Be Here Now: Why the Present Moment Feels So Hard to Remember

This reflection came from a moment in conversation that lingered longer than expected.

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Be… here… now.

We hear this everywhere—on wellness posts, in yoga classes, whispered like a sacred reminder. Be in the present. All we truly have is the present.

And yet Kelly challenged my belief system this week when she said something that stopped me in my tracks:

When you are fully in the present moment, you don’t remember much. You only remember the things that trigger you.

Wait—what?

How could that be? I don’t want a life where the only things I remember are the hard or painful moments.

Where do you notice yourself trying to remember instead of simply being there?

For argument’s sake, of course, I still remember the beautiful parts of my life—my wedding, the birth of my children, moments of joy and connection. But those memories take a moment to conjure up.

Meanwhile, the triggering ones? They rise to the surface instantly, uninvited and fully charged.

And here’s the thing: there’s a reason for that.

As human beings, we are wired for survival. Our minds automatically scan for danger because, thousands of years ago, noticing the threat kept us alive.

Negative or triggering experiences get stored with a kind of urgency, as if our brain is saying, “Remember this so it doesn’t happen again.”

Being present, on the other hand, does not demand your attention. It allows it.

Presence whispers.

Fear shouts.

In our latest podcast episode, "Triggers are the things you remember", we explored this idea that when your nervous system is calm and open, your brain doesn't feel the need to "stamp" the moment with the same urgency as a threat.

When you’re truly in the moment, your body isn’t activating alarm systems. You’re not rehearsing worst-case scenarios. Your nervous system is calm and open. And because there’s no threat to solve, the brain doesn’t feel the need to stamp the moment into memory with the same force.

Think about a peaceful day at the beach with your family. You likely won’t recall every detail or every hour. But you’ll go to bed that night with a smile on your face and a quiet sense of how fast the day flew by. The memory is felt more than recorded.

And maybe that’s the point.

Presence isn’t about collecting moments—it’s about experiencing them. It’s about letting life flow smoothly without gripping it so tightly. It’s about trusting that the good is happening, even if it doesn’t replay in crisp detail. The gift of midlife, I am finding, is experiencing more of these moments.

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If this reflection feels familiar, it’s because this is the kind of noticing we practice inside A Year To Be You. Not fixing. Not forcing clarity. Just learning how to stay present with yourself long enough to feel what’s already there.

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So the next time someone asks what you did over the weekend, and you have no idea?

Just smile and say, “I was in the present.”