I've been thinking... Attention! Here and Now
How an island of talking birds cracked open the art of presence.
Some books don’t just offer a story — they gift us a blueprint for remembering. A way back to the present. To possibility. To what we lost in the noise of our adaptations.
This is the case for Aldous Huxley’s Island, the lesser-known counterpoint to Brave New World. If Brave New World is a warning, Island is an offering. A reimagining of what a conscious society could look like if we remembered. Not just who we are, but how to live.
In Huxley’s final novel, the citizens of the fictional island of Pala live intentionally as they integrate spiritual practices with scientific progress, raise children communally, and — most notably — train mynah birds to fly around squawking:
“Attention. Here and now.”
This was not a joke or meant to act as background noise. It is an ever-present reminder. A sonic lighthouse calling them back to shore of the present moment.
We have (mostly unconsciously) created a world that profits from our distraction.
Algorithms feed on it.
Brands mine it.
Notifications siphon it.
Somewhere between doomscrolling and deadline-chasing, our awareness is pulled away from the only place it has power: the present moment.
In modern terms? Attention is currency. And most of us are unknowingly spending it on everything but what matters, leaving ourselves wondering why we’re exhausted, uninspired, overwhelmed.
But how could we not be?
Attention is the gatekeeper for everything we get to experience.
Where attention goes, energy flows.
Where energy flows, emotion arises.
And if emotion is witnessed — clarity grows.
However, every time we hand over our attention — our very presence — we hand over our agency. We give away the steering wheel. Our power.
Because the present isn’t just a nice concept. It’s the origin point of everything. The place where past and future converge — the only space where real choice exists.
When we come back to the here and now, we’re not just "being mindful."
We’re returning to the seat of creation. To the space where we can ask the questions that shape our lives:
Am I living in alignment with my values?
Am I investing my time with people I love?
Am I doing what actually light me up?
These aren’t self-help slogans. They’re frequency tuners. Portals that only become accessible when we stop outsourcing our awareness to the next scroll, ping, or pressure.
In the now, there’s no future tripping.
No past spiraling.
Just — this.
This breath.
This moment.
This awareness.
And from this presence, this design was born.
This is my own little mynah bird.
A wearable anchor.
A pattern interrupt for our distracted age.
The word attention is filled to be grounded, solid, like a weight you can feel. But here and now is only outlined — a pause where signal pierces through the noise, one to slowly fade away.
That’s the truth of presence:
It’s always available.
But never guaranteed.
You have to choose it.
Moment by moment. Breath by breath.
Again and again.
Remember who you are,
Fellow EarthShiner