“Breathing in I calm, breathing out I smile. Dwelling in the present moment It is a precious moment.” ~Thich Nhat Hahn
I sometimes begin my meditation with the above Gatha, a verse to say internally in rhythm with the breath. I learned it from Thich Nhat Hahn when I was at Plum Village, his retreat center in the south of France. This was back in the early ’90s. The words seemed nice but I am not sure I truly connected to what I was reciting as I repeated the phrases to myself.
“Breathing in, I calm.” This was my intention. I wanted to be calm, know calm, act from a place that was settled and quiet.
“Breathing out, I smile.” This implied acceptance. Letting myself smile no matter what my mind was producing. That felt impossible. Smile at grief? Smile at restlessness or boredom? Smile at wanting something I didn’t have? Smile at impatience and my self-judgment?
“Dwelling in the present moment”. Did I? Was I? My body was present but I often forgot that it carried my head around and noted thoughts much more than sensations unless some pain would arrive. Only later did I appreciate the wisdom of being here. That here was where there could be a choice. Here is where I am.
“It is a precious moment.” Yes, being alive and present is indeed precious. More than ever with Covid-19 raging through the country I appreciate the gift of life and health. More than ever I see the practicality of practice. Moments go by so quickly and so easily taken for granted—until something happens.
Calming: I am not always calm; it is impossible. But, I am often calm. When I’m not it feels more like an aberration and I know I can and will calm down. I’ve learned it doesn’t pay to keep being agitated. It’s not practical. My mind closes down, my heart rate goes up and I’m caught in old stuff. Of course, old stuff, the habits that were established for self-protection, expediency, and approval that served a useful function in the past may no longer make sense. Mindfulness helps me recognize this and helps me respond rather than react automatically.
Recently I volunteered to give a talk for the Center for Mindfulness and Compassion. When asked what I wanted to do I said, “let’s keep it simple, how about making practice practical?” That’s what first came to mind and what sustains my practice. It makes sense. It’s also what I have been doing since 1984 when I began teaching Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction which brings mindfulness into daily life. I’m now preparing to lead a seven-day silent retreat with two good friends and skilled teachers. It’s important that I remember why I practice and to have it be practical in my daily life so I can convey this to others. That means living what I teach, losing self-consciousness, and being present wholly. Then I can respond authentically to what arises with greater kindness and wisdom.
Like everyone else I practice because there is suffering and I want to continue to be mindful of its causes and its release. This is not easy. It sounds simple to simply return to my direct experience as it is unfolding with as little reactivity as possible. I have a sign in my office that says, Clear mind, open heart, what’s to lose?” I also have a bumper sticker that says, “Maybe the hokey pokey is what it’s all about.” A student from one of my Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction classes sent it to me because in the section on stress, which is around the middle of the program, I’d sometimes have the group rise from our seats and we’d do the hokey pokey.
You take your whole self out (the me that has a particular view and wants what she wants)
You put your whole self in ( you are wholeheartedly present and engaged in mind and body)
And you shake it all about—fixed ideas and the way things should be get shaken up. You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about.
Of course mindfulness is much more than the hokey pokey but my views and perception of how I thought the world should be and who I am in relationship to it have been altered. Life has shaken me and the views I’ve held that I thought were fixed have been shaken. How wonderful. Life is dynamic and I’ve learned to smile—eventually—as I meet aging, illness, and yes death when I meet the human condition and our shared humanity. I’ve learned I can stop, feel my feet on the ground, the air around me, and give thanks I am breathing. Then I can begin to calm, in-breath, and out, gain perspective, metaphorically smile, and take another step. This moment is precious. I get to say hello to you.