Tag Archives: future

What Happens to This Moment?

It is a beautiful day. My companion and I stroll through the woods, picking shamrocks and blackberries. We touch the thick trunks of towering trees, admire the hawthorn, and sniff purple lupine and yellow furze.

We stand for several minutes, gazing out at a stunning view of the Mourne mountains, the sun on the water, and the unexpected sight of a large round moon in the cornflower sky.

I break the silence and ask, “How present are you?”

He pauses then says: “There are a few ways I can be right now. I could be all about the other person – you. I could be totally present within myself. Or I could be present to myself and to another human being simultaneously. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

Later, we discuss the topic further. My friend recalls a Byron Katie quote:

“The end of suffering is to not project a future even one nanosecond away from now, whether you’re experiencing a terrorist attack or just doing the dishes.”

He adds: “We’re always thinking: ‘What’s next? What’s next?’ And when we’re doing that, what happens to this moment?”

“We’re not there for it,” I respond.

I realise that, even while speaking about presence, I’m catapulting myself out of the present by planning and daydreaming, hoping and worrying, fantasising and catastrophising. I’m stepping ten minutes into the future, leaping into next week and somersaulting over decades.

When I’m doing that, what happens to this moment?

I take a breath deep into my centre, look into his eyes and smile.

Image: Author's Own

Image: Author’s Own

Lost in Thought

It’s after midnight so it is now the first of September. My self-determined challenges for this month are to stop biting my lip and fingers (something I’ve been doing since I was a child) and to be present (and whenever I discover that I’m not being present, I’ll gently bring myself back).

Tonight, I lie in bed, wide awake. I cry for my friend Michelle, who died suddenly. Since receiving the shocking and upsetting news, my emotions have become heightened.

I went for a long walk today and photographed the sun in the trees. I gazed delightedly at the yellow crescent moon perched low in the dusky sky. Music pulses through my body like blood.

I feel for Michelle and her parents. I remember the times we had together. I wonder how I’ll be at her funeral.

My mind flits from Michelle to a guy I’m interested in to an upcoming holiday to work and back to Michelle. I bite my lip.

I glance at the time. It’s twenty-five minutes past midnight. It’s September, I realise with a jolt and snatch my hand away from my mouth. I’m supposed to be present now.

I groan as I recognise that sometimes I actually enjoy being entertained by the drama of my mind. I quite like fantasising and reminiscing and anticipating. Mindfulness can be boring, right? Twenty-five minutes in and I’m already resisting the challenge.

The clock creeps past one am. I know that my mind is keeping me awake, like an enthusiastic relative back from their travels, telling me stories and bombarding me with pictures.

It’s late and I’m still wired. Not so entertaining now, is it? Maybe being present would be a good idea, I decide.

My breath deepens. I sink into my body and snuggle into the bed. My mind escapes again. And again. I patiently allow it to shuffle back. My shoulders drop. I stop holding on so tight. And I fall asleep.

Perhaps living in the past and potential future is just another bad habit like biting my lip and fingers. Apparently it takes 21 days to make or break a habit. Thirty days hath September. So let’s see if this month bestows me with boredom or liberation and peace…

How will you challenge yourself this month?

Safe journey, Michelle. Rest in peace xxx

Safe journey, Michelle. Rest in peace xxx

Image: Author’s Own.

Mindfulness for the Full Mind

In recent weeks, I’ve been battling against my own reaction to noise. I eventually decided to stop blaming the external and work on my inner peace instead.

Last week, I was so exhausted (from lack of sleep but mainly from my own internal chitchat) that I gave up. And that was when the magic happened. I let go. I surrendered the control that I had been fearfully clasping on to so damn tightly. I recognised that I can’t control my surroundings. But I can be okay with them.

I was too tired to use all the positive tools and techniques that I’d taught myself over the years. So I stopped trying so hard. I simply accepted what was – the noise and how I was feeling.

I also figured out that I often felt anxious before the noise started. I was nervously anticipating when it would begin. Then, I would project into the following day and I’d imagine how tired I’d be. I was so very far removed from the present moment.

healthshire.com

healthshire.com

One word kept entering my mind: Mindfulness. Then, I remembered that I’d seen a workshop advertised a while back. I rooted out the email and, as synchronicity would have it, it was on in a few days’ time. I immediately signed up for it.

The workshop consisted of four hours of meditation, silence and mindful walking. Halfway through the class, I suddenly felt impatient. It was all so slow. Nothing was happening. It was then that I had a deep knowing that this was exactly what I needed – I had to physically slow down and bring my awareness to the present moment (my bodily sensations, my breathing and the sounds around me) in order to slow down the sprinting chatter of my mind.

