On a recent flight from Ann Arbor to Philadelphia I inwardly groaned when I saw that I had the dreaded middle seat. I settled myself in, turned my phone off and began my typical inner debate on early morning flights (sleep versus read) when the window seat passenger made a comment to me about barely making his connection. Noting that it was pretty early in Michigan, I inquired about where he had begun his journey. California, he said, as he was en route to visit fellow college friends for a weekend in Philadelphia and New York City, his first time in both places. I nodded, made a few pleasantries about both cities and turned back to my book. As we took off, the young man began looking at the fresh snow on the ground, remarking about how much it looked like salt fields. I told him to keep his eye out for the Great Lakes which garnered an enthusiastic "I've read about them but have never seen them!" and from there the conversation turned to geography, his studies, my work, favorite books, places to travel etc. Although only in his junior year of college, his curiously and affable manner with someone over ten years his senior struck me. While I admit I'm not around his cohort as often as I used to be, I have spent nine out of the last twelve years in college towns and note what many do (and how I often operate myself): head down, bent towards the phone (or laptop) or earbuds in, eyes closed whether we're at the gym, in the grocery store, on campus, at Target, in Starbucks, etc. All body language conveying: please, no.
I've recently found MIT Professor Sherry Turkle's research on the subject of conscious consumption of technology fascinating, particularly on how technology is changing not only the way we act, but also converse. As she states in a recent interview with TechRepublic "it makes sense, if you think you can be interrupted at any time, the nature of the conversation shifts." And I firsthand experienced that. It had been so long since I had been able to freely dialogue, without the typical text 'ding' signaling a shift in attention and energy, be it with colleagues, friends or spouse. Freed from any interruptions or any potential interruptions, I was able to mindfully engage with another human being, convey ideas, trade anecdotes and process new information. It made me wonder how many opportunities I've missed out on by not intentionally practicing mindfulness.
It can be said that mindfulness at its core is nothing extraordinary; it refines our attention so that we can connect more fully, and directly, with whatever life places in front of us. It's not passive or reactive, it's proactive and intentional, yet cannot happen in a rapid fashion. After all, the irony of being mindful of myself turns out that I'm being mindful of you as well.
Writer and speaker Glennon Melton talks about the ancient Greek words describing two kinds of time: chronos and kairos. Chronos is time as we know it: seconds, minutes, hours. If chronos refers to linear time, kairos was the word to express an opportunity, season or appointed time. She reflects on her blog, Momastery:
Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.
Is it then that true mindfulness is what exists outside of oneself? It's that external focus that actually centers and restores the self. The universe around us is full of mystery, wonder and surprising moments of joy. We just have to push pause on our own self-initiated routines long-enough to see outside of ourselves a whole wide world within an infinitely incredible universe. That's imagining snow as salt fields. That's the Great Lakes from above. That's the thrill of an unknown journey next to a stranger who helps us see a little more clearly what truly does matter. Yes, that's mindfulness of myself. It's also mindfulness of all other.
This is the third and final article in a 3 part series on mindfulness entitled Mindful of Myself.