Mindfulness has become big business for some in recent times, resulting in it being met with cynicism and even some suspicion in some quarters. There are estimates that the mindfulness business in the US is worth $1 billion, so it’s easy to see why some may be sceptical.
However, mindfulness has its roots not as a money-making business, but as an antidote to suffering, as taught by the Buddha.
The Buddha was a human being called Siddhartha. He grew up as a prince, with all the luxury such a title affords, and his father tried to protect him from the realities of life. However, Siddhartha snuck out of the palace walls and inevitably was confronted with ageing, sickness, and death.
Eventually, Siddhartha left the palace permanently and began his search for the answer to suffering.
However, this article isn’t about Buddhism; it’s about mindfulness, which was just one part of the Buddha’s teaching.
Jon Kabat-Zinn describes mindfulness as:
"Awareness that arises through paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally.”
We all have awareness; it’s naturally there. The problem is we cloud it with regrets of the past, fears of the future, and the stress of current projects. You don’t have to be Buddhist to have awareness. Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, and so on all have awareness because, as human beings, we are conscious beings.
Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist Monk who brought mindfulness to the West and is often referred to as the Father of Mindfulness, says that mindfulness is always mindfulness of something. We can choose, on purpose, and without judgment, to be mindful of our body, our feelings, our perceptions, our thoughts, and sensations. We can choose to be mindful of our tea as we drink it, our meals, the feel of our clothing against our skin, the sounds around us, our garden, our surroundings as we walk, and so on.
Mindfulness isn’t some great mystery, and neither is it something airy-fairy; it’s simply about intention, choosing to stop, to pause, and take notice, on purpose, of what’s happening within and around us right now, in this very moment. And critically, we do this without judgment; we simply notice: “Ah, anger is there,” or joy, or sadness, elation, depression, freedom, stress, anxiety, frustration, happiness, and so on. And once we notice, we can take care. This is why mindfulness goes hand in hand with compassion. We notice what our body needs, what our mind needs, and what our loved ones need. Mindfulness brings understanding, and understanding gives birth to compassion.
To be mindful, to become aware, requires two things of us: to stop, and to look. We cannot be mindful if we are rushing from one thing to another, trying to multitask or, as often is the case in modern life, juggling 8 balls at the same time. There’s a phrase I like to use: “practice the pause.” Only when we take the time to intentionally pause, to breathe, can we look at what is really going on. Not what our perceptions, thoughts or feelings are telling us, but what is actually happening for us in the present moment. Mindfulness shows us reality. And we can be sure, if it’s happening for us, then those around us, by extension, through our behaviours and interactions, are experiencing its ripple effects.
In his short story, “A Painful Case,” James Joyce describes Mr Duffy as “living a short distance from his body.” How often is this the case for us? We live our lives meeting deadlines, meeting expectations, racing from one meeting to another. Many years ago a cashier in my local supermarket said,
“Do you know what we all call you?”
“Do enlighten me,” I said, smiling.
“The running man,” she said, “you don’t walk around the store, you run.”
This was certainly true for me. My Hurry Up driver is very well developed. I have to enjoy the present moment on purpose. The moment I start any activity, my mind is immediately on to the next thing. Practising the pause, choosing to bring my attention to what I am doing, thinking, feeling in the moment, is a practice.
Mr Duffy can speak to us all. We are in a rush, and then we die. We can die without even noticing we were alive. Mr Duffy lived detached from his feelings and his lived experience, living a life of rigidity and routine. He led a transactional life, whereas being alive is relational. I know I can operate on autopilot very easily, but the simple action of practising the pause can bring me back to myself, of what’s happening for me, and for whom I am with.
Thich Nhat Hanh says that mindfulness is about bringing body and mind together. This would have been the antidote to Mr Duffy’s isolated life that was devoid of any sense of connection. We can begin to have a relationship with ourselves. To practice self-compassion, born of understanding, and as we practice this for ourselves, others benefit from our transformation. We discover peace for ourselves, and just by being alive, we bring peace to others.
Non-Judging: we witness our own experience free from judgment. What is here is already here. There is no self-condemnation in mindfulness.
Patience: This is about removing our hands from the steering wheel and not forcing things, but instead allowing things to unfold in their own time.
Beginner's Mind: This is about living a life of joy with child-like curiosity. We notice life as if we are seeing or experiencing it for the very first time.
Trust: From a deep place of peace and awareness, free from judgment and discrimination, we can trust our intuition.
Non-Striving: This is about “trying” less and “being more”. We are human beings, not human doings. Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that if we run through our lives, we will miss our appointment with life.
Acceptance: This isn’t about depressed resignation or washing our hands of things; rather, it’s about recognising what’s already here and becoming aware of what it needs.
Letting go: Wanting things to be a certain way is a source of suffering. If we can live free from grasping and aversion, we can live a life of real happiness.
Canadian Psychologist Donald Hebb is famous for his saying: “neurons that fire together, wire together.” Research clearly shows that everything we feel, think and do comes from pathways of networks in the brain. Practice and training can change these pathways (for the better or worse). This is equally true of our interactions and experiences with the outside environment as it is of our internal psychological/spiritual environment. We can deliberately use our mind, in a targeted way, to change our brain for the better.
Neuroscientist Eleanor Maguire of University College London studied London taxi drivers who spend 4 years studying 25,000 streets, together with thousands of tourist attractions and other hotspots. Successful drivers who gained their licenses were found, via MRI scans, to have larger hippocampi (the area of the brain responsible for learning and memory) than those who were unsuccessful.
Jan Scholz of Oxford University studied 24 people who learned to juggle alongside 24 who did not. The 48 people underwent regular brain scans and it was found that there was no change in the brains of the non-jugglers, but the jugglers grew more white matter in a part of the parietal lobe – an area involved in connecting what we see to how we move. The transformation was noted in all jugglers, irrespective of ability, indicating that it was the process of learning that changed the brain as opposed to individual competence.
The brain is not fixed, and we can reshape it. Mindfulness and compassion, when practised regularly, can effectively rewire our brains in a positive way that opens the door to a happier, more contented life. Time spent choosing to be aware, on purpose, without judgment can change our lives and provide us with a life with less suffering, both for ourselves and others.
You don’t need hours of meditation. All it takes is one pause, one breath, just now.
Give it a try.