No wonder I felt restless during this workshop as I had been living such a fast-paced life. Rushing to work. Coaching sessions. Classes. Reading. Cramming weekends with class preparation and assignments, then trying to squeeze in family time, dates and catch-ups with friends.

And even when I did sit down to watch television, whenever the ads came on, I’d check my emails, pop onto Facebook or send a text. I even checked my phone while sitting on the loo (hands up if you’ve done this!)

When I received an energy treatment the other day, I realised just how busy my mind was. I lay there composing emails and imagining conversations I would have. If I could just be present, I wouldn’t have to drain myself with all the mental rehearsing and reliving.

weheartit.com

weheartit.com

Last night, I woke at 2.30am and could not go back to sleep. So I got up, trudged into the sitting room and switched on the light. The first thing my bleary eyes landed on was a book that had been recommended to me almost a year ago – Mindfulness for Life by Craig Hassed and Stephen McKenzie.

It was just the right time to start reading this book. Hassed and McKenzie describe mindfulness as “the practice of paying attention.” They say that many people get interested in mindfulness because they want to learn to relax or cope better with stress and anxiety. However, they suggest that this can pose a problem. If we become too preoccupied with the goal of relaxing and destressing, we may become frustrated if the practice doesn’t turn out the way we expect or if we don’t achieve the results as quickly as we want.

Another interesting point they write about is how we try to cling to the bits of life that we like and banish those we don’t. Of course, this is understandable. We are trying to protect ourselves from suffering but this is what exactly what causes suffering.

Hassed and McKenzie write: “To be peaceful and happy we have to accept things that we don’t like when they come, and we have to let go of things that we do like when they go.” 

The only guarantee in life is that nothing is permanent. Not the good stuff, nor the bad. As the old adage accurately predicts: “This too shall pass.”

At five am, I put the book away and became aware of my bed and the feeling of it beneath me. I snuggled into the duvet and breathed deeply. I was aware of my breath and the sound of the rain outside. I was aware of my thoughts and how frequently they whisked me away from the present moment.

It was easy to want to detach from the negative thoughts but what I found challenging was to bring myself into the present when I was lounging in happy memories.

Recently, I had a pleasant experience. Last night, I found myself remembering all the tiny details of that moment. How I felt, what was said, what it all meant. I smiled as I relished reliving the event. However, I was no longer aware of my body, my breathing, the bed or the sounds outside. But why did I need to be mindful when I was clearly enjoying dwelling on certain parts of the past?

I asked myself: Was I truly present when that event was actually occurring? Incredibly, I hadn’t been. A large part of me had been caught up in thoughts, fears and expectations. And now, I was making up for it by reliving every last detail.

From this, I have learned that I need to practice mindfulness now so that I can be fully present in every moment. Then, I will be able to really bask in the pleasure and beauty of life. Practicing mindfulness will also help me to act effectively, with a clear mind, during the challenging times.

Hassed and McKenzie suggest starting with a mindfulness practice of five or ten minutes twice daily – before breakfast and dinner. It is best to sit upright and bring your awareness to the present moment by focussing on your breath, on an image or on the sounds around you.

The idea is that mindfulness can become part of your life, not just in a formal capacity. When you get into your car after work, take a few mindful breaths before you start driving. Wash the dishes mindfully. Brush your teeth mindfully. Eat, walk, and listen to music mindfully. Give your conversation partner the gift of a mindful ear. Conduct your relationships mindfully.

Mindfulness isn’t easy but it is oh so simple. Be present. Because all that exists is now.

be all there

Tuesdays with Morrie

I pick up a little book called Tuesdays with Morrie while on holidays in Spain. I saw it years ago but avoided it because the blurb on the back made me worry that it’d be a depressing read. It is about a dying professor (Morrie Schwartz) and his younger student (Mitch Albom). This time, I am ready. I devour it in two sittings. And I cry and cry and cry.

It isn’t that it’s unbearably sad. It’s just so touching, it moves me like nothing else has for a long time. I can feel Morrie’s energy with me as I finish the memoir. I love him. I can honestly say that he (and the endearingly honest Mitch) has changed my life. The gradual shift in Mitch’s attitude inspires me almost as much as Morrie’s wisdom.

Morrie allowed himself to let go, to be vulnerable, and to ask for help. He observed that, when you’re an infant, you need help from others and, when you grow old, you require their assistance also. However, what we fail to acknowledge is that we need other people in between times too.

Morrie told the tale of the little wave that witnessed other waves crashing against the shore. The wave wailed, fearfully: “Oh no, look! This is the fate that awaits us. How horrible!” Another wave reassured him: “Don’t fret, little one, for you are not a wave, you are part of the ocean.” As Rumi wrote: “You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop.”

