One of our exercises was to be mindful of every doorway we went through, not for any esoteric reason but simply to practice being mindful.  I learned that I am exceedingly unmindful of doorways.   Another exercise was to be mindful in the kitchen while making food.  This exercise grabbed ahold of me, and since then, I enjoy cooking in a way I never have before.  I love feeling the texture of foods, savoring the variations in color and smell, and feeling my hands work.

Last week, I was grappling with a stressful situation in my professional life, trying to  sort out the dynamics and understand how I could elevate what was happening to a more productive and peaceful place.  The plainer truth is that I felt grumpy and angry, and hadn’t reached a place of resolution or peace for myself yet.  At 5:30, I ended my work day (always a conscious decision because I work at home) and went into the kitchen to cook.

On Mondays, I make two quiches that last us most of the week for lunches and/or breakfast.  I usually love the process of chopping, sauteing, assembling the flavors and textures, always seeking to get the mixture and end result just right.  I am in the moment, delighting in red peppers and black pepper and pungent sage.  This time, however, my grumpy mind wouldn’t let go of the work problem, shaking it like a dog with a chew toy.

I decided to sharpen my knife at the start, hoping it would transition me from work to cooking.  I said to myself, “I really have to be mindful now – this is really sharp!”  Well, you can see where this is going…

Five minutes later, in the  middle of dicing onions, I sliced through the top of my thumb, over and through my nail.  Holding my bleeding thumb under a torrent of cold water, I realized that at the moment of the accident, I was caught up and far away, reliving the work scenario over again.  I wasn’t present, I wasn’t mindful, and I had a bloody wound to show for it.

All week, I’ve needed to be mindful of my thumb – protecting it, keeping it bandaged and dry.  Not having the use of it has made me mindful and grateful for the simple elegance of an opposable thumb.  When was the last time you appreciated your thumb?  I know now that I typically take mine for granted.   My bandaid has become a tangible reminder to stay present, to be mindful.

Check it out for yourself (as my teacher likes to say):  choose something to be mindful of in your day such as going through doorways, taking three deep breaths each time your phone rings or beeps, washing your hands, or whatever you choose.   If you’re interested in taking the meditation class I took (in Milwaukee), drop me a line as there is another starting tomorrow night.   And if you’d like to learn more about the scientifically proven benefits of meditation and mindfulness, check out this months issue of Shambala Sun magazine for some fascinating reading.

However, they both indulge my cribbage cravings so I willingly reciprocate by agreeing to play Settlers on occasion.  The last time we played, I was agonizing over my next move.  I didn’t know where to place a new section of road and sat staring at the board, getting more confused and tense by the minute.  I finally said, “This is too stressful!”

My partner smiled and gently replied, “You can’t take it so seriously.”

His words lit a light in my heart that dispelled a whole lot of shadow I didn’t even know I was harboring.   In that moment, I realized that I have a habit of placing a great deal of weight what I do and say, even when I don’t really need to.  I mean, it’s just a board game – which is supposed to be fun!  Was I really weighing a section of road in my hand as if the decision were on a scale with a grand jury vote?

Um, yeah, I kinda was.  

So thanks to Settlers and my wise sweetheart, I have my theme for 2012.  As the Indigo Girls sing, “Help me take my life less seriously – it’s only life, after all.”   My wish is that I get really good at discerning what is truly serious while letting the rest be light and fun and joyful.

What’s your theme for 2012?  

And then…

You get a tiny little pebble in your shoe.  All of your focus immediately shifts to the pain in the ball of your foot and the need to not have it hurt.  You might try to ignore it and hobble along, hoping it will shift or somehow just disappear.   After all, it’s a bother to stop and take off your shoe to deal with it, and your friend is waiting.  There’s no time to deal with this, and it’s so annoying to have this intrude on what was a perfectly good walk.  Darn it all!

Of course, it doesn’t go away but just gets lodged more firmly.  Unicorns and rainbows might suddenly appear for all you know, but you won’t notice because you’re so distracted.

You limp along, getting more frustrated until you just do what needs to be done.  Take off the shoe, remove the offending pebble, and walk on.  The day is pleasant again, the view comes back into focus, all feels well.  And you ask yourself, “Why didn’t I stop the minute it happened instead of getting all worked up and annoyed?”

Most of us can identify a whole bunch of “pebbles”  in our daily lives.  It’s funny how these small things can have a bigger effect on us than we even realize.  When a major crisis happens, we rise to the occasion and do what needs to be done.  We tend to let the small things go because they seem, well, small.   It’s not a crisis situation that the sink drains slowly, but it sure is annoying every morning to watch that swamp of toothpaste-water burble.  It’s the small things that chafe and rub and make us irritable, and being irritated is completely incompatible with enjoying the present and savoring our daily lives.

As a coach, I encourage my clients to take an inventory of the pebbles they can immediately, and often easily, remove.  That hall closet with the burned-out lightbulb that makes the morning search for your daughter’s mittens take 5 more minutes than it needs to.   Running out of toilet paper because you don’t have a package on reserve at all times.  Catching your clothes yet again on that rough corner in the hallway that just needs a quick sanding.   You get the idea!

Gretchin Rubin, author of The Happiness Project, has what she calls her Twelve Personal Commandments, and one of them is “Do what ought to be done.”   Got a pebble in your shoe?  Don’t delay!  Do what ought to be done and take that pesky thing out on the spot, and voila!  You’re moving on happily without having let yourself get all bothered for a quarter of a mile when the end result is the same – either way, you stop and take it out.  Doing it sooner than later creates happiness by reducing irritation.

