Posted on Nov 15, 2011
A while back I had an unusual moment of enlightenment out walking with my dog. Now, I often have ‘a-ha’ moments while out with my faithful companion as I let my mind wander and ruminate on whatever catches its fancy. However, this time was different as I was attempting to communicate with my dog.
Since moving to a different community and exploring new routes for the proverbial “morning constitutional,” we have had the pleasure of meeting fellow, regular dog walkers. One in particular has become a favourite—for both the person and the pet. As our busy lives interfere with maintaining a schedule executed with military precision, it is not possible to meet on a consistent, daily basis. So some mornings I feel compelled to inform my dog, “Nobody’s here.”
I don’t know what makes me think my dog can’t come to the same conclusion as I have given the same data: no familiar vehicle in the parking lot, no person of significance to be sighted, no whiff of that certain canine BFF. In my role as caregiver, I think I must communicate to her that her friends are not in the vicinity—it will be ‘just us’ this morning. Sure, her hopes are up as we climb the small hill to the park; but she assesses the situation just as well as I do. I suspect the difference is she can make the better adjustment to disappointment. At least some days. There have been mornings when she will linger at the top, alert for any hint that her friends will appear, before descending back into our subdivision.
Unlike many humans, dogs have an uncanny ability to ‘roll with the punches,’ ‘go with the flow,’ make the most of ‘what is.’ They live in the moment. And when the moment has passed, there’s always hope for another one around the next bend. So when I inform my dog that “Nobody’s here,” what does she do? Keep on the lookout for “Nobody.” The phrase, “Nobody’s here,” to my canine companion means that somebody named Nobody has arrived—which is exciting news indeed. Try and correct that impression when in fact the very opposite is true.
This revelation prompted thoughts about other statements that make no sense to a dog’s way of thinking. My dog can respond to many ‘affirmative’ instructions including come, stop, wait, sit, look, find. Conversely, negative instructions are not in her vocabulary. She cannot comprehend how ‘not’ to do something. She is incapable of ‘not jumping’ or ‘not running off;’ but she can ‘stay down’ and ‘stay close.’ This realization made me think of how we speak to other dependents in our lives.
We spend a lot of energy informing children of what they are not supposed to do: jump on the couch, pull the dog’s tail, pinch their brother or sister, throw food, yell, etc. However, the child is usually so engaged in what they were doing that they fail to come up with alternative behaviours on their own. Hence, the predictable, and perpetual, cycle of ‘negative enforcement’ ensues—the undesired behaviour continues while the caregiver gets frustrated giving the same ‘negative’ command.
What if we were to take a lesson from the pet world? Instead of constant negative commands, we intercept the undesired behaviour with a redirection—tell the child what to do rather than what not to do—maybe even participate with them for a few minutes. The alternate behaviour is reinforced with positive attention; and the inappropriate behaviour is stopped without engaging in the negative cycle.
Maybe I will have to try this with more than the dependents in my life. What would happen if I made a conscious choice to communicate with others in this manner? State what I want rather than what I don’t want. If you join me in this experiment, let me know how it goes.
May you experience improved communication within your circles of interaction—inspired by a creature focused on connection and living in the moment. Happy trails! 🙂
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Posted on Oct 14, 2011
After last month’s blog entry, I had the pleasure to head out into the woods with two of my favourite people and my dog—and make my own attempts at distracting myself with a mild form of meditation. In basic terms, it can be described as paying attention to (and appreciating) my surroundings. Another word for it is mindfulness. I’ve used this word before. It is also part of the broad art of meditation.
As I type this, I am looking at a photo my husband took of me sitting in the creek focusing on the sights and sounds all around me. Of course he didn’t know that I was doing anything in particular; he was simply taking a picture of his wife perched on a large rock in the shallow, soothing creek. He also captured a brief video of this moment; and so, I can relive the moment to a certain extent. Somehow it just isn’t the same, but it is a good reminder.
