I know. The word 'mindfulness' sounds a little bit mystic and like something your vegan Buddhist friend talks about on Instagram. In all reality, though, it's an age-old concept that exists in most cultures and almost every religion. Mindfulness means to be conscious of something--literally to bring your mind back to your body and your surroundings.
I first began to think about this concept when I was in China. It seemed like every public garden had a little Chinese sign with an English translation below, which read "please be mindful of the tiny grass below your feet." It humored me (and to this day is the nicest way I've ever been told to keep off the grass) but it also struck me as a needed reminder. Don't you wish we constantly had little signs in our lives that would pop up as we ate our dinners, as we went to bed, as we spoke to our loved ones? Be mindful. It would say. Be aware of the way this blanket feels. Be mindful of the tiny lives around you. Just as salt reminds your tastebuds to pay attention to the flavors in food, mindfulness reminds us to pay attention to the richness that is all around us.
When I got married, I walked down the aisle barefoot as a way to pay attention to what was actually happening. So many brides had warned me that my wedding day would pass me in a blur, and I wanted to do everything in my power to slow down time. Six months later, the most prominent memory of my wedding day is the way the grass felt under my feet as I walked down the aisle, and my feet sinking into the soft rug where I met my husband at the altar. It reminded me to take a moment and slow down, to feel my breath steady, paying attention to my shaky voice repeating vows, feeling the hot sun mingled with the wind softly blowing back my hair, and to slowly scan the crowd of people I loved who were paying rapt attention to my day.
There are many ways to remind ourselves to bring our minds back to the present. Recently, I read an article in which a woman described how she brings herself back to the now. When she's showering and begins to think about what she'll have for breakfast or start the to-do list for the day in her mind, she'll think a short phrase like just showering and pay attention to what she's doing. Isn't there something mildly delicious about having that sort of control over the suffocating commentary in your head and overbearing thoughts? Isn't there something wild about bringing your mind back to where you are now- the feelings, the sounds, the simple tasks at hand?
So here's my simple task to you--look around, breathe deeply and be mindful of the grass below your feet.
