being present

I've been thinking about awareness and what it means to stay in the present moment. I spend the vast majority of my moments physically present but mentally elsewhere--often either worrying about the future or reliving the past.

It's not a new topic for me. I especially ponder these things when I am returning to a meditation practice after a long absence. In this case, a new and fertile context in which to practice mindfulness is as caregiver to my parents, who have both been quite ill in recent months.

Today, I was watching a YouTube video of one of my father's violin teachers, Jascha Heifetz, as he played a famous and extremely challenging work from memory in a recording studio. He did it in one take:

It is not a flawless performance. In this day and age, a recording engineer would surely be tempted to go in and "clean up" a few little imperfections here and there. But what stands out for me in this and virtually every recording I've ever heard from this violinist, even beyond his evident skill and artistry, is his incredible focus. Whenever he is playing the violin, Mr. Heifetz is a shining example of a human being in flow, fully present, from moment to moment.

It is essential to cultivate this kind of awareness in performing. Even an instant of reaching back in memory to a passage you already played (perhaps differently than you expected) or getting ahead of yourself and dropping your concentration out of sheer relief, once you make it through a particularly difficult passage or when the end is finally in sight, can cause an entire performance to unravel.

I have reminded students and choirs many times of this very phenomenon just before they go on stage: Stay focused; stay present. If something happens that you don't like or didn't expect--whether good or bad--don't dwell on it; don't get stuck there. It's not the time to investigate. You can reflect on it later. Stay with what you are actually singing or playing, not what you already did or will be doing in a few moments.

While I have sporadically attempted mindfulness meditation during some periods of my life and found it to be a valuable practice, I'm a long way from what anyone could call an experienced mediator in any classic, formal sense. But I am an experienced musician, teacher, and performer and the child of two even more experienced musicians, teachers, and performers. I grew up in an environment which was focused on making beautiful music. So my Epiphany for today is that I have far more experience in mindfulness practice than I had previously recognized.

What are the areas of your life or the activities during which you feel most fully present and alive?

Is the time ever right?

Waiting for the right time is a favorite excuse of mine, effectively combining two vices with which I have a long history: procrastination and perfectionism.

Why haven't I done it yet? The time isn't right. It's too soon or too late. Or perhaps its too hot, too cold, too risky, too silly, too difficult, too obscure, too tedious, too overwhelming, too uncertain, too time-consuming, too distracting, too frustrating, too complicated, too easy, or too ridiculous. Alternately, maybe I'm too old, too young, too tired, too wired, too busy, too uncertain, too scared, or too angry to do whatever it is. In any case, I'm waiting for ideal conditions which will never arrive.

Yes, there are legitimate reasons not to do things or inappropriate times to attempt them. But let's be honest: that isn't what's holding things up. Not everything is worth doing, and certainly one person can only do so much. It's important to pay attention to all those possibilities.
 
For me, procrastination is too often wrapped up in the fantasy that if I can somehow do everything just right, all the puzzle pieces will finally fall into place. Everything will magically get done, and then I can begin to make conscious choices about what to do next. In spite of what I may want to believe, this isn't optimism; it's delusion.  

The ability to finally make conscious choices isn't some elusive reward for slogging through weeks, months, or years of mindless quicksand. Rather, acting consciously up front allows for the possibility of a different route entirely, a more mindful path, bypassing some of that quicksand.

Since my mother's cancer diagnosis in June and my father's heart attack in January, I've systematically put aside less urgent things, some of which had already been waiting for me for a long time. The interruption to my routine served as an invitation to pause and reconsider just what is most important to me at this point in my life. Not surprisingly, the answer wasn't taking the Christmas tree down by January 6, getting my office organized, or even finding a new job. 

Crisis management is sometimes a short-term necessity. As a lifestyle, however, it is neither healthy, nor sustainable. A brief season of avoiding rather vast areas of one's life may be needed in order to keep functioning at first, but at some point you have to face the totality of your new circumstances, whether or not the hard stuff is over.

Today, I am reminding myself that not every good idea which has occurred to me, can or should be implemented. There is great value in being selective and in letting things go. More is not always better, and waiting for the perfect time to do something is effectively a decision NOT to do it without the benefit--the freedom--of truly letting go of it. It's the worst of both worlds.
 
Further, once I fall into the habit of reflexive excuse making, I have essentially shut down a whole world of creative possibilities. Maybe doing things a little differently would make them easier or better. Maybe I could do some things in stages or choose to do only a part of something. Or perhaps it's just time to focus on completely different things and let those earlier plans go entirely.

