Tag Archives: thought

I’m Always Here

Mindfulness is a buzz word of the moment. And being present is a recurring theme in my blog posts.

Yesterday however, I realised that there’s an element of resistance in the way I’ve been practising mindfulness. I’ve been using my version of mindfulness to criticise myself and block self-expression.

Living in the now is being present to experience life as it happens. It’s not about dredging up the past or catapulting into the future. It also isn’t about trying to change how things are. Mindfulness means nonresistance.

Mindfulness has certainly enriched my experience of life. It has enabled peace of mind and improved my sleep. And it’s giving me a deeper appreciation of myself, other people and the world around me.

I’ve also become pretty adept at catching myself as I catastrophise a situation. When I worry about what could possibly go wrong, I can quickly bring myself back to the present moment and know that, right now, I’m okay. This potential future I’ve spun dangerously into doesn’t even exist. All that exists is this moment.

Recently however, I’ve been a little hard on myself when I find myself in my head. Get out of there Sharon, I shout. As if my head isn’t part of me.

When I feel excited about something, I immediately shut off that excitement. I tell myself that I’m silly for fantasising. I insist on being present. There’s no place for dreams Sharon, I scold. There is only now.

I convince myself that hope is a dirty word. Where there’s hope, disappointment will follow. 

It’s as if Eckhart Tolle has infiltrated my inner voice and I can hear his disapproval every time I slip into expectation or attachment. Of course, there’s massive wisdom in Eckhart Tolle’s teachings. And mindfulness is a wonderful practise. But what’s important is how we internalise these concepts.

Yesterday, I complained to my Life Coach that I’m not being present when I fancy a guy. I described being alone in my room thinking of a man I like.

The Life Coach asks me what that feels like. “It’s nice,” I answer. “I feel excited. But then, if things don’t work out the way I’d hoped, I feel so disappointed. I’m not being present.” I frown.

“Are you not being present?” he wonders.

Suddenly, I realise that I am being present. I’m actually always present. I’m always here.

I’m aware of myself as I fantasise. I’m aware as I attach hope to someone or something. I’m the witness, the consciousness, that’s observing everything, all of the time.

When I feel disappointed or excited, in love or anxious, it doesn’t mean I’ve taken a step back spiritually. It just means that I’m human. I’m experiencing and learning.

Being present doesn’t eradicate emotion. Mindfulness doesn’t obliterate thought.

I can be present in my hope and disappointment. I can think thoughts and I can watch myself as I think them. I can allow the inner child to play and get excited. And I can open up to love instead of closing myself off for fear of losing myself.

Mindfulness isn’t about being perfect and feeling zen all the time. It’s about being present to everything exactly as it is. It’s about observing and accepting.

With this new understanding, I feel relieved. I feel looser. I give myself permission to be a human being with wants, needs and desires. I allow myself to feel, to play and to love.

This frees me up to recognise myself as something bigger also. The witness who sees everything and doesn’t judge or criticise. And so I can allow all that is and be as I am.

meditationandmindfulnessforchildren.blogspot.ie

meditationandmindfulnessforchildren.blogspot.ie

Message in a Bottled Dream

Last week, I had a dream that I was climbing a cliff of purple amethyst. I had to think carefully about where to place my hands and feet. Suddenly, I became aware of how precarious my position was, how high up I was, how far I had to fall, how vulnerable I was. I was terrified. People below shouted words of praise and encouragement. I thought: It doesn’t matter what anybody else says or does. The belief has to come from within.

Something about this dream seemed relevant so I revisited it to search for its meaning. I read the words I’d scrawled, drunk with sleep, in my journal. The first message was obvious: Belief must come from within. The second message was slightly more obscure. In the dream, I’d felt fine while climbing the cliff until a thought had changed everything. The thought was: I am unsafe. I am in danger. And so I became frightened. I was paralysed with fear. A simple thought can totally transform our reality. Therefore, a different thought or even a detachment from the thought can alter our reality in a more positive way.

Recently, I was chatting to a lady who felt depressed. She said: “What’s weighing me down is the thought that I am like this, that I am depressed.” It wasn’t the depression that was making her feel bad, it was the thought of being depressed that she couldn’t escape. As Byron Katie would say, “Who would you be without the thought?” A whole lot lighter! In my dream, who would I be without the thought that I might fall? I would be confident and secure and present in my task of climbing.

As I shut my journal, I realised that the dream didn’t really possess two separate meanings. Both messages pointed in the same direction: Everything comes from within us. Our thinking is what makes our reality. The thought doesn’t have us; we have the thought. We choose every single thought. So, we can replace thoughts that fill us with fear, anger or sadness with thoughts of peace, love and happiness. We can empower ourselves and enrich our own lives. We can choose to live in the present and enjoy each and every moment.