Mindfulness in everyday life.
Saturday afternoon, Mark and I drove to the Wiouwash Trail. We wanted a long walk outside. En route, we were hit by another car (unusual circumstances, details unnecessary). Mark had to swerve. I thought we were clear, but the impact came, which sent us into another swerve, and we landed in a steep (yet blessedly soft) ditch. No airbags deployed, but our hearts raced. It was scary and startling. I was shaken. Much more shaken than I first realized.
Time has elongated. Though communications are fast and ever-changing, the length of the day expands. We’re processing a new landscape, which is nothing we’ve seen before. The coronavirus pandemic is a giant societal pause. We’re forced to stop and re-evaluate. We’re called to care about not just our friends and families, but about strangers, because we’re deeply interconnected. We’re asked to set aside our inconveniences and see the bigger impact.
Last week, I posed questions to the readers of my monthly mindfulness "heart-letter" and my Facebook page. These were deep questions. And the responses I received were beautiful, complicated, real, and insightful.
