A New Mindful Year

I recently received a reader question: I've been meaning to ask if there is a book or two (or podcast?) that you recommend on the topics of meditation/mindfulness? I know there are tons out there, just curious which ones you liked.

Oh boy, what a good question, I thought. All the answers are somewhere on my blog, but you'd have to go and look. So (of course) I've done the work for you. 

The first book I always recommend to people is Richard Carlson's Stop Thinking, Start Living. I am looking at my bookshelf now and I actually have two copies there as I lent it to so many people that I bought a second copy to keep for reference. Recently someone gave one back to me. (If anyone wants to borrow one let me know.)

His more popular, digestible books are the Don't Sweat The Small Stuff series. The first one I ever read was Don't Sweat The Small Stuff at Work, given to me by my aunt when I was having a terrible time at work. But I think that Stop Thinking, Start Living gives such a good base for the concept of mindfulness that it's a really good one to start with. He's very intellectual but also knows how to explain what can be at first a very foreign concept in a simple, understandable way.

I also really like Eckhardt Tolle's A New Earth. (Read my blog post about it here.) Tolle also wrote the Power of Now, but I like A New Earth slightly better. Although there's a really weird chapter near the end about pain-bodies. It's kind of out there. Just saying. 

The thing about mindfulness, however, is that although I did a lot of reading on it, I felt that putting it into practice was almost impossible until I started meditating regularly. Because our thoughts (created by the ego) are so strong that unless you "practice" seeing them for what they are, it's really hard. 

My favorite book on meditation is 10% Happier by Dan Harris. (Blog post link here.) I think I like it so much because it's also a memoir and he has a good story to tell. He recommends quite a few authors in there too, which is good. I read Mark Epstein's Going on Being: Buddhism and the Way of Change, which I thought was a refreshing look at Buddhism from the perspective of a Westerner trained as a Freudian psychoanalyst. 

In terms of podcasts, I would also highly recommend Dan Harris' podcast of the same name: 10% Happier.

Thanks Elizabeth for the question! Hope my answer is helpful. 

Never hesitate to ask me a question on facebook, twitter or at mindbodyandscroll[at]yahoo[dot]com.

Photo credit: Buddha statue in meditation pose, robe, blue, concrete, Lake City Way, Seattle, Washington, USA via photopin (license)

0

Not Good Or Bad

If you do a lot of reading about mindfulness (which I obviously do), one of the concepts you will inevitably stumble across is the idea that we label all our experiences. Something happens and we think "this is amazing!" and then something else happens and we think "this is really bad." 

But this is just our brain telling us stories. 

The other day I planned to work from home and I was so looking forward to it. It was one of the last days I would be working from home for a while, because I was just about to start my new job and I knew that I would have to be in the office all the time for at least the first few months, while I got up to speed.

I was looking forward to throwing on jeans and not worrying about how I looked. Wearing my old glasses. Not having to wear shoes. And also the peace and quiet of being absolutely alone.

And then. My computer failed to turn on properly. I couldn't even get the home screen, so our I.T. help people from wherever-they-are-in-the-world couldn't even connect to the computer to help me out. The guy on the other end of the phone asked me, "how quickly can you get into the office?" 

I sighed. 

I was so irritated and annoyed -- this was so bad, I thought. The worst. But then, because I've read like a million books and blogs on mindfulness, I stopped myself. This just was. I took a deep breath and got ready to go into work. 

Miraculously I made a conscious choice not to be annoyed, not to label what had happened. And a funny thing happened. I enjoyed the late trip into work. The train and tube weren't crowded. I had a conversation with the man who sold me my coffee about keep cups and when someone came into the shop looking for a job, I remembered I had seen a notice at a pub looking to hire staff and told him about it. 

Also, I found out that day that a good friend of mine was very close to losing his battle with cancer. I ended up going to see him at the hospital that very evening. And I can't say for sure, of course, but I don't know if I would have made it there that day if I had been working from home. 

But what I do know for sure is that I made a choice that morning. I made a choice not to label my day as bad, and it made all the difference. 

