Month: July 2018

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Mindful

I’ve been reading a book about mindfulness.  Today, I got ready to complete one of the exercises in the book.  It was still quiet in the house; everyone was asleep. So I grabbed my cushion and my book and a found a spot on the carpet in the living room.  I sat, crossed my legs, bowed my head, and began to focus on my breathing.  Slowly, I lifted my head and lengthened my spine and began to feel the tension where it typically resides… in my lower left shoulder blade.  I also felt some pulling in my neck and my back.  I breathed into the pain, and began to focus on my exhale.

I heard footsteps, figuring that my time for meditation had ended.  But it was my husband, who is observant and self-sufficient.  So when he noticed that I was meditating, he silently smiled, nodded, and walked away.  My husband is quick to intercept the kids when I’m meditating, so having him awake substantially increased the likelihood that I could continue uninterrupted. I heard him beginning to prepare breakfast.

I closed my eyes again and returned my focus to my breathing.  I was aware of the dog wandering near me; part of what I’m practicing is being able to notice something but not feel the need to analyze or react. So as she wandered, I noticed her but kept my focus on my breath.

Well, my dog isn’t used to being ignored.  She nuzzled her muzzle under my hand and nudged.  My husband stifled a giggle from the next room.  I couldn’t help but smile.

In this busy life of mine, finding time to meditate (or write, for that matter, because I’ve been interrupted 12 times in the last 6 minutes) is a rare sort of treat.  But as I read and practice more, I’m starting to better understand that there is a difference between mindfulness and meditation.

When you’re meditating, you need to be mindful.  You need to let go of extraneous thoughts and focus on your body and your breathing and the sensations of the moment.  You need to let go of the chatter in your brain and focus simply on being in the present.

Meditating requires uninterrupted time.  It doesn’t necessarily require quiet, because you can practice noticing sounds and ignoring them.  But you can’t meditate and answer, “Mom, do we have any cheese its?”  at the same time.  You can’t meditate and let out the dogs or make dinner or read a book with your kids.

But you CAN practice mindfulness through all of that.  You see, meditation requires mindfulness, but the same is not true in reverse. Mindfulness does not require meditation.

So as I tried to practice mindfulness techniques through meditation, when my dog nuzzled my hand and begged for attention, I had a choice to make.  I could shoo her away and continue to meditate.  Or I could focus on the moment and simply be mindful. I chose the latter.

I continued to focus on my breathing, but I also rubbed her nose.  As I breathed slowly, I could feel the change in not only my body, but hers, as well.  She had started off with a sort of desperate need for attention.  She was pushy and adamant.  But as I stroked her ears (she loves that), her breathing slowed.  First she sat, and then she lay down with her head just under my hand.  After a few moments, she adjusted and settled her massive head directly in my lap.

I was still aware of my breathing, but shifted my attention to the soft velvety feel of her ear under my fingertips.  I felt the coarse fur of her neck and the warmth of her skin.  I relaxed into the moment and simply enjoyed sitting on the floor with nothing to do but love my dog and breathe.

Soon, my son entered the room.  There would be no more silence; no more focused meditation… but I chose to continue being mindful of this particular moment.  I noticed his gentleness and his changing voice.  I watched him smile as he settled in on the carpet with us, enjoying the quiet of this moment.  I smelled the bacon coming from the kitchen and relaxed into the kind of peace that is often evasive for a busy mom.

It was short-lived, but beautiful.  Soon the bustle of cooking and gathering and eating began.  The bickering and laughing and teasing took over, and our morning ramped up.

But what I’m learning about mindfulness is this; even once the moment has passed, even when the quiet has been replaced by noise and the doing has surpassed the noticing, that moment has the power to impact the rest of the day.  It sets a tone; it serves as a powerful reminder.

The more I can sneak these moments into my day, the easier it is to find contentment.  The peace comes with the chaos, not in spite of it. When the kids are being rowdy and I can remind myself to breathe and laugh and step into the moment instead of avoiding it, we all benefit.  There is growth in that mindful place.

I’ve probably got another 10 years before I’ll be able to spend significant time meditating.  But that doesn’t mean that I can’t shift my mindset.  I can choose to be in the moment, whether that moment is quietly petting my dog, or refereeing an argument over the last piece of bacon.

And there’s an added bonus to all this noticing.  I have a notoriously terrible memory… but I’m finding that when I take the time to notice a moment, to label it and process it and enjoy it… that moment sticks.  I remember it more clearly and for longer.

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I remember…

The feel of the sand under my toes as I watch my son float in the lake.

The smell of the coffee as it drips into my mug.

The belly laughs at some forgotten joke as we drive home with our ice cream cones in our hands.

The pleasure of learning a new recipe and the taste of Bea’s homemade wonton soup.

The cool of the air in the library basement as Bea and Lee browse the shelves and Cal stacks blocks into a tower taller than himself.

