Humans weren’t designed to have this level of constant stress and duress thrust upon us.
Take this moment as a moment to pause.
To rest.
To relax.
To breathe.
Sounds simplistic and silly sometimes, but just stay with me.
Take a deep breath in…
slowly let that breath out….
Take another slowly in…
let that one slowly out…
Feel the pause.
Feel the slightest reset.
Feel the little difference that makes all the difference.
Pour yourself a cup of tea or coffee or water or juice and hold the cup in your hand. Let yourself simply be with that single motion. Let yourself simply exist. It sounds so easy, but when done with genuine mindfulness it is powerful and profound and life-changing. It will allow you to focus on the breathing, shutting out the noise, the anger, the annoyance. It will push out the worries and strains and tensions. In their place there will be stillness and quiet and calm.
Thank you for sharing this cup of tea with me.
Thank you for visiting this space.
Thank you for sharing our time on this beautiful earth together.
This glorious concoction of eggs, ham, bacon, cheese and mayonnaise on a toasted croissant is my occasional breakfast indulgence on a weekend or holiday (or both as happened yesterday morning for Valentine’s Day). It’s one of the delectable edibles on offer at my favorite cafe – Professor Java’s.
One of the integral tenets in finding and curating happiness is regularly indulging in the savoring of things you enjoy. Not just treating yourself, but taking the time to mindfully make the most of each moment of the experience. Too often we rush and hurry to get to dessert or the weekend or a vacation, and our momentum then propels us through that goal at the same relentless pace.
It should come as no surprise that I try to find moments and little sweet treats in every day to practice savoring and slowing down, such as in this delicious French Pigwich. Far more than just a serviceable breakfast to sustain the body’s basic needs, it is an opportunity to savor the care and deliciousness that went into its creation – from the kindness of the person taking the order to the skilled culinary work of the person who made it, to the great fortune of being alive and healthy and able to sit and enjoy a leisurely breakfast on a Saturday morning.
The act and the art of savoring builds upon happiness and contentment. Little annoyances fall by the wayside. Light is always more powerful than darkness.
When the days have become horrific, and the world is in the throes of angst and agitation, all we can do is hold tight to loved ones, and take a moment to simply breathe. A daily meditation is barely enough, but it’s the enough that counts, not the barely. In the flickering candlelight, I sit on the floor and slow my breathing. Eventually, with each elongating inhalation and exhalation, the mind clears, or at least stalls its racing thoughts.
A moment of mindfulness feels as silly as it does imperative for my own mental health and emotional well-being. At fifty, I know myself well enough to know how to navigate such trying times, but this past week has been especially challenging. Mostly I’ve felt rage and anger at the injustice of it all. It’s important to acknowledge that, at least for my mental processing. I don’t say it often enough, and I don’t express it, but I know I have to get it out. Maybe this post will be enough to let the rage subside. Maybe it will be enough to let the anger go. It doesn’t fix anything, it doesn’t change the world. It makes it easier for me to reach out again to others, to be a better husband, son, brother, uncle and friend.
And I’m sad – sad at the state of our country, our world. It helps to say that out loud too.
Finally, I’m tired. Exhausted of all of it. I haven’t given up… but I’m tired. It takes a toll.
My meditations have been bracketing the days – either at the very beginning, before the sun is up, or at the very end, long after the sun has gone down. Candlelight is the only light in the room at such times – a comforting glow that cuts through the darkest times. The power of a single candle has always proven immense – there is comfort in that, in the single light we can each conjure.
The days are growing shorter and darker – the nights elongate, and the darkness expands – in service and invitation to the light, I sit lotus-style and breathe slowly in and out. One can still the world at such times, quelling the doubts and worry that creep into the dark times, and in the slowed breath, the measured exhalation, there is an expanse of peace – an inner light that pushes the noise and night aside.
Operating on autopilot, as I often do these days, is the very problematic enemy of mindfulness – the antithesis of being present in the moment. After fifty years of living, autopilot is how some of us get through the more damned of days because it’s just easier that way. It takes away the effort of actively thinking, erasing the need for focused engagement. Even those times when we should really be paying attention – the car commute to work for example – are done without real cognizance and total awareness of what’s happening.
How many of those drives do you genuinely recall? On how many rides in and out were you truly engaged and involved? I don’t even remember the one I took yesterday morning. I know it happened – I was at the office. I know it was successful – no accidents and no speeding tickets. And I know I returned home after it was over too – but what went on at the actual commute, I could not tell you.
