From my 10-year-old daughter this week:
"Mama, we set the timer for three minutes and just paid attention. I saw how the water hit the edge of the river. It's just like a small lake with the way the water hits the shore; I didn't know that before. I watched a fly-fisherman."
The three minutes my daughter spent being mindful fueled at least thirty minutes of reflection and conversation. This essay was a result of those three minutes. One small moment invested in paying attention is yielding a rich harvest.
Smaller and deeper is paying attention to the small moments. Gathering them, living those moments deeply, because there is something worth paying attention to.
My daughter spent just three minutes paying attention. The invitation was to make sure that every sense was engaged. The sounds, the smells, the sights, the feelings, she was present to each sense.
Those three minutes last Thursday afternoon were not extraordinary moments. The river was flowing just like it always flows. The sun was shining just like it always shines. The wind was gently blowing across her skin like it always does, yet when she stopped to feel it and experience it, the ordinary became extraordinary. That one moment keeps giving. She gathered every part of those three minutes, and they keep giving back to her, me, and you! That's a significant impact from a small investment.
I've been using my daughter's example this week. I've been working on setting a timer in my mind or on my watch and just paying attention. This morning I sat on the front steps in the darkness and listened to leaves falling down. In the quiet and darkness of the morning, I could hear each leaf let go and fall with a clarity that I don't hear or even notice in the noise and light of the day. Orion's belt was just above the tree. I always look for Orion in the night sky. Those guiding stars were there when I stopped to notice.
It's such a small invitation, just stop and listen, watch, smell, feel.
Paying attention to the moment is an antidote to anxiety, to fear, to the chatter inside our head. Just stop and breathe. See what you can see. Feel what you can feel. Hear what you can hear.
Set a timer for three minutes. Be fully in those three minutes. Maybe go one step forward and write (with a pen and paper) a list of all you saw, heard, felt, smelled, and experienced in those three minutes.
We also like to use the 5-4-3-2-1 method. Name 5 things you can see. 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste.
Monthly Practice:
September, I set out to read When I Am Among the Trees by Mary Oliver every day. I didn't always read it every day, but I'm sure I read it 30 times and most days.
Some observations:
Different lines stood out at different times.
"I am so distant from the hope of myself."
"Walk slowly and bow often."
"The light flows from their branches:
"To go easy and be filled with light and to shine."
The more I read it, the more the words came to me, especially when I was among the trees on my daily walks. I noticed the light shining through the leaves more. I wondered what the trees on my walk were calling out to me. I thought about walking slowly and bowing often.
I didn't end up with the poem memorized, but the words I will carry with me.
This is a smaller & deeper practice that works for me and I’m going to keep exploring. Join me?
A Poem For October:
Snow Geese by Mary Oliver is going to be my daily poem for October.
Will you join me? Print a copy here. (Send me a quick note and let me know if you are joining me in this practice! We can share insights!)
I wrote about this practice here.
Here is a link to an article: My Secret Weapon Against the Attention Economy, which is an excellent read about this practice!)
Currently Reading:
Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr
A new book by Boise resident Anthony Doerr. . . yes! I'm about 100 pages in; I'm not sure at all where it's going. But I'm in for the ride. His Pulitzer Prize-winning book, All the Light We Cannot See, is still an all-time favorite.
The Night Diary by Veera Hiranandani
When I need a reading reboot, sometimes a middle-grade book is the perfect place to start. This novel (a Newberry Honor Book) was written in diary entries by a 12-year-old girl to her mama, who died when she and her twin were born. This book takes place between July-November 1947. During that time India gained its independence from British rule, and the country split along Muslim & Hindi lines. Her mother was Muslim, her father Hindi, their home was in a region that was Muslim, they had to leave their home and move to Pakistan in a Hindi region. It's based, loosely, on the author's grandparent's experiences. So, based on history. I loved this book. It was sweet, challenging, and left me with lots to consider.
(I try and pay attention to words or phrases that stand out to me in my reading and listening. There is a spiritual practice called Florliledgium that collects short, interesting pieces {words that “sparkle” up} and put them together. This is kind of like that. Watching for things that sparkle. Gathering them and seeing how they work together and what message, mantra, or new idea might arise.)
A Practice:
Read slowly.
Notice if a word or phrase stands out to you.
How do the words make you feel?
Is there an invitation?
(I’m sharing in italics the lines that stand out to me in these passages. Maybe it’s the same, or maybe it’s different, there is much food for thought in each of these passages)
"Always say "yes" to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to what already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say "yes" to life — and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you."
― Eckhart Tolle
"Be where you are. Look around. Just look, don't interpret. See the light, shapes, colors, textures. Be aware of the silent presence of each thing. Be aware of the space that allows everything to be."
― Eckhart Tolle, Practicing the Power of Now: Essential Teachings, Meditations, and Exercises from the Power of Now
"We habitually erect a barrier called blame that keeps us from communicating genuinely with others, and we fortify it with our concepts of who's right and who's wrong. We do that with the people who are closest to us, and we do it with political systems, with all kinds of things that we don't like about our associates or our society.
It is a very common, ancient, well-perfected device for trying to feel better. Blame others....Blaming is a way to protect your heart, trying to protect what is soft and open and tender in yourself. Rather than own that pain, we scramble to find some comfortable ground."
― Pema Chodron
In the stillness of the quiet, if we listen, we can hear the whisper of the heart giving strength to weakness, courage to fear, hope to despair.
-Howard Thurman
