Are You Sitting Comfortably?

Which way round do you fold your arms? Which foot or leg goes over the other? If you carry a bag over your shoulder, which side do you favour?

There are two reasons for asking this. The first is about habit. We develop our own little preferences about how we carry ourselves, which then become habitual.
The second reason is that these habits become comfortable. If something is of comfort, why change it?
Some habits, though, can be altered by re-training your own perceptions.
I’d like to suggest a mindfulness exercise for you to practice, to help you realise the potential of how you can be in control of your habits. Next time you go to fold your arms or cross your leg, tell yourself to go the opposite way. Whilst doing so, notice any thoughts or feelings, even an awareness of thinking “I don’t like this” but not holding any self-judgement of this. Try this for a couple of weeks and see if you notice any differences in how comfortable you feel, and how you feel about changing a habit.
Once you’ve done this, you could try applying these mindful techniques to other areas of your life where you have fallen into a habit that maybe you’d like to change.
I’d love to know your thoughts on this, and your experiences, so please post your comments!

Be Brave!

Last summer, whilst out running in the woods, I headed towards a path I tend to feel wary of. It was a gloriously warm summer morning, and as I ran along the sunlit-dappled path, I became mindful of looking out for Adders. Now I used to be terrified of snakes as a child; and even as an adult, I’m really not that fond of them.
Despite my fear and dislike, I have never seen a snake anywhere other than behind a plate of glass at the zoo: a sanitised, safe environment – perhaps not so much for my benefit – as for the snakes themselves.

I reflected upon this as I left the woods and entered an open space, that the fear I have of meeting a snake on my own well-travelled path, has little basis. Why must I place the emotion of fear into a situation I have never encountered, and may never face? Surely it would be better to experience the fear and react accordingly if need be?

As much as I love being amongst woodland, I do tend to run a bit faster in the areas where I am likely to encounter an Adder. This might knock a couple of seconds off my time, but if I run too fast, I may miss the beauty all around me – even that of the adder itself.

To confront a fear allows us to learn something deeper about ourselves. If we permit the fear to control our decisions on, say, which paths to take in our life, we restrict our choices, and may inhibit our own growth. Although it might feel easier to avoid anything scary or unknown in order to protect and preserve – to sanitise – our comfort zones, these seemingly easy decisions can prevent us from learning more about ourselves, and forming a deeper connection within.

By facing our fears, we can begin to open up to what it is that has influenced our decisions and perceptions. If we fully experience our fear, we can then see the beauty of our deeper selves, learn as we conquer our fear, and evolve on a spiritual level.

So look for your own strength and courage in your heart, and allow the light within you to be the sun dappling upon your path less travelled.

Planting The Seeds

 My beginners mindfulness group were asked at the beginning to sit quietly for a few minutes. In this time, once they had begun to settle in to the session, I asked them to feel a sense of love for themselves at that moment and feel the sensation grow from their heart outwards. Then I asked for them to feel a sense of peace. Connecting the sense of peace and love (there is a hippy inside us all) I asked for each individual to consider a positive intention (a goal to work towards) for themselves; and lastly, to connect this sense of peace and love with the goal or intention. After a few moments the group were asked to choose some seeds to plant into a tray, all the while remembering the intention, as well as maintaining or re-creating the sense of love and peace. Then, to visualise the seed growing, changing, sprouting shoots and growing into the flower it will become. In this flower is embedded peace, love and the happy goal or intention. Each person was asked to take their seeds home with them, to nurture them as they grow and each day sit for just a few minutes, re-creating the sense of peace and love, even connecting with their seed. Today was about planting for peace. Imagining the plant sending out the peace and love through the roots and into the ground, to spread beyond ourselves and lead to others.Yes, this may all sound very hippy, but there is a point to this. The plant is a metaphor for a goal: the goal (intention) is to bring about positive change in the individual. By nurturing the seed (watering it, maintaining just the right conditions for it to grow) the plant has a much greater chance of survival. By feeling a sense of love for the seed, the love is actually for the self – an unconditional love with which to grow the individual’s self-belief and desire to succeed in their intention. Setting an intention gives the plant a deeper meaning. Feeling motivated to succeed and practising the commitment to succeed is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The plant is receiving the individual’s energy through the commitment to preservation.This exercise is loosely based on Metta meditation, a Buddhist practice which focuses on love of the self; love of a friend; love towards someone the individual doesn’t know/know well; sending love to someone the individual doesn’t like; and finally, sending love out to the individual’s community/the world. It is a powerful exercise, one which can invoke all sorts of emotions – positive and negative – but when practised regularly, it can harbour greater coping mechanisms in everyday life, particularly if the individual faces conflict in any aspect of their life; but can have a positive influence on self-esteem.So get planting for peace and love in your life and in your neighbourhood!