So next time you find yourself labeling something good or bad, try this. After you say it, add "maybe" to the end. Because maybe, just maybe, you will find out that you do have a choice on how you perceive, and then experience, your life.

Photo credit: Reid Rosenberg Rage against the machine via photopin (license)

Photo credit: michaelmueller410 Flockenblume via photopin (license)

2

Meditation For Dummies

I've been flirting with the idea of meditation for a long time. A few years ago I even bought the book Meditation for Dummies. It's wasn't half bad -- I just wanted some sort of introduction that would explain what it was and how to do it.

If you have no idea what meditation really is, you're not alone. The way I like to think about it is a practice in quieting down the monster in your head. The voice that rails at you all day long, worrying about things, telling you off, creating drama, and just generally keeping you from a nice, enjoyable existence.

For many years I've read lots of books about quieting down this voice -- from self-help authors such as Richard Carlson and Eckhardt Tolle, to books written by Buddhist monks and scholars. And it has always made sense to me intellectually. But part of me always knew that until I actually got into the habit of sitting my butt on a cushion (or a chair) and practicing it on a regular basis, I would never really know if there were benefits.

This year, I've done just that. Since March, I've been meditating for 10 minutes a day. And I have to say, it's really making a difference. Lots of research is being done at the moment on meditation -- and so far it shows that it can help everything from sleeping patterns to depression and anxiety. What really has won me is how the research shows that there is true plasticity to our brains -- we can change our thought patterns. Or, I suppose, learn to see them for what they are.

But in addition to research, what has helped convince me is hearing other people's stories about how it has helped them. Experience -- even if it is just one person's -- can be compelling.

So if you've ever wanted to know more about meditation, but think it's not for people like you, I have the perfect book for you to read. Skip Meditation for Dummies and read a book written by American television journalist Dan Harris, called 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in my Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge and Found Self-Help That Actually Works -- A True Story. 

In addition to providing great insight into meditation, its history and how it can help, it's also a fascinating memoir. Harris admits that he long associated meditation with "bearded swamis and unwashed hippies," so if you're skeptical, this book just might be for you.

Note: I was also amused that I had no idea who Dan Harris was, because his television career took off after I left the U.S. So I actually had to google him to see what he looked like, even though he's an anchor on Nightline!

Photo credit: Buddha statue in meditation pose, robe, blue, concrete, Lake City Way, Seattle, Washington, USA via photopin (license)

2

All Four Seasons

We can all be very impatient. We want things to happen fast, adjustments to take no time at all and for it all to be easy. But the good stuff often takes some time.

My Aunt Donna once said to me that it takes four seasons to get used to something new. She was talking at the time about moving to another country (she was an expat too, in the Netherlands), but I often think of her words whenever I am dealing with a change of any sort, an experience or a difference. A new job, a move of house, mourning a loss.

After all, a year, even with all of its seasons and changes of light and temperature isn't really a long time in the scheme of our lives. I'm not sure where we get the idea that it is. When entering adulthood we've in fact spent at least 12 or 13 years in education - if not 17 or 18 - preparing to go out and get a job and live on our own. So why should we be surpised when six months into our first job we still don't know what we're doing?

But I remember feeling that way. Now, when I start a new job or role I know it will take at least a year to get used to it and many years to become competent at it (if ever). Maybe it's one of those lessons of adulthood that only becomes apparent over time, like the much quoted: the more you know, the more you realize you don't know. Because clearly, when I was 14 there was nothing I didn't know.

I wish I could be more cognizant of this yearly rule as my impatience surfaces time and again. Three or six months often seems like so long and yet whenever I reach that year mark I look back and see so clearly how little time it actually was (only one season, or maybe even two!).

My Aunt Donna was a writer. She didn't write books, but she wrote emails as if they were excerpts from them, and the way she spoke had the same expressiveness. Her words about the four seasons will always be a reminder to me of the time things actually take, but also the importance of experiencing life in the way you would when welcoming in each changing new season.