The smooth, cool feeling of clean sheets on my toes as I settle in with a good book.

The scratch of the pencil on the ‘Hidden Pictures’ page of our Highlights Magazine.

The feel of a good morning hug, nestled under the covers, before I’m fully awake.

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Moments build character and gratitude and discipline and strength and love and peace and joy. Moments build relationships. Moments build a life.

I believe that each and every mindful moment brings me one step closer to who I’m meant to be. Maybe my tenderness for this massive black lab is more than it seems.  Maybe I just need the faith to see that God is always working.  And sometimes he chooses a hundred pound, needy lap dog to do his good work.

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Summer Rut

I’m right in the middle of my summer rut.   I browse my Facebook feed and see people at concerts and on vacations; I see moms with their kids at the beach and eating ice cream and splashing in pools.  And I’m already tired of summer.

We started off strong. We visited friends, swam in their pool, and went to a concert. We’ve gone out for ice cream and gone to the library and set up a lemonade stand in the yard.   We’ve been to the local lake at least 5 times, which I honestly love.   We’ve made plans with friends and plans with family.  We’ve gone to the water park and the amusement park and to New York.  We’ve been to pool parties and friends’ houses and jumped on all the trampolines.

We’ve made popcorn and jello and chinese dumplings.  We’ve rented movies and camped on the living room floor.  We’ve huddled on the bed in my air conditioned room, reading books and finding all the lost pictures in our Highlights Magazine. We’ve played card games and board games and word games. We’ve made forts out of cardboard boxes and couch cushions and blankets.  We’ve slid down the stairs into a pile of pillows on sleeping bag sleds.  Well, the kids did.  Not me.

And even with all of that, my kids are spending too much time on screens.  I’m still trying to fill the days and stop the bickering and get through the ‘to-do’ list in my brain.  I’m trying to find things to do without spending the grocery money, and I feel guilty every time I have to say, “Not this week” because we just can’t afford it right now.

It’s not like there’s a shortage of work to do.  We’ve re-done Bea’s bedroom.  Primed, painted, redecorated.  We reorganized Cal’s room, and we’re finally getting the bathroom done.  Walls are up, wiring is done, plumbing is finished.  I made the dentist appointments and handled the auto insurance and I’m working on switching over the medical insurance with all our providers.  I still have to clean out the laundry room and paint the trim and rip up the carpet in the hallway upstairs.  The dogs need to be walked and the lawn needs to be mowed.

And I told everyone this is my summer to write a book.  So far, I have 22 half-finished documents on my computer desk top, and nothing that looks remotely coherent enough to become a book.    I told myself I was going to focus on that, but here I am, blogging about my rotten summer mood.

I look back at that list and… HOLY CRAP, we’ve done a lot of things.  So why do I wake up with a low-level sense of dread in the morning? Why do I feel so guilty when we spend a morning doing nothing?  Apparently because I’m terrible at doing nothing.  I have a deep-seated need to be accomplishing something.  I feel better when I’m productive.  Which is why summers are so hard for me.

I know myself enough to realize that I require deadlines. I like to have a plan, and I like to know what’s happening next.  I have a running list in my head of things to do; when I’m dealing with pressure and deadlines, it’s easy to sort the list.  Immediate concerns.  Preparing for tomorrow.  The week ahead.  These categories in my brain help me to manage the day-to-day as a working mom.

And then, when I’m not working, the categories blur together.  The things that I plan to do today could also be done tomorrow or next week. Nothing is pressing and therefore everything feels equally important and my brain begins to malfunction.  I don’t know what to do next.  The simplest decisions become complex.  What’s for dinner?  What color should I paint the front door?  Should I walk the dogs or take them to the dog park?  Should I turn on the air conditioner or just keep the fans running?

In my real life, I’m a functional adult.  In the summertime, I’m a mess.  I could accomplish 12 things and still feel like I didn’t do anything because my mental to-do list is never complete.   I feel good when I’ve taken the kids to the lake, but when am I going to clean the bathroom if I spend my days reading on the beach?  When am I going to get the big projects done if I have to spend my time cleaning the bathroom?  And if I’m cleaning, the kids are probably on screens and that’s a terrible way to spend a summer.

DO YOU HEAR HOW CRAZY I AM?!?!?!

This is actually what happens in my head.

I usually like to wrap up these blog posts with a lesson or a bit of optimism.  But right now, I’m not capable.  Right now, I need to grab a cup of coffee and a shower.  Then I’m going to rent a kayak for an hour with my son, hit the grocery store on the way home, make a dessert to bring to my afternoon book club, put dinner in the crock pot, and then drive an hour to meet some friends for lunch and a book discussion and some catching up (which will make me feel better but leave residual guilt because the kids are home alone, probably watching freaking YouTube).

I have a plan.  And that’s a start….