You are in the meeting. You are also preparing for the next meeting. You are with your family. You are also, in the background register that never quiets, monitoring the situation that required you to be available even now.
The body is in one place. The attention is in several. The moment that is actually happening receives a fraction of the capacity that is nominally present in it.
The Yoga Sutras identify this as Samskara activity — the pull of accumulated mental impressions drawing attention away from the present into the past and future. Every unresolved concern, every anticipated threat is a claim on present attention.
The Taittiriya Upanishad's instruction contains a sentence easy to read past: Let the moments of this day not pass without reflection. Not preparation for the next day. The moments of this day — as they are passing — as the content of your life, not as the space between the actual life that happens somewhere else, in some future arrival that keeps moving forward as you approach it.
The present moment does not announce itself as significant. It arrives as the ordinary texture of experience and is usually dismissed in favour of something more apparently important that is not happening yet. The most significant moments of a life are rarely the ones recognised as significant in advance. They are the ordinary moments that were, by some grace or practice, inhabited fully enough to reveal what ordinary moments contain.