Mindfulness in everyday life.
When I go on meditation retreat, I often hear some version of these words: "You don't speak forthree whole days? I couldn't do that." It's interesting that not talking is the deal breaker. There are many hard parts of a meditation retreat: judging mind, fear, doubt, and physical discomfort. On retreat, there's no place to hide. I get an honest look at myself and that's difficult territory. But not speaking, that's a gift.
A memory of hello: I'm working upstairs on the computer, doing something that feels important, like processing my photographs or writing an article. Mark walks in the house. I yell downstairs, "Hi, baby!" Though, in truth, I barely take a moment to pause. I continue to work, to push ahead. Yet I feel disconnected and Mark feels, perhaps, unseen. (Since this event, I've changed my actions. I stop whatever I'm doing and greet him at the door.)
There are many ways to rush through our days. And there are many choices for small yet substantial pauses. Spread throughout the day, purposeful pauses can shift our landscape. One of these places is mealtime. Food nourishes us and, in community, it nourishes connection. It's an important time to be fully present. Yet we seldom are.
