Mindful Strides

Mindfulness, the phenomenon of truly being conscious and aware, too often lingers in the shadows of our perceived realities like a ghost. It lets you know its there through that in-explainable urge to choose one path over the other with the confidence of an omniscient being. It even lets you see it at those moments when you realize you’re truly happy, so happy that it feels as though your heart is smiling and your entire body may literally burst with joy.

And then it fades back into the shadows, hidden by the stress from work, by the worry over being able to pay bills, by television and morning talk shows, and by the ever-running lists of things we need to do, or buy, or say, or remember.

Multi-tasking and filling our lives with things we need to do may seem important, and aware, and conscious, but it puts us into an auto-pilot mode, a character that we make go through the motions we believe it should.

“It is important that I make a six-figure salary, even if it means I have to work 60 hours a week.”

“I am aware of what you said, but I will not take it into earnest consideration because I do not care to have my current beliefs proven wrong.”

“I’m consciously driving home from work while thinking about today’s upset client, what I shall make for dinner, having to wake up early tomorrow morning for a conference call, and if I should buy that supplement I heard about this morning on the radio. Oh wait, how did I get home so fast?”

We are all born into established systems, no matter what those systems may look like for different people, and so we are all fed a lifestyle and a belief system from the time we first open our eyes. We are taught about the world and about life from within the confines of these systems and learn that this model that we are presented is what life is.

Many don’t ever have the opportunity to question this. Mindfulness is a shift in perspective, some alternative thought to your brain’s habitual way of processing that triggers you to stop, to recognize, and to further consider that thought. But mindful moments too often happen and then quickly fade away as the ghost of the past, allowing you to go back to your constructed way of living and thinking.

To be mindful in life requires practicing mindfulness, over and over again, daily, hourly, over weeks and months and for the rest of our lives. And the more we practice, the more habitual it becomes and thus, the easier it becomes as well.

I often feel as though I walk through life in a daze; perhaps my indifference is numbing. However, each time I experience a mindful moment, it’s like a ray of light clearing the way to a bright blue sky within the clouds, and I remember and wish it could always be that way.

And it can.

And although the skies of some may be darker than those of others’, we all have the ability to intensify our lights and break up our clouds.

And that is why I have learned to take mindful strides.

I have decided that the burning sun within me will rise, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and I too must lay my foundations first.

Although a philosopher or a yogi may argue that a full sunrise, total enlightenment, lies far beyond the physical world, I have found that the physical world is a wonderful place to begin. After all, if we can’t focus on nor embrace the reality we are most familiar with, then how can we ever go beyond it?

There are certain simple enjoyments I have found in life that act as a sort of reset button for my mind and that are easy and accessible enough to enjoy regularly. These began as things I discovered by chance, things I took notice of as I first began experimenting with mediation. They are small acts that bring focus to the body through the five senses, because by bringing focus to something that is familiar and easy to focus on, my mind calms and clears enough to notice that there is blue beyond the haze.

I bring focus to my body through sight.

For most of us, our sight is our strongest sense and leads us through the world. It shows us the beauty of nature and of human creation, and a good dose of something beautiful to look at, whether from a mountain peak or in an art museum, is always good for the soul.

But sight is such a normalcy. It is something we rely on so heavily on the journey through life that I find I learn more when I focus on its absence.

To close our eyes, for those who’s work as mine, is to find ourselves in a completely different world, suddenly rendered helpless and scared and unaware of our surroundings. We become vulnerable, but we also become hyper-aware of our other senses.

I like to close my eyes when I’m in nature, to feel and smell and hear and perhaps even taste the trees and the water and the wind and the planes around me. I first enjoy the sight of nature, but then I also enjoy the other sensations and interpretations that my body provides me.

I stood as a tree

Grounded to our same mother

We swayed in the wind

I acknowledge that I am present, experiencing this physical sensation that my body has granted me.

I bring focus to my body through touch.

I remember always wanting to be barefoot as a child. I didn’t have a reason for it then, but it somehow felt good and made me happy. Later in life, I learned about the technique of grounding where a flow of electrons is facilitated through the contact of bare feet to the earth. I practice it as frequently as possible.

Toes in warm sand, or perhaps in an ice-cold creek.

Grass padding the balls of my feet as I run through the park with my dog.

Squishing through soft mud in the rain forest valley, feeling it push itself through the spaces between my toes and encase the lines of my feet all the way up to my calves. Smooth, yet heavy, I feel mud brush against the soles of my feet, the sides, the tops, the ankles.

I focus on these touches. I feel the earth on my feet, and I bring attention to that sensation.

I acknowledge that I am present, experiencing this physical sensation that my body has granted me.

I bring focus to my body through smell.

Our favorite smells bring a simple, yet undeniable joy and warmth. For me it’s the smells of rain, of fresh cut grass, and even of cow manure because it reminds me of the small German town I first lived in.

I close my eyes to heighten the sense and use my mind’s eye to envision the source. I breathe deep and recognize that I am present in the same space and moment as the source of this smell. I relax, if just for a brief moment, and allow the warmth to fill every limb and crevice of my body before breaking this pause with a grateful smile.

I acknowledge that I am present, experiencing this physical sensation that my body has granted me.

I bring focus to my body through taste.

Overly indulging in food has long been a struggle of mine and an appreciation for flavor was nothing I had to learn. However, learning to use an attention to the experience of tasting something in conjunction with my daily meditation practice required me to approach food differently.

I’d mindlessly snack and indulge in sweets that would make me feel guilty and uncomfortable afterwards. Fast food was once acceptable and I learned how to cook by putting cheese sauce and salsa on frozen chimichangas.

Then I discovered farmer’s markets and a whole new world opened up. I began experimenting with vegetables and fruits I had never prepared and perhaps never even heard of, and I found joy in cooking. I learned to love the flavors of ingredients rather than sauces and spices, and I learned to prepare meals that made me feel good after eating. I consciously work on reminding myself to pause, chew slowly, and truly savor my dishes.

I have learned to focus on flavors as I cook, whether I first taste them on my taste buds or in my mind. When I cook, I am concentrated. I am a vegetable chopping machine and a blending queen. I focus on which flavors will complement each other and how much my body truly needs. And then I enjoy my meals, taking pride in what I’ve created.

I acknowledge that I am present, experiencing this physical sensation that my body has granted me.

I bring focus to my body through sound.

The wonder and beauty of music will always be an option here, for there is a melody that will speak to anyone’s soul. But I sometimes find even my favorite tunes to be overbearing when they get caught on repeat in the muddled noise of my mind, only darkening the clouds.

To refocus and reconnect, I learned to listen to the sounds of the world around me, whether it was the beeping of the cranes and the starting of engines in the city or the sounds of ocean waves and crickets on a country night.

One of my favorite sounds to tune into is the chirping of birds. Often, when the noise in my head gets loud, I stop and just listen, and I’m amazed at how frequently I suddenly hear beautiful bird songs just near me when a minute ago I hadn’t even realized they were there.

I acknowledge that I am present, experiencing this physical sensation that my body has granted me. I bring focus to the body to regain consciousness of my current reality in relation to the rest of existence.

I once had a mindful moment, a first parting of my clouded mind. I realized that there was more to life and existence than what I was presented, and I realized that there was a calm under the noise and clutter of my monkey mind that could help me walk a sunnier path.

The bright blue sky beyond the clouds has become my beacon on that path. Although my skies are sometimes darker and my path may become fogged, I continue taking mindful strides forward, ever confident that I will see blue skies again soon.