As I work with clients to get them out of their (sometimes seemingly endless) rumination about the past and the future, I sometimes ask them, "How soft is your chair?" My chairs in my office are reasonable comfortable and soft, albeit somewhat worn from years and years of patients sitting in them. The answer is invariably something like, "It's fine." I then follow up with, "How's the room temperature?" And again, the answer is usually something like, "It's okay." And so on. "Are you hungry, or are you satisfied right now?" I may ask. Sometimes my patient is aware of hunger, sometimes not.
Why do I do this? To point out that in the instant they are assessing the softness of the chair, the warmth or coolness of the room, and the state of hunger or satiety, they are no imaginary monsters stalking them. There is no monster from the past making them feel guilty for what they have done or not done ("should statements" or reverse fortune telling). There is no monster from the future about what might happen (catastrophizing). There are only the awareness of the present.
This is sometimes referred to as "getting off of autopilot." Sometimes, a mindfulness approach by Dr. Jon Kabat Zinn is just to help someone eat one raisin with full awareness--without being on autopilot.
I had mentioned in a previous blog one of the techniques I use to heighten my sensory awareness. I ask myself, what would I paint in the scene before me? As I look around my study right now, I can ask myself that question. Is it the cluttered stack of mail in front of me? Probably not. I look at the Poinsettia slightly past its prime. Would I paint it? Not in the state that it is in, but then I notice the lovely redness in some of the leaves. I had totally overlooked that when I walked in the room and when I started typing! At the moment, I find no clear subject, but I also realize that with just a little rearranging, there are actually many possible subjects. I am also aware of the many little pieces of art, none of which are expensive, but all of which have some interest in them. With just a slight rotation of the Poinsettia and a leaf fallen on the desk below it, maybe it would made a good painting after all.
Why is this important? Because there is a tendency for us to go on autopilot. We have so many things. We work hard for a life of many things, and then we ignore them. We continue striving. And striving is good in some ways. But I do not believe that it is good for us when we only strive to have more, but cannot take the time to appreciate what we then have.
Our senses are a way out of our mindless striving. Why do I refer to it as "mindless" striving? It is mindless because we are often on autopilot. And it is mindless to acquire things just so that we can ignore them. It is mindless to strive without having a good reason to strive. It is mindless to strive but then not enjoy the fruits of our labors.
In a previous blog, I referred to the thin tropical island of the present. In that world, our senses help us to get in touch with the physical reality around us. When we are looking, we can really look at the present. When we are listening, we can really hear the present. When we touch something, we can really feel it. Or taste it, or smell it. And when we are doing that then are almost always in the present and out of the clutches of the real or imagined demons of the past and future.
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