Ihave an unusual relationship with time. It's December, yet I'm living in April and ready to flip my mental calendar to June. Sound familiar? In events, as in publishing, thinking months ahead is imperative for success. But the danger is — for me at least — that it's far too easy to slip into being in the future rather than just planning for it.

During a recent mad dash to school, my newly minted teen was head down, pacing in ever faster circles around the kitchen island — a tell for when he's ruminating. I stood in his path to catch and hold him, and he dissolved into tears in my arms. The poor kid had just landed a coveted part in the play at his new school and was worried about balancing a busy rehearsal schedule, which he hadn't yet seen, with homework he hadn't yet been assigned and time for new friends he hadn't yet made.

We ran through a few tricks to quell his immediate anxiety and, crisis managed, I pointed out that he was breaking his own heart by panicking about a future that existed only in his imagination. I told him that in that moment, everything was fine. He was fed, safe, warm, and loved beyond measure. He's resilient and capable of facing anything. Finding peace was entirely in his control.

Later that night, he slept while I stared at my dark ceiling trying to keep the items on my mental task list from slipping through my fingers lest I make a minor mistake and as a result, live out my days on a cold park bench. It struck me that I needed to take my own advice.

Buddhist tradition says this moment, right now, is the only one that exists. The past is gone. The future isn't here. And while we should learn from the past and plan for the future, dwelling in either of those places only leads to sleepless nights and needlessly worn kitchen floors.

But self-torture isn't the only thing keeping us up at night. Torture from outside forces can be just as exquisite. I recently spoke with someone who specializes in helping executives with ADHD heal from burnout. She theorizes that the pace of our society and the constant disparate input that pulls us in too many directions at once makes even those of us who don't have ADHD appear as if we did. She said the solution is combatting our mind's tendency to latch on to the next shiny thing. How do you do that? The same way you combat anxiety: pause and be present in the moment.

I laughed. She obviously hadn't seen my to-do list because there is no room on it for “pause.” And she relented, saying that mindfulness will in no way solve our problems, but it will change our relationship with them. Another thing she suggested? We should set serious boundaries around apps designed to overstimulate us and keep us out of touch with reality, and put that phone down.

A few months ago, eight design professionals put their phones down to join our editorial team in judging the incredible environments that were entered into EXHIBITOR magazine's 2024 Exhibit Design Award competition. The experience of being immersed in some of the best work to come out of an industry we love held us in the moment. We had a goal to achieve, but the bonding and spontaneous fun that came from committing to being present together was entirely unplanned. When the day ended, our jurors had awarded 13 designs, recognizing those that engaged event attendees in fresh, sometimes audacious, ways. Get inspired here.

In the new year, in addition to providing more of the career-expanding education you rely on, expect us to continue celebrating the daring darlings of our industry and their bold take on designing experiences. Because if we agree that we're going to spend more time in 2025 living in the moment, at least some of those moments should be spectacular. E