Our culture glorifies busy-ness and selflessness, so it's tempting to try to get some credit in those departments by hanging on to absurdly long to-do lists and engaging in a little self pity on the side. But as long as I stay invested in defending my misery (...or busy-ness or martyrdom), I am far more likely to focus on problems than solutions. That helps no one.

I also get caught up in perfectionism: wanting to leave things on the list until I can be certain to do them exactly right or until I have completed the previous items to my satisfaction. But that day never comes. While my intention may feel righteous, it is actually quite toxic and only adds unnecessary pressure to what may already be a difficult situation. 

Reflexive excuse-making liberally sprinkled with perfectionism, has become a huge habit of mine, and I dare say I'm not alone. Habits are, pretty much by definition, mindless... unconscious. Yet periods of high stress, such as family health crises, are times when we need to call on our inner resources to make mindful, informed choices. If you haven't already established a practice of mindfulness prior to a crisis, it's particularly easy to get lost when chaos starts swirling around you. 

My parents are not only ill at the moment, but quite overwhelmed. They need a great deal of help right now, and I have become their primary caregiver. I very much want to make conscious, informed, thoughtful, and compassionate decisions. This intention requires me to be as tuned in as possible to what's going on. The best way I know to cultivate the kind of awareness these circumstances call for is a regular practice of mindfulness meditation.

In light of this realization, I've returned to the work of one of my heroes, molecular biologist, Jon Kabat-Zinn, founding Executive Director of the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School as well as of its renowned Stress Reduction Clinic. Dr. Kabat-Zinn defines mindfulness as "moment-to-moment non-judgmental awareness, cultivated by paying attention." (You can hear him explain it a little more thoroughly here.)  

Present moment awareness is grounding, by its very nature. I can't make rational choices when I'm no longer in touch with what's actually happening right now. In a crisis, especially, it is possible to become so distracted by fears, pain, frustration, or any number of other things which seem to be engulfing you that you can lose sight of what you most need as the basis for wise decisions. 

Making choices based upon what I'm afraid may happen or what I want to avoid or fervently wish would or would not happen is risky, irrational, and further disorienting. It pulls me even farther away from who I am and what I'm about. When I begin to panic or act out of fear, dread, insecurity, or avoidance, I've lost my footing in the present. 

In continuing to negotiate my ongoing family situation, as I broaden my focus enough to better survey the bigger picture and reassess my goals and priorities in light of new realities, I cannot help but notice how different things look from today's perspective than they did only a year or two ago.

Rather than waiting around for the right time to do all the things I've put off while offering up excuses (mostly to people who aren't interested in the first place), I intend to begin to substitute--however imperfectly--the practice of mindfulness for the habit of avoidance. I'm not ready to speculate on where this renewed practice may lead, but my intuition tells be it's the right thing for me to do.

an unexpected limb

If you want to make God laugh, so the saying goes, tell Her your plans. The last time I posted in early January, it had been a rough 7 months due to my mom's health crisis, but things appeared to be looking up. Then, on January 14, my dad had a heart attack. He survived, but we almost lost him. He spent a a week in ICU followed by a month in cardiac rehab before coming home. Already an end-stage renal patient on dialysis with a history of stroke, cancer, and diabetes, life is not easy for my dad these days. And mom, who has been in cancer treatment since June of last year is no longer able to care for him in the way she once could.

Meanwhile, mom has not improved as much as expected. It appears she has more cancer, in another organ. If a biopsy confirms this diagnosis, she will soon begin new chemo treatments.

I'm struggling to (re)define my role in the current reality. When it appeared that a relatively brief period of intense, basically full-time care giving from me for my mom might get her over the worst and back to far more independent living again, I was ready to sign up for 6-8 months of that and put a temporary hold on parts of my life. Now that things have become more complicated and it's clear that this is a longer term proposition, it's time to re-think things.

In January, I imagined that I would be doing more blogging and other types of writing this year. I even envisioned "Writing" as a theme for me in 2013. As it turns out, most of my writing to date has been my almost daily journal posts on the Caring Bridge site I set up for my mom to update friends and family on her condition. (I've since expanded it to include updates on my dad's health as well.)

The year is young yet, and spring is just around the corner--a time of re-birth and new growth. Maybe I'll start a different blog that focuses on dealing with adversity. Maybe I'll write a book. Or maybe my theme for this year will become "Caregiving" or "Family" and I'll save writing as a focus for another time.

