One of my favourite examples is brushing the teeth. It’s a familiar activity, with a very obvious focal point and, as it’s likely to last no more than a few minutes, there’s every chance that you’ll be able to maintain a sense of awareness throughout. Of course, this is in contrast to how most people would normally brush their teeth, which is as quickly as possible while thinking about what to do next. The difference between the two scenarios needs to be experienced to be fully understood. Try it, see how it feels. You’ll probably find it easiest to be aware of one of the physical senses and use that as your focal point. So it might be the sound of the brush against the teeth, or the physical sensation of the arm moving back and forwards, or the taste or the smell of the toothpaste. By focusing on just one of these objects at a time, the mind will start to feel a little more calm. And in that calmness there’s every possibility that you might notice the tendency to drift off into thought, or to hurry to get on to the next thing. Or you might notice that you apply too much or too little effort to the brushing process. You may even notice a feeling of boredom. But all these observations will prove useful in their own way, because they will show you your mind as it really is. Having this increased awareness is the difference between having a stable, calm and focused mind, or a mind that feels out of control. Take the example of drinking a glass of water. Rather than just ‘necking it’ as quickly as possible, take the time to notice the experience. Seriously, when was the last time you actually
tasted
a glass of water? As you pick up the glass you can be aware of the temperature and texture of the glass. You can be aware of the movement of the hand towards the mouth. You can be aware of the taste and texture of the water as it enters the mouth. If you’re really listening to the body you can even follow the water as it goes down the throat towards the stomach. And if you notice the mind has wandered off at any one of these stages, it’s simply a matter of bringing the attention back to the process of drinking the water.
What you’ll notice when you start to apply this approach to situations is that it has a very soothing effect on the mind. Not only are you present to experience everything you do (quite literally living life to the full), but it also feels very calming. And with calm comes clarity. You begin to see how and why you think and feel the way you do. You start to notice the patterns and tendencies of the mind. And what this does is to give you back the choice of how you live your life. Rather than being swept away by undermining or unproductive thoughts and emotions, you can respond in the way you’d actually like to.
Another common question is how does this work if other people are present. Is it not rude to be focusing on these things if you are in the company of others? This one always makes me laugh, because it suggests that normally we’re so focused on the words, feelings and sensitivities of others that we couldn’t possibly have time to focus on anything else. Needless to say, this is rarely the case. We’re often so distracted by our own thoughts that we don’t even really hear what the other person is saying. Let’s say you’re walking down the street talking with a friend. Although walking is a relatively autonomous act, you will still have to apply a certain amount of awareness to avoid bumping into other people, walking in front of traffic and so on. Between those moments of awareness, your attention can easily switch to listening and engaging with your friend. This doesn’t mean you are giving them any less attention than you would usually, it simply means your attention is switching from one thing to the next as required – in this case from an awareness of your physical surroundings to an awareness of listening and talking to your friend. The awareness of passing thoughts and feelings will not be as refined as you would experience when sitting to do your meditation practice – at least not at first anyway, but the important thing is to apply the
intention
of awareness. The more often you do this the easier and more refined it will become. By being mindful, it actually puts you ‘back in the room’ with the other person, or people. One woman who came to the clinic commented on how by using it with her baby, she now felt as if she was actually spending time with him. She’d said that before, even though she was with him, her mind was always elsewhere. But by being more mindful around her baby, she was now actually present for the experience. The implications of this for all our relationships are enormous. Imagine what it would be like to have someone give you their full and undivided attention. Imagine what it would be like to return the favour.
The monk with no time
So, the beauty of mindfulness is that you don’t need to take extra time out of your day to practise it. All it means is training your mind to be present with the action, rather than being lost in thought elsewhere. This answers those who argue that they have no time to train the mind. A long time ago I heard about an American meditation teacher who trained as a monk in Thailand. He’d gone out there sometime back in the 1960s or 1970s, along with countless others who were following the hippy trail across Asia at the time. During his travels he became increasingly interested in meditation and decided he wanted to study it full-time. Going to one of the most renowned teachers in Thailand, he settled down in the monastery and began his training, eventually becoming a monk. It was in many ways a very strict training schedule and the day alternated between periods of formal meditation and work. They would meditate for something in the region of about eight hours a day.
