The more I practice mindfulness in my daily life, the more I’m struck by the ordinariness and extraordinariness of each moment. It’s like this rewiring that is happening so slowly that I can’t see the mechanics of it but I can feel that something is changing, slowly, gradually and over time. Like the turning of grapes into wine – a metaphor so often used by Rumi.

When grapes turn
to wine, they long for our ability to change.

When stars wheel
around the North Pole,
they are longing for our growing consciousness.

– Rumi

With mindfulness, we start to loosen our habitual ways of categorizing our experience as like or dislike as we often have a tendency to do. And we are somehow left with more openness, more space and more choice in responding. The definition of relationships and the expectations of ourselves and others start to fall away and we start to see clearly. Like removing a pair of glasses that were foggy and we didn’t know we had them on!

When we experience each moment directly in this embodied way, there seems to be this incredible newness – a sort of not knowing that seems to flavor our experience. Suddenly each moment feels so much richer – without needing words to describe it or label it. Simple acts like cooking, taking a walk, talking to a partner, working on an interesting problem or meeting with a friend take on a new hue.

We also start to become aware of this incredible vulnerability that underlies all of our lives – we don’t know what could happen tomorrow, or in an hour from now, or even next moment. We might think we do, but actually we don’t. Not really. This not knowing, when seen through the lens of kindness and empty of the ideas of me and mine, suddenly feels so liberating and tender. When we truly experience the truth of this vulnerability, how can we not reach out and help each other? How can we not take care of this body, our body, that feels so fragile at times? How can we not appreciate the blessings in our lives, the people who show up for us and the sheer abundance that Earth provides us with, no questions asked? Mary Oliver aptly says:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

– Mary Oliver

So this is my invitation: can you simply pause in this moment, breathe and notice what is happening? Can you take in the sheer miracle of staying alive? Each leaf that is falling to the ground is imploring and reminding you of the truth of letting go. Can you let go, truly let go and surrender to this moment? It is a huge task. And yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours (Mary Oliver).

With love, Shuba