“The Sufi is the present moment’s son; Talk of “tomorrow” Sufis learn to shun,” said Molana Jalal al-DinRumi (1207-1273). Sufi saints have advised for centuries what the modern thinkers speak of to help us improve our mental health and boost happiness – living in the present moment.

In Sufi philosophy, the concept of time is often viewed through the lens of the “Son of the Moment” (Ibnu’l-Waqt). Sufis saints have constantly urged their followers to stay anchored in the reality of the present moment. Past is a stack of memories from which one may draw valuable lessons for life. The future is a projection of our thoughts, aspirations, prejudices and fears. The only reality is our presence in the present moment. One may learn from the past, one may make cautious arrangements for the future to keep life comfortable. But truly, life pulsates and breathes only in this present moment.

The Jawami Adab al-Sufiyya (A Collection of Sufi Rules of Conduct), the seminal 10th-century treatise by the Persian mystic Hazrat Abu Abd al-Rahman al-Sulami (947–1021) says this about the value of the moment, “To be preoccupied with a past moment is to lose a second moment.” One often reads news reports of experiences of aged people, who say their biggest regret in life is that they did not realize that life would pass by so quickly. They wish they had more time to engage themselves with things that truly held value for them, instead of whiling it away nursing jealousies, grudges and other trivial human emotions. Every moment that passes by is a fraction of life gone by.

It is said that a mighty king once asked a wise Sufi to create a ring for him that would make him happy when he was sad and make him feel sad when he was happy. The Sufi smiled and after some days, brought for him a simple gold band with an inscription on it. The inscription read: “This too shall pass.” When the king was delighted about something, he looked at the ring and realized that the joy was momentary. It made him feel gratitude for all the blessings that filled his life. At times when he was beset by distress and gloom, the inscription on the ring reminded him to stay anchored because time is cyclical.

Khwaja Abdul Khaliq al-Ghujdawani (1043–1179), a pivotal Central Asian Sufi master and founder of the Naqshbandi spiritual path, coined the term Hosh dar Dam, to focus on the practice of maintaining a continuous, conscious connection with the Divine in every single breath. These Persian words are commonly used in the Indian sub-continent: Hosh for mind or awareness, Dar for within or inside, and Damfor breath. Thus, Hosh dar Dam may be understood as “Mindfulness in the Breath” or “Conscious Breathing” – the learning by which the seeker may safeguard the breath from forgetfulness of God as it moves in and out of the body.

An average healthy adult takes approximately 20,000 to 25,000 breaths per day. This is based on a resting rate of 12–18 breaths per minute, and tends to increase with physical activity, stress, or age. Each breath is a fraction of life. It is God’s gift for us that flows into us, stays for a moment and then departs forever. In Sufi thought, life is not measured by its years, but by how many of those breaths are taken with awareness.

It is said that the great mystic Hazrat Bayazid Bastami was once walking along a road when he met an old man carrying a heavy load. Bayazid asked him, “How old are you?” The man replied, “Four years old.” Hazrat Bayazid was confused. “How can that be?” he asked the old man. “You clearly have the white hair and stooped back of someone who seems to have lived eight decades.”

The old man smiled and said, “I spent seventy-six years behind the veil of forgetfulness, worried about yesterday and anxious about tomorrow. I have only truly been ‘awake’ and living in the presence of the Divine for four years. In the eyes of Truth, I only count the time I was actually present.” The old man was fortunate to have discovered the glorious presence of the Divine Beloved. Measured by this yardstick, each of us may answer for ourselves how old we are.

Mystics look at life from the lens of spiritual growth. What truly matters is how much we are able to find ourselves in the benevolent love of the Divine Almighty and keep our being rooted in His love. A dervish was once asked three questions that may seem simple, but they carry deep truths of life. “What is the most important time? Who is the most important person? What is the most important pursuit?”

The dervish replied: “The most important time is now, for it is the only time we have any power over. The most important person is the one you are with right now, for who knows if you will ever interact with another again? The most important pursuit is to do good for that person in this moment, for that is the reason we were given life.”

It is said that a seeker once complained to his teacher, “I feel life slipping through my fingers like sand.” The teacher replied, “The sand only slips because you are trying to grasp it. Open your hand. Let the air touch your palm. The sand is gone, but the hand—the capacity to feel the next moment—remains.”

In Sufi philosophy, time is viewed as a layered phenomenon. Zaman and Waqt represent fundamentally different aspects of the relationship between the soul, the physical world, and the Divine. Zaman is the linear, chronological time. It is the clock ticking – the fraction of time that constantly goes by. Waqt is the spiritual, eternal “now”. In Sufi perspective, Waqt is considered a “sharp sword”—if not used properly in the moment for God, it is lost forever.

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