Mindfulness in Action

Mindfulness means paying attention to the present moment, intentionally and without judgment, according to Jon Kabat-Zinn, a leader and teacher in the mindfulness movement. While we can easily define it, it seems that being mindful is not so easy. Despite all our talk of mindfulness, studies indicate that most people are only paying attention to the present moment 50 percent of the time. That suggests that we potentially miss out on half our life, with our attention somewhere other than where we are.

But this begs the question, why is it so hard to be in the present moment? Or perhaps more to the point, what gets in the way of our being where we are?

The first and most obvious obstacle to being fully present is distraction. We’re in a constant state of motion, busyness, and getting to somewhere else—using our devices, substances, entertainment, chatter, and anything else we can find to avoid being here, now. Doing is our first line of defense against being present.

The most treacherous impediment to mindful attention, however—even more than busyness and activity—is thought. The mind—maker of thoughts—is forever chattering, distracting us, telling us stories, and beckoning us to not be where we are, but rather to get involved in the ticker tape of plot twists it’s creating.

When it comes to avoiding the present moment, we tend to employ a handful of habitual thinking patterns. First, we separate ourselves from the now by narrating our experience as it’s happening. We essentially follow ourselves around, incessantly commenting on our own experience. “Oh look, I’m having a good time here, this is going well, they seem to like me,” and so on—the voiceover of now, the soundtrack to our life. All day and night we tell ourselves the story of ourselves, the story of our life. Sadly, we often live the voiceover, rather than life itself.

Similarly, we continually package our experience as it’s happening, preparing the story that will later tell the tale of our life. As the present moment is unfolding, we’re preoccupied with transcribing the now into a summary or narrative, ever-readying the present moment for some future explanation or presentation for others, or perhaps just ourselves.

And then come the big three: the thought programs that are always running in the background of the mind, subtly or actively pulling our attention away from here.

• Why is this present moment happening?
• What does this now say about me and my life?
• What do I need to do about this now?

We experience the present moment through at least one, and usually more than one, of these thoughts. Rather than being where we are, we’re busily attending to the who, what, where, when, and why of where we are.

So, thoughts are a way that our mind tries to control our life. We are constantly managing, controlling, and making sense of our present experience, in the hopes of steering our life in a direction we design. The mind doesn’t trust that we can just be where we are and relax in the present moment, certainly not without managing and controlling where this moment is going. We don’t trust that life will take care of us if we stop being in charge.

Furthermore, when we drop into the present moment, without trying to control it or think it into a story, our mind is left without a task, without something to do, figure out, or make happen. Our mind then has nothing to do; it’s idle, which it hates. For this reason, our mind vehemently rejects the now, and uses the present moment to generate ideas and issues that will require their own attention and input. Our mind, by thinking the now into a problem or an idea, effectively creates a full-time job for itself.

It’s important to remember that our mind subsists on the past and future; it alternates between turning the now into a projection into the future and a narrative on the past. The now, however, is a space poised between the two locations or concepts, past and future. The present moment is a gap. In truth, it’s always now, and now is forever inviting us into a vertical eternity. When we dive fully into the present moment, we step out of the linear timeline altogether, and are liberated from the shackles of time. In response and rebellion, the mind grabs hold of now, through thought, and places us back into a timeline, thereby reorienting itself in a way it can understand.

It’s often said that we avoid the present moment to avoid ourselves. But in fact, when we dive fully into the present moment and are fully engaged in our experience, as in the flow state, we are fully immersed in a task that energizes our mind and brings us to full focus. In such states, what we discover, paradoxically, is that we lose ourselves. We disappear, and that’s precisely what makes it so delicious and makes us want to return again and again. In full presence or flow state, we don’t experience ourselves as separate, as the one living the experience; there is only the experience of which we are a part.

We’re always running from the present moment, not to escape ourselves, but to escape the absence of ourselves. The battle with the present moment is an existential battle for the mind; the flight from now is its fight to exist.

Being in the now, without a narrative, requires a death—or at least a temporary letting go—of the mind.

When we have the courage to drop out of mind and into the present moment, what we find is the opposite of a void. We find wholeness—an experience without an experiencer. We encounter ourselves as presence inseparable from life, rather than a person who is living, directing, managing, and controlling this thing called life. In the process, we discover liberation and something as close as I’ve ever found to the end of suffering.

To begin practicing this paradigm shift, start small.

Every now and again, glance around your surroundings and just look. See what’s there without going to thought or language to understand or name what you’re seeing. Experience your environment without using mind to translate what your senses are taking in.

Meditate 5–10 minutes per day. Spend time being still and focusing on your breath (and the spaces between them).

Stop and tune in. Throughout the day, take a moment here and there to turn the focus on your own mind and just notice what’s playing on the radio station in your head. Avoid getting involved in the storyline and just watch and listen.

Drop into your body. Several times a day (whenever you remember), shift your attention and energy from your head down into your body. Just feel what’s actually happening in the present moment through your senses—no commentary required.

These and other simple pointers can escort us into a radically new experience of living, and can be used as portals to a serenity that our mind, no matter how much it wants to be involved, cannot figure out or create. When we’re fully present, living in the now rather than our mind’s interpretation of it, a palpable peace unfolds—a peace that surpasses all understanding. This is mindfulness in action.