MINDFULNESS AND FAITH

Mindfulness

As functioning members of society, most of us know what words are “bad words” and when not to say them.  It starts when we are very young, and we are told that words like “stupid” or “shut up” are bad words and the list continues to grow and evolve over time both in creativity and number until it reaches the pinnacle of all bad words- the F-bomb. This pinnacle is usually reached somewhere in middle school, or earlier if you forced your parents to explain the tire changing scene in A Christmas Story in second grade. Needless to say, by the time I was in middle school I knew all the bad words and thoroughly enjoyed peppering them into my sentences like a pinch of sea salt on chocolate chip cookies- just enough to bring out the flavor, but not so much as to overpower it. It was a gift.

What I didn't know was that when I joined church-world, there would be a whole new set of bad words to learn.  Scandalous words like meditation, yoga, spirituality and mindfulness among many others. You knew these were bad words because if they were ever uttered, they were done so in a whisper that struck a fear of blasphemy and outrage into any person within earshot who truly loved Jesus and had him in their heart. Bless. So, you can imagine my initial discomfort when we began learning about the benefits of mindfulness in my positive psychology class. How could this possibly be beneficial? It was forbidden! 

Tich Nhat Hanh describes mindfulness this way, “Mindfulness is the energy of being aware and awake to the present moment. It is the continuous practice of touching life deeply in every moment of daily life. To be mindful is to be truly alive, present, and at one with those around you and with what you are doing. Through mindfulness we can learn to love in the present moment instead of in the past and in the future. Dwelling in the present moment is the only way to truly develop peace, both in oneself and in the world.”

In class we began to learn that people who practice mindfulness regularly experience decreases in stress and anxiety and increases in their immune response. We learned that it activates the prefrontal cortex of our brain which can lessen depression and helps us regulate our emotions. Study after study, the science showed us how incredibly beneficial mindfulness is for both our souls (mind, will, and emotions) and our physical bodies. I began to wonder, is it possible that mindfulness is more than just a “bad word”. That it could actually be something God wired our bodies to do to help us through the ups and downs of this journey called life? 

I had a hard time wrapping my mind around this.  Meditation? Sure. I got that. There’s a beginning and an end. Things you do, things you don't do. And prayer and meditation seemed to be close relatives. But mindfulness still seemed so open-ended and abstract to me, that I decided to try it out for myself by following a mindfulness walking practice on my meditation app.  I grabbed my air pods, laced up my sneakers and hit the walking trail with depressingly low expectations.

As I hit “play”, the voice on my app was soothing, peaceful, comforting- all things absolutely not associated with any type of exercise for me, so I thought we were off to a good start. She calmly invited me to examine how I felt while walking, taking me through each part of my body to notice any and all sensations arising. Then over the course of the next 20 minutes, she guided me to explore each of my senses. 

What could I feel? The warmth of the sun, a gentle breeze, the gravel crunching under my feet.  The droplets of sweat on my forehead and the way my clothing began to stick to me. 

What could I hear? The songs of 10 different types of birds! 10 I counted! The occasional muffled announcement coming from the loudspeaker at community pool nearby. The cheers of children being released from the school building for recess. 

What could I smell? Freshly cut grass. The smell of water being absorbed by the morning sun. And occasionally the sweet smell of almond that mysteriously seemed to come from nowhere.

What could I see? The soft colors of flowers and the vibrant colors of birds, the crisp blue sky, the school buildings my kids attended, and the white lines in the parking lot that I’ve parked between a million times waiting for my children to run out after a practice or rehearsal had ended.

As I was walking and pondering these questions, I was present. I wasn't thinking about what I had to do later that day, or that future conversation I was dreading having, I was just simply and fully present. In the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.  I started taking these walks regularly, using the same guided mindfulness practice, each time noticing new sounds, colors, smells, and each time encountering new surprises.  One time in late spring I rounded a corner of the path and was met with a shower of small white flower petals falling like snow from the canopy of blossoming trees ahead. It was breathtaking. Just as I stepped under that canopy, in an unexpected moment of bliss, a breeze blew through causing the flurry of petals to become a squall covering my hair and clothing.  

Another time as I was walking, I noticed the sounds of leaves rustling in the brush to my left. As my eyes searched the shadows of the brush for the source of the sounds, they were quickly met with the large, deep eyes of a baby deer who wasn't more than a few weeks old and a few feet away. We silently greeted each other in a sacred moment of mutual respect and wonder and then went about our ways.

But what was most amazing to me was what happened at the end of each walk.  After embracing this practice of mindfulness, exploring all my senses and taking in the splendor around me, I found myself profoundly grateful. I was grateful for where I live and its proximity to this trail.  I was grateful for the ability to walk and the time I had to do so. I was grateful for the formative life experiences my kids enjoyed in those school buildings nearby and for the teachers in those buildings. I was grateful for the trees, for their strength and beauty. I was especially grateful for the evergreen trees and their lasting, rich color, and for the protection their boughs offer the birds and animals over the cold winter months when all the other trees are reduced to drab brown trunks and empty branches. It was an avalanche of gratitude ushered in by this simple act of mindfulness.  

A few weeks into this practice, I shared it with my spiritual director. I remember telling him that I had started mindfulness walking, and how my days were better, my moods lighter and my soul more at peace when I did it, and that I had absolutely no idea why it worked, but it did. How did he respond? By asking me about my feelings. How did I feel when taking these walks? For the record, I hate talking about my feelings. I’d rather talk politics with my extended family over Thanksgiving dinner than talk about my feelings with anyone.  But he wanted words. Feeling words. Fine. 

“Ugh. I don't knoooowwww,” I said with the eye roll and whine of a disgruntled teenager. “Well, one time I saw this...so I guess I felt that… And one time this happened and I kinda felt that… And I guess I just overall feel this…”.  I was super cooperative. 

As I kept spitting out these “feeling words”, he was furiously taking notes. When I was done (which was three times after I said I was done and three times after he pushed me for more) he said to me, “I wrote down some of the words you said. I want to read them back to you and see if you recognize them.” He proceeded, “You said when you take these walks you feel love, joy, peace, patience...”

I recognized them immediately. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. These were the fruit of the spirit listed in the book of Galatians!  My eyes immediately filled with tears. And then he said something to me that I will never forget.  He said, “Salina, the reason this works for you is because you are encountering God. You are experiencing the fruit of his presence.” I was dumbstruck. I didn't go on these walks looking for God. I went on them so I could understand the concept of mindfulness better for class. I wasn't trying to create a spiritual practice, I was trying to test the science.  Didn't God know that mindfulness was a bad word??! And yet, He met me there anyway. He met me so subtly that I didn't even recognize him. I think He knew that after 20 years of high-production church with its LED screens and smoke machines that I would need to experience him in a new way.  

So, he met me through the eyes of a fawn and bad words.

What does this mean? The implications are endless. My encounters with him weren't in a church building. They weren’t on a Sunday morning between the hours of 9am and 12pm. They weren't a prize for getting some doctrine right or believing the “right” theology.  What does this mean for different denominations that believe differently than we do? What does this mean for different religions altogether? He met me by way of a science-backed method of mind-body connection and on top of that, I wasn't even looking for him! 

I don’t have any concrete answers to these questions. I can't give you chapter and verse, and I won't pretend to try. 

I’ve made my peace with mystery.  

But I think it means something I’ve suspected all along. That God is so much bigger, more complex, more mysterious and so much better than I could have imagined he was.