The other day, I was looking for the lid to my coffee mug. Now, I know Stanley mugs are having their big moment, but I’m all in on my lifetime-guaranteed Tervis. It keeps my coffee hot just long enough (you have to be able to drink it eventually, Yeti!), and I love the fact that I can always get a replacement lid. Years ago, there was even a shop in Pigeon Forge with every character and theme you could imagine on the mugs. Back then, they were the Stanley—and I’m not going to change teams.

On this morning, I had just gotten into the office and brewed coffee into the Monsters University Tervis my parents gave my son (that’s mine now). As the Keurig finished and it came time to put the lid on, it was gone. Nowhere. I went through my first session without the lid then came out to resume my search. A couple of my coworkers were chatting in the lobby, and I asked if they’d seen it. They hadn’t. Another sweep of my office and the lobby turned up nothing.

It wasn’t until I brewed my second cup that I spotted it—at the bottom of the trash can, under the used coffee pod I had removed before my earlier brew. I had mindlessly thrown them both away.

Of course I had.

As I gingerly reached in to rescue the lid, I was reminded of two memorable instances from high school when I had to dig my retainer out of the cafeteria trash after clearing my tray. You’d think those experiences would have taught me to take better care of my things. But, like most of us, my brain often slips into autopilot.

We go through so much of life this way, making decision after decision without really being aware. The “default mode network” is at play, and it’s not all bad; it enables the brain to accomplish other complex tasks during efforts that are routine and well-established. My nearly-continuous caffeine consumption is rote, and the Keurig and I are good friends. During such tasks, it’s not until something goes wrong that we snap back to the present and actually notice what’s happening around us.

Dr. Ellen Langer, the first woman to earn tenure in Harvard’s psychology department, tells the story of how her interest in mindfulness began: she once bumped into a mannequin and said, “Excuse me.” I think we can all relate. Now regarded by many as the “mother of mindfulness,” she finds the process of living in the moment “literally and figuratively enlivening.”

Moments like my coffee lid incident remind me that as we’re looking ahead at what we need to do for the day, we often miss what’s right in front of us. Even familiar morning surroundings might hold new opportunities if we take a moment to ground ourselves in the present. We can think on what’s ahead, but after a certain amount of preparation and thought, we have to let it come to us. The future will be there when it’s time to deal with it.

Until then, worrying about the future or ruminating on the past just burns energy we could use elsewhere. Even simply considering the future while trying to operate in the now can cause the very mistakes and delays that make our day harder. So, in the interest of keeping our lids (lol!), consider Dr. Langer’s conceptualization of mindfulness: being attuned to the present. That’s it. It doesn’t require any meditation or advanced training. Because mindfulness can be just about noticing what’s happening right now. You’ll gain more than you lose.

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