Ordinary Things

The older I get the more pure joy I find in seemingly ordinary things. My daughter's laughter ... the aroma of freshly ground coffee brewing in the morning ... a slow, steady summer rain drumming on my window pain ... the acrid smell of wood smoke on the late Autumn breeze ... a soft word lovingly whispered in the deep of night ... sleeping close to the woman you love so much it feels as if your heart will burst ... a spontaneous conversation with a stranger in line at the grocery store ... sailboats on Harveys Lake ... Theo's homemade apple pie, still warm and steaming from the oven ... that sense of bone weary, exhausted accomplishment that followed a grueling Martial Arts class ... the peaceful solitude of a sunrise over the ocean, the only sounds the call of gulls and the rush of surf on sand.

These are the important things -- not the accumulation of material goods, monetary wealth or prestige. Those are merely window dressing, trappings. The art of authentic living is to simplify, to slow down, to become part of the natural ebb and flow of life, not resist it.

To be honest this attitude has nearly always been part of my nature, but with maturity has come, I think, a deeper more seasoned appreciation that is unfortunately frequently lost on the young. They smell the coffee brewing, but they don't really smell it in other words. It is background, white noise, not an experience in and of itself.

I recall a trip I took about 15 years ago with a group of my karate students. All ages and ranks were competing in a Martial Arts tournament in Columbia County -- a 2 hour drive from my studio. The tournament started promptly at 9AM, so we piled into a caravan of cars and left the school parking lot at 6:30AM. I was riding shotgun in a van with 6 or 8 of my young students.

The sun was just breaching the horizon as we passed through the Mahoning Valley. Fog, thick as milk and turned salmon pink by the rising sun, had settled across the verdant farmland on the valley floor. The entire tableau was magnificent, artistic in its power and serenity. I sat up straight in my seat and my awe must have showed on my face, because soon, half a dozen students werre crowded against the side windows of the van. One of them asked, "What are you looking at, Mr. Barnes." I pointed out the window at the scene below us. To a person they all said the same thing, "What? I don't see anything!" And they really didn't. I'm not sure what they expected I was looking at, but we were seeing two different vistas; whereas I saw the artistry of nature, they saw a big open space, nothing more

That sunrise occured a decade and a half ago and I remember it as vividly as if it were only this morning. I'll bet not one of the students would remember it, even if I mentioned it. Not that there was anything inherently wrong in what they saw or how they saw it .. it's just that they expected "more". When I was their age I probably would have done the same thing.
Mindfulness is being fully engaged in the present, meeting each moment with a clear mind and cleansed spirit so that the moment to moment union becomes the highest state. The past no longer exists -- let it go; the future remains only an illusion until it manifests -- do not cling; all we have is here and now. The whole tradition of Zen is constructed around this concept. Far from being the exclusive domain of Eastern thought, mindfulness can be practiced by anyone ... anywhere ... at any time. It requires no formal training ... no rigid dogma ... no regimented techniques ... and no special tools save for an open mind. And it doesn't require us to change our lives unless we so desire; it simply says to be present, in the now, no matter what we are doing. One can practice mindfulness in everything from watching television to having sex, in one's career to playing games with the kids.
Earlier I mentioned simplification; in truth mindfulness is more than that. Much more. For one can be mindful even in the most complicated and seemingly insurmountable of circumstances. In fact, when life apears to be about as bad as it can be ... that is the time when in-the-present mindfulness is needed more than ever. Imagine being fully present during an argument or a crisis. The mindful person does not wait like a hungry tiger for the moment to interject their own thoughts, or impose their dominance through force of will; they yield to the energy of the situation and seek the solution naturally.
I am reminded of an old proverb in which a Zen Master was asked how his life changed when he became enlightened. He replied, "Before enlightenment, I would chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, I would chop wood and carry water."
Now, I am certainly no expert or Zen Master but the quote above means something profound to me. As I see it, before he attained satori the Master did those things because they were part of his life and they needed to be done, but he did them without understanding, and was likely distracted by a thousand other thoughts -- anything but the task at hand. However, once he became enlightened, he understood that "chop wood, carry water" still needed to be done. He just did them differently. Another meaningful proverb, “If you understand, then things are just as they are. If you do not understand, then things are just as they are.” illustrates much the same thing. The problem isn’t reality, the problem is our perception. I saw it written somewhere that we cannot accept that which we don’t perceive correctly, or, maybe, we cannot perceive correctly that which we haven’t accepted. No matter how difficult life seems many "problems" are the result of perception (or lack of acceptance) of the way things are, rather than being the result of the way things actually are.
So we come to this: mindfulness cannot be taught. It must be individually experienced. Try this: The next time you step out your front door, pause for a moment, open your mind to everything that is going on around you -- the sights, the sounds, the smells. See the moment for what it is, live every minute detail. Close your eyes and feel the rain on your face (we've certainly had enough of it here in Northeast PA). Be free of judgement. If you get wet, you get wet. You will dry out again. Just "be." It's not easy; it will take some time because for most of us, this type of thing is outside of our comfort zone.

And lastly, because mindfulnes is such an individual thing, maybe those students in the van with me were correct. Maybe they didn't see the same sunrise as me because in their moment they were simply aware of other things. If so, weren't they being true to their own nature? Maybe their vision was equally as extraordinary as mine ... I just didn't see it.

Until next time ...