I’m pondering a new way to experience my days — paying more attention. This is how its been going.
This morning, after a full and fulfilling Thanksgiving week with my family, I drove my daughter and her two children to the San Francisco Airport. Returning home alone, in sparse, smoothly flowing Saturday morning traffic, I cleared away any thoughts except warm feelings of appreciation. To be 80 years old, in good health, with a loving family and nothing significant to worry about, I am truly blessed.
I promise myself to do this more often — to stop thinking, rushing, or multitasking, and instead simply pay attention. Less haste is more living.
Now I’m home, paying full attention, I’m sitting, looking through the patio doors and across the creek. Softly visible through the misting rain, a familiar Kestrel hovers, fixed fifty feet above the marsh, looking for any movement that might reveal its afternoon mouse meal. How can it see through the rain?
Now I’m listening, with full attention, to my new-found CDs, old Decca recordings of Manuell de Falla. Who knows why I find 1900’s Spanish music so moving, but I do. I’m one happy elder.
Now, a few hours later, still paying attention, I’ve returned the furniture to its place before my 80th birthday party last weekend, a truly special occasion. I feel so happy. I wish my parents could be here to share this wonderful time. They’d be amazed — and confused by today’s culture, far from Sydney where they lived all their lives. Sadly, their last years came with dementia and strokes. But, as they say, “We plan, nature laughs.” Meanwhile, I have now to appreciate and enjoy.
Sometimes, in my enthusiasm to share this self-exploration, I discover it’s not everybody’s cup of tea! This happened at the gym recently when I explained to a longtime friend that, “For example, while we’re talking right here, I want our conversation to be all there is for me.” I sensed he was a little confused or discomforted by my over-earnestness. Discussing presidential candidates is safer!
Perhaps mindfulness, or being more in the moment, is my form of meditation. Mindfulness is an ancient practice, but its importance for me is newly growing. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I’d like to be there. Being more in the moment is fun and doesn’t seem to require anything — except attention. With a long way to go, I’m hoping that like any other skill, the more I practice the easier it will be. And I feel better — more connected and happier.
In The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry explains, “What is important is invisible to the eye.” I must keep that in mind and discuss it with my grandchildren. After all, knowing and passing along what’s important is part of grandpa’s responsibility.
So that’s where I am today.
And You?
I welcome your thoughts and comments. Dialogue is more enjoyable than a monologue. Self-exploration needn’t be a go-it-alone activity and is a lot more fun with friends.
On that note, a friend gently said of my last blog, “You’re showing more humility.” later explaining that some of my previous blogs didn’t seem to recognize my good fortune or express understanding or compassion for those struggling with difficulties. Her thoughtful feedback was well deserved and appreciated.
Thank you for your patience in sharing your time with me,
me, Barry Phegan