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No One Likes A Lecture

The other day I was feeling tired. Exhausted. I think I've been catching all the viruses floating around my office but never truly falling ill, just feeling a little under-the-weather instead.

I try not to drink coffee in the afternoon as well as in the morning, but this day I really needed a second cup. So I went to see my good friend Anna at our coffee counter. She seemed concerned; I seemed to be drinking a lot of coffee these days.

She proceeded to talk to me about vitamins. Maybe I should start taking fish cod oil? (She's Polish, and although her English is excellent – and far superior to my Polish – she still comes up with some funny inversions at times which make me smile).

I wasn't in my best state – after all, I needed the coffee badly. Apart from the fact that I am skeptical about the benefits of vitamins stripped from their natural state in food, I wasn't in the mood for advice. I wanted to shout: "Don't give me a lecture, give me the freakin' coffee!"

Nobody likes to be lectured. But we're all guilty of it.

I can't tell my friends enough times to go see my physiotherapist (see Why I Pity My Friends). If they live in London, I won't stand for talk about their aches and pains until they have seen her. (In fact, I made my poor mother go for an appointment with her when she was once in London and I may even do it again.)

I push self-help books. I opine on the merits of intuitive eating and why I'm sick of the fact that food is the new 'religion'.

It's all done in the name of trying to be helpful – wanting others to avoid the pain and pitfalls that I've suffered. After all, I've worked hard at figuring certain things out and have truly been helped by various things – be they self-help books, Bikram yoga or physio exercises.

And I often find it hard to keep my mouth shut when even in normal conversation things come up about which I have very strong views. But when to say something or offer advice – and when to stay silent?

The answer is simple. Have you been asked for your opinion? Because if not, it's best to pause and think about if advice is wanted. But what should you do? How to be there for a friend in need? Well, as the saying goes: be there. When a friend, or anyone, is talking to you about their life, be present. Listen. If they ask you for your opinion or advice, then feel free to give it, but otherwise they more than likely just want someone to listen and connect with them as a human being. The rest is really up to them.

Related Posts:

• Listen, Don't Tell
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• Book Review: A New Earth

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Problem? What Problem?

Most troubles, when left to their own devices, go away. Would you agree?

After reading the fabulous A New Earth, I've been trying to put the lessons learned to use. It's not supposed to be difficult because, after all, it's just a shift in consciousness – you don't have to really do anything. Still, old habits die hard, and I just find it so easy to worry.

So I got to thinking about what my 'problems' really were and wondered if it was possible to stop worrying about them?

I've come to the conclusion that there are three things that happen when you leave your problems to sort themselves out:

First, you relax. You don't worry about the problem anymore and therefore your mind becomes free to come up with a creative way to solve the problem. Richard Carlson calls this the 'back burner' effect. If you have some big problem you don't know the answer to, just get on with other things. Your subconscious mind will 'work' on the problem, but that pesky ego part of the brain that really blows everything out of proportion and gets itself tied into knots won't get involved. This happens to me all the time with work difficulties or writing problems. I can't figure out how to get something done so I just stop thinking about it. Usually when I am on the train or on a walk somewhere a solution will just pop into my head out of nowhere. Putting problems on the back burner really does work.

Second, it gives you the space to assess if it really is a problem. Sometimes 'problems' are just uncertainties or worries you've created. (Actually, most of the time that's what they are.) If you tell yourself that a problem will sort itself out, sometimes that's just the right amount of space you need to realize that it isn't really a problem. And, if you do decide there is a problem, and there's something you can do about it, then you can come at it from a relaxed, clear mindset, instead of a flustered, angry one.

Third, letting problems sort themselves out gives the universe time to, well, actually sort it out. Most things aren't really in our control. You may decide that you can't stand your boss and you don't know what to do about it. But then your boss might get transferred, or a new job opportunity comes up. You don't have to do something about everything. Sometimes all you need is a little acceptance and before you know it, the situation will have changed.

I know that many would argue that real problems don't go away, that there is always something to worry about and bad things do happen. And while bad things may happen, so much of what we worry about is in our mind. When you think about the now – the right now – what really is the problem?

