So I have been doing my mindfulness practice the past couple of days, which is for me to simply be mindful (whether in writing, meditation, or some other activity) for 15 full minutes. This time allotment probably wouldn’t seem like a lot for most people, but for me, it is turning out to be A HUGE DEAL.
For example, one day I chose to eat lunch. To only eat lunch, actually. Not read a book or a newspaper or a magazine, not check my email, surf the internet, watch tv, call a friend back, do some work, make a to do list–all of which I usually do during lunch, most of the time several at once–just eat, as mindfully as possible. I tried to focus on the texture and tastes of my food: the creamy coconut of the squash soup, the slippery tang at the end of my sesame noodles. I did well…for ten minutes. Until a close friend called, one with whom I’m constantly playing phone tag, and I had to answer. And then that reminded me that I had to call another very close friend before her job interview to wish her luck. (Okay, I didn’t have to do either of these things, but letting people I love know that I love them is a happy priority for me.)
So on it goes. Whenever I devote 15 minutes to being mindful, whether it’s during driving, or eating, or meditating, something else calls me away, and down the rabbit-hole I go. Which brings me to my first big semi-realization of this little experiment: I have constructed my life such that it is basically impossible for me to focus on one thing at a time*. I have clutter issues that extend way beyond my stuff (and if I only had physical clutter issues, that would be problem enough). Basically, I have no idea what I want out of life in many respects. Surely some of this bewilderment has to do with my (subconscious yet intentional) cluttering of my life with so many things, people, events, and to do list items that I can’t even stop and think about. More on the cosmic self-esteem tie-ins later.
Okay, so what to do, what to do? I think this realization has propelled me close to my breaking point in terms of stuff. I think I am finally understanding, in a visceral, bone-deep, way how deeply flawed any search for focus or direction when I am drowning in a sea of other people’s voices (I mostly mean in the form of the media I am constantly saturating myself with, but also in the way that I tend to be very other-oriented.)
To read about how multi-tasking is the devil, as many have pointed out, and to realize it in this “oh look at how crazy I have made my life” way are two very different things. I am trying my hardest to note in a mindful way my thoughts on all of this, instead of castigating myself over my inability to focus and then giving up.
*To perfectly illustrate this point, while writing this, I am listening to Arcade Fire’s “Rebellion,” which suggests that “sleeping is giving in” so exuberantly that one has to sing along. This is my wheelhouse, people.
