I often speak of developing mindfulness in our practice of yoga. When we come to the mat we are invited to slow down the busyness of our thoughts, become aware of our breath and the inner landscape of our physical, and emotional states. In doing so, we can begin to take this awareness into our daily lives, even when we don't realize we are doing so. A subtle clarity can begin to grow that gives us a perspective about life we may not have had before. The more we practise, the more it can grow.
Meditation, like yoga draws our attention inward, to the breath. Thoughts arise, we notice them and acknowledge them, and return time and time again to the breath. Over time and with practice, meditation can have many beneficial physical and emotional effects such as calming the mind, and lowering blood pressure, as well as profound shifts in one's perception of impermanence and interconnectedness.
But I also believe there are many paths to mindfulness. I'd like to share a few that have helped me along the way.
Nature. There is a wooded path close by and
I've been going for quiet walks there lately with the intention of
just being present to everything around me. When I consciously open my senses like this in nature,
all kinds of things seem to drop down inside of me. Like the
ground covered with daisies and little yellow orchids, wee apples growing on the wild apple tree, a symphony of bird
song. The soft breeze on my face, the earth beneath my feet.
It's an incredibly grounding thing to be in nature. Somehow my small little mind becomes more expansive when I take in the wonder
of everything around me. It's comforting too- somehow witnessing
those cycles of nature that happen each and every year, makes the
world seem right.
It is a time to quiet my mind. There is a palpable energy in nature that gently descends on me if I surrender the busyness of my mind, and the reminder that I am connected to the trees, the sky, the
stream, the birds. I can't live with without nature.
When I don't get out for a walk, I often look outside. I take in the changes around me, the way the sky looks, or the way the wind is moving the leaves on the trees, the shape of the moon. I open the windows to hear birdsong, or the sound of tree frogs in the summer evening. This summer I planted a container garden on our deck. Each day, I notice something new as I discover my first little cherry tomato, or the jagged bite marks on my fresh kale leaves.
Even setting a single flower bloom in a dish of water is enough to open to the miracle of life.
Photography. Recently I decided to take a basic photography course to learn more about seeing the world through fresh eyes. When I have my camera, it is often a reminder to look closely at things in ways I routinely miss. Simple things, like the way the wooden clothes pins lean this way and that as they hold my t-shirts snugly in their grip. The geometric lines made by the shadows from a walking bridge. The monarch butterfly, wings opening slowly and methodically, as it rests on the globe thistle bloom. The way the light hits the face of Buddha on my shrine in the morning.
The inquiry, and curiousness of new eyes looking at the world around me. That is the real gift of my camera.
Running. Believe it or not, this is one of the most mindful practices in my life. Contrary to reports of feeling high from all the endorphins, this definitely hasn't been my experience. Running is hard work for me, even though my pace seems minimally quicker than a fast walk! But what it has taught me, is to open to the discomfort. I've learned to gently acknowledge and hold all the chatter in my head telling me I should stop, it's too hot, I have too far to go and instead stay steady and just carry on, knowing that this too will change. I've often started a run thinking it'll be a write off, only to discover that if I stay with the discomfort long enough, it just may just change into something else. And it usually does, often with a positive ending.
Running has taught me that my predictions and assumptions are often faulty and it's way more interesting to just wait and see what unfolds. And even more importantly, that if I can stay open and steady with some suffering at some point it will inevitable change into something else. The beauty of impermanence.
Cooking. Cooking is a deeply mindful practice for me. Before I begin, I gather my ingredients together and in that moment, I always feel a rush of gratitude. Gratitude for the food that is abundantly available, the ability to have the time to make nourishing meals, the colours, smells and textures of each ingredient, the sound of my knife as I chop the vegetables, the aroma of the soup coming wafting into the kitchen.
I am always humbled and present when I cook, always deeply grateful. Love is in my food.
A Silent Meal. Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a lovely little book on "How to Eat." I keep it on our dining table and sometimes my husband or I may pick it up before the meal and read a short passage. This is from his book. A real gem.
"Happiness is possible during the meal, and silence helps enormously. You may want to pick one meal a week to eat in silence. A silent meal helps you to come back to yourself and arrive in the present moment. A truly silent meal includes turning off the noise in your head as well as finding a quiet place to enjoy your meal. You may like to choose the eat the same meal every week silently. This can be a meal you eat by yourself, or if you have family or friends who want to join you for this meal, that is wonderful. Silence helps you return to your mindful breathing. You can stop the internal mental chatter, relax, breath, and smile. Such a meal can provide many moments of happiness."
Babies and pets. For me, engaging with a baby is a true gift. Touching a baby's skin or watching a baby laugh- or cry- or sleep- or play- never fails to draw my awareness to the present moment. Babies have a way of captivating and opening my heart in a way that is like no other. They reveal life in a sacred, precious way and time seems to stand still when I'm with a baby.
Pets have a similar effect on me. Although we don't have one ourselves, I always love when our daughters bring their cats home with them for a stay. To listen to a soft purr, or gaze upon one sitting on top of the mantel with her paws tucked in, to feel the weight of a soft body leaning into my leg, or a stroke of the silky back are moments that become complete in themselves.
Often I'll stop at the pet store and spend a few moments with the kittens and cats that come in from the shelters. Speaking quietly to each one, sometimes a a little stroke of fur between the bars in the cage. It is a gift to have these moments, a mindful practice that will stay with me for hours.
Conversations. Sometimes I try to practice mindfulness in conversations and interactions with others. Listening deeply, taking in the person, opening my heart to them. It can be as brief as an exchange with the young man who is checking out my groceries, or long and deep with a daughter who needs her mom. All it takes is my full attention. Being present to another human being.
Reaching Out to Others. Continuing in this vein, some of the most mindful, life changing experiences have been when I've reached out to another, to be helpful in some way. I've experienced this in all realms of my life, from a relatively brief period of time, to years.
When I take the attention off myself, and look at the needs of someone else, it is a profoundly heart opening gift, and one that continues to call out to me.
Writing. Writing in my blog has turned out to be a very useful practice. Often on walks, I will think of a theme, and when I get home, write about it. For me, writing helps me to clarify and crystallize concepts that stay with me longer than if they were just thoughts. It helps me to ponder and/or prioritize my spiritual values and hopefully by sharing it helps others do the same. I must focus entirely on my thoughts when I write, and for me this has become a beautiful, mindful practice.
Mindful Mondays. Contemplative practice is important to me, but I admit, I don't always walk the talk. Meditation, chanting, journal/blog writing, yoga, reading spiritual teachings are all solitary practices that I value but truthfully don't take enough time to do. So for the next few weeks, I've started something called Mindful Mondays. My computer (which is my biggest distraction) is out of bounds except for writing in my blog. During this time, I'm dedicating the day to these practices. It is true luxury to have this day to devote to these activities, and I'm very grateful for this.
These are just a few of the practices that come to mind in my own life. Many are small, and need nothing more than my time. But each has a place for me, and continues to help me appreciate this precious life and live it in a mindful manner.
Perhaps one or speaks to you, or asks the question within your own heart:
"Where can I find mindfulness in my own life?"
Namaste.
Namo Amida Bu. _/l\_