So for now, I'm taking a stab at truly believing that my problems will get sorted out and leaving them to it, so that I can relax and actually enjoy my life.

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4

Book Review: A New Earth

Now, some people love self-help books and others groan at the thought of them (guess which one I am). So let me start this post off with a question: 

Do you ever wonder when you're going to be happy? Do you feel like you live in a constant state of wanting things to be better, waiting for the day when you have less stress and find some peace? Do you often find yourself thinking that you will worry less and be happier when [fill in the blank] happens?

The first self-help book I ever read that really started to get at the root of these issues was Richard Carlson’s Stop Thinking, Start Living. It was the first time I realized that perhaps I was causing my own unhappiness. That I really didn’t need things to be a certain way for everything to be OK.

I will continue to recommend Stop Thinking, Start Living as a must-read, but A New Earth: Create A Better Life by Eckhardt Tolle (you may know him as the author of The Power of Now) is the newest must-have self-help book to sit on my bookshelf.

Tolle explains that the root of all our suffering comes from a lack of awareness of the fact that the person we know to be 'I' is split into two parts – consciousness and the ego. The ego is that part of your brain that you 'hear' all the time. The thinking part. It spends its time getting attached to things, not just material things, but any kind of form. It likes to be right (and for others to be wrong). And it's also a big fan of drama and storytelling. It is – essentially – our identity, our personality.

Its purpose is to survive, no matter what, so it attaches to whatever it can. For example, if you decided to rid yourself of the ego and attachment by renouncing all possessions, the ego would look for something else, say attachment to anti-consumerism. How many people do you know who have tried to search for greater meaning through something and then become unbearable with the steadfastness with which they attach to it?

Understanding the idea of consciousness versus ego is not an easy one – for the very fact that we are so strongly identified with our ego. But Tolle does an amazing job of making it all so clear, through examples and approaching the concept in many different ways until you find your perspective slowly shifting.

I believe (myself included) that most of us experience a background unhappiness without realizing that we are creating this ourselves. The ego makes assumptions – unexamined thoughts that are then confused with reality. As Tolle himself says, "Listen to people’s stories and they could all be entitled 'Why I Cannot Be at Peace Now.'"

And how to be at peace now? We’ve all heard it before, but by making peace with the present moment. The problem is that people don't really believe this will work. They live for the future, they live in the past, and they are skeptical that if they just focused on what they were doing right now, at this very moment, that nothing would change, nothing would get better.

Read the whole book, I say. Because it will tell you again and again in different ways, effectively drumming it into your head so you can finally start putting it into practice:

To the ego, the present moment is, at best, only useful as a means to an end. It gets you to some future moment that is considered more important, even though the future never comes except as the present moment and is therefore never more than a thought in your head. In other words, you are never fully here because you are always busy trying to get elsewhere.

And the best part? You don’t really have to do that much to make peace with the present. All that is required is a subtle shift in consciousness; an acknowledgement that maybe there is a different way. And it might just get you that one step closer to peace.

P.S. I clearly thought this book was fantastic. However, I will caution that there is a chapter on the 'Pain-Body' which I thought was a little out there (and I am pretty liberal when I read these books). You'll know when you get to it. I suppose I am not sure I agree with his assessment of collective pain-bodies, particularly the bit about women.

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2

Pasta (And White Bread) Mi Amore

Intuitive eating is a lot like meditation.

When I began experimenting with intuitive eating about two years ago, it all seemed so simple. Eat what you like, when you're hungry, and stop when you're full. And pay attention to what you're eating – eat mindfully.

It's a little like meditation in the sense that it sounds simple, but then, it opens you up to a whole other world (and at the same time, a proverbial can of worms).

Meditation, at least as far as I can figure out, is about attention. You sit there all by yourself, counting your breaths, observing your thoughts. And when you mind starts to wander, you bring it back. Through this process you learn about yourself – the real you – stripped away from the usual noise that surrounds your life.