So much of our time is lost that way, and maybe the term ‘lost’ is being too gracious and exonerating of too much blame – so much of our time is willingly given up while we allow ourselves to operate on autopilot. How much richer would our days be if we paid as much attention to our mundane maneuverings as we did to our vacations or days off?
One of the tricks to being happy is finding the joy and engagement in the present moment, even if it’s in the more hum-drum and dull of acts like the morning commute to work. A shift in perspective, a shift in appreciation – these are ways to achieve a happier countenance – and that’s a good way to begin the slide into the holiday season.
Being grateful is more than a hashtag.
Being present is more than a slogan.
It takes a but more work too, and maybe it’s worth it.
Missy gifted me the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius on my recent visit to Connecticut (more on that to come) and it’s a welcome return to the mindfulness and meditations I’ve been practicing. Daily meditation keeps my baseline at a calmer level, thereby allowing for greater moments of stress to not raise my mood into emergency territory – a very likely place to find myself in this day and age.
“For a man’s greatness lies not in wealth and station, as the vulgar believe, nor yet in his intellectual capacity, which is often associated with the meanest moral character, the most abject servility to those in high places, and arrogance to the poor and lowly; but a man’s true greatness lies in the consciousness of an honest purpose in life, founded on a just estimate of himself and everything else, on frequent self-examination, and a steady obedience to the rule which he knows to be right, without troubling himself, as the emperor says he should not, about what others may think or say, or whether they do or do not do that which he thinks and says and does.” ~ GEORGE LONG
“Some people live as though they are already dead. There are people moving around us who are consumed by their past, terrified of their future, and stuck in their anger and jealousy. They are not alive; they are just walking corpses.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Astrologers have said that the recent events in the heavens – solar and lunar eclipses, a new equinox – have created a tumultuous opportunity for growth, particularly for Virgos. I wasn’t fully aware of this, as I greeted the end of summer with a certain reticence, an emotional overload, and an overall wish that it just be over so we could get on with fall. It seems I’m tuned into such things even when I’m not, so I stumbled in wondering what the actual hell was going on in the world to make me feel so crazed. (Sadly this isn’t entirely foreign land to me.)
It is said that eclipses are times for letting go of things that no longer serve us well, and this recent one was especially about releasing those things that emotionally clutter and wear down our brain space. A good lesson and practice for any given day, made especially pertinent with the changing of seasons.
So it was that I found myself doing an early morning meditation on the first day of fall – not of intention or purpose, but of letting go.
Letting go of the icky feelings of resentment, anger, and hurt.
It’s a way of decluttering and re-organizing the head-space ~ an ideal exercise for this Virgo. It’s also a new direction as far as ease and comfort of living, and that’s always been part of the goal, hasn’t it?
Part of truly letting go is in acknowledging and examining what you are releasing, and that’s where this blog comes in handy. As one of the themes of this fall, letting go will involve getting things out of my system so I can truly be finished with them. A mental clean-up that feeds the soul of a Virgo, while claiming new territory, and new ways of moving through life. Are we ready for such a release? We shall see…
“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.”
“To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself. When you are born a lotus flower, be a beautiful lotus flower, don’t try to be a magnolia flower. If you crave acceptance and recognition and try to change yourself to fit what other people want you to be, you will suffer all your life. True happiness and true power lie in understanding yourself, accepting yourself, having confidence in yourself.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Lately I’ve been practicing my meditations in the morning, before the sun is even out, and it’s been good for setting an intention and tone for the day. The recent rainy stretch of weather has actually been a bit of a balm on this riotous Virgo heart – we definitely needed the rain – and it’s been helpful to start things off in a quiet and mindful manner. I see what all the early morning yoga fuss is about – though my body is not quite there to be so bendy quite so early in the day. One must work their way into a sling for anything to be safe these days.
“To dwell in the here and now does not mean you never think about the past or responsibly plan for the future. The idea is simply not to allow yourself to get lost in regrets about the past or worries about the future. If you are firmly grounded in the present moment, the past can be an object of inquiry, the object of your mindfulness and concentration. You can attain many insights by looking into the past. But you are still grounded in the present moment.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Waking unnaturally early on this past Sunday, I walked into the living room and found the sun just starting to slant in through the window. A single column of light fell across the floor right near the space where I usually meditate, and it felt like the universe was inviting me to do my daily practice right then and there. There were still shadows from the night, and the edges of objects were laced with darkness, but we were on the other side now, and it was only going to get lighter. I lit the end of a dwindling stick of Palo Santo, gently rang the singing bowl so as not to wake Andy, and settled in for the early morning meditation.