Fear-Less

One day, in the summer holidays, I took my five year-old swimming. He was under-confident and clung to me, having lost all the confidence he had gained in his swimming lessons, before the summer holidays began. Then the alarm for the 3-minute warning of the wave machine sounded. He panicked, began to shiver and asked me to take him out of the water.
"It's OK to be scared", I told him. He tried to pull me towards the shallow end, but I held him tightly, and stayed where we were. I decided to use this as a mindfulness opportunity. "I can feel how scared you are. What is it that worries you the most?" He replied, "being pushed over by the waves". So we had something to work on. "That's a possibility. You're scared of the danger, aren't you? That's OK, we can work with this, too. Are you still feeling really scared?" He nodded. "That's OK. But you know that right now, it is safe for you to feel scared, because I am here and I won't let you get into danger." He began to loosen his grip around me. I empathised with his feelings, naming his emotion (fear), and together we accepted the fear. As the wave machine began swirling the water around, he had already acknowledged that he was scared, accepted his emotions, and been given a safe space to experience it. When he accepted that his fear would not be realised, he relaxed a bit.
At this point, I moved a few paces deeper into the water, the waves colliding around us. He allowed me to do this, and I asked him how scared he was. "Not as much as I was" he said. Then he asked to get down and go under the water with me. We submerged ourselves for a few seconds, holding hands, before resurfacing. He was jubilant: "I did it!" He suddenly found his confidence, and he directed me to the shallow end, where we jumped over the waves together. His moment of fear in the past, replaced with fun and confidence.
I have used this sort of technique for all sorts of moments where fear is the thread of the situation. In all cases, once the fear has been acknowledged and accepted, the process of overcoming it can begin. Fear will remain as long as it is unexplained, or unidentified. By tapping into the fear and unravelling it, it can be overcome.

Zen and Jam

I was given a windfall of plums, this week, by my friend the Jammy Bodger. Today was my only chance of getting some jam made, as some of the plums were starting to look a bit mouldy.
I love making jam. But I make such a horrible, sticky mess that the processes of washing up, and scraping dried jam juice from my oven and pans take the edge off the occasion.
Today was no exception. Well actually, it was an exception, because today I made more mess than I've ever made, before. I let the pan boil over; the bowl I used for the stones and the skin wasn't big enough, so plum juice dripped down the sides, onto the worktop, and down the cupboard door.
For a while, I wondered why on earth I was creating such chaos for myself, when normally, I would at least try to keep things organised.
Eventually, I realised what I was doing; I was inappropriately multi-tasking, resulting in something Not Quite Right. Whilst the plums were bubbling away, I went off to do some jobs on my laptop, in another room. One of the jobs on my long to-do list for today involved making a phone call. The phone call reminded me that I needed to send someone an email; and when I opened up my email inbox I found 3 emails I needed to respond to. In the midst of this, I could hear my oven timer beeping, telling me it was time to dredge the skin and stones from the bubbling pan in the kitchen.
So then, it was no wonder I was finding the process of making jam very frustrating; the emails I needed to take action on seemed difficult to do; and my to-do list was starting to annoy me, with my inner voice sarcastically mocking me: "Ooh, you think you're so clever with your list-making, why not add to the list just to prove how much you can do in a day!"
After an hour of pacing up and down the hall between laptop and sticky pan, I decided enough was enough, and focused on the one task. The jam-making. But I found myself rushing, trying to get on to the next task, whilst separating plum stones from flesh, and making a terrible mess of it. My patience was starting to wear thin.
At this point, I stopped, and thought about what was happening. Today I have had some big challenges to deal with, including life-changing decisions which I'm now following through on; the to-do list had to be completed, it couldn't wait until next week because I'm back at work; the jam needed making before the fruit rotted away; and it's Friday. Fridays are supposed to allow me to be a bit more gentle with myself, instead of over-analysing, over-reaching, and doing too much at a time. No wonder I was feeling impatient.
I changed. I took a deep breath, and completely focused on those plum stones. I had over 3Ibs of plums to go through, which were checked carefully before placing back in the pan. I ignored the mess, I'd clean it later. I just concentrated exactly on the task in front of me. I began to enjoy it. A sense of fulfilment about completing the task filled me, and at the end, I had a taste of the fruits of my labour: not too sweet, slightly sharp, and with a hint of spice.
That pretty-much sums up my Friday!