When I started intuitive eating, the first thing I really allowed myself to eat, at the frequency I desired, was pizza. Pizza had been my nemesis, that food that I was sure was causing me to store some extra poundage. It was like Stephen King says about being an alcoholic – I couldn't understand how anyone could leave pizza lying around (he says this about alcohol, however, left carelessly behind in a glass). My desire to eat the whole pizza was overwhelming. But I tried so hard to control my pizza intake. So when the limits were off, I ate pizza like a champ.

These days, I still love pizza, and I do eat it when I want, but I think I've had my fill. It no longer has the same power over me. As intuitive eating experts say, releasing restrictions on the frequency I could consume pizza – effectively legalizing it – really did the trick. But make no mistake, this was not a quick fix. It took probably a whole year to come to terms with my pizza 'addiction'.

These days I've moved onto pasta. And white bread. These are two of the things that in the dieting world (and in celebrity magazines) seem to be off limits. If you want to be thin, you must replace them with chicken and veg and whole-grain pita bread, or whole-grain whatever. It's not that I don't like whole-grain bread, but I'm so fed up with thinking that I have to eat it to be healthy, that I'm resisting it for the time being. So these days, when I pack a sandwich for lunch, I use white rolls.

I'm not sure how long this will go on, but I'm not worried. I know at some point that I'll have had my fill. Or maybe not. Maybe I like to eat my sandwiches on white rolls and I'm pretty sure it's not going to kill me.

So as I continue with the intuitive eating journey, I just pack my lunches and boil my pasta and observe. I'm mindful, but I'm no longer controlling. These days, my body is in charge and I listen. It's scary to stop controlling everything, but that's what meditation teaches – that actually you can't.

Related Posts:

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0

Listen, Don't Tell

Do you trust yourself?

When I first started physiotherapy, I certainly didn't trust my body. And why should I? It had turned on me, corrupting my life with pain and making me realize that things I had always taken for granted weren't a sure thing anymore – for example, being able to use my hands. (For a more complete tale of what happened to me, read The Whole Story.)

When I finally found a physio to help me get my life back I plunged head long into doing everything she said to fix it. And sometimes we talked of the day when I would be better. How often would I have to do my exercises, I asked? Would I have to do physio exercises every day for the rest of my life?

Her answers were murky to me. We would see, she said. Maybe I would need to do them once a week, or once a month. It would be a matter of how I used my body on a day-to-day basis and what else was going on in my life.

I didn't get it. At all. I wanted prescriptive answers. I wanted to be told I would need to do X static abs X times per week.

But I'm finally getting it. Even when I do my exercises now I don't necessarily do the 10 repetitions she prescribed to me at the beginning. These days I can feel when my back is flat enough on the floor and when my shoulders are loose enough. These days I listen to my body – I have finally stopped telling it what to do.

Generally, I think we have stopped listening to our bodies as much. We are like deer in the headlights when it comes to all the 'health' advice we're getting from T.V., magazines, and newspapers. Our lives are so fast paced and we're so stressed out that we need others to tell us how to take care of ourselves.

It's bull puckey (I once had a camp counsellor who used that phrase – I haven't used it in about 20 years).

Yesterday my body was a mess. I felt completely pre-menstrual (even though I wasn't, which was slightly worrying). I was stressed about a million little things that all added up to make me feel terrible. So I slowed down and listened. I wasn't very hungry, so I ate very little. I drank a lot of water. Even though I went to yoga on Sunday I still felt like I needed to move some more – so in addition to my tap class last night, I skipped the bus and walked up the hill home. Even though it was freezing!

I'm feeling much better today. I don't know what was going on yesterday, but it's not important. Listening to ourselves extends far beyond the physical, including some harmless bloating. It's not just about what we want to eat or whether it's a day to put our feet up on the couch or go for a walk. It's about what we want to do with our time, our days and our lives. This past weekend I really didn't want to do any writing. So I just stayed away. I know that's a luxury – many of us get a pay check to do things for a certain set amount each day and each week – but there are so many other choices we make. So until I'm in a situation where I don't have any choices, I will try to take advantage of the ones I do.

