Far from the serenity of mindful meditation, a recent shower reminded me that not every moment can be mindful and not every morning allows for meditative moments. It was an average weekday, and I had to get into work a little early, so I basically bounded out of bed and into the shower. Any notion of a mindful shower, had it even crossed my mind, would have proved an impossibility. As it was, I didn’t have much time for anything besides wetting my hair and dampening down the bed-head. Some mornings are like that, and you realize almost too late that you missed an opportunity for beauty and appreciation and simple gratitude for existence.
I’ve been more guilty than most of missing the grandiosity of the smallest, most mundane efforts of an average day. I don’t chronicle the ride to work, or the fleeting lunch break, or even the triumphant scheduling of a dinner out. I miss the inherent beauty of the simple tasks of a person’s life. Lately, I’ve been opening my eyes to the beauty of these things, mostly because I feel the fleetingness of time, its incessant ticking, its ongoing tocking. Someone told me recently that many men go through a freak-out between 57 and 60 years old. I’m not quite there yet, and quite frankly I was hoping to have averted another mid-life crisis, but it seems I have yet another thing to which I can look forward and dread.
As I turned the shower off, it dawned on me that I hadn’t been mindful. I hadn’t appreciated or honored the moment, mostly because it was impossible. Well, not impossible, just not practical, and it would have disrupted the schedule of the day. Some disruptions are unavoidable, some aren’t. I promised to do better the next time, which would simply involve getting up a few minutes earlier to allow for a mindful start to the day. That makes a difference.
It takes time to make habits like mindfulness part of one’s daily existence. I’m still learning. Still working on it. Still trying. And tomorrow I’ll do better.