If you haven’t lived in a monastery, nunnery or retreat, then eight hours probably sounds like quite a long time. But in the context of these training centres, it’s quite short. Of course, the rest of the time was also spent training the mind, but in the form of mindfulness, applying awareness to the chores of everyday life. Now because there was a fairly well-established travelling route through Asia at that time, a lot of other Westerners visited the monastery while he was staying there. Many would stay a few weeks and then move on in their travels. But while staying at the monastery they inevitably fell into conversation with the Westerners who lived there. It was during these conversations that this man heard how in the monasteries of neighbouring Burma, residents were doing more like eighteen hours a day of formal meditation. Being very enthusiastic and wanting to move on quickly with his meditation, he started to think seriously about moving. But he felt torn because the teacher he was studying with was so well known, so well respected.
A few months went by as he wrestled with the idea of leaving. If enlightenment was the game, then surely he’d stand more chance doing eighteen hours of meditation a day in one of the Burmese monasteries. Currently, he had so many different jobs to do – cleaning, collecting firewood, sewing monks’ robes and so on – that he felt as if there was no time to meditate at all. Besides, he was finding the training difficult and suspected that the work was somehow interfering with his progress. After a while he went to see his teacher to tell him that he was going to leave. He was secretly hoping that his teacher would see how devoted and dedicated he was and give him the opportunity to stay and do the extra meditation where he was, but instead the teacher just calmly nodded his head at the news.
The man, by now somewhat incensed by his teacher’s seemingly indifferent reaction, was at a loss. ‘But don’t you want to know
why
I’m leaving?’ he asked. ‘OK,’ replied the teacher very calmly, still unmoved by his visitor. ‘It’s because we have no time to meditate here,’ the man replied. ‘Apparently in Burma they sit for eighteen hours a day, whereas here we do no more than eight hours a day. How can I make any progress if all I’m doing is cooking and cleaning and sewing all day? There’s no time here!’ I’m told the teacher looked at him earnestly, but with a smile on his face as he asked, ‘Are you telling me you’ve no time to be mindful? Are you telling me that you have no time to be aware?’ So caught up in his internal dialogue, at first the man missed the point altogether and shot back, ‘Exactly. We’re always so busy working that there’s no time to be present.’ The teacher laughed. ‘So,’ he replied, ‘you’re telling me that when you’re sweeping the courtyard there’s no time to be aware of the action of sweeping? That when you’re pressing the monks’ robes there’s no time to be aware of the action of ironing? The point of training the mind is to become more aware. You have the same amount of time to do this whether you’re sitting in the temple with your eyes closed or whether you’re sweeping the courtyard with your eyes open!’
The man apparently fell quite silent, realising his misunderstanding of mind training. Like so many people, myself included, he’d thought that it was only possible to train the mind while sitting completely still in meditation. But mind training is so much more flexible than that. The practice of mindfulness shows us how we can apply the same quality of mind to everything we do. It doesn’t matter whether we live a very physical life or a sedentary life, there is just as much time to be aware cycling down the road as there is sitting in a chair at home. And nor does it matter what type of job we have. We all follow the same twenty-four-hour clock, so we all have the same amount of time to train in awareness. Whether we’re aware of the physical senses, our emotions, our thoughts, or the content of those thoughts, it’s all awareness and there is always time to be aware.
The dot-to-dot day
Do you remember those dot-to-dot drawings from your early days at school? The ones that mapped out a picture with very small dots? In fact, they were so close together that all you needed to do was join the dots to feel as if you’d created some kind of masterpiece. This idea of dot-to-dot is a simple way of demonstrating how mindfulness can be so much more than just an isolated meditation exercise done once a day. Take a blank piece of paper and try drawing a straight line very slowly across the page. Even if you’ve got a very good eye, my guess is that there’ll be at least a few wobbles along the way. If you haven’t got a steady hand, the wobbles might be considerably greater. Let’s say that this line symbolises your continuity of awareness throughout the day. When you’re aware, you tend to have a sense of calm, of focus, of direction. And remember, even if you’re not necessarily experiencing a pleasant emotion, you’ll still have a sense of space around the emotions, some increased perspective, and some emotional stability. However, much like the line you drew across the page, for most people this idea of continuity of awareness tends to look very shaky.
