Our latest Free Mindfulness calendar uses some of the more wonderful aspects of this human life to give us daily mindful inspiration.

This August our calendar dwells on appreciation, gratitude and joy.  Because of the way the human mind processes information, we can easily get caught up in being busy and miss out on those moments – small and large – that bring us joy and appreciation.

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Across ancient maritime cultures, the Orca (Killer Whale) holds a deeply revered place. Because of their intelligence, group hunting strategies, and undeniable presence, they frequently represent concepts of family, community, protection, and transformation.

 

For one whole day, Orca came into my life. I had the opportunity and privilege to watch them, up close, armed with my camera and binoculars. It was one of the longest and deepest mindfulness experiences I have ever had and am likely to have.  These amazing beings also helped me reflect on how important the notions of what they represent are so important to us humans.

 

The day began in the usual way on my holiday in Shetland, at a house right in the middle of a bay. I sat on the porch close to the foreshore, looking out to sea with my morning cup of coffee. We spotted a great northern diver so, being a very amateur and hobbyist photographer, I immediately went out to take a photograph of it. I swept around the bay with my zoom lens and couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted a massive fin, 4-5 feet high in the water. I became aware of a huge surge of excitement and wonder like never before. I could feel my entire body tingling.

 

And so it began. Breakfast was forgotten, getting dressed was forgotten, we rushed out to the foreshore armed with cameras and binoculars.  Three more fins appeared in the distance and we realised we were watching a pod of four orca.  My expectation that their visit would be brief was completely wrong.  Before I knew it I was lost in the deepest mindfulness experiences of my life for nine hours.

 

For 9 hours I thought of nothing else.  I became very aware of occasional thirst, hunger, cold, discomfort in my body and eyes, but none of the usual meaningless distractions that I experience in my meditations and life. These distractions were real, meaningful messages to take care of myself with intermittent visits back into the house to grab a cup of tea and a biscuit or a warm jumper. By the end of the day I felt exhausted.  My eyes were dry and aching from just looking, watching, focussing.

 

There is a saying ‘eyes out on stalks’. Apparently, during the 19th century, writers began using the natural phenomenon as this humorous hyperbole for human behaviour. Novelist Thomas Love Peacock in his novel Crotchet Castle used the imagery to describe a character intensely staring in disbelief, comparing the human eyes to those of a crab or snail straining outward. That was exactly my overriding experience during that day.

 

I realised how mindful and in the moment these beautiful, intelligent creatures were.  Back and forth they went across the edge of islands in the bay.  Focussed, mindful, in their community, taking care of each other, a sense of family as they fed. There they were demonstrating the traits associated with them. I became aware of the layers of feelings present in me.  Wonder was now joining excitement and then relief when I realised they were fishing and not hunting the many seals in the bay.

 

I feel very fortunate that mindfulness has become integral to my life. It’s automatic. I am aware of how I feel all the time and the many, many layers of feelings, thoughts and emotions present at any one moment.  When I am teaching mindfulness I am often asked if it is ok to not formally practice some days when the busy demands of life take over.  Yes, I say, but during those times, bring mindfulness into daily life so you are fully present for each precious moment of your day and pause every now and again to notice how you feel.  The 3 minute breathing space is so useful for this.

 

As this extraordinary day unfolded, I was filled with gratitude at having this precious, rare opportunity.  But I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming feelings, emotions and sensations in my body that I was about to experience.  Towards the end of their visit the matriarch of the pod swept across the bay to where I was sitting on the foreshore. She was no more than 10 metres away from me. It took my breath away. The sheer size and presence as she blew a clearly audible spray in the air above her. The feeling was overwhelming. Mother to mother, grandmother to grandmother, species not love or essence separating us.

 

There are many times in my life when I realise I want to know why I feel a certain way.  My observation is that this is a common human condition. Psychologists might say, at the very least, is that the drive to understand why we feel a certain way is fundamentally because we are meaning-making creatures.

 

Since that experience, I have been trying to make meaning of how I felt that day and how I feel every time I reflect on it. It brings tears to my eyes. I can feel a surge of energy in my heart.  Its big and heavy. I am feeling it right now writing this.

 

Maybe I don’t need to make any sense of it, more acknowledge an opening of love and gratitude as part of my humanity and spiritual being. And total gratitude for the practice in my life that led me to feel this experience much more deeply than I would have previously.

 

I invite you to reflect on times in your life you have noticed something from nature, be it a bird, animal, tree, flower etc, (doesn’t have to be as big as a whale) that has touched you in some way.  Look out for future moments when you can be with the experience a little deeper and become aware of what you notice.  I’d love to hear your experiences.