Related Posts:

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0

Uncertainty

We live in constant uncertainty. But yet we convince ourselves that isn't true. And perhaps it's our greatest defence mechanism.

I remember once knowing that someone was going to break up with me. He gave me a pretty good indication by writing a letter… but then I had to wait two days before I saw him to find out for sure (I'm not bitter – I understand there's just no nice way to break up with someone). But having an early indication was torture. It was so much worse than just knowing it was going to be over, because there was still that bit of uncertainty. I remember cleaning the flat frantically thinking: at least if he breaks up with me I'll have a clean flat!

There's a fair bit of commentary out there on the link between uncertainty and unhappiness. This Economist blog post shows how humans don't behave rationally when there's substantial uncertainty in their environments.

But what is it about uncertainty that bothers us?

Daniel Gilbert, who is a professor at Harvard University and author of Stumbling on Happiness, wrote in a blog post for the New York Times about this phenomenon. He cited a few instances of research where knowing about something negative was much better than not knowing.

For example, research at the University of British Columbia showed that people who learned they had a very high likelihood of developing the neurodegenerative disorder known as Huntington's disease were happier a year later than those in the study who did not learn what their risk of developing the disease was.

Gilbert says in his post:

Why would we prefer to know the worst than to suspect it? Because when we get bad news we weep for a while, and then get busy making the best of it. We change our behavior, we change our attitudes. We raise our consciousness and lower our standards. We find our bootstraps and tug. But we can’t come to terms with circumstances whose terms we don’t yet know. An uncertain future leaves us stranded in an unhappy present with nothing to do but wait.

I agree, and my own theory is that it's as if our brains are better geared towards solving definite problems than dealing with unknowns. When we don't exactly know what the problem is, or will actually be, it's as if the brain heads off to work and searches to locate it, spinning round in circles like a tire when a car is up on blocks.

And it's very hard to stop. The brain can often act a little like a runaway train, getting faster and more out-of-control. But I think that the best way to regard terrible uncertainty is the way we deal with the rest of the constant uncertainty in our life, including the ultimate one – death – by just not thinking about it.

Am I crazy for saying this? When you're facing very bad uncertainty: the results of a scary medical test, the possible end of a relationship, potential job loss or a missing person – how do you not think about it? The brain is racing and it wants to solve the problem, but guess what, it can't.

Obviously I'm not telling anyone not to do proactive actions about uncertain situations when they can do something. But there are so many situations where all you can do is wait. And it's really hard not to think about something when you're in distress – but we've all had experiences of doing this successfully. Something funny happens and suddenly the worry is gone for a moment. Where did it go? If we can try to extend these time periods, by focusing on the present moment and realizing that there's nothing we can actually do, we can help ourselves and the others around us.

The problem with not being able to deal well with uncertainty is that it's always with us. Sometimes it's worse than other times, but essentially, having a successful coping mechanism for dealing with uncertainty is something that lasts, frankly, for a lifetime.

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Success Is Fun, But Work Should Be Too

My Dad once gave me an Ann Landers newspaper column about the idea that success is fun, but work is work. I'm not taking too much of an issue with that. Success is fun, and work sometimes is not. There are days when I have tasks to do I – at work or at home or anywhere really – and I gnash my teeth and wail (usually quietly inside my head) and do everything to avoid doing what needs to get done.

I think this is pretty typical. How many times do you read tips in magazines, newspapers and on blogs about how to avoid procrastination? And that's because there are (I believe) psychological reasons involved with procrastination. In my case, mainly fear of failure or an exaggerated sense of how big the task at hand really is.

But I also blame the attitude that work can't be enjoyable. Look, everything in this world can't be fun, but then again, when I actually do take the bull by the horns and get to that task I may have been dreading, whether it's putting away the laundry or writing a report, I always enjoy it more than I think, once I get stuck in and start concentrating.

I think generally that we would be better off if we focused less on success and more on enjoying the actual work. I think that it's a fallacy that success is what makes us happy. In the book Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott (a book on writing that I can't recommend highly enough), she quotes from the film Cool Runnings, about the Jamaican bobsled team and their Olympic dream. The men are desperate to win the gold medal, and the coach says to them, "If you're not enough before the gold medal, you won't be enough with it."

