by Jeff Foster

Well here we have the paradox at the heart of mindfulness and meditation practice. Jeff Foster (a British meditation teacher and poet – find out more about him here), is speaking of the difference between as he puts it ‘I used to meditate’ and ‘I am meditation’. In the first line there is a certain doing, in the latter only being. So as beginners or even those with a good amount of experience behind us – how do we negotiate this paradox?

For a start, meditating is a bit like tuning the string of a lute – we don’t want it too tight (too much striving) or too loose (a lack of focus and clarity). Sometimes we’re tense and unable to let go of doing, sometimes we’re sleepy, dreamy or in a daze.

Many of us don’t know how not to try – is this so for you? This was certainly the case for me at first. I gradually learnt to see the striving and let it go. There is a delicate balance here of holding a clear intention for the practice, while at the same time releasing the habit to do the meditation or try to achieve the intention of the practice. On top of this if we go off duty completely we’ll just space out! So where is the happy medium?

We’re given lots of forms and structures to guide us in our practice – Settling, Grounding, Resting and Support (S.G.R.S.) being the core one taught by the Mindfulness Association, and we’re also encouraged to practice formally and regularly. It’s certainly been my experience that the more I practice ‘on the cushion’, the more benefit I experience naturally in daily life. But I also think it’s important not to sacrifice our journey towards finding what is essential, what is there when there’s nothing added. The forms and structures may be a means to journey in this direction, but they are not the destination. The metaphor which is sometimes used here is of a finger pointing at the moon. The moon is our basic aware nature, the finger is all the signposts we need to point ourselves in its direction and not get lost too much on the way. S.G.R.S. is not the destination, it is a skilful means to facilitate ourselves towards something which is beyond the word destination.

Jeff Foster seems to convey how it would be to already be ‘there’, where the finger is pointing to, to already have stabilised this as a way of being moment to moment. I think this poem can serve as inspiration to us about how this might feel and I’m sure we all have glimpses of the wonder of the ordinariness that he speaks of here and there, which can serve as inspiration from within too. I also think the poem can serve as a meditation instruction. Which line would you like to take away with you as a mantra for living mindfully in daily life?

Ps. Spend 6 weeks immersing yourself in how poetry can teach us universal wisdom and guide us in our meditation. We have the popular Mindfulness meets Mystical Poetry course starting again in September. Find out more click here.

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Slow down, breathe deeply,
and open your eyes because there’s
a whole world right here within this one.
The bush doesn’t suddenly catch on fire,
it’s been burning the whole time.

Moses is simply moving
slowly enough to see it. And when he does,
he takes off his sandals.

Not because
the ground has suddenly become holy,
but because he’s just now becoming aware that
the ground has been holy the whole time.

Efficiency is not God’s highest goal for your life,
neither is busyness,
or how many things you can get done in one day,
or speed, or even success.

But walking,
which leads to seeing,
now that’s something.
That’s the invitation for every one of us today,
and everyday, in every conversation, interaction,
event, and moment: to walk, not run. And in doing so,
to see a whole world right here within this one.

by Rob Bell

How does Rob Bell‘s symbolic suggestion to walk rather than run, land with you? To me it feels like a reassurance, the old ‘less is more’. I receive so many messages on a daily basis that say efficiency is important, speed is good, busyness gives kudos and success is essential in order to be happy, that it’s a relief to hear someone sing the praise of slowness, of seeing and discovering. I wish this invitation was offered more widely, because surely more happiness and meaning are found by living this way.

It certainly is in keeping with the practice of mindfulness – noticing what is happening, while it’s happening no matter what it is. And this present moment awareness leads to seeing the preciousness (or even holiness, as Rob Bell calls it) in each moment, each encounter. Let’s see!

PS if you’d like to practice walking, and seeing, together with others and guided by experienced teachers, there are many opportunities for doing so, here…

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Affirm life’s magic

Be graceful in the wind

Stand tall after a storm

Feel refreshed after it rains

Grow strong without notice

Be prepared for each season

Provide shelter to strangers

Hang tough through a cold spell

Emerge renewed at the first signs of spring

Stay deeply rooted while reaching for the sky

Be still long enough to

hear your own leaves rustling.

by Karen I. Shragg

I’ve had a real connection with the presence of trees lately, so it makes sense I was moved by this poem by the environmentalist, author, educator and activist Karen Shragg. She’s written many books and among those, also a book of poetry called The Wolf Within (I don’t think this poem is in it, though from the index I learned there are other poems on this theme, like Think Like a Swan and Think Like a River).