Tracking The Inner Voice

A cup of decaffeinated coffee sits on the table, next to my laptop as I work. I am in a hotel near the camp site I am staying at with my family: they have gone on a day trip whilst I take some time out to write, catch up on work and come back to find my inner voice, again. I have been on a roadtrip around the UK with my 2 children for the past two weeks, going from friends to YHA to hotels, to parents; and now camping in Hampshire. I feel worn out and in need of some peace and quiet, despite the fun and frivolity of the past fortnight.
Outside, the rain has been lashing down; now the sunshine is out again and the world outside the window no longer looks dark and foreboding, but light and welcoming: even the leaves on the trees seem to shimmer with delight as they dance in the summery breeze. Here in the relaxed atmosphere of the hotel lounge, Jack Johnson is playing through the speakers; cutlery scraping plate occasionally accompanies the acoustic guitar, joining in the rhythm of footsteps on polished wooden flooring. A child patiently teaches his terrier pup how to sit and stay: the dog obliges and is rewarded with a splash of wine from his master's mother's wine glass.
Back to my inner voice. What is it saying to me? "Write. Work. Get on with what you came here for. You haven't got all day." I take a sip of my coffee. "It tastes too good to be decaff" says the voice. But I reason with it: "I checked with the waiter and he said it is. It's fine. Go ahead, enjoy!" There was a time I would drink caffeinated coffee, but in the past six years I have given it up. I feel so much better for it, too: I no longer feel jittery or anxious, which is how I must have felt a lot of the time without even realising it. There was once a time when I was accidentally given a proper coffee whilst out with my son, who was 3 at the time. Within 40 minutes of taking my first sip, I felt impulsive and wanted to go out and spend lots of money. My son egged me on in our apparently reasonable discussion to get my ears pierced for a second time (seeing mummy acting with exuberance all of a sudden appealed to his toddler mind; we laughed together as I walked home with sparkly blue earrings added to my plain studs. Caffeine does strange things to me).
But back to my inner voice. "What are you doing? Just get on with what you need to do! Why are you adding sugar to that cup? You don't take sugar!" I reason with this: "The sugar lumps look nice. I want one".

I take a lump and watch as it plops into the darkness. A few bubbles appear on the surface. I find myself entering into a quiet moment of reflection. I see how the sugar has altered the coffee. I see myself as the cup, the coffee as the material I am made of, and the sugar as the external substance that alters the matter. Bubbling away, changing the structure, but the vessel itself remains unchanged. A concious decision to change something within, as easy as that. "If only all decisions were that easy" I hear within me.
But in reality, anything can be changed, it just takes action. Thoughts can change the perception of substance. Only action can alter our reality. In order to make the change, though, the perception needs to be there. We can only perceive that a change is needed by recognising the options and choices around us, but we may have to seek for them before they present themselves. We may not always make the "right" choice, but that decision changes us intrinsically. Within us all is the intrinsic ability to be flexible, to change, but what holds us back? "Fear!" I hear my inner voice exclaim. "That sugar is bad for you, what are you thinking?!" I reflect on this. "Habit" I answer. "It's my habit of adding sugar to my coffee, because the sweetness takes the edge off the bitterness. I don't really like the taste so much, these days. Why did I order that coffee? Because I doubt the hotel serves rooibus tea with almond milk: my preferred position of hidden hippy." So I adapt to my surroundings, rather than force a change on others. I doubt there is a demand for this, and I understand that others may recoil at the thought of almond milk and rooibus. I get it! But there could be, if more people knew about it, if more people were willing to try something new, to make a concious decision to change a habit, without allowing fear to stand in the way of an experiment.
I drink the coffee, enjoying the bitter-sweet flavour, knowing that I won't become jumpy or impulsive. Outside, the sun is still shining. Time has moved on. The alcoholic dog has left the building, and new diners have entered the lounge. The music has changed to something with a bit more energy, and new staff have arrived. The hotel has changed within, but outside it still looks the same. There is a different feel to it. I am now enjoying a bowl of soup and a healthy glass of water. Everything has changed, but is still the same.