Stop living in your head; embrace the wonder of now

Do you feel like you’re living in the fast lane? You’re not alone. Many of us live in an unending rush hour. In a world of smart phones and email, texting and twitter, the very devices that are supposed to save us time can have the opposite effect as we hurry to respond to everyone and everything. This manic pace is causing a host of “hurry sicknesses” too, from insomnia and heart attacks to ulcers and migraines. Most importantly, by being out of sync with the natural rhythms of life, we lose touch with the only thing that is real—the present moment.

One remedy to our hurried lifestyles that has been growing in popularity in the West is the practice of mindfulness. In stark contrast to our frantic daily routines, mindfulness helps us slow down and be with what is. To be mindful is to be in touch with the present rather than constantly worrying about the future, dwelling on the past, or being obsessed with the commentary in our heads. Practicing mindfulness—simply being in the now—can quiet the mental chatter and open the senses to the extraordinary miracle of being alive.

If you watch toddlers at play, you will see the kind of thing I am talking about. I get a healthy reminder of living in the now when I spend time with my 2-year-old grandson, Jack. He is totally immersed in what he is doing. No thoughts of yesterday or what must be done tomorrow—only what he is attending to at that moment. And his days are filled with wonder. America poet Walt Whitman pointed to this liberating way of living when he said, “To me, every moment of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle.”

Tragically, many of us don’t awaken to the wonder of life until we are threatened with its loss. A terminal diagnosis makes us appreciate what we have so long taken for granted—a bird singing, the laughter of children, the curl of steam rising from morning coffee, holding the hand of a loved one, the sun shining through the trees. When time is short, petty disagreements and concerns are forgotten and we devote our attention to what’s most real and precious.

When I find myself moving into the fast lane or getting caught up in obsessive thinking, what helps bring me back to the now (besides playing with Jack) is feeling and listening. I try to feel what is happening in my body or I tune in to the sounds around me. Simply stopping to notice the ambient sounds that you don’t typically hear when you are living in your head can immediately help you shift from thinking to feeling, from identifying with the whirl of your thoughts to what the present has to offer.

The truth is, when our minds are filled with competing thoughts and tensions or we’re frantically multitasking, we are less effective in everything we do. We are distracted drivers, mindless snackers, poor listeners, even poor parents, partners, or managers. We do a lot of thinking but little living. Once you’re in the moment, you can pay full attention to the task at hand, appreciate the people you are with, or tap into the creative solution that was staring you in the face all along. In truth, the only thing any of us really have for sure is this very moment. Why not start living in it now?

I was invited to write this guest commentary for the Commercial Appeal, Memphis, Tennessee, and it was published on March 3, 2012.

What is insight?

Mystical intuition and insight are the heart of esoteric spirituality—flashes of illumination beyond any practice or effort that show the way to enlightenment and the realization of our true nature. Without these spontaneous openings, mysticism would be just another philosophy of life, attempting by reason to unravel the riddle of human existence. Only with insight can the conundrums of form and emptiness, truth and appearance, mind and matter, find resolution. Through them we gain, in varying degrees, experiential access to the underlying unseen order that is our true source and being.

 These intuitions unveil the long-forgotten world that preceded language, those few years of early childhood untouched by the ceaseless cognitive mapping that has subsequently quantified, qualified, and defined every known aspect of what is. Mystical insight is seeing without boundaries or discrimination, seeing with beginner’s mind. It is what the Sufis are pointing to when they speak of discernment through “the eye of the heart.” Abrupt and wordless, these fleeting glimpses of what is bypass the conceptual filters of memories, associations, and learning. They are momentary openings into the way things are, providing a sense of the seamless, unified world in which we are intimately, but unconsciously, embedded. Perhaps you can get a sense of what insights are like from the following two metaphors: dot-to-dot drawings, and sunrise.

When we were children, dot-to-dot drawings were a common pastime and a lot of fun. We would carefully connect one dot to the next, not knowing what the picture would turn out to be. As more dots connected, we could begin to guess, and often, before we even finished, we would suddenly realize we were drawing an elephant or a pony or an airplane. Those who undertake the search for mystical truth, similarly, start by connecting the dots in the dark. Though they may study eagerly, work with a teacher faithfully, and practice daily, for many confusion still reigns. The meaning of such paradoxical teachings is so elusive that few students grasp their intent at the outset. They go on working dot by dot until, without warning, they catch a sudden glimpse of the whole picture—the Promised Land.

We often speak of knowledge “dawning” on us, and in truth, the gradual process by which mystical insight penetrates the ignorance of conditioning is much like the rising of the sun. As its first rays begin to catch the contours of the land, more and more details come to light until the world around us glistens brightly in the morning dew. Similarly, each insight reveals to us with greater clarity the nature of what is, as the light of spiritual realization dispels delusion and unveils the truth of things as they are. For some, this truth may indeed open up in a sudden blaze of understanding like the midday sun, but for many, the moment of true awakening is preceded by the subtle shifts of insight that help to prepare the way. As Emily Dickinson tells us, “The truth dazzles gradually, or else the world would be blind.”