Mindfulness
Thursday, March 18, 2010 at 1:05PM 
I have been thinking a lot about mindfulness. As time seems to fly at an every increasing pace, it feels like I am on a train whizzing past each moment, grasping at the rails to slow down... 6 months.... teeth... pulling up to standing... each station flies past me at an unbelievable pace... 9 months... waving bye bye... eating with a spoon... too many milestones to keep up with... it seems that walking must be just around the corner and college just after that. And my mind is way behind, on the caboose of the train, still sitting in a prenatal yoga class last spring watching the trees blossom and feeling a kick in my belly.
Children are a force. They show us just how fast life is really moving. With their ever changing needs, naps, and skills, they challenge the parts of us that want to cling to the past. Phoenix doesn't know that he's changing fast. All he knows is that he wants to stand, he wants to walk, he wants to explore his surroundings. He wants to move in ever wider circles away from his mother. And I watch, at one moment delighting in his new found independence, and at the same moment mourning the baby that he isn't anymore.
Mindfulness. I think all that we can hope for is moments. Today I watched as Phoenix and his friend saw a helicopter for the first time, and their different reactions to it. One showed awe, excitement, and the other a little bit of terror. Each time the strange metal bird flew by, their reactions intensified a little bit. Seeing the world through their eyes for a moment. All new. all present. The mind "full" only of that one thing.
An analogy Eileen shared with us in Mindful Moments class is that our minds are basically like dogs. She explained how meditation is like trying to teach a dog to sit. Sit. stay, good girl. And how our thoughts are like balls being tossed over that poor dog's nose. Some thoughts are really enticing, and the dog (mind) wants to get up and chase the ball (thought), and the trainer keeps the dog sitting (meditation). Sit, stay, good girl. And even as Eileen spoke so beautifully about the mind and it's yearnings, I felt my mind just trying to even take in what she was saying as the balls of my own thoughts were tossed repeatedly over my head. Sit, stay, good girl. "hmmm should I leave this class early and go to the pool party with my moms group?" oh, crap. Sit, stay, good girl. "what was that again, Eileen? The mind finds itself either in a state of attachment, aversion, or... what was the other one?" "Equanimity." Oh yeah, that one. Of course I forgot that one.
Equanimity. "The quality of being calm and even-tempered, composure." How often are we actually there? The masters, Eileen said, are simply those that live the most time in equanimity. I think our children are masters. I think of Phoenix, in his last blissful months without language, without a running commentary about his own life, and I think... slow down. sit. stay... good girl. Enjoy the teeth, enjoy the milestones, and trust each moment as it comes... and more importantly, as it goes. The train is not going to slow down, but our minds can. Stay. Stay... One tiny moment at a time. Ride the train on the front car looking forward.
I am so grateful for these moments. And for the gift of living with a child, the best teacher of all in mindfulness and being present.
Reader Comments (1)
Beautiful!