This soprano is not situated on the limb I expected to be perched upon by now, but the nature of tree climbing is such that you have to use limbs that can support your weight and which are close enough to reach from wherever you happen to be. As you proceed up the tree, you may discover things you weren't expecting which necessitate adjustments to your route or occasionally even your destination. But the act of climbing, practiced regularly and with reasonable care, is bound to make one stronger and more discerning over time. And those tree-climbing skills will surely come in handy later, when it's time to change trees.

A New Year

John Lennon famously wrote that life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. In June of 2012, my mother was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer, and I became her caregiver and companion on a healing journey. Neither of us had planned on that.

Mother has since been through chemotherapy and major surgery along with a few complications, including blood clots in both lungs which are still being treated, but she is improving. As we begin the new year, I can envision a time when mother will be able to resume most of her normal activities, and I will, in turn, resume many of the things I put on hold when caring for my parents suddenly became my top priority. This blog was one of those things.

I have been posting almost daily updates for family and friends on my mom's Caring Bridge website, and someday I may write more about my experience of these past six months, but I don't know that I'm ready to do that here or now.

In a few hours, at a follow-up appointment with mom's surgeon, we should get a better sense for how much longer I will need to be with her around the clock, but my sense is that we will begin to transition back toward more independence for my mom--and for me--in the next couple of weeks.

I intend to do more writing in 2013. I'm not yet certain what forms that writing may take or how public it will be, but I'm getting started by participating in writingyourwayhome.com's mindful writing challenge in January, in which I write down one "small stone" each day. I've decided to use my Tumblr to record these little daily observations. (You can click the grey links above for more info.)

I'm also beginning to (re-)think how best to use this blog. The ideas I had 6 months ago now feel rather distant and may no longer be the best direction. I'm only beginning to allow myself to even think about such things. It feels almost as though I'm getting ready for a long trip home after living on another planet.
 
For the time being, I just want to lay down a marker, of sorts--a placeholder. Soon I will be returning to my own home to live and returning to this place (and others) to write.

Summer Memories

I've long been interested in memories--what triggers them and how we summon them. Sights and sounds, even a fragrance like freshly cut grass can easily initiate a stroll down memory lane. 

Summers are filled with childhood memories. The ka-CHUNK of a watermelon being cut in half or the rumble of ice as it's dumped into a cooler can carry us back to family vacations or making ice cream at grandma's house.

Recently, I was fortunate enough to pick up some lovely fresh fruit at a roadside stand. Cutting into a juicy freestone peach, I remembered my grandfather calling them "clearseed" peaches. From that simple recollection, soon there stretched a whole clothesline of summer memories gently flapping in the breeze: grape Kool-Aid, outdoor roller skates, making quilt "forts," climbing trees, nursing mosquito bites, growing tomatoes, riding bikes.

Which sights, sounds, and scents of summer bring your memories bubbling to the surface? What do you love most about the this time of year? (Have you always?) Are there elements of the season you'd rather do without? I'd love to read your favorite summer memories in the comments below.

Emerging

Maybe it's the change of seasons or the fact that school is out for the summer. Perhaps it's because I'm finally tackling some projects around the house which I've been procrastinating about for an embarrassingly long time. It could have something to do with the workshop I've just signed up for or the weight I've lost. (I'm pretty sure moving the big comfy chair from my side of the bed to a more open space by the window which faces the back yard has helped.) In any case, there is subtle yet significant forward motion in my life again, for which I am most grateful.

I've never considered myself to be superstitious, but I confess a reluctance to celebrate this tiny revelation too loudly, lest the door suddenly slam shut on the lovely fresh breeze so long in coming. But I do want to acknowledge it, honor it, and enjoy it while it is here. I also intend to share it, as I can. So I invite you to join me in taking some deep cleansing breaths, as we prepare to welcome what comes.

Blessed by an Elephant

I saw an incredibly moving video tonight of an elephant who was reunited with other elephants at a sanctuary after more than two decades of living chained in isolation and clearly mistreated. One of the elephants already living in the sanctuary had been in the same circus with her nearly 25 years ago, and they recognized each other and bonded immediately. So powerful. So touching.

Elephants Reunited

How is it that we humans would even consider treating these gentle and magnificent animals with such cruelty? How does that even occur to us?


What wonderful ministry they do at elephant sanctuaries. I saw another documentary about a different elephant sanctuary once and was blown away by the work that is done there with all the beautiful animals.


How sad that these amazing places so often remain outside our awareness, while we focus our attention on far less noble pursuits.