Breathe, Think, Breathe, Think, Read, Breathe, Think
Here's a thought: mind-body medicine. Hmmm...
There's something relieving about routine. So often it is suggested that we "shake it up", "do something spontaneous", or "go against the grain." While those are all worthwhile choices to be made, there is something to be said for having elements in ones daily life that are the same. Constant chaos is a force to be reckoned with, for sure, and having things to come back to, to ground yourself with, allows for the lovely moments of being still.
Reading has been the name of the game for the past couple of weeks. One of the biggest things that stuck out for me recently was in an article I read somewhere, in which the author found that some of the most successful people in history have a common practice: they sit alone for at least 20 minutes every morning.
This is something I have been attempting to cultivate for months now, with spotty success. Morning meditation, in my experience, has been bombarded by thoughts flying through my mind, thwarted by a cold breeze from the window I left open all night, the alarm going off, my roommate making aromatic coffee, and of course, me falling back asleep. Even 10 minutes can be extremely difficult under certain conditions. The main point here, is that my mind truly is chock full of stuff. (Translation: distractions.) It doesn't want to relax, it doesn't like to allow me the experience of being in the moment.
It's really amazing how much the mind yells, screams, and bangs it fists on the floor when it detects hints of you trying to see past it. It positively begs for attention, like a child throwing a tantrum in order to get what it wants. "Oh, you're about to focus on breathing and get in touch with your innermost self?... Hey, what about that project that needs finishing at work, better start the laundry, how much do you think your car is going to cost in repairs this time?, oooooo coffee?!, are you ever going to watch live coverage of a Patriots game again?... when did you shower last? ack, cold breeze! shut the window? nah, too lazy, and maybe too lazy to go on that run later, who needs fitness? but wait, I liked feeling strong again, how much effort does that take to maintain? maybe you should go to the bookstore again, they seem to have good ideas about HOW TO MAKE YOUR BRAIN SHUT UP." Ooommmmm... and begin again.
And that's the version of my inner dialogue that's having a pleasant day.
The book I'm currently buried in makes some solid points about how the mind doesn't tend to live in the present. Ever. It has no idea what "is", but it certainly has a way of obsessing about the have-beens and the what-ifs. It's always focused on linear time in some capacity, and on thinking and analyzing. We are taught, largely through schooling, that time is of the essence, and most things can be sorted out in a linear fashion. Cause and effect happens one after the other, this person came before that person, and in order to have six, you must first have one through five. This type of thinking, while extremely valuable, seriously depletes one's experience of everything as it is.
What is this moment? How does it feel? What's it made of?
Getting in touch with that brings a serenity and a clarity I have not found anyway else. And although I have had that "spotty" success in getting there, I persist like a madwoman because I refuse to let my mind get the better of me. The present moment is all one really has in this life. To neglect that is to ignore an entire, and perhaps the most important, facet of life on Earth. The present moment is so fleeting, and yet so vast, and I feel it's necessary to my happiness and fulfillment that I make friends with it as much as possible.
There's something relieving about routine. So often it is suggested that we "shake it up", "do something spontaneous", or "go against the grain." While those are all worthwhile choices to be made, there is something to be said for having elements in ones daily life that are the same. Constant chaos is a force to be reckoned with, for sure, and having things to come back to, to ground yourself with, allows for the lovely moments of being still.
Reading has been the name of the game for the past couple of weeks. One of the biggest things that stuck out for me recently was in an article I read somewhere, in which the author found that some of the most successful people in history have a common practice: they sit alone for at least 20 minutes every morning.
This is something I have been attempting to cultivate for months now, with spotty success. Morning meditation, in my experience, has been bombarded by thoughts flying through my mind, thwarted by a cold breeze from the window I left open all night, the alarm going off, my roommate making aromatic coffee, and of course, me falling back asleep. Even 10 minutes can be extremely difficult under certain conditions. The main point here, is that my mind truly is chock full of stuff. (Translation: distractions.) It doesn't want to relax, it doesn't like to allow me the experience of being in the moment.
It's really amazing how much the mind yells, screams, and bangs it fists on the floor when it detects hints of you trying to see past it. It positively begs for attention, like a child throwing a tantrum in order to get what it wants. "Oh, you're about to focus on breathing and get in touch with your innermost self?... Hey, what about that project that needs finishing at work, better start the laundry, how much do you think your car is going to cost in repairs this time?, oooooo coffee?!, are you ever going to watch live coverage of a Patriots game again?... when did you shower last? ack, cold breeze! shut the window? nah, too lazy, and maybe too lazy to go on that run later, who needs fitness? but wait, I liked feeling strong again, how much effort does that take to maintain? maybe you should go to the bookstore again, they seem to have good ideas about HOW TO MAKE YOUR BRAIN SHUT UP." Ooommmmm... and begin again.
And that's the version of my inner dialogue that's having a pleasant day.
The book I'm currently buried in makes some solid points about how the mind doesn't tend to live in the present. Ever. It has no idea what "is", but it certainly has a way of obsessing about the have-beens and the what-ifs. It's always focused on linear time in some capacity, and on thinking and analyzing. We are taught, largely through schooling, that time is of the essence, and most things can be sorted out in a linear fashion. Cause and effect happens one after the other, this person came before that person, and in order to have six, you must first have one through five. This type of thinking, while extremely valuable, seriously depletes one's experience of everything as it is.
What is this moment? How does it feel? What's it made of?
Getting in touch with that brings a serenity and a clarity I have not found anyway else. And although I have had that "spotty" success in getting there, I persist like a madwoman because I refuse to let my mind get the better of me. The present moment is all one really has in this life. To neglect that is to ignore an entire, and perhaps the most important, facet of life on Earth. The present moment is so fleeting, and yet so vast, and I feel it's necessary to my happiness and fulfillment that I make friends with it as much as possible.
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