Now is a gift. And there is freedom in that realization. Instead of always wanting a different now, one in which we aren't stuck in traffic, one in which we aren't in the doctor's waiting room, one in which we aren't lying in bed with the flu, one in which we aren't quarantined because we're radioactive, shouldn't we be thankful for the now we have?
The problem is that the now we're in might be unpleasant or not as nice as the now we imagine. We compare our current nows to ones in which we are at the beach or drinking margueritas on the deck of some Muskoka cottage or a now in which our baby sleeps soundly all night. But what we forget is that we are not owed anything. We forget that every now is a privilege and even the unpleasant nows are better than no nows. When you're told you have cancer (or if your plane is going down into the Atlantic Ocean), you realize this even more. Every now is real and, therefore, wonderful.