Nothing could ring more true. How many times have you achieved your goal and after sipping some champagne you realize that nothing has really changed? I'm not advocating abolishing goals, but at the end of the day, your life is still your life. And that's why it's important to be satisfied with not only your successes but your work. I do think that in my case, the less I focus on where I'm headed and the more I am present in the here or now, doing what needs to get done and enjoying it, the faster I actually get to my goals.

We live at the top of a hill. It's a good 10 minute walk from the closest train station up to our house. And by 'good' I mean, it's definitely 10 minutes down the hill, but at least 12 minutes up. And 12 minutes is longer than you think when you're tired at the end of a long day.

But there's a bus. It goes straight up the hill and drops us off right smack in front of the house. But it only drives by about every 10 minutes, so if you're not lucky and arrive when the bus has just been there, you'll have to wait 10 minutes to get to the top of the hill on the bus – nearly the same amount of time that it takes to walk up.

So what to do? I have found that if I stand around waiting for the bus I get really irritated and antsy. If I choose to walk up the hill but keep stopping at each bus stop and looking to see if the bus is coming, again, I feel pretty unsatisfied. But if I make the commitment to just walk up the hill I also end up enjoying it (along with getting a little extra exercise), get lost in my thoughts and get there in what seems like no time at all.

When you make the choice to commit – really commit – to whatever it is that you're doing, or even dreading, sometimes you discover that the work just seems to melt away. And (gasp!) you may even enjoy it.

0

Monkeys And Meditation

If I ever mention that I have dabbled in meditation I get a mixed reaction. People are suspicious, but at the same time very curious. What is meditation about, really? Is it about relaxing? And is the person they're talking to really strange?

I actually haven't had much time to meditate recently. We spent the first half of this year buying a flat and moving and are now planning a wedding. Setting aside some time to meditate would probably help with such stress, but never mind. You do what you can.

But what is meditation, really? If I could describe it in the simplest way possible it would be about attention. Have you ever become so absorbed in doing something that you lose all track of time and nothing else seems to matter? For a little while you forget all about your constantly growing 'to do' list, those pictures from 2006 that you never put in an album, the sandwich you left rotting in the work fridge a few weeks ago and also, the sudden thought that maybe all the people in your life have formed a secret club to conspire against you (maybe you believe me now that I'm a paranoid person).

I've done a lot of reading about the idea of mindfulness and meditation, focusing your attention on the task at hand and not listening to all those little thoughts that go shuttling through your brain every minute of every day. But reading about it and doing it are two different things.

So maybe a year or so ago I decided I needed to practice this ability to pay attention – which is what (I believe) meditation is mostly about. I actually bought the book Meditation For Dummies and dealt with the embarrassment of reading it on the London tube. If you're looking for a primer on the topic it's a great broad introduction without any particular spiritual or religious bent.

I started with the first basic type of meditation: to simply sit on the floor (or a cushion), close your eyes and count your breaths. And every time your mind wanders away from focusing on the rise and fall of your belly, you try to bring it back. Apparently our minds are particularly good at wandering. I took a yoga class in San Francisco earlier this year with my friend, and her teacher called this "monkey mind" since your mind is running all over the place like a little monkey. I love this. Sometimes the monkey in my mind also throws fruit at me.

I've experimented with daily 10 minute bouts of meditation over the past year or so, but it's been hard recently. Fortunately, life gives us some great opportunities to start practicing focus and attention without it.

Now I just try to get fully involved in whatever it is I'm doing. Whether it's a conversation with a friend, a meeting, or a task at work that's particularly difficult. When every bone in my body is screaming that I need to be somewhere else doing something else that would make me feel better or happier or calmer, I try to take a deep breath and return to where I am now.

I read once that hell is wanting to be somewhere that you're not (wish I could remember where - I will keep looking for the reference). Maybe we don't have enough time to meditate, but it sure seems like a waste of time in our short lives to be wishing we were somewhere else.

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