Be Here Now
I am not yet 26, and cannot pretend to have decades of experience with experimentation of potentially spiritual practices. However, I’ve been experimenting, more or less, since I was 18, and I can say that the simple truths such as “be here now” and “nothing to grasp” boiled down by people like Ram Dass and Joan Tollifson, respectively, have felt the most satisfying to contemplate and experiment with. They are simultaneously the easiest and hardest to do.
The easiest, because they do not require a regime, or anything to purchase (although the right books can be instrumental), and because they can be practiced in any moment. Right now, even. In fact, “being here now” and “grasping nothing” happen simultaneously: if you are practicing being here now, really being here, you are also not holding on to anything. You are merely experiencing this moment, and then the one it gives itself over to.
These simple truths are also the hardest to put into practice, because they don’t require a regime or a set plan you follow: it’s just you and the present moment, figuring out that there’s nothing to figure out. There’s only something to feel, directly, right now. That’s it.
There is a blissful okayness to the present moment that can only be found by holding on to nothing and letting things be exactly as they are. Even for the awful moments. Joan Tollifson says of those awful moments: “when difficulties arise—a dark mood, a feeling of anxiety, a wave of depression, a sense of loneliness or boredom, physical pain, challenging circumstances—what happens if we stop thinking and ruminating about whatever it is and just let it be exactly as it is? Is that possible?”3 If this moment feels awful, and you accept it for what it is, that acceptance invites more ease inside: it’s easier to bear something when you aren’t resisting it.
Instead of being so doggedly after self-improvement—or, alternatively, being so despairing about how we ought to improve, without doing anything about it—what if we just take Tollifson’s advice, and “just let it be exactly as it is?” Carl Rogers, the late American psychotherapist, would likely agree with this advice: as he once said, “as soon as you accept yourself exactly as you are, then you can change.”
The idea is not to be passive bumps on a log throughout our lives. We will keep doing things, and ideally, what we are doing is not merely motivated by the neurotic rat race of the mind. Rather, practicing acceptance of what is can show us that we do not have to work so hard for what we say we long for: peace and okayness can be found right here. Making contact with the never-ending stream of present moments is possibly the worthiest endeavor we can give time to: it will almost certainly make us steadier, less anxious, and more able to enjoy what is here today.
If we spend more time being here now, grasping nothing, we increase our capacity to enjoy what is, and to more easily let go of what is not. We are then more able to sense if any action is needed: clarity can come from presence, away from the mind’s agenda. Presence strengthens our ability to not get lost in the mental drama that takes so much away from our potential.
Let us take Joan Tollifson’s advice:
“What if we simply lived with the reality of not knowing, the reality of vulnerability and insecurity, the reality of impermanence, the reality of being here without answers, with no authorities to tell us where we’re going or what to do? What if we stopped looking for extraordinary experiences and permanent states of unending happiness? What if we simply enjoyed ordinary life…?”4
So let us live with the reality of not knowing, of insecurity and impermanence, of vulnerability, of being here without answers.
If here now is a reminder that the only place to be is right here, right now, and thus I can remove myself from worries of the future—
Then, nothing to grasp is a reminder to loosen my grip on what I cannot control, but only accept. Here now; nothing to grasp. The second half of my only tattoo.
For good measure, here is Joan once more:
“Spiritual liberation points to the possibility of not needing a cure or explanation—simply being awake as the unvarnished bare actuality of just this, exactly as it is, rough edges and all. THIS, in fact, is all we ever really have—present experiencing, the immovable here-now, this awarding presence, just as it is, which is always right here.”5
Here now; nothing to grasp.
Again and again and again.
Maggie
From “The Simplicity of What Is”, Joan Tollifson
From, “The Freedom to be exactly as you are”, Joan Tollifson
From “The Simplicity of What Is”, Joan Tollifson
From, “The Freedom to be exactly as you are”, Joan Tollifson
I’m so glad that I am old because adapting to what life brings each moment almost comes naturally. It’s how I’ve survived.