Mindful Monday - a ramble

In the United States, the last Monday in May is a day we set aside to remember those who have sacrificed their own lives defending the freedoms of others. I have read that the commemoration was begun by former slaves honoring union soldiers who were killed in the Civil War. The holiday has since gone through several transformations, with the two World Wars broadening considerably the way we approach what we now know as Memorial Day.

It's an overwhelming thing to consider deeply the atrocities of battle and what war means for those who ultimately died serving their country as well as to their families, and indeed to our society. I am ill-equipped to provide meaningful commentary other than to simply say that it felt very much in keeping with my mindfulness practice to pause and reflect on war, courage, and sacrifice during this past weekend.

The balance of my mindfulness check in is comparatively mundane. I've continued to meditate each day, but decided to pull back to only 12-15 minutes at a time. When I increased to 20 minutes per session for a while, not only did I find it more difficult to focus but I also noticed that I was beginning to view meditation as a chore or obligation and was far less likely to do any additional mediating (such as a guided meditation) elsewhere in the day.   

More is not always better (a lesson I often have a trouble with), so I'm experimenting with the time and trying to stay out of all-or-nothing territory by remaining flexible. There's a blog I've been following in recent months by a busy young woman with a family and a business who is clearly exhausted and frustrated with her life. I cannot help but notice that in an effort to gain control of the situation, she keeps adding requirements to her various disciplines, but never seems to remove or replace any of the existing ones. The list just gets longer and longer. Not only does she feel she must meditate every day, but for long periods of time, both morning and evening. She also does yoga every day and blogs every day (no matter how exhausted she is) and writes/posts a poem every day and on and on. At the same time, her resentment mounts toward anything which may interfere with these practices.

Frankly, I've been reading her blog less, recently, because it has become too painful. Part of that pain is empathy, for I have been known to enact my own version of the same phenomenon, adding requirement after requirement to my own list without pausing to consider that what I am doing is not only unnecessary--it may even be unhealthy.  Meanwhile, my loved ones look on helplessly as I dig the hole ever deeper, bristling at any suggestion that there might be a better approach. I've noticed a similar tendency in my brother.

The particulars are different for each of us, but all involve a kind of obsessive perfectionism, which I have come to learn (thanks to the work of Brene Brown and others) is a very different thing from healthy striving for excellence. Sadly, most of us these days seem to be at least somewhat complicit in the glorification of busy. It's a very bad habit.

In my case, it's often a way to deflect attention away from something else I really do need to look at or work on. I think I'm more aware of this tendency than I used to be, which gives me a better chance to address it before it gets out of hand. Yet I still let it sneak up to me, occasionally. One of the most important questions to ask myself in those moments when I insist that I have to do something is, "Is that really true?" closely followed by, "What would happen if I did it differently or not at all?"

I don't have to give up on meditating to adjust the timing to shorter sessions of fewer per week or a different type of meditative practice. I don't have to give up on half of my New Years Resolutions just because I haven't managed to accomplish them all at once. But I do need to let go of the ridiculous notion that I can - or even should - do it all. Even more absurd is the expectation that I should be able to do it all at once.

One of the things I almost entirely gave up for a while in my misguided glorification of busy was something I dearly love: reading. So I'm happy to report that I'm 90% of the way through reading a novel!

The vast majority of the reading I've done in the past 20 years has been non-fiction. For one thing, I read very slowly (especially narratives, in which I can savor each word and turn of phrase), and I find it extremely jarring to start and stop once I'm immersed in a story. Also, I find stories highly affecting and often troubling--especially violent scenes. They can occupy my thoughts and dreams for weeks or even months afterward. So I end up avoiding them, but I also miss them.

When I do finally read good fiction, I remember how much it means to me and that I'd really like to read more. I got bogged down in The Goldfinch a couple of months ago, after hearing from friends who were troubled by the ending, and I've yet to complete it. Prior to that, I had started several other books that I didn't finish, either because it was time to take them back to the library, or I got sidetracked, or I just plain couldn't get lift-off with the book. (Gilead was one example.)

I'm currently finishing The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert and have been struck by the amount of research required for this historical novel--not only of history, but of botany and even languages. Had I not heard the author talking about the book in an interview, I doubt I would have chosen such a novel to read, but now I'm almost sad that the adventure is coming to an end.

I'm delighted to be finishing the book, though, because I was beginning to think of myself as someone who just didn't do that anymore. It's funny how quickly we are willing to categorize ourselves. By January of this year, I had come to think of myself as someone who used to read novels, used to be thin, used to meditate. I could go on and on with "used to" phrases. What an odd (and limiting) way to define oneself.

Today, I'm someone who meditates regularly and who enjoys reading and blogging. I'm still very much a work in progress, but I am finding that mindfulness practice helps me not only live more fully in the present moment but also to define my life more in terms of the present and less in terms of to do lists (the future) or used to's (the past).

Well, that was quite a ramble. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say when I started to write, and I'm not sure I ever decided, but those are some of the things I've been thinking about. How about you? Any thoughts you would like to share - perhaps on Memorial Day, commitment, reading, defining your life, or something else? I'd be interested to hear them.

Mindfulness Monday - Ordinary Blessings

Oh, the irony of forgetting to do one's MINDFULNESS check-in on the appointed day--and not for the first time, either. Oh well. Let's just say that caring for aging parents can be a challenging exercise in mindfulness.

