Below, Jo Marchant shares five key insights from her new book, In Search of Now: The Science of the Present Moment.
Jo is a science journalist and author of several popular books, including The Human Cosmos: Civilization and the Stars and the New York Times bestseller Cure: A Journey Into the Science of Mind over Body.
What’s the big idea?
“Now” is all around us. The present is something your brain actively creates by weaving together perception, memory, and action. In doing so, we build reality, moment by moment.
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1. Now is in you, not out in the world.
What is “now”? We often think of it as a point in time…a moving boundary, squeezed between past and future. A time when things happen, out in the world. But the present moment isn’t a time at all. It’s a perspective: something you create.
Neuroscience shows that our experience of the present moment can vary wildly. Take Lara, who has a brain disorder called akinetopsia. For her, time doesn’t move smoothly; it jolts from one frozen instant to the next. When she pours tea, the liquid stops in mid-air before suddenly overflowing the cup. If she tries to cross the street, she might see a car stopped in the distance, then right in front of her.
Lara’s experience shows that our smooth sense of Now isn’t inevitable. We work hard to build it, and it can go wrong. Research shows we can perceive things that haven’t happened yet or don’t exist at all, or experience events in a different order from how they occurred. Our brains are constantly guessing, predicting, and carving out a coherent flow of experience from a chaotic jumble of sensations.
Physicists don’t find any special moment in the universe when things actually “happen.” There is no shared cosmic clock. When you lose yourself in a task, react before thinking, or a crisis unfolds in slow motion, you’re directing your own unfolding of Now. So, if you ever feel rushed or overwhelmed by events, try pausing. Take a breath and consciously shift your attention to what matters most. You have more control than you think.
2. Each moment, we weave ourselves from time.
Have you ever wondered how we can hold so many layers of feeling and connection within one moment? In fact, we never experience time as a linear path. Each moment of our lives is like a tapestry, woven from strands across multiple timescales. Philosopher William James described consciousness as a “stream”—a flowing river, with all its eddies and currents.
Neuroscientists have found that our brains integrate information over milliseconds, seconds, minutes, and even years, binding together lasting memories and future plans with more immediate sensations and beliefs. You might taste your coffee, recall a childhood memory, hear a song, and anticipate a friend’s arrival—all woven together into a single experience of Now.
“If anything defines what it means to be human, it’s our remarkable ability to draw meaning from time.”
This weaving gives us our sense of self with a past, present, and future. When those threads fall apart, our identity does too. In schizophrenia, people can become less able to integrate different timescales and can feel as if they’re a different person from one moment to the next. Taking psychedelic drugs can also dissolve our experience of time and self, in a phenomenon known as ego death.
If anything defines what it means to be human, it’s our remarkable ability to draw meaning from time. When you listen to music, the notes only make sense as part of a longer phrase or piece. To recognize an old friend, you’re drawing on not just today’s meeting but a rich history of shared moments.
It’s a reminder that in our relationship with Now, balance matters. Mindfulness teaches us to let go of the baggage of past and future, to focus purely on the present. But it’s precisely in those threads of time—our stories, relationships, memories—that we find who we are. As you go about your day, notice the tapestry you’re weaving. Your “self” isn’t finished or fixed; it’s a living, evolving work of art.
3. Memories are stories we tell ourselves now.
We often think of memory as a recording that plays back what happened in the past. But research shows we’re not reading, we’re writing: our memories are made fresh each time we remember.
For example, after a plane crash in Amsterdam, psychologists asked locals to recall details from the TV footage of the disaster. Most people vividly remembered seeing it. Except, the footage didn’t exist. Their memories were convincing fabrications: stories based on the psychologists’ suggestions.
Such false memories appear everywhere, from lab experiments to childhood scenes to witness statements. Even “true” memories can include bogus information, such as parts of a scene that weren’t visible to us at the time. That’s because whenever you remember, your brain isn’t accessing a record or file, but rather creating a new experience. This process depends not only on your past, but who you are now: your beliefs, mood, situation. That’s why different people can recall the same event differently, or why a memory can change over time. Neuroscientists have found that the brain networks most active when we remember the past are those responsible for imagination.
“This process depends not only on your past, but who you are now: your beliefs, mood, situation.”
By recognizing how creative memories are, perhaps we can be more forgiving and curious when our recollections don’t match up with others. And rather than being ruled by the past, we can use our memories to heal and grow: by nurturing positive experiences, letting go of difficult ones, or trying out new perspectives and possibilities. It can be hard to accept that memories aren’t faithful records. But that was never their purpose. Memory evolved not to preserve the past, but to guide us in the present.
4. You’re in a dance with the world.
We often think of our minds as locked inside our heads. But our experience of each moment depends not just on our brains but also on how we physically move our bodies in the world, and on how the world responds. To see, hear, touch, or taste, we must do something: dart our eyes, brush our fingers across a surface, tilt our head. How the world appears to us will depend on the actions we take. Each moment feels radically different for a child, or a musician, or an athlete, because different physical possibilities are open to them.
It’s a process that reaches across time. What we perceive in each moment depends not just on what we’re doing or sensing right now, but on what similar movements and sensations have meant for us in the past. Take the story of Michael May: after decades of blindness, he had surgery to restore sight in one eye. But when he took off the bandages, he couldn’t recognize anything. He saw no friendly faces, or ticking clocks, or steaming mugs of tea—just a confusing mess of shapes and colors. Without a lifetime of bodily experience to make sense of the visual signals, he couldn’t understand what he saw.
We can never see beyond our physical ability to interact with the world. You could see this reliance on our bodies as a limitation, but I think it makes life worth living. When you walk barefoot on grass, or ease into a warm bath after a long day, or share a hug with a friend, you’re not just observing events. You’re fully immersed, bringing your full self—your body, your history—into that moment.
So, if you’re struggling to feel connected, try tuning in to your senses: the brush of silk, the crunch of leaves, the sparkle of sunlight on water. Feel yourself meeting the world. In every tiny interaction, there’s an invitation to dance.
5. We are building reality…moment by moment.
It’s easy to think of reality as something solid while dismissing our personal experiences as fleeting illusions. But some scientists and philosophers suggest that the moments we build aren’t just private hallucinations in our heads—they help shape what exists.
Take quantum physics, where what experimenters find depends on how they decide to look. This is often seen as a paradox: How could physicists’ choices influence what’s there? But isn’t this exactly what we all experience in our lives every day? When we pour a coffee, book a holiday, or cast a vote, our decisions open possibilities in the world. Far from quantum weirdness, perhaps the physicists’ results reflect a fundamental truth: reality was never just sitting there, nailed down before we reached out to look.
“When we pour a coffee, book a holiday, or cast a vote, our decisions open possibilities in the world.”
You can see this view echoed in many traditional cultures. The Aymara people of Chile don’t see the future as laid out in front of them, as we might, but as hidden behind them, unknowable until it happens. The Amondawa people of the Amazon also focus on the present, taking new names throughout their lives depending on their changing circumstances. They have no clocks, or even a word for “time.”
These perspectives are circling a radical idea: through our actions in each moment, we’re not just observing the universe but helping to create what comes next. I think this is a hopeful message. Through how we engage with the world, we make a difference in ways both small and large for those around us. If you’re feeling powerless, try noticing how every choice, every act of attention, every moment of connection, ripples outward, shaping not just your own experience but the reality you share with others. Working together, we help decide what’s in the world, and where it can go next.
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