Perhaps you wake up feeling great, thinking it’s the weekend. But then you realise it’s actually a weekday and plunge into depression. You get up, trip over the cat, swear out loud, and go to the bathroom. Eating breakfast, you cheer up a little and you start to think that it might not be such a bad day after all. Then you get an e-mail from your boss, just as you’re leaving home, asking you to work late that day. ‘Typical,’ you think, ‘it’s always me.’ Walking out of the front door, slamming it behind you, this time you swear under your breath. When you get to work and realise that it’s not just you, but that everyone has been asked to work late, you somehow feel better. Then you notice the big plate of cakes on the table. You smile, as a wave of desire hits you. ‘Must be someone’s birthday,’ you think to yourself, ‘roll on coffee break.’ But then you start thinking about the cakes a little more. You’ve been on a diet recently and have been doing so well, do you really want to eat the cake? Then again, you’ve also been working on being more kind to yourself, so perhaps you
should
eat the cake. You feel confused. You want the cake, you don’t want the cake. And so the day goes on, forever caught up in the highs and lows of all that’s going on around you. The one thing that remains the same throughout the day is that your thinking dictates the way you feel. In the absence of awareness, the realm of thought takes over.
Now try imagining it a different way. This time imagine that the piece of paper has lots of very small dots on it, going from one side to the other. Each dot is very close to the next one on the page. Now try drawing the same straight line. My guess is it’s much easier now. All you have to do is focus on getting from one dot to the next. You don’t have to think as far ahead as the other side of the piece of paper, but just a few millimetres to reach the next dot. All of a sudden it’s not so difficult to draw a straight line. And if we continue the analogy of the line representing your sense of awareness (and therefore your emotional stability) throughout the day, then this is obviously very good news.
Rather than thinking of just being mindful during your ten minutes of meditation each morning (and then trying to make it through the next twenty-three hours and fifty minutes of your day until you meditate again) maybe start to think of mindfulness in terms of something you can apply throughout your day. Remember, all it means is to give your full attention to whatever you’re doing, whenever you’re doing it. The implication of this is that it’s simply no longer possible to think about where you’d rather be, what you’d rather be doing, or wishing that things were different from the way they are (all the types of thinking that usually leave you feeling stressed out), because you’ll be present with whatever you’re doing instead.
So, rather than plunging into a bad mood when you realise it’s a weekday, instead you witness your response to that realisation and watch how the feeling comes and then goes. Having tripped over the cat, rather than swearing out loud and blaming it on your feline friend, you bend down to make sure it’s OK, focusing on the wellbeing of the cat rather than your own internal frustrations. Forgetting your frustration in this simple act of altruism you start the day afresh. And so it goes on, moving from one activity to the next with purpose, focus and awareness.
The distracted man
This idea of being aware and awake to each and every new moment is potentially very exciting. It’s so easy to live life on autopilot and for the days and years to pass us by. A client came to see me at the clinic some time back. He came not because he had been referred by his GP, or because he was suffering from some kind of mental illness – he came because he said he was feeling increasingly disconnected from the world around him, increasingly caught up in thoughts about work, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Not only was this affecting the way he felt within himself, but it was also starting to affect his relationships. He said his wife was fed up with him never listening to what she was saying (which he confirmed as being true), and that his children were always complaining that he was never there. In fact, one of them had recently told him that even when he
was
there, it was as though he was off somewhere else in his head. This comment had been the final straw. He felt heartbroken to hear that from one of his own children. Understandably, he was very upset and he worried that if he didn’t do something to change the situation, then the ramifications for the family unit would be very serious.