Mindfulness as Ordinary; Mindfulness as Special - Priscilla M. Koop, PhD

Photo courtesy of Priscilla Koop

Recently, a valued mentor suggested that as an MBSR teacher, I maintain sight of the fact that mindfulness is actually quite ordinary. I appreciated this discussion. All of us have had the experience of paying attention, of being utterly present during an event. At some level, we were also aware that we were paying attention as the event unfolded and did so without judging or trying to change it in any way. That is mindfulness!

What is not ordinary, I think, is the day-to-day habit of this non-judgemental presence. While special events may fully capture my attention, much of the time, I find my mind revisiting the past or anticipating the future. If what is happening is unpleasant, I may find myself thinking, “This isn’t fair,” or “It shouldn’t be this way.” During pleasant events, I may try to hang onto the passing moment, wishing it were always this way. These reactions are entirely normal, but when they become a pattern, they can lead to an inability to fully experience the moment.

Having a meditation practice helps me experience more of both the special and ordinary events of my life. I notice the judgemental thoughts without being carried away by them – not always, but certainly more often. I can smile at these urges to push away or hang onto thoughts and events, and then settle into what is actually happening in this very moment.

But that’s the dilemma, isn’t it? Actually sitting (or standing or lying down or walking) for a half hour or more every day! Where to find the time? Where and when to practice so that we aren’t disturbed by family, pets, the doorbell, the phone! How to keep up this practice even when there seem to be so many other things we could be doing? And so, when I am actually meditating, sometimes there is an expectation that I should be experiencing something special! I feel disappointed when I notice my thoughts racing and my to-do list intruding.

That’s when I find it useful to remind myself, “This is how it is.” Mindfulness isn’t special. It is dead ordinary. But it can be messy. It is the expectation that it be special that can be the problem. Thoughts intrude as do family members, pets, doorbells and phones. The invitation is to notice. And then, with gentle persistence and practice, we find ourselves noticing life itself. And that is special.

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Priscilla M. Koop, PhD is an MBSR teacher and a consultant with the Mindfulness Institute.ca.

Moments of Transition - Priscilla M. Koop, PhD

Photo courtesy of Hannah Marsh

Many years ago, I saw this sign in the window of a small business: “I don’t take my problems with me when I leave the office. I have a complete set of them at home.” The memory makes me smile, although behind this sentiment lies a very real challenge. When we carry our work-related concerns home with us and vice versa, we may notice that we are never fully present wherever we find ourselves.

Moving between home and work, of course, represents a major transition. What about the smaller transitions that occur over the course of a day? Many of my colleagues are healthcare professionals who work with multiple patients in a row. How does one be fully present with the current patient, as opposed to ruminating about the patient just seen or worrying about the patient to be seen next, especially when said patients have complex or unresolved problems? How does one mindfully transition from one task or project to another?

Of course, the whole point of mindfulness is to focus on wherever we are at any given time, and on whatever is happening in this moment. This is a simple matter, but definitely not easy to do. Undone tasks, unfinished projects, unresolved concerns have a way of visiting us at inopportune moments. So how do we help ourselves?

An important component of working with this challenge is to recognize transitions when we are in them, and to consciously and explicitly set aside the concerns associated with one place prior to moving ahead, engaging in the cognitive equivalent of closing files on the computer at the end of a day’s work. Some people, in fact, like to use the image of closing files as they move from one project to another. Others find that by focusing on the experience of the transition itself - the drive from work to home, for example - they are better able to leave behind where they've been; the transition becomes its own mindfulness practice, allowing for a space and opportunity to ground oneself in the present moment.

When transitions involve moving from one place to another, doorways can be enormously helpful - intentionally leaving one place and arriving at another, we can give ourselves the gift of arriving here and now.

The invitation to you is to take note of the transitions in your day, to notice how you make them, and to consider how well your current practices serve. What alternatives might you like to explore?

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Priscilla M. Koop, PhD is an MBSR teacher and a consultant with the Mindfulness Institute.ca.

A New Year! A New You? - Hannah Marsh

Photo courtesy of Hannah Marsh

Around this time of year, there are many messages of self-transformation. Some are inspiring reminders that each year, each moment, is a new beginning. Others, less helpfully, tap into our insecurities, the things we dislike about ourselves, and offer up an image of a better future - "A new you!" This version of self-transformation depends on dissatisfaction with the present. It suggests that to be happy, we need to become a new and different person than we already are.

I'd like to offer an alternative:

What if we started this year, as we do our MBSR classes, by saying, "There is more right with you than wrong with you"?

What if, instead of a to-do list of resolutions, we each told ourselves, "I am enough"?

What if, instead of striving toward an imagined future, we listened to the very centre of our being and asked ourselves, "What is it that I really want"? What matters most deeply, in this moment?

From this inner listening, we might find our truest intentions, "the noblest aspirations of our heart" (Ajahn Pavaro). This year, I invite you to stand firm, honouring what matters most deeply to you. For me, right now, what matters most is connection - to the world around me, to the people I love, to my own good self. I invite you to join me, standing firm in our noblest of intentions, following them with great patience and self-compassion, remembering we are not alone. 

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Hannah Marsh is a consultant with the Mindfulness Institute.ca.

An Autumn Invitation - Hannah Marsh

Photo courtesy of Brad Stewart.

Here in Edmonton, fall has arrived, bringing us the first snow of the season. At the elementary school down the block, the children roll the snow into knee-high boulders, which slowly melt over the next two days, as it is not quite winter yet.

In this part of the world, where leaves yellow and fall to the ground in the blink of an eye, where autumn can feel more like a harbinger of winter then a season unto itself, I like to remind myself to slow down. To let go of the beautifully long days of summer, so I can enjoy this short-lived season, the cozy sweater-weather, and the fiery colours of fall. When I find myself bracing against winter and the long hours of darkness ahead, I remind myself to feel grateful for the light we have now. To live in this present moment, not dwelling on the past or the future. To be more gentle with myself. I need plenty of reminders - and patience, too - but this practice helps alleviate the weight I often feel at this time of year, as the days shorten and grow cold.

Whatever your feelings about this new season, I invite you to tune in to whatever is going on inside, to observe with kindness and non-judgement your internal environment, which may change as much, or more, than the environment outside. In this time of change, and perhaps busyness, I invite you to slow down and be gentle with yourself.

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Hannah Marsh is a consultant with the Mindfulness Institute.ca.