This was the date that a lunar eclipse was happening in Virgo, though I’ve forgotten all the things that it’s supposed to mean for my sign. It was also the last day of summer, so the morning felt both celebratory and a little sad. A friend had recently echoed my disappointment of this summer, and I understood that I wasn’t alone.
Sending the summer off with a sunny Sunday morning meditation felt good. When you can end something with calm and stillness, when you can honor and bow to what has been without feeling too terribly bitter or ill over it – these are good things.
The objects were made of stone, heavy and substantial and seemingly immovable.
Yet when I closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply, I could immediately move them in my mind.
Was this some sort of Jedi trick that only a few select lucky individuals could master? Not at all – it was simple mindfulness. With some practice, and a proper shift of perspective, anyone can defy the laws of physics and the limits of this physical realm. I’ve only just begun my mindfulness journey, and at six years into the practice I feel like I might know even less than when I began. Some would say that means it’s working.
As an over-thinker, my mind was accustomed to burdening itself with over-analysis and runaway thoughts. When I began meditating, it became necessary to face those thoughts and acknowledge their presence in order to let them go. That was easier when I worked myself into a state of mindfulness – when the focus is on the present moment and what precisely is going on at a very basic level.
The cadence of my breathing – slow and deep or quick and shallow.
The sensations of my skin – cool with goosebumps or warm from the day’s sun.
The light of the room – filled with sunlight of morning and mid-day or dim with the descent of evening.
The scent of the air – a savory wafting of home-cooked dinner on the way or the sweet lingering tickle of a soapy shower.
The observations can change by the minute – they are but a few among a vast multitude, varying and infinite as the boundless world. The purpose is to notice them, to be aware of them, to let them occupy your mind and push the more bothersome and harmful thoughts away for a while. Only when my mind is calm and uncluttered can I make some bit sense of everything.
That’s the start of mindfulness – noticing and observing the here and now.
Back when I wrote freelance for Edge Media, I would get DVDs to review ñ some of which were fun (and then-expensive) such as a full season three of ‘Cheers’ that brought me way back to my childhood. (I was team Diane during her whole tumultuous run, as a prim and proper Virgo would be.)
One of those DVD sets was a compilation of Aaron Star’s ‘Hot Nude Yoga’ series, which was exactly as billed: a bunch of men doing nude yoga in their birthday suits. When it was released literally a couple of decades ago, it was relatively new and the gay man angle was a refreshing glimpse of what was happening far from the confines of upstate New York. While the scandalous notion of full-frontal male nudity may have been the main drawing card and point, the yoga practices were perfect for a beginner like myself, and I have been using the ‘Virgin‘ sequence on and off ever since. The days of me doffing clothing and joining in the naked method as prescribed have passed; I just can’t be bothered to get my kit off, especially in this winter-like weather, but the practice remains, and this past week I found myself returning to the poses and the deep breathing and the opportunity to add an hour of mindfulness to my day.
There was a time when I would automatically turn to a cocktail for help and support, especially during stressful situations. It’s been well over five years since I took a drink of alcohol, and my go-to stress-relief these days is meditation. The past few weeks have found me sleeping poorly and feeling stressed out more than usual, and I only noticed this in retrospect as I was on my third day of yoga. Somehow, without fully realizing or being cognizant of what I was doing, my coping mechanisms have evolved naturally into meditation and mindfulness. That’s a happy place to be, even in troubled times.
It’s also a place anyone can find if they work at it a bit every day. I started my meditation journey by doing it for two minutes a day. The trick is to be consistent, make it part of the daily routine, and build from there. After a week of two-minute daily meditations, go for three minutes. I was surprised how easily it came to increase my meditation time this way, and sitting in stillness and silence for fifteen minutes a day is a comfortable and quite welcome pause in the madness.
Only a few more days of winter remain, and though the technical arrival of spring doesn’t instantly equate to better weather, I’m allowing myself some hope. The pool is thawing out and Andy is eager to get it open. The last few years we’ve been opening it early to catch that first spell of 80-degree days that have been creeping up earlier and earlier. I don’t know if that will be the case this year, and I’ve made my peace with enjoying it if it happens, and not being disappointed if it doesn’t. There is wisdom, and contentment, in learning to roll with the punches.
On a deeper level, it’s like the proverbial rock at the bottom of a river bed. The trick is to sit still and be ok with whatever washes around you, no matter how wild and crazy and mucky it might get. Especially when Mercury is in retrograde motion.
