Coming back to the present moment

I recently decided to give mindfulness another try.

Back in 2012, when I was writing on this blog more often, I was reading a lot about Buddhism and immersing myself in mindfulness practice. Certain events caused me to lose my enthusiasm for Buddhist idealogy. I had met too many Buddhists who, rather than being genuinely peaceful, kind and serene, were actually (to my eye) quite the opposite. Not all of them certainly, but enough that I mostly turned away from the entire scene.

It took some time and self-reflection to see that I was painting a whole group with the same broad brush. Buddhism has as many facets and factions as it does kinds of people who follow its principles. Just because I met some individuals whose behavior I found hurtful or hypocritical, didn't mean I needed to turn away from mindfulness practice altogether. No, I don't believe in reincarnation or sacred offerings or bowing down to certain llamas who I've been told are "chosen." But that doesn't mean I can't believe in the other philosophies that make sense to me.

I am reading 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works by Dan Harris. Although Harris works in TV news (itself a hotbed of ego) his writing is very funny and he also strikes me as a self-aware kind of guy who doesn't take himself (or anyone else) too seriously. Harris advocates the writing of Dr. Mark Epstein, some of which I've read or have on my reading list. Epstein's work also seems reasonable to me.

Most of my life I've struggled with periodic bouts of depression and anxiety, mostly due to ruminating on "the worst that could happen" kind of scenarios or worrying about not measuring up to my self-imposed, very high standards of who I should be, what I should look like, the sorts of things I should achieve, etc. I always have one eye open for a "cure"-- or at least a balm that will give me a little more peace-of-mind.

There is a lot of positive talk about the effectiveness of mindfulness-based cognitive therapy for depression and anxiety. This NPR podcast, "The Secret History of Thoughts" mentions the latest "thought science." I listened to the program on a train ride where the internet connection was choppy at best, but I heard enough to start thinking about revisiting mindfulness practice.

The idea of mindfulness-based thinking (as I understand it) is to allow yourself to have negative thoughts without trying to reason them away. Instead, you let them float by like soap bubbles, not engaging with them at all but letting them pass right by you. They'll then dissolve or burst, but the point is they're inconsequential. They exist but they have no real substance.

We take our thoughts too seriously, as if whatever we think is indisputable fact. But how can it be when there is so much in our world that is inexplicable, amorphous, constantly changing?

So I'm coming back to the present...again and again, trying to let my worries and obsessive thoughts wash out to sea. It's not easy and it takes constant repetition. But I'm here.

A life less ordinary

"We must be willing to be completely ordinary people, which means accepting ourselves as we are without trying to become greater, purer, more spiritual, more insightful. If we can accept our imperfections as they are, quite ordinarily, then we can use them as part of the path. But if we try to get rid of our imperfections, then they will be enemies, obstacles on the road to our 'self-improvement'."--Chogyam Trungpa, from Ocean of Dharma: 365 Teachings on Living Life with Courage and Compassion

I was in a marketing meeting this morning and the editors were discussing their Summer 2011 titles (yes, 2011. Publishing, like the fashion industry, dwells in the future. But what I hate about fashion is that they start selling fall clothes in August, so when you're looking for, say, a pair of shorts during a heat wave, all they have is wool pants, as if to say, duh--why didn't you shop for shorts in March?)

One of the Summer 2011 titles is by Jan Chozen Bays, the author of Mindful Eating: A Guide to Rediscovering a Healthy and Joyful Relationship with Food. That book was well-received, and Jan has many followers who think she is the bee's knees when it comes to mindfulness meditation.

The new book, Adventures in Mindfulness, was described as "a guided program for bringing mindfulness and meditation into ordinary daily activities to reduce stress and enhance well-being." There will be an exercise a week for a year; one example: notice in your speech how many times you say "um, ah, like" etc. Then instead of using those words, try taking a few deep breaths, then resume what you were going to say. This would be a hard exercise for almost anyone, but especially for us girls from New Jersey who use the word "like" as a preposition.

But I've observed President Obama when he's giving a speech and how he pauses in between thoughts instead of "ahh-ing" or "umm-ing." Yes, every Toastmasters member knows this trick, but you don't have to be a great orator or the President to pay attention to your speech. Look how calm and collected Obama looks, even when he has something difficult to say (which is all the time.)

Another exercise is keeping a gratitude journal. I have one that's published by Chronicle Books. It's got quotes and ideas in it to inspire you. The problem is I feel like I write the same thing over and over because my life is pretty staid.

1. I'm grateful for my parents being alive and healthy.
2. I'm grateful for my husband who loves me even when I'm sick or tired or bratty.
3. I'm grateful for my job which I enjoy.
4. I'm grateful that I HAVE a job (not a given these days.)
5. I'm grateful I don't live in a war-torn country where "happiness" is defined as "not getting blown up or kidnapped or forcibly silenced."

These are all good things for me to remember when I'm feeling low, but I don't want to write the same thing every time. So I've branched out.

1. I'm grateful for my ten purple-painted toes. All functioning.
2. I'm grateful for my air conditioner (if you live anywhere in the Northeast right now, you know what I'm talking about.)
3. I'm grateful for books. And eyes that can see because I'm not crazy about audiobooks.
4. I'm grateful for my good taste. Yes, I can say that and not be snobby. Maybe.
5. I'm grateful for black olives.

My mother is a big believer in finding happiness in small moments. I have to practice being mindful so I can do that.

But I don't like being ordinary, listing ordinary gratitudes. When you're young you feel like so much is possible. Living in New York City I experienced that feeling several times a week just being there, dwarfed by the skyscrapers and constantly stimulated with novelty. Now I feel like life is stalled. The possibilities look less abundant now, and I'm supposed to be happy about that? Is being mindful and accepting yourself as you are just an admission of your mediocrity? Is celebrating the small stuff just another way of giving up your big dreams?

Here's what Thoreau says: If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours ... In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness.

Can we do both? Dream big and succeed, and have a simple life?

I'm thinking that when I can get a hold of Jan Chozen Bay's mindfulness manuscript, I'll try doing the exercise-a-week and writing about my experiences on here.

Maybe by then I'll have come closer to understanding my favorite Emily Dickinson poem:

I'm nobody, who are you?
Are you nobody too?
Then there's a pair of us
Don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!