Mindfulness and Delusions

When I was in high school, my family travelled from New Jersey to Wyoming, where we visited Yellowstone Park. While there, we had an incident with a mother bear and her cub.

In discussing it years later, we realized that none of our memories matched exactly. Two siblings said the bear chased us. One said “It was just there.” Another said it “followed” us. I remembered being chased, but I had forgotten that the bear chased or followed us all the way to our car and reared over it, giving us an excellent close-up view.

I tell this story to illustrate the deceptive nature of memory. How I remembered the bear had no major effect on my life. Memories, however, become significant when we assign a meaning to what we think is true and make decisions for the future based on our beliefs about the past.

We can use mindfulness to disrupt patterns based on false memories and interpretations. This process begins when we become aware that what we remember isn’t always true.

NO ONE KNOWS BEST

Being mindful is especially important with childhood memories.

You may have read or heard the notion that would-be parents should be required to pass a test at least as rigorous as a driving test. I agree. In many ways, we are the people our parents created. However, we have a potential choice about who we are. We exercise this choice when we question the truth of our memories.

We can discover and mindfully examine our childhood memories, especially those that don’t match what we learned was ideal family behavior. When I was growing up, the US media, especially TV shows, presented happy families. Things might go wrong, but these cheerful people made everything right again without even arguing about whose fault it was.

Where, I wondered, was my happy family?

I didn’t realize that the parent who never yelled, hit, acted stupid, who was sometimes vulnerable, and sometimes looked at you as if wishing to return to a childless state did not exist. I only knew that my parents didn’t meet televised standards.

Since then, I’ve come to a rational understanding of the cultural propaganda that encouraged me to believe that I lived in a psychotic setting (and, again, I realize that some people did), but I didn’t feel that maybe the comparison wasn’t serving me. If I felt it, I would have to forgive them and, even worse, let go of it being their fault that my life wasn’t perfect.

Because I avoided bringing mindfulness to my memories, they flourished in a fantasy land from which they governed significant aspects of how I viewed my life. As I worked on renovating Fantasy Land, it looked like a different place.

Mindful Memory Practices

1. The more positive and especially curious you can be about this, the better results you’ll get. See yourself as a treasure hunter. Once these gems come to the surface, their reflected shine will lighten you.
2. It can be difficult to admit that one was wrong. I ask myself, “Would I rather be right or be happy?”
3. Don’t force it. Sometimes the search is more about noticing what shows up in your life. Maybe you get invited to the wedding of a hated relative. That could be fun.
4. If at any point, reality is shifting too quickly, and you feel really uncomfortable, stop.
5. Come back when you feel strong, or if you want to explore the subject but feel you need assistance, call a coach or counselor.
6. Keep a journal. It makes good reading.
7. Remember that it’s a project that never ends. New discoveries are always waiting to be unearthed.

Mindfulness Means Looking and Listening.

It’s easy to get the idea that being in the present (which basically means being mindful) means you’re not focused on the past or the future. You’re paying attention to the here and the now. Doing, however, isn’t as easy as knowing.

The Key Word is “Focus.”

Being mindful doesn’t mean ignoring the past or future. Some attention to each has purpose.

For example, when you are planning to mail something, you might remember that you once mailed a package without insuring it or making sure that it had a tracking number. Therefore, you decide that you will be sure to take both of these steps when you mail this package. This demonstrates a simple and practical reference to both past and future.

Sometimes, though, we complicate it. In remembering the lost package, you might berate yourself, wondering why you were so stupid. You might recall all the trouble that resulted from that lost package.

You might go about trying to enjoy your day, but you find yourself unable to lose yourself in a good book or exercise because whenever you start to relax, you tell yourself, “I have to remember about the package. And what if it gets lost, anyway?” You begin to worry.

When Identity Gets Involved

This week I had a lost-package issue. I needed to send the original copy of a necessary legal document to someone else. I was vocal about my reluctance to do this, but the authorities in the situation insisted.

Then it appeared that the document got lost. My first reaction was, “Why didn’t they listen to me?” (a variant of “I told you so.”). My second was “Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

I was flooded with memories from my childhood when it seemed that no one had listened to me, accompanied by pain and anger. None of it was fun, but the opportunity occurred to step back and see how these childhood incidents had given rise to beliefs that filtered my present experience and influenced the future. I believed that no one listened to me, and I got evidence for that belief.

