A Small Adjustment

In a season when I feel compelled to write, I am trying to follow this heartfelt sense, so I packed my computer, came to the small market near my house, grabbed some coffee and a cheddar biscuit, and here I am.

On my run this morning, I was noticing so many beautiful fall scenes, I felt like I wanted to stop and capture each one, in some way, take a pic, stand and just look, take a mental image, write something, some kind of capturing of what I see and feel in that moment.

This seems to be a theme for me. I am often sensing this kind of desire. It's what makes me contemplative I guess and also makes me more mindful than I think I would be otherwise. In a way, it's what every artist, songwriter, and poet, is trying to do, capture the depth of a moment, the feeling of a snippet of life. When we read a poem, stand and look at an image, or listen to a song, we are actually doing just what the artist wants, pausing, considering, and noticing.

A part of me is starting to think that this is more important, and even more central to fulfillment in life than we might imagine. Think about how you feel when you pause, and just take a breath, take in a song, a verse, or a painting. Look at a landscape, notice the leaves changing color in your very own neighborhood and realize this is a special moment in time.

While we are looking for fulfillment in all kinds of ways, we might be missing the simplest, most obvious. After all, we never really live anywhere else but, at this moment, why not be fully in it? All our senses are designed for this, you only see what is here now, can only hear the sounds of this space that you're in now, only smell the smells of this atmosphere, and so on, our very breathing in and out to stay alive, happens moment by moment.

I am sitting in this market, seeing the people eating, drinking coffee, and having conversations, trees outside losing some of their colors as the leaves scatter through the air. I hear the sounds of voices, coffee grinders, music in the background, the keys on this computer as I write, and my own breath. I taste the coffee that I am drinking mixed with the biscuit I just enjoyed, and smell the amazing aromas of bread, expressos, and fresh pastries as they are distributed to awaiting customers. I feel the cool air coming in the door each time someone enters or leaves, the warmth of the bodies in the room, the hardwood of the table I am leaning on as I write.

Beyond my senses, I feel the deeper parts of this moment. Comfort from the community, the combined fullness of all that I am taking in from my senses, and the awareness that there is so much richness right here, in this obscure now. It's almost like this is a holy moment, or to put it another way, a very whole moment, which is really what a holy moment is. This is as it is supposed to be, me, alive here and now, experiencing life with others who are here also. By myself, writing, but intimately connected to all around me, inside this space and outside in the world of nature and a city moving along through its morning.

Spiritual teachers tell us that something like this experience is the essence of what is meant by living a spiritual life. It is in some way, a connection to the life within and without, and flowing with its movements through me and around me, staying present, aware, intent, immersed, childlike, not judging or trying to change anything but just being with the life that is here, now.

If a poet, writer, or artist, can help us by reminding us of this, then the arts provide us with a vital service indeed. The next time you feel a little drawn within to just stop and notice something, you may be feeling compelled to this kind of awareness.

On my second cup of coffee, maybe I can talk about the contrast of what I am trying to describe here. The opposite is to start with, simply not noticing. We miss what is in front of us, we are somewhere else. Our mind is somewhere, our heart is somewhere, and our attention is somewhere but here. Where could it be? That is the question, isn't it? Since life is actually happening here, where else could I be?

The truth is obvious, I am often somewhere else in my mind. I am thinking about the argument I had with a loved one or the uncertain meeting or appointment ahead of me. Or I am stuck on autopilot just lost in a shuffle of thoughts and emotions that have nothing to do with what is here today. Ruminating thinking can cause more stress, anxiousness, worry, doubt, fear, regret, guilt, judgment, and so on than we can handle and we get and stay in overwhelm. We are not producing emotions like love, joy, peace, well-being, and contentment, these are only found when we are living in the present, we don’t produce these when we are ruminating and un-present.

Much can be said about the reasons we do this, but the most common reason is that we have just developed the habit of being afraid and doubting, and this is best done by living in the past and future and is most of the time, removed by being more present, therefore we are drawn to the familiar habit even if it is an unhappy or unhealthy one. It is an addiction of sorts, we have gotten used to it, what would I do if I didn’t worry, or feel anxious, or have dread about what is to come? I might have to start taking responsibility for my own happiness, and then I have to stop blaming others for my unhappiness and so on. A lot of change occurs and a lot of letting go when I start to live more in the here and now.

Such a small adjustment with such a profound impact. It is exactly that, a change that transforms our experience with ourselves and our world, that may seem overstated, but it really is not. Nothing short of transformation occurs, when we start to listen to the prompts in life to stop and take notice of each now, which is filled with wonder and awaiting your exploration.

The next time you stop for a song, a poem, inspiring thought-provoking writing, a painting or sculpture, or a landscape, while your noticing, notice also the difference within you. You can choose more of this feeling, this experience, it is abundantly here for the taking.

hope to insipire,

tony gilotte