I’ve been religious about maintaining my daily meditations this winter, and it’s been a consistent and comforting respite. For that little section of the day, I sit in complete silence and reverence. Every day we are alive deserves such an honor, even if it’s just for fifteen minutes. Even if it’s just counting breaths and letting other thoughts fall away.
Winter’s waning light rises from a candle, in a purple-tinted bit of glass that once belonged to my grandmother.
This posting slot is usually reserved for our weekly blog recap – and it’s still coming later today – but it feels like a good moment to pause in our usual schedule, to put off our usual Monday morning madness, and practice a bit of mindfulness before beginning the work-week.
The other night, while writing a blog post not far removed from this one, I sat on the bed in the attic and listened as the wind wailed and howled outside the window. The whole roof creaked and groaned beneath its force – a reminder that winter was still very much here, and in no rush to move along despite the insistent ticking of the calendar. The wind makes its own music, especially in the winter. It’s strange that the more tumultuous and cacophonous it becomes, the calmer and quieter it feels inside. That a simple roof and a basic windowpane might afford such protection is a wonder of the world and how we survive in it.
The next morning I perform an early meditation – a luxury of a weekend – and I light a candle as part of the process. Candles only appear to give off a different light during the day – no less wondrous or powerful, and sometimes warmer from the act of joining in the daylight rather than being the sole source of illumination. On a frigid Monday morning, a little candlelight and a little mindfulness make for a proper starting moment of calm.
Full moon fuckery must be in full effect because early yesterday morning I gave myself a stiff neck simply trying to put my head through a shirt without messing up my hair. I felt the sudden twinge in my neck immediately, and the dull pain soon began to spread. By the time I got to work I was in robot motion, where your whole upper body has to move when you turn your head. It was a reminder to be more careful in my advancing age, something I’ve been more mindful of in the past few years but always seem to forget when going about the motions of daily life. Getting older is not for the faint of heart or weak of will or unobservant of circumstance.
It was also a reminder to be mindful in a more general sense. For me, focusing on what is immediately around us, and what is immediately happening, is the essence of mindfulness – it occupies the space where worry and stress would otherwise arise. My formal and structured daily meditations help, but being mindful on a more constant level is often more helpful. It’s easy to be calm and at peace for fifteen minutes when sitting lotus-style beside a burning stick of palo santo incense – how to translate that peace and calm into the majority of the day is the more valuable practice. It also bleeds into the idea of thinking – or too-often overthinking ñ that derails the calmest of countenances.
As our days become increasingly saturated with dismay and uncertainty, the only thing we might possibly be able to control is our reaction and perception to the world around us. If we are able to find focus and meaning in the actual moment at hand, it occupies the mind and prevents all the dangerous and frightening what-ifs from entering that space. (My head can only focus on so much these days.) And so I take this stiff neck as a persistent, if slightly bothersome, reminder to focus on the moment right before me, at what is going on in the here and now. I notice the sting when I turn, and I have to smile at something my younger self would have called the motions of an old man. I acknowledge the pain, let the comparison to the past fade, and go back to the doings of the day.
Just kidding – I’m not about to answer that question in any in-depth way today. It’s far too cold and there are far too many awful things happening in the world to offer much more than distraction and respite. We won’t be getting that serious.
Whenever the world threatens to overwhelm, when it bears down just a bit too hard to carry on, I tend to pause and take stock of the things over which I have any semblance of control. That immediately removes an enormous amount of mental clutter, because too much space is consumed with dwelling on what-ifs and could-haves and should-haves. Even the been-theres and done-thats can be boxed up and shipped out. Decluttering the mind is as important as decluttering the dwelling space (if you’re a Virgo like me that means a great deal).
And so I stop and sit very still while an icy wind menacingly surrounds the house.
I notice how shallow my breathing is, and slow and relax it. Narrowing the windpipe and elongating the breaths, there is instant relief. My shoulders relax, my gaze softens, and the years of practicing meditation immediately set my countenance to calm.
Now I can go about tending to the simple task at hand: selecting cufflinks (a gift from a friend – thank you Paula!), a timepiece (a gift to myself after a promotion), and a vibrant silk scarf for a possible office outfit (a dash of color for a week of gray). This is what I can control, and these little things will bring me simple joys.
Trifling worries, and more substantial concerns, are pushed out of my headspace for the moment, and in the relief that ensues I’ll be better able to handle them at a later time. Some will fall away by then because they never really mattered in the first place. This is how mindfulness works its magic.
