An overused word in mindfulness is “journey”. The word, or more accurately the cultural baggage associated with the word, can put people off. In its defence, “journey” can be helpful shorthand for the experiences of mindfulness that are difficult to render in everyday language (indeed I have even written a blog about my own practice ‘journey’), but that is a discussion for another day.
My summer “mindful journey” was a journey in its most literal sense. Due to a profound dislike of aviation, I travelled from London to Vilnius via 7 trains, over 36 hours. The schedule was strict and any set back or delay could derail (see what I did there?) the whole journey.
And wouldn’t you know it, those set backs and delays were quick to arise and were frequent. It started the night before my travel. At 10pm I got a text telling me that my second train would be delayed by 90 minutes… meaning I’d miss my third train (and therefore all others too).
Thoughts of “holiday ruined”, “I’ll never make it” or “this is so unfair” hurtled through my mind at the velocity of the high-speed train I was now going to miss. Panic, physical, emotional and cognitive, was taking over.
It was at this point I remembered my practice. I focused on the breath, saying “breathing in, breathing out” until I had ridden out the powerful initial wave. This happened almost automatically, years of training kicking in. I resolved to keep focusing on my breath and just see where the journey (and delays) took me.
The next day the aforementioned delay saw me having to run from one station in Cologne to another. It was just over a mile and I had no choice as it was the only way I could catch the final train of the day that would enable me to get my next connection (did I mention I had a large backpack and it was 30°c at the time?).
I ran cursing my luck, especially when climbing the many, many stairs to the Hohenzollern Bridge that I had to cross.
However, once again my mindfulness kicked in. Taken aback by the beauty of the view of the Rhine, I focused on that as I lumbered across the bridge. I also was able to notice the padlocks all over the bridge, each one a symbol of love. Not only did I feel human warmth in those padlocks, but they also recalled the lock myself and my wife had put on a bridge in Vilnius 16 years ago on our honeymoon. Despite the pain and heat from running, I also felt a wonderful moment of connection and gratitude.
I made the train but fate wasn’t done with me yet. I had several other close calls with train times and had to navigate a 14-hour overnight train journey without a bed, unable to sleep. By being able to bring acceptance into the moment, it allowed me to notice the beauty of Europe all around me as I traversed it by train.
The journey was a privilege. I saw so much stunning scenery and spoke to so many people, but without my mindfulness it could easily have been seen through the prism of the challenges and stressors.
This is what mindfulness is about, meeting the challenges and welcoming the beauty within them.