One of the things that helps me with my mindfulness practice is being able to realize how nonsensical my everyday life really is. That truly, deep, deep down; I am not “a human”. That tree is not “a tree”. These are just a collection of things we’ve conceptualized to be “a human”, or “a tree”. They are simply patterns dancing to their own rhythm.
When I fix my focus on how things really are—instead of categorizing and boxing up the experience—I cannot help but get into the groove of what it means to exist. I drop yesterday’s baggage at the wake of dawn—allowing a clean slate for the coming day. I allow the stress of past struggles and frustrations to sink into me and flow out through my breath.
I sit outside. I let my breath do as it wants. I pay mind to the thoughts and then let them go. Then almost instantaneously, I feel as though I’ve reached an awareness of having always been there in that present moment.
Watching the world and all of the interesting shows it puts on. Listening to the bird songs and the seemingly perfect playing of the wind-chimes as the air passes around them. The blood flowing through my veins. The warmth it spreads. The cool breeze giving rise to goosebumps on my arms. A truly chilling sensation, yet it ceases at the surface and goes no deeper.
There’s a peaceful stillness inside of me that I feel I can always become when it gets to be too much. A place where I can reason and respond, instead of react.
A center where I truly reside.