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.