Let's work with the simple practice of mindfully being present.
Simple.
Easy?
Ah,
Not so much.
Remembering that mindfulness is not the elimination of distraction.
Mindfulness is the compassionate return.
Also remembering that so much of our suffering comes from leaving the moment we are actually living.
The Buddha understood this so,
So deeply.
He taught that the untrained mind is restless and easily carried away.
Have you experienced that?
The traditional image that comes to mind is a drunken monkey or a team of wild horses pulling in different directions.
Honestly,
I know what that feels like and I bet you do too.
One part of the mind is living in the past,
Replaying all the conversations,
The things that went well or didn't go well.
The other part of the mind is worrying about what's happening tomorrow.
And there's the part of the mind that's solving and fixing and managing and controlling and impressing.
Or regretting.
Or just avoid it.
Ugh.
Our mind is fragmented.
And in that fragmentation,
We can stop inhabiting our own lives.
Thomas Merton once wrote,
To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns,
To surrender to too many demands,
To commit oneself to too many projects,
To want to help everyone,
With everything is to succumb to the violence of our times.
Boy,
That line is very relevant right now.
It's not necessarily physical violence.
It's the violence of constant distraction,
Or urgency,
Or endless stimulation.
Of never really arriving in our bodies where we already are.
And it's exhausting.
And when that attention fractures.
Presence completely disappears.
You may have heard this line from James Joyce.
Mr.
Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
Many of us live a short distance from our bodies.
We live in our thoughts,
We're planning,
We're rehearsing,
We're replaying our mistakes.
We've got our narratives,
Our identities,
But we're not here.
We're not embodied and we're not alive to what's happening right here.
So I invite you to practice with me.
A gentle practice to invite us back.
Not to perfection,
Not to some ideal.
Back to this breath.
This body.
This moment as it is right here and right now.
Presence is not an abstract idea.
It's the sense of feeling your feet on the floor or one whole breath.
Or listening.
When someone is speaking instead of preparing your reply.
It's the act of tasting your coffee or your tea.
A feeling like the sun.
And the wind.
It's that miracle when we're here.
And that miracle.
Is that this moment is available to us.
Doesn't mean that we have an easy life or that we stop grieving or stop being human.
Simply means that we stop abandoning ourselves in the midst of all of our experiences.
The challenges.
And the beautiful ones.
As Thich Nhat Hanh said,
The present moment is truly the only moment available to us.
Not because the future doesn't matter.
Or the past doesn't matter.
It's because life can really only ever relive now.
So let's practice this even more fully.
Let's arrive.
Let's settle.
Take a long breath in.
And a full breath out.
Do that again.
Settling into your posture.
Your place to sit.
For this time.
Support it.
And comfortable.
Awake?
And alert.
You can let your eyes close gently.
Or you can simply cast them down.
As you arrive right here,
Let go of fixing anything,
Or becoming anything,
Or getting anything.
Be here.
Be now.
Simply notice the body breathing.
It does it by itself.
There's no need to control it.
Simply allow.
Allow yourself to feel another full inhale.
Another full exhale.
Perhaps that breath is simply miraculous and vivid in the nostrils or the chest.
Or the belly.
Perhaps that breath feels like it's breathing you.
Let your body relax around the breath.
And soften.
Soften the face.
And the eyes.
And the tongue.
Soften the neck.
Let the shoulders melt down.
The shoulder blades move towards each other.
Opening the heart and softening the heart.
The belly be sold.
The thighs,
The legs.
Feeling the earth supporting you just as you are right here.
Then return to the breath.
Invite the mind.
Become a bit stiller.
Without criticizing or forcing.
A simple,
Soft invitation.
Come back to present.
Back to the breath.
Pull yourself out of the past.
Hold yourself from toppling into the future.
So that you're right here,
Right now,
In this moment.
Expand that awareness to include your whole body.
Here,
Now.
Allowing yourself to be known from the inside.
You might gently reflect.
Am I here right now?
Not intellectually,
But am I here experientially?
Can I feel this moment through my whole being?
And now let your awareness get bigger and wider,
Noticing sounds that come and go.
We don't push them away.
We don't hold on to them.
We let them move through us with a great deal of awareness.
Emotions that are present.
Is there some grief,
Or some anger,
Or some joy,
Sadness?
The whole range.
Imagine you can open your heart wide enough to hold all of them.
Nothing to sell.
Letting everything be part of this living,
Breathing moment,
This present moment,
This life exactly where it is.
Presence is not something to manufacture.
It's what's here.
When we stop leaving ourselves.
So simply see if you can rest for a few moments in simple awareness,
Breathing in and out.
And as we begin to close,
Feel the body sitting here,
Feel the breath.
You might flutter your eyes open and mindfully look around the room.
Perhaps offering yourself some appreciation.
For taking this time to arrive.
Take this sense of here-ness.
Out into the rest of your day or evening.
Thank you for your practice.