Mindfulness Can Help Clear Out the Past

I’m not going into specific details about the method I used. It’s called EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique), and if you haven’t heard about it, you can read more here.

It’s not the only method that works. People can get relief through meditation, mindful breathing, and other techniques. The vital first step is to recognize that a persistent regret or worry or any negative emotion is keeping you from fully experiencing the present. Once you have that mindful awareness, you’re on your way.

By the way, so was my document. I got it yesterday.

Mindfulness of Snow

Today, April 4, it's snowing and has been all day. My kitten, Roo, has been sitting all day in front of the sliding doors watching. Maybe she's tracking the fall of each snowflake. Maybe she's been lulled into a snow-induced trance.

To make it clear how much she's engaged with the falling snow, this morning, at the time when she expects treats and complains about the slightest delay in receiving them, she instead continued her snow vigil. Only later, when the snow had temporarily stopped falling, did she review her morning and remember what had been missing from it.

While she meditated, I agitated.

Snow in April, so unfair. Should I go to my chi kung class? I never miss it. It's only down the road, but the parking lot hasn't been plowed. My car is covered with snow. The roads might be unsafe. But I always go. I hate to miss it.

On and on the cycle of anxious thoughts went until it was clear that even if I suddenly changed my mind and decided to go to the class, I would be very late. Then I relaxed.

It is said that animals are creatures of habit that follow strict and unvarying patterns for the purpose of safety and protection. Yet this morning, I was the creature made anxious by a deviation from my invariable routine. Meanwhile, the animal forgot her habits and sat by the sliding doors, enraptured by the wonder of snow.

Mindfulness and Perfectionism

Someday I will be perfect. Everything will be fixed. I will have no reason to worry about my failures because I won’t have any. I won’t have to worry about anyone’s judgment. I will be perfect, and so will my life.

Probably, most people wouldn’t admit to believing the above, at least not in such blatant form, but when I ask myself if I’m happy with myself exactly as I am, I can always think of many things that need to be improved before I can say yes, which means I’m saying no.

This means that I can’t fully appreciate the present moment. Mindfulness means acceptance. More than that, it means appreciation for oneself and for one’s circumstances and surroundings—for everything that is in one’s awareness in the present moment.

This became especially clear to me when I was reading The Peaceable Kingdom, by Jan de Hartog, a novel about the founding of the Friends as a religion and its development in the U.S. At one point, Margaret Fell, who was in many ways the organizing force behind the Quaker movement, had intense doubt about her motives. Finally, she said, “God, You’ll have to accept me just as I am.”

My initial response was “Yes!” Upon reflection, I thought that it isn’t anyone outside of me who has to accept me just as I am. I’m the one who needs to unconditionally accept myself.

Where, I wondered, did that leave perfection? I explored this word from a different angle. In the past, I’d always seen it as a static, frozen condition. What if perfection, too, could reflect the present moment? What if it could be a dynamic state, as in: “I can only be who I am. I accept this reality in the here and now. I am perfect just as I am.”

I have noticed that when I’m pursuing a line of thought that’s true for me, the universe drops helpful psychic bread crumbs along the trail. I’m sure that’s why a few days later, I discovered this statement by the psychologist, Carl Rogers:

“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change. What I am is good enough if only I would be it openly.”

We don’t wait until we’re good enough to earn self-acceptance; when we accept ourselves, we are always good enough.

The Mindful Smile(with thanks to Thich Nhat Hanh)

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”

Last week, I needed to smile, and I remembered that Thich Nhat Hanh frequently writes about the importance of smiling. I’ve collected some of my favorite quotations for this blog post.

The following explains why smiling is so powerful.

“When you don’t have joy and you smile, that is a real practice. You know there are something like 300 muscles, small and big on your face. Every time we get very angry or worried, all these muscles are very tight. When people look at you with that tension on your face, they don’t see you like a flower. People are afraid of you when all the muscles on your face are tense like that. You look more like a bomb than a flower.

But if you know how to smile, in just one second, all these muscles are relaxed and your face looks like a flower again. It’s wonderful…”

I’ve learned that smiling, even (or maybe especially) when I don’t feel like it, can indeed be the source of joy—or at least of a major mood shift.

Smiling means that we are ourselves, that we are not drowned into forgetfulness.

