I found myself writing about mindfulness this morning, about an exercise I sometimes lead people through.
Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in and let it all out. Take another one in and let it out. Settle into where you’re sitting, make yourself as comfortable as possible.
How many sounds can you hear? Keep breathing. Focus on one sound and then another as your attention moves.
(The staccato sound of a bird; the refrigerator’s hum. A clock, ticking in the kitchen; a car door slamming shut. My very own breath, the clicking of my keyboard; the car revving and then idling. A new bird’s song.)
It is so easy to It is so easy for me to worry about the past and about the future. I have always been that way. So easy to think about the things I might have done differently, so easy to think about the things I might be able to do to control an outcome, to prevent a hurt. But in doing that, over the years, I’ve made myself smaller; I’ve contorted myself – my body, my desires, my dreams – into a box.
I’ve unlearned a lot of that. But of course learning is long, and there is so much of it. Rabbit holes of worry are everywhere.
There isn’t anything particular on my mind, but it’s good to remember how valuable it is to be present. Today, I’ll try to remember to just listen. To not worry about what’s coming; to not dwell on the days that have already passed. To let the car doors and the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock be my grounding, instead.
It’s the first Monday of June. If you close your eyes, what does your world sound like right now, wherever you are?