 

Jacky

Part 1: Time

How is it that time seems to shift and bend?

Embarking on an adventure – like a pilgrimage – towards a place I love in Shetland Isles.

One night on a campsite in North Berwick. An early sea swim before journeying on to Aberdeen to catch the ferry to Orkney.  Disembarking at midnight to spend the night on the drive of an acquaintance, before continuing to a campsite on a windy peninsular for the night.

Walking the lands of the ancients, where 5000 years before family upon family lived and worked in this place, most not surviving beyond 35 years of age.  Quite normal for this time.

Here I am nearly twice that age and beginning to reflect.

Not only am I amused and surprised that 5 days have passed since leaving home but it feels like I have been away for weeks.

As we walk along the path that leads from the Stones of Stenness to the Ring of Brodgar, both famous archaeological site on Orkney, I can almost feel the shadows of those that walked before. I can barely conceive the idea of 5000 years.  It does not quite compute in my brain and feels like a square peg trying to fit into a round space.  There feels a continuum of connection between those peoples and ourselves today and the many others who have that spark of motivation somewhere inside that has driven them too, to this place.

On the horizon sit giant townships of cruise ships waiting to bring coachloads of visitors to the sites.  They somehow look out of place, surreal, in the same scene of ancient ruins on the land before them.

When the practice of mindfulness, compassion and insight becomes embodied in ones being from years of practice, any day, any activity takes on a new perspective.

My loved ones seem far away and remote even though I can still feel them in my heart. It feels like entering a bardo, a transition point of beginning to let go.  They of me and me of them as I enter into a wifi-less signal-less time and space that begins to separate me from who I think I am, what I do day to day and the people in my life.

I am so in the moment that I feel my way into every moment of my day and being.

On the fifth day I enter into two ancient tombs through narrow tunnels around 5-10 metres long.  The tombs are estimated at 5000 years, like the surrounding stone circles and village remnants.  At the first, Maeshowe, it is possible to stoop and walk through with a strange gait that challenges the thighs. My stature being no more than five feet tall suddenly becomes an advantage. The second is much smaller and more tricky to navigate.  Option one is to crawl through mud commando style. I opted for the skateboard like trolley which entailed laying on my back and pulling myself through the tunnel with a rope above me, into the unknown.

As my awareness was much more open and acute I could sense a fear.  Fear has a texture and feels like a condensed mass in my solar plexus.  This particular tomb instilled a far greater sense of emotions than the previous.

My many years of practice, in particular movement with mindfulness has taught me to notice that which is stuck in me.  Call it what you will, trapped grief, traumas, frustrations at life really not being as I wished sometimes.  The effort of keeping going because I had no choice. I could feel them all rising one by one.  I have no idea what sparked this.  What is that pulse of motivation or thought or feeling that arises in us at any time?  I learned long ago to go with it. To not ignore it.  It is here, now, I can feel it, so allowing it to arise to the surface, even if painful reliving difficult moments, allowing it to pass through.  My movement practice has taught me to ‘move with it’ rather than just ‘sit with it’, so the long walk back to the car helped the feelings to flow free. Compassion training is so important for us to hold in ourselves what needs to be held with such kindness for this human being that we are.

Spending time in this small tomb, where the skulls and bones of a hundred or so women, men and children, no older than mid thirties, had been laid to rest. There is no mistake to this place.  The way the hill rolls down to it, and the folds of rock lean into it.  Nestled in a cleft in the cliff by the sea.  It feels like the energies can roll down and hold this place.  This place has meaning to its inhabitants – and the wish that their remains be left for eternity in this place.  Is this tomb like the ultimate bardo of transition from one life to the next where past difficulties, pain, trauma and the stickiness of life’s emotions be allowed to free – into a sense of just beingness that death brings?  Does it matter that all these remains were removed from the place that was so important to its inhabitants at that time?  I am not sure of the answer. Has the tomb done its work of enabling the transition or is it important for the essence of these beings to remain there in that place?

Is it the power of the essence of these ancient people – more connected to time and place, earth and nature sparking a feeling in me that has a healing power?  Is it the continued pilgrimage to this place of intrigue by millions of people since journeying to this place, whether with a scientific or historic purpose or perhaps drawn to the essence of beings of our species living and being in a place and space in a more basic simple way than our age of technology and pressures.

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When life takes you to a different place, I suggest you notice every step of the journey and how it makes you feel. What you notice about time, space and how you feel inside. How it is to just be – in a different place and time.  I would love to hear about your journeys too, so please do write to share them with me if you feel inspired.