Morrie’s message has made me realise how closed off I’d become. I’d tell myself that “I like my own space”. I’d go home while co-workers would sit and have tea, a chat and a laugh. I’d stay alone in the flat watching episode after episode of The Good Wife. I’d spend weekends preparing classes instead of exploring the countryside with loved ones. I’d retire early rather than spend time with friends.

I still believe that there should be a balance between rest, work and play and between stillness, silence and moments of noise and interaction. But Morrie’s story has shown me that the most important thing in life is to love. To share what you have with others. To give another human being the gift of your time. Morrie said that he was always 100 per cent present with whomever he was speaking. When he was talking with Mitch, he thought only of Mitch. This resonates with me as I am often in the company of others when I’m not really there. I’m thinking of what needs to be done, or how I shouldn’t have eaten that or I might even be putting a photo through Instagram while somebody attempts to converse with me.

Morrie’s big, brave, generous heart has made me resolve to really live life, to connect with people, to appreciate nature, to question the values we’ve been brainwashed into adopting, to understand that love and peace are what’s true and priceless compared with ever-changing, unreliable material and physical possessions. One of my new goals is to do something that makes me feel alive every single day. I also promise to be present with people, as if each encounter were our last, and to ask, in the words of Robert Holden in his book Loveability: “How can I love you more?”

I have a couple of hours before I have to head for the airport. I could go for a last swim at what the locals call the “healing beach”. But it’s a bit of a walk, I mentally argue. And it’d mean packing a wet bikini. Then, I remember that I’m living life. So I set off in my flip-flops, carrying a pink towel. A line of ants and a yellow butterfly cross my path. A lone purple wildflower on this dry dirt track reduces me to tears. I offer an Hola and a smile to an old man sitting alone. He returns my smile, its corners clipped with surprise. An elderly couple stroll ahead, hand-in-hand. Yet again, my eyes mist. I beam as I spot a set of keys a stranger has carefully balanced atop a bollard.

My breasts bob and sway as my feet flap upon the sand. I feel like an ancient elephant striding across the desert. I inhale the scent of my sweat that has collected in cracks and creases. A homeless man sits on a wall behind the beach. I abandon my beach bag and strip. I don’t suck in my stomach. Not today. I duck my head into the ocean even though my hair was freshly washed this morning. I am alive.

Mitch and Morrie used to say, “We’re Tuesday people” because they usually met on Tuesdays. And I am writing this piece on a Tuesday, watching the waves surge and retreat, with tears in my eyes and a heart that’s breaking… wide open.

Image: Author's own

Image: Author’s own

Building Blocks

Today, I overheard a man ask a woman a rather unusual question: “What would you do if you had a big bag of feathers and the wind caught it and blew the feathers all over the place?” I couldn’t hear the woman’s response but she looked indignant. The man considered his companion’s answer before saying: “You should see it as a challenge. You should look at what kind of day it is and enjoy picking up each and every feather.”

I felt like I needed to hear this strange conversation. Just earlier, I had read an article that caught my attention because its title was “Having a Low Point is Actually a Good Thing”. And tonight, a friend was texting me about living in the present moment. Yet again, life was waving a giant banner in my line of sight until I could ignore it no longer.

I’ve written a lot about acceptance and being present yet I still struggle when I trip up. It was only a few days ago when I stumbled upon (excuse the pun) this quote: “The difference between stumbling blocks and stepping-stones is how you use them.” Even though I believe that everything happens for a reason, I grow impatient every once in a while. I curse my “bad luck”. I wonder if I’ll ever have all the things I want to have. I try to control when things happen and what they’re going to look like. I know it’s foolish. And I know it’s impossible to forecast the outcome of every situation. Woody Allen once said: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” 

I realise that what I think would be best for me may in fact limit me in the long run. This is why, when people ask God or The Universe for something, they add: “This or something better.” I can’t tell what wonderful things are waiting for me in the wings. But I do know that worrying about the future or feeling lack instead of abundance is not helping me get where I want to get or, more importantly, enjoy where I am right now.

Tonight, as I flicked through Thich Nhat Hanh’s Anger, I came across a simple meditation. It involves silently saying these words: “Breathing in, I know I am breathing in. Breathing out, I know I am breathing out. In, out.” Now, that is taking life moment by moment. It may appear boring or tedious or frustrating but it is simple. And simple is exactly what I need. In, out. Here, now. Feather by beautiful feather.