I'm continuing to meditate and doing a little better with mindful eating and moving. There's quite a bit going on this week, and I'm behind with almost everything, so mindfulness starts to feel like a luxury I can't afford, even though I don't really believe that.

I want to stay present, but notice that I am often lost in the past or worrying about the future. Yesterday, in the shower I found myself mentally rehearsing an (anticipated) argument. I wish I could say it was the first time I've ever done that.

Still, I feel more grounded than I did before I re-committed to my meditation practice at the beginning of the year. Looking at the stats on my Insight Timer (an app with which I keep track of meditation sessions) is a great reminder of how even small steps add up, over time. I've logged about 48 hours since January 1st, only 10, 15, or 20 minutes at a time.

Taking care of my father is also a reminder not to take for granted the little things in life. Dad can no longer easily walk across the room to do even the simplest task. His dietary restrictions are so complicated that it sometimes feels like he needs a team of dietitians working for him. Gone are the days of endless variety. When your kidneys stop working and your heart and brain and digestive system have all been damaged in one way or another, even food and drink that would once have been considered healthy can be fraught with peril. The common refrain, "Drink plenty of water!" no longer applies to you, for example. Day-to-day survival is dependent on being hooked up to dialysis machines every other day, hours at a time.

Recently, I do a lot of what my grandmother would have called counting my blessings. I've never actually tried to keep count, but it would take more storage than my computer has to log them all. Too often, we don't notice these gifts until they aren't around anymore.

So many ordinary blessings quietly enhance our lives until time is up, and our gifts take new forms. What little things make your life fuller, richer? What would you especially miss if it disappeared tomorrow? Be sure to enjoy it today.

Mindful Monday - Feeling Grateful

Well, I wrote it on Monday, but I forgot to add the pictures and publish it until Tuesday...

Maybe it's because my birthday is this month or because I love beautiful flowers and the return of warm weather, or perhaps it's because as a child I knew the school year was drawing to a close by now, but for whatever combination of reasons, I've always looked forward to May. I've noticed that my mindfulness practice has helped me tune in to a few of the incredible details we city dwellers can miss this time of year if we aren't careful--especially in nature.

The Biltmore Estate azalea gardens on my birthday!

I'm also finding that mindfulness and gratitude very much go hand-in-hand. Gratitude increases mindfulness; mindfulness encourages gratitude. How can you feel grateful for something you barely notice because your mind is elsewhere? Watching for reasons to be thankful is a type of mindfulness practice. Even when I wasn't meditating regularly, I kept a gratitude journal in which I recorded about 5 things I felt grateful for each day--or most days.

Keeping a gratitude journal--something I still do--can be fun, especially if you don't give yourself too many rules to follow. I fell into that trap, initially, having started the practice during a low point in my life when I wasn't in a very positive frame of mind. I read somewhere not to repeat the same gratitude twice and to challenge yourself to increase the length of your list each week. But that proved to be the recipe for a resentment journal, which wasn't at all what I had in mind.

The point isn't to challenge yourself. (Life is already plenty challenging.) It's to cultivate the habit of watching for what is good and also to remind yourself that no matter what is going wrong, there are always things going right that you can feel good about. Over time, the shift toward focusing on the good can be life changing.

Like meditating, if you decide to start a gratitude journal, there's no need to worry about doing it wrong. The important thing is simply to do it. If 5 feels like too many things to list, start with 3 or even 1. No entry is too trivial: the feeling of a breeze, the texture of fabric, the taste of ripe fruit, the sound of rustling leaves or a cat purring. If you don't want to make your list at the end of the day, you can record things as you think of them or first thing in the morning. If there's a stretch of amazing weather, write it down every day, if you like. If you have an awesome day and want to enumerate a dozen things, go for it.

If you like to write with ink in a paper journal, that's great. If it's easier for you to use an app on your phone or tablet, that works just as well. If writing or typing is a challenge, you can record daily voice memos. If you like to take pictures, you could even keep a photo journal, full of things you feel grateful for. How wonderful to create a gratitude album you can look through when feeling low! (Come to think of it, perhaps most photo albums are gratitude albums?)

If you aren't ready to commit to any of those ideas, consider simply pausing for a couple of seconds to make a mental note any time you notice yourself smiling or feeling good.

In some forms of meditation, we are encouraged to notice when our mind wanders from our chosen point of attention (often the breath) and to consciously label our thoughts, "thinking" as we refocus. Why not similarly note and label "gratitude" when we notice something we feel grateful for?  Or mentally pause to say, "thank you" each time. Author, Anne Lamott, says that you can boil down most prayers to one of three: Help, Thanks, and Wow. I'm inclined to agree. For those of us who pray, thank you is a perfect prayer, however you choose to offer it.

As for my weekly checkin, I do indeed have much to be thankful for, having just celebrated my birthday with my beloved. I'm in the mood for spring cleaning and clearing clutter. I've been walking. I'm eating more mindfully, although I've made the conscious choice to splurge quite a bit recently. I'm meditating every day and spending more time in nature, which I find both calming and inspiring. I still want do more reading and writing and do a better job of sleeping at night, but I'm optimistic about improvements in those areas in the weeks ahead.