In that moment of being immersed in nature, I recall there being nothing to worry about. I allowed the rush of the little creek (amazing what sound can be produced from such a small amount of water in motion) to drown out all thoughts but those of the creek, the canyon, the trees, and the trail. The sights of the towering canyon blotted out intruding visions of tasks, and lists, and stuff of everyday life. The wind in the trees sighed a little louder than my own. The earth’s own aroma of life in its natural cycle kept the sights and sounds fresh and alive—gave them power to supersede all other thought. And for that moment, there was nothing to worry about. My mind had a break from its normal rush and roar. My spirit was replenished.
Now of course one cannot stay perched on a large rock in a soothing creek forever. Life will go on—with or without me. However, I am grateful for the moment of reprieve—and this secondary one being able to relive it in some fashion. It also calls to me to do that again. What I find the greater challenge is making time for mini-breaks in the midst of everyday life. It is one thing to go off into the wilderness on the occasional weekend. It is quite another to incorporate meditation or mindfulness into routine.
I can do this in two ways. One of which is to take breaks of solitude and focus on sights, sounds, or smells that soothe. The other is be fully present in any given moment. I find this takes a bit more discipline, but others may find this easier than setting aside solitude time. As I type this and think about being fully present, I take note of the sound my computer makes as my fingers “fly across the keyboard.” I hear the quiet drone of the main computer in the room. The silence of the rest of the house becomes ‘louder’ in the stillness. If I listen more closely, I would eventually hear the hum of the refrigerator or the whir of the furnace fan. Just now, my slippers brushed against the legs of the chair as I switched positions. Glancing out the window, I can see fall colours highlighted by the late afternoon sun. I think it is too early for the sun to start its descent into evening, but such is part of autumn. As I focus my attention outside, the sounds of vehicles become evident. People are returning home from work. The day is shifting to evening activities.
Even now, I am amazed at how effective that little exercise was at calming my hurried brain intent on completing yet another task. My breathing has slowed. My attention shifted. However, I must return my focus to the task at hand in order to start another one: supper preparation.
Thank you for sharing this moment with me. May you find the perfect spot in your day to slow down to be fully present or stop altogether for quiet meditation.
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Posted on Sep 15, 2011
“We walk in circles, so limited by our own anxieties that we can no longer distinguish between true and false, between the gangster’s whim and the purest ideal”
~ Ingrid Bergman
Have you ever caught yourself thinking into ever-narrowing circles? Seems like you are going over and over the same material in your mind? If only you could find that one thread that could unravel the rope and swing you in the right direction? When I find myself in this predicament, I have yet to ‘get somewhere’ with my thinking. Rather the effect seems to be passing over the same path so often, I have dug myself a trench.
Reminds me of oxen tethered to a pole who are moving interminably forward in a circle as they tread grain. However, when we get ourselves worked into circles, the result is not life-preserving nourishment. I find I am drained of energy with even fewer resources to find a resolution to my problem.
So what’s to be done? Well, for one, we have to stop ourselves from going over and over the same material. We can ask ourselves, how is this helping? Usually we will find it’s not. It’s just getting ourselves worked up. So we can tell ourselves to stop it, this is not helping. And we can take a break. Most issues that get us riled up are not the ones that require immediate action. They are longstanding. We’ve been around the block a few times already with them. So take a break from thinking about it. Distract yourself by becoming immersed in something else—a hobby or chore that needs to get done.
Obviously we can’t ignore our problems indefinitely. Well, some of us try, but they usually find a way back into our everyday lives. Sometimes talking to someone else can provide the fresh perspective we’re looking for. On the other hand, our circle of confidants may be so tired of our circling thoughts that they don’t want to hear another word on the subject.
Here are some options. Meditation. Clearing our minds and focusing on something else can provide the calm mental environment the mind needs to come up with a solution. If you are not familiar with this practice, try joining a meditative yoga class or taking individual yoga lessons.
Reading. It is likely that someone else has experienced what you are going through and has written about it. Browse the bookstores or do a subject search at your local library to find resources to read about how others have handled a similar situation.
Dialogue. If your situation involves another person, depending on the circumstance, it may be helpful to ask for their input. There are obvious risks to this option, but if you approach the other person with curiosity rather than confrontation—inviting their input—it may not escalate into a yelling match. You might actually be heard by the other person if you make a gesture to hear their perspective.
What have you attempted to break the cycle of circling thoughts? Anything you’d like to share?
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