A Moment of Mindfulness
Pulling the car off to the side of the road we bumped along to a stop, gravel popping under tires. Coming to a stop near the welcome sign, I climbed out to scope the area. The sign designated this wild area for waterfowl preservation and hunting. There weren’t any marked trails or even a map of the area, but I saw a clear path wind its way through the grasses down to the lake. I wondered how the trail came to be, was it an animal trail, human, or formed by the wind as it blew up the hill?
All the vegetation blended together into a dull beige color, having lost its individuation to last autumn’s heat and haze, and the subsequent winter snows and thaws. Up above there were only gray clouds melded together to form a uniform sheet across the sky. Below, a way down the hill, there was water with a frothy topping of winter’s icy hold. I could hear geese honking and looked to the far bank of the lake where I could just barely make out their forms gliding through the water. Visibility was good in all directions — it would be hard for us to get lost or to come upon others unexpectedly. There was a constant low blowing wind, but I felt comfortable in my bulky winter coat and torn jeans and my knit hat pulled over my ears.
I opened my car’s back door and unclasped car seat straps releasing my two-year-old’s buoyant form from the strap’s steely hold, he drew his arms in and burst out of the straps and into this new world to explore.
Holding hands, we descended the hill. Me slightly in front taking the first steps on our narrow path to test the ground was solid — which it was. This area looked like it was intermittent wetlands, but it was dry for now. The ground bumped and jutted its way down to the water’s edge under our boots. As we neared the water, I slowed us down taking each step gingerly, unsure of where the water began.
He wanted to keep going, to touch the water, to throw something in but I called it for us as is my job as mom. We didn’t want to get too close and end up drenched.
It took some convincing, but I managed to usher him back up the hill, buying his acquiescence by asking him to lead the way.
“Can you make out the path? Show Mommy where to go.”
We made our way back up the hill the fallen grasses sighing under our feet as they caught in crevices in the frozen ground. We both startled when a vole suddenly shot out from its home beneath the matted grasses and leaped up the path before us, bringing us to shrieks of surprise which trailed off into giggles.
“What was that?” He asked.
“I think it was a vole…” I answered.
The animal quickly found its way back under the grass. We apologize for disturbing it and continue on our ascent avoiding its hiding spot.
Its moments like this, in nature with my children, that I find mindfulness most accessible. A mindset of appreciation of the moment. Attention on the here and now, focus on the senses, the state of the body and the mind. Children are natural teachers of mindfulness, being free from the endless stream of visitors from the past and future that assail adult’s minds.
As we approached the top of the hill, my hiking partner stopped and grabbed a pod off a milkweed plant.
“What is this?”
Letting all other thoughts slide away, I checked into this moment.
“That’s a milkweed pod, it contains seeds for the milkweed plant.”
I looked at the old stalks around us taking in the way their thick shoots curved up from the ground, many holding the husks of spent pods rustling in the wind like flags. Looking closely, I noticed one that was rounder than the others. Taking hold of it, it felt like a dry sponge. Flipping it over, I noticed its seam was still intact. It had held on to its potential offspring all this winter long.
Looking down at our hands, I offered the pod to my son’s. He inspected it with hands as much as with eyes quickly working the pod open and discovering the seeds and fluff inside. With forefinger and thumb, he pinched a tuft of seeds scattering some to the ground, some lifted into the wind.
With eyes and mouth wide he yelped, “did you see that!”
With just as much excitement as that first spray, he released each sprinkle of seeds into the wind, enjoying the rush of wind and the feeling of floating until the last of them drifted away.
The words to one of my favorite songs came into my mind “And in this moment I am happy, happy… I wish you were here.” I do wish you were here. Not just here as in time & space, but here in this state of mind. This complete appreciation of a moment. A knowing in your heart of true happiness because you are aware of and are grateful for this moment. You are alive, and that is simply amazing.
A moment of mindfulness can be as simple as drawing attention to and truly enjoying the in-breath and out-breath for a few breath cycles, or as complicated as a pit stop off the highway during a busy morning. No matter where you are, take a moment to truly be there, a moment of peace is available to you.
