Practicing mindfulness a stressful business

I’m trying to be mindful these days. But it’s hard.

What is mindfulness? You’ve heard of mind your business. And mind your p’s and q’s. But this is more like mind your mind.

Mindfulness is the millenia-old practice of living in the present, being aware of the here and now in order to achieve inner calm, clearer thinking and awareness of choices. I signed up for the fabulous Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction course at the University of Virginia, an eight-week program in which meditation is incorporated as a powerful tool to enable participants to become more mindful and learn how to tamp down the Type A. And a month into my practice of minding my mindfulness, I can see it working, despite myself (and my propensity to be mentally hop-scotching all over my days, weeks and months, fretting about whatever is down the road, unable to just be).

But mindfulness, it seems, doesn’t come without its mindfulness-based stress. For instance, my husband had the brilliant idea to convert what has become my hoarder room (i.e., where I dump that-with-which-I-don’t-know-what-to-do) into a sort of peaceful quiet room, one in which we could escape to read, relax or even, yeah, meditate.

But what this means is that I’ve had to spend hours clearing out another dumping ground, my sewing room, to make way for the discards from what will now be Zen Central. And finding the time to do this while also finding the time to work and dedicate an hour daily to meditate on top of all of life’s other have-to’s can be, well, stressful.

Until you do it, that is — sort of like how you exercise and afterward you’re so glad you did it because it felt so good. Despite that drawback, I’m convinced the world would be a more peaceful place if everyone practiced mindfulness. Good luck on that.

Then there’s the mindful eating component, in which you devote substantial time, thought and gratitude to your food before ingesting. Trust me, it’s the most effective potential diet on the planet if actually employed: One look at a corned beef sammy and I’m hearing the cows lowing in the valley and not wanting to thank them so much for dying on my behalf. Instead I find myself wallowing in remorse over their untimely deaths. How about mindful Twinkie noshing? There is definitely no charm in staring at, fondling and holding in your mouth to savor the flavor of what then has only devolved into a foul chemical concoction. Nothing appeals much when consumed mindfully, except, say, a raisin, our starter food with which we practiced — but that seems about as far as I can go without killing the joy of the gluttonous binge. Perhaps that’s the idea, though.

My daughter has had the great fortune of attending Tandem Friends School, in which mindfulness is an integral part of the program, and for which I have the deepest gratitude for imparting in its students a powerful sense of social responsibility, kindness and love for one another. Never have I experienced an environment so steeped in what is right with this world, and I am so appreciative that at least one of my children was blessed with the gift of experiencing it.

Each month Tandem holds a Meeting for Worship, in which an outside observer would witness what seems impossible: an entire school, silent, for a solid hour. Sure, you’ll hear a random cough or two, the rustle of clothes on a restless student, maybe even the occasional startled snort of a snoozer. Squirming is allowed (and for fidgety me, inevitable). But for the most part, the entire school population and faculty — more than 250 people! in one room! — just is.

It’s part of the Quaker way, and if someone feels compelled to stand up and speak when their heart is full, well, they are most welcome to do so to share what is on their minds. Otherwise, everyone sits in mindful silence. It’s a powerful peace, an amazing event. But par for the course at a school that I’d have given my eyeteeth to attend as a youth. A place where each person is deeply valued, where individuality is encouraged and free-spiritedness treasured, where the spirit of caring for those less fortunate is a matter of everyday practice, where students take it upon themselves to commit acts of kindness and charity not because it’s part of a school requirement, but because they realize it’s how life should work.

A test of my mindfulness stamina will be an upcoming daylong meditation retreat, which, if you know me and how much I tend to yammer on and on, should be a challenge. Silent? All day? Ha! But it’s a reminder to me that mindfulness is not a magic pill: It’s a matter of retraining how your mind works in order to succeed. It takes commitment to yourself, which might sound selfish, but is ultimately a generous act, because everyone around you wins.

And the practice enables you to sit back and really appreciate that which you usually take for granted: a deep breath of air on a crisp morning, the soft fur of the dog you’re petting, and bigger things as well.

Such as what Tandem has meant to us. Sure, it cost us money that could have been used toward all sorts of household repairs or paying off mounting bills. But we could never assign a monetary value to what Tandem has given our child, things that helped to mold her as a person and will stay with her a lifetime. I wish everyone could have a Tandem Friends School in their lives. Along with that mindfulness practice, the world would be a better place. Good luck on that, right?!