Wake Me Up Inside

I woke up crying. I had just dreamt that I heard that a guy I’d met a couple of times last summer was coming over to my family home. It was late, I was in my pyjamas, I looked tired and wasn’t wearing any makeup. I quickly threw on a bra and T-shirt and started applying some makeup. My brother ran upstairs, grabbed something and said, “We’re going out.” I heard the door slam. I stopped putting on makeup. My sister came into the bathroom and announced, “That guy is hot but they’re gone to a night-club.”

I exploded: “I am so angry with both of them. I put on a bra! And makeup.” My sister scrunched up her face. I continued: “He obviously doesn’t care about me. I feel so alone. I just feel awful.” I knew that I was overreacting, that this shouldn’t make me feel so bad, that this was a core issue that kept resurfacing. My sister hugged me.

As I lay there early this morning, I realised that this went deep. I also recognised that, if this was a core belief of mine, it would continue to come up in relationships with men, and even with friends, family and the larger whole. I would create situations time and again that would “make” me feel unloved and alone.

As I was preparing for a Positive Living class yesterday, I remembered this quote by Anaïs Nin: “We see things not as they are but as we are.” In other words, we tend to view things from our own perspective. What’s happened in the past can colour things for us in the future. I guess it comes back to living in the present moment.

I don’t know how to shift this completely but I do know that awareness is crucial. If a scenario arises again where I feel this way, I will be able to see that it could be my stuff and not the other person or circumstance. I can decide to release these emotions, to let go, to stop replaying the old record because it’s not relevant any more. Already, I am loving and caring about myself. I am opening myself to love and connection. I am aware and awake and I’ve stopped crying.

Secrets from Birth

As babies, we know what we want and we aren’t afraid to ask for it. People around us care for us and love us unconditionally. As toddlers, we don’t worry about yesterday or tomorrow. We are completely present as we absorb ourselves in play, touch and laughter. We believe that the universe revolves around us. As children, we understand our perfection. We give love and affection freely and know that we deserve nothing less in return. Nature is our playground. Life is simple and to be enjoyed.

What happened? We were born with all the secrets we need for happiness. We just misplaced them or buried them along the way. Now, we have to find, polish and treasure them forever. How about, this weekend, we spend some quality time with our inner children? Talk to them, be gentle with them, love them, and let them out to play. Have fun!

Happy New You!

It’s the first week of the new year. Right about now, people are battling with their well-intended but unrealistic new year’s resolutions. They’re either still in the enthusiastic mode of energy and determination to shift that winter plumage / study harder / get fit / learn how to speak fluent Italian… Or they’re already feeling guilty at having skipped a day at the gym / found their hand in a bag of Doritos / had a sneaky cigarette or a pint of the black stuff… And then there are others who are too worried that 2012 heralds the end of time to bother with all that guff.

2011 was a tough year. People lost jobs and struggled to pay bills. Relationships ended and hearts were broken. Friends and family moved away. Loved ones got sick. Others died. And life went on. Couples got engaged and married and pregnant. Babies were born. Students graduated. People became more open-minded and enlightened.

2012 is sure to bring about more change. We will face more challenges and difficulties but we will also be given the opportunity to learn more, live better and love unconditionally. Forget about the end of the world and focus on the end of your old way of living. Ignore your negative thoughts. Stop worrying. Don’t spend time in the past or the future. Appreciate the now.

I received a new year’s text from a friend who told me to “just really be yourself”. What better advice for 2012? Why try to be like anybody else? Why waste your time and energy? Let 2012 be the year you really come into yourself and enjoy every minute of it.

Ditch the resolutions that are doomed to fail before you even start. Think about what’s really important and think positive. Ask for what you want for the year to come. Set your intentions and put them out there.

For me, I’m going to continue on my journey of self-discovery, learning and spirituality. I will keep up the yoga and meditation but only when I feel like it. I’m done with being hard on myself. It doesn’t work for me. And I know that now.

And if I do get into a relationship in 2012, it will be for the right reasons. It won’t be because I’m lonely or because “everyone else” is all loved-up. It’s not going to be because I’m drunk and it’s the end of the night and I wonder if the chancer in the check shirt deserves a chance. It’s also not going to be because he’s handsome or funny or makes me feel good about myself. I’m going to feel good about myself anyway. And if someone comes along and we fit together and it feels right, nice one!

I’m also going to live in the present moment (as often as I remember) and I’m going to enjoy all the little things. I’m not going to give out to myself any more. I’m going to have fun, read books, climb mountains, inhale the goodness of the ocean, relish the sunshine, spend time with good people, laugh, and stand in my own truth.

Happy new year! Let’s make it memorable. For all the right reasons.

Images: http://piccsy.com/?page=16; http://full-of-love.blog.cz/