My renewed love affair with trees was probably already in the air after reading the wonderful Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, and seeing the breathtaking film Heart of Oak – but what really did it, was an encounter with a magical tree in Bretagne, where I had the good fortune to participate in a deeply nourishing relational mindfulness retreat. Let me tell you what happened.

The retreat included a sit-spot practice, where each of the participants went to a place outside that they felt drawn to, with a slightly different focus each day. I found this centuries old, magnificent pine tree that I sat next to each day, breathing in its calm presence. One day, the invitation was to go to your sit spot and open to communicating with a non-human ‘being’ you would encounter there. Sitting under the tree, I attuned myself, and when I opened my eyes I saw this very cute tiny little bird hopping in the branches of the tree I sat under. I immediately liked it and asked, as instructed: “may I observe you?” No sooner had I asked it, or this quick bird disappeared behind a thick clump of pine needles. Disappointed, I kept peering into the tangle of branches and needles, until I realised I was looking directly at a very venerable being already, this tree… so I shifted my attention to the tree and was bowled over by the deep presence, aliveness, and the perspective of ancientness I experienced. Wow… I’ve never felt a tree so strongly as in that moment when I could almost hear its presence, a bit like turning the dial on an old fashioned radio and suddenly you shift from crackling silence into a symphony.

As I sat there, bathing in this tree-encounter, I laughed out loud when I saw what happens to me so often: I get totally captivated by the tiniest little fluttering ‘doing’, when I could be tuning into the wavelength of ‘being’ and rest into something so very much more vast, old, and dependably present… Does that sound familiar?

A few days later we were in the sunny chaos that is the heart of Paris, with people, cars, bikes and mopeds rushing around like there’s no tomorrow. And then, lifting my gaze just a nudge, there were these silently breathing trees. Not nearly as old as my friend in Bretagne, but nonetheless offering a poignant reminder of that other wavelength, quietly present.

So yes, much to learn from the wisdom of trees…

PS. Finding more access to the ‘being mode’ even while we’re in the midst of leading what may be a busy life, is very much part of what mindfulness practice has to offer. See here for our range of courses that may support your training!

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so I place them on what is beautiful in this world.

And I fold them in prayer, and they

draw from the heavens

light.

by St Francis of Assisi
interpreted by Daniel Ladinsky

A few days ago I was sitting and practicing with a sadness I felt around how life has changed due to the pandemic. As I sat, my attention settled into a more fundamental part of myself. I found I could rest back into appreciating the wonder and beauty of our world, which is always there no matter what goings on are going on.

I feel that this is what St. Francis is showing us in the first two lines in this poem from the book Love Poems from God. For me an image comes of hands being placed with care and gratitude on the bark of a tree, a loaf of bread, the cheek of a child, a beautiful object, a beloved pet. The palms of the hands are so sentient. I do feel how they can absorb and also give. I think that in a way St. Francis is also using hands as a metaphor for attention. In our mindfulness training we learn that what we place our attention onto has the power to change our mind/heart. So, in worrying times, let’s place it on what is beautiful. For me this feels like sustenance and renews my faith in life.

And then, what happens when we place our palms together? What is imbibed then? St. Francis says this can draw ‘from the heavens, light’. My meditation practice can feel like this (on a good day!), like a kind of prayer. Like a way to connect with love and compassion, which are at work each day and night both within me (albeit in a modest way and frequently masked by extensive displays of human imperfection!) and in the world. This is not to gloss over the suffering which we may be painfully aware of individually and collectively, and it’s not about living in la-la-land unaware of how much malintent and stupidity humans are capable of. For me, it’s about consciously uniting ourselves with our pre-existing capacity for goodness anyway – creativity, compassion, joy, selflessness, integrity it’s all here. It’s about seeing this all around us. It is there in the small details of our lives and in the big stories of our life-times. It is here in this moment. It is everywhere.

PS. If you would like to do a course devoted to practicing with the intention of remembering the Wonder of the Everyday you might want to consider this which begins in early January. You are also warmly invited to a free taster session for this course on Friday 10th December 2021 at 7pm here.

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