To smile restores my attention to the present moment. When I’m unsmiling and frantic, gloomy, or angry, I’m not usually experiencing the fullness of the present moment. I may be brooding over a past insult or rejection. I may be worrying about something in the future.

Suffering is not enough. Life is both dreadful and wonderful...How can I smile when I am filled with so much sorrow? It is natural—you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow.

To shift our focus to smiling helps us to focus on the present moment. A smile opens the door to appreciation. With a smile, we may go outside and enjoy the cloud-swept sky or the tender buds that will soon become leaves. We may pause to think of the people in our lives whom we love and value. We may smile to our sorrows and fears as we would to a small child who needs our love and comfort.

Thich Nhat Hanh offers this short meditation:

Breathing in, I calm body and mind.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is the only moment.

Thanks for reading this. I smile to you.

Here's something else to make you smile, "Smile," sung by Nat King Cole.

The Mindful Purr

Sometimes mindfulness is simply listening to your inner knowing.

In January 2016, I adopted a black feral kitten. Roo (short for Roisin, meaning “Rose,” and pronounced “Roo-sheen”) was five months old. She’d been feral until she’d been four months old.

This made her at best a difficult kitten to socialize. Feral kittens get socialized to learn what is safe and what isn’t during the their early months. Any unfamiliar experience can activate their desire to find safety. After two months of age, feral kittens are considered much more difficult to socialize. Many rescue organizations recommend that feral kittens four months or older be trapped, spayed or neutered, and released.

I was looking for a companion for my three-year-old black cat, Pangur, and I visited the web site of the shelter where Roo was living. I wanted a different colored cat, like a tabby or gray tuxedo. I wanted an older, less adoptable cat. One day, though, I noticed that Roo had been there for a month. Something switched on inside me, and I said aloud, “That’s it. I’m adopting her.”

I looked at the clock. The shelter opened in ten minutes. I got into my car with a cat carrier and drove there. All the way there, I argued with myself. What happened to the tabby, to the older cat? This was surely a very feral kitten. Was I acting impulsively? I kept driving, even though I felt like a lunatic.

I got there and visited with the kitten, who mostly hid from me. I decided that I had to hear one purr, even if it was tiny. I needed some confirmation of my intuition. After half-an-hour, I was ready to give up when I heard it, an infinitesimal vibration in her throat. “Do it!” intuition shouted, and I was mindful enough to listen.

Now, eight weeks later, I’m so glad I did. It’s been a process. She still runs away from me when she’s in active mode (since she’s a kitten, that’s often), but at night she sleeps next to me, and when she’s drowsy, she loves to be petted. She even lets me rub her belly, which to many is the ultimate sign of trust.

The best part of the story, though, is that my three-year-old cat, Pangur (another black cat) and Roo are inseparable. They play together, groom each other, and sleep together.

And when I look at this beautiful kitten, I remember how clearly intuition spoke to me and how mindfully I listened. Every time I see her, Roo serves as a reminder that the voice inside will never fail me.

Note: If you would like to adopt a feral kitten, here are some suggestions from Alley Cat Allies.

Mindfulness and Silence

If there is one thing people know about the Society of Friends, it is that in many meetings people sit in silence that is occasionally interspersed with people speaking.

After a long absence, I’ve been attending a Friends’ Meeting since July 2015. Someone told that Friends are encouraged to speak only when what they would say will improve on the silence. I contemplated this recently during a Meeting.

Whether I am sitting in Buddhist meditation, a meditation of Reiki practitioners, or Friends worship, I find the energy of the group very rich and conducive to my own meditation. It would take a lot to improve on it.

As I considered that, someone got up and delivered what I judged—and I use the word deliberately—a low-quality, long, and very boring message. Frankly, I was annoyed, and I decided to look at my annoyance. What I discovered surprised me.

I realized that I am constantly giving myself long and low-quality messages thick with repetitive anxiety, that I can remind myself that I have to do something countless times, and that my ego gives me other messages that do not improve on silence.

This gave me a powerful incentive to be mindful of what I’m thinking. That doesn’t mean that I will suppress. That’s what I have been doing. Instead, I intend to simply be aware of it, to allow it but not to feed it.

That resolution gives me contentment. I thank the boring Friend. Once I mindfully contemplated my reaction to his message, it turned out to have far greater value than I had imagined.