The start of half term and an argument beginning with something small, escalating quickly, followed by much unhelpful ruminating, reminds me that this mindfulness thing is 'a life's work', always learning and beginning again...
To spot hot emotions stirring and take some breaths before reacting in a way I will regret; To be aware of well-worn mental habits and hang-ups that are seriously not helpful; That you can't control what others do, but you can control how you respond. None of this is easy, and it's what I'm practising to be able to do better.
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Something, perhaps a day of silent practice (?!?), has brought the 'three gates of speech' to the forefront of my mind this week. Before you speak, have your words pass through three gates:
Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? In particular, is it necessary? Noticing with a sense of incredulity how I am inclined to fill silences around the boys, to use 20 words when 10 would suffice, to throw in a further caution or nag overzealously, to make small talk in moments of rare silence. Our lives are incessant chatter with much vying for airtime. I love being around these two, I love the happy, non-essential exchanges we have, but I am hereby renewing my intention of mindful speech - making a more conscious choice in when I speak and what I say. Noticing unnecessary words forming on my lips and perhaps letting them go unspoken. Ps There is another version of the gates, with a handy acronym... 'before you speak THINK, is it True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, Kind?' But if all my words had to be Inspiring we would never leave the house... We are six weeks through our 8-week MBCT experiential course, and yesterday we had a day of practice, in silence apart from the teachers’ guidance. I approached the day with a mix of trepidation, excitement and curiosity about what the day would bring. I have taken part in such days before, during my first 8-week course three years ago, at retreats since then – and you never know what is going to show up for you on any given day. I noticed wanting to get a good night’s sleep the night before, so that I could be in a place to get the most from the experience. Striving for things to be a certain way – the striving feels almost inevitable - but I like the fact that I noticed…
The day unfolded through practices from the course, mindful movement, body scan, walking practice, sitting practice, mindful lunching and resting, walking, sitting… I enjoyed the unfolding, and the opportunity to be with myself. A host of things to notice included self-consciousness, mind wandering, frustration, judging (myself and others), journaling, planning, impatience, hunger, boredom, feeling a creeping cold during a bodyscan and a deep urge for a blanket. The desire to feel warm and safe. During the sitting practice after lunch I noticed the dulling feeling of sleepiness, and then repeated falling forward of my neck, jolting me back into wakefulness again. I opened my eyes briefly, adjusted my posture, and continued with the practice suddenly becoming aware of sharp pains in my collarbone and back, neck and shoulder tension. And with the body sensations, a growing frustration, the deep desire for it to all go away. I hurt, I don’t want to be doing this, I want this pain to stop, it is spoiling this for me. After a walking practice, I came back feeling refreshed for the next sitting practice, but then the battle with the pain and tension consumed me again. Why the battle? Because I was trying to fix the situation. I had an expectation that breathing into the sensations would mean they would go the **** away, that they would dissolve and dissipate in the (less than gentle) laser beam of my attention. This dissolving has happened before, and clearly I liked it, so it has now become my aim when I breathe into strong feelings that I rather want to go away. Instead, can I be with the sensations? Can I allow them? This is how things are right now, this is what is here and this is the practice, there is “nothing to change, nothing to fix” (Willem Kuyken). This IS the practice. I am writing this furiously and I can feel the frustration with myself as I type because I have supposedly ‘learnt’ this so many times. This idea that you ‘know’ something can be a hindrance in itself. Perhaps there is nothing to know, only that this is the practice, and that we begin again each and every day, with each and every breath, seeking to be with, to allow what is here. So that we are then better able to respond. So on this new day, I will continue to cultivate curiosity, kindness and an attitude of allowing, as best as I can. I've noticed a sense of expecting, striving, bracing against, and frustration, and that's ok. ‘Allow’ by Danna Faulds, read by our teacher during the course. Some more beautiful Thich Nhat Hanh wisdom, as I prepare to teach children once again in our local primary school. I've had the luxury of some time to read alongside practising this past week. I'm feeling calm, content, centred and strong.
From Planting Seeds: 'To successfully share mindfulness with children, you must first practice it yourself. Your presence, your calm, and your peace are the biggest gifts you can offer to young people. When you are solid, happy, and full of compassion, you will naturally know how to create a happy family or school environment, and how to water the positive qualities in your children, other family members, students, and your colleagues at work. What every really good school has in common is the quality of its teachers. To be a good teacher or parent, you have to know yourself and take good care of yourself. You need a practice that helps you deal intelligently and compassionately with your emotions, with your suffering, so that you can compassionately address the suffering in your children, students, and colleagues.' |
AuthorI'm Claire - and I (re)learn something every day from practising and teaching mindfulness... Archives
March 2022
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