So go ahead and make a list of the pebbles in your life, and start knocking them off one by one each day.  I find it incredibly satisfying to do this, and my home, car, and work space are far more pleasant to be in as a result.   A strategy I use to maintain my momentum  is to apply the “touch it once” philosophy.   This means that when I get out of my car, I take my travel mug in with me now instead of thinking, “Oh, I’ll come out and get that later.”  When I get the mail, the junk goes immediately in the recycling, and I either respond to what is important on the spot if I can, or put it in the  ”to do” box on my desk.  I keep my email Inbox to 9 emails or less by answering things immediately, and then using Folders to keep what is worth keeping and invoking the glorious “Delete” key whenever possible.

Experiment and see what works for you!  You might find that simply paying attention helps you see not just the pebbles, but the rainbows and unicorns, too.

Got helpful hints or your own take on this topic?  Share your ideas by clicking “Leave a Comment” at the top.

Additional information:  Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project Website

I think it’s a common misconception that we have to go to Costa Rica for ten days to practice yoga 6 hours a day or check into a pricey bed-and-breakfast for a long weekend with a stack of novels to be officially on retreat.

While I’d jump at the chance to stand in Tree Pose in the rainforest and encourage you to pamper yourself with room service and down comforters if you can, I’m a huge fan of the simple DIY-style retreat (do-it-yourself).  Designing your own personal retreat has the advantages of being spontaneous, free or almost-free, totally customized, and flexible. 

Our culture doesn’t celebrate solitude (aside from Thoreau) very well and offers a 24/7 buffet of distractions.  We may not have learned how to feel comfortable being alone with ourselves.  When I facilitate trips or retreats that incorporate solo time, I notice this pattern:

• First 10 minutes:  Wow, this is awesome!  It’s so peaceful.  I’m totally diggin’ this.
• Second 10 minutes:  Damn, it’s too quiet.  I can’t get comfortable.  Who can I text?
• Third 10 minutes:  I’m bored.  This is ridiculous.
• Next 10 minutes to 10 hours (seriously!):  Where did the time go?  That was amazing, and not long enough.

If we can work through our initial reactions of anxiety, restlessness, and boredom, we can break through to the authentic peace and quiet that comes from being still, without distractions.  We say, “I can’t even hear myself think!” when things are chaotic.  Peace and solitude create the opportunity for us to say, “I can hear myself think…”

My personal recommendation is to have your retreat outdoors where the acts of breathing fresh air, feeling sun or wind on your face, and observing the vast diversity of Life all around allow us to put ourselves, and our problems, in perspective.  There is research that shows that people’s stress levels decrease just from being outside, without doing anything special out there. 

I like to pick out a nearby tree and then project my human thoughts on it to gain perspective.  It becomes comical to think that a tree’s inner dialogue might be, “Have I gained weight?  Why did I get this spot?  I’m sure the tree on the riverbank has a better life than I do.  I wish I were taller like that oak over there, all that sunshine it gets, and here I am in the shade.  Am I being a good enough tree?  I’m not sure I’m making enough leaves, or if they’re shaped right.  Would I be happier if I were another kind of tree?” 

While we’re not able to stop our thoughts (that’d be like stopping the waves in the ocean), enjoying meditative quiet is about letting our thoughts pass by like clouds in the sky without reacting to them or pursuing them.  We simply notice them as, “I’m having a thought about ___,” and let it go by.  In time, peace arises.  Two things that can help with this are focusing on the sensation of your breathing as it happens naturally, and noticing each of your five senses.  What are you hearing?  What do you see?  What do you feel on your skin or body?

For a simple DIY retreat, here are my recommendations:

1. Find a spot in nature.  You don’t have to drive 7 hours to a national forest, although kudos if you can and do!  There is plenty of nature to be seen and lots of quiet, beautiful places to be found close to home and in urban environments.
2. Bring a blanket or camp chair to sit comfortably where you want to be.
3. Leave the electronics at home.  Unplug, be unavailable, disconnect.  Remember when we used to have to actually be home – in our houses –  to get a phone call?  Life was like that for decades, and for centuries, we didn’t even have phone calls.  You and the people who love you can survive without connection for a few hours.
4. Pack a small bag or daypack with: water bottle, healthy snacks (apples, trail mix, etc), sun block or bug spray if needed, journal and pen.  Reading can be a distraction as well, but you may wish to bring a short inspirational article or a poem to spark reflection.
5. Allow time.  But don’t look at the time.  Give yourself a large enough block of daylight to respond to your natural rhythms.  Eat when you’re hungry, nap if you’re sleepy, move when you want to stretch or walk, do nothing.  Your body is really smart and will let you know what it needs (which is not to be confused with “want” – a cheeseburger is a want, drinking water is a need).   If you need to get home at a certain time, set the alarm on your watch or phone and then hide it away, volume off.
6. No agenda.  I think this might be the hardest one.  We can approach our retreat like work, or a household project.  We can make lists, have goals, structure our time, decide what we want to accomplish.  Now, you can have a retreat like that, but…consider just once going on retreat without a plan other than to be.

I hope you give it a try!  And I hope you share how it went with us in the Comments below.  I’ve really come to believe that the more peaceful each of us becomes, the more peaceful the world becomes.

Namaste.

Journaling at 9,000 ft