Mindfulness Moments
MINDFULNESS
Mindfulness is the practice of purposely focusing your attention on the present moment. It’s about being aware, calmly acknowledging and accepting feelings, thoughts, bodily sensations and the surrounding environment. There’s no judgement. The idea is to merely witness your own experience. The reason why so many people do it, is because of the potential health benefits, such as reducing stress and improving overall happiness and wellbeing.
Below I've shared some Mindfulness Moments, which are a series of blog posts I've written after being out in nature. My hope is that you find them relaxing to read and maybe they'll even encourage you to emerse yourself in nature and experience your own mindfulness.
We sit down on the riverbank in the late afternoon sunshine to relax and enjoy a few quiet moments in the warmth. Summer has arrived! I’m so happy and content, having had a wonderful day out. Bob and I have been in our element, photographing dragonflies and damselflies on the water, relishing all the other unexpected surprises that nature had in stall for us today. The timing of our mindfulness moment isn’t great. The peacefulness and serenity is disturbed. Within seconds, I can hear youthful squeals of excitement as a family approaches. There’s also the unmistakeable sound of a dog splashing in water. Suddenly it appears, from behind a tree, swimming with a long stick in its mouth – a German Shepherd. It promptly scrambles up the bank right beside us, soaked, dripping with water. It’s rather too close for comfort - dangerously close to our cameras. I’m well aware of the inevitable body shake that’s coming. Thank goodness it moves further away from us first. After a few brief polite exchanges, the family pass by and soon their voices fade into the distance. Ah! The peace! It's blissful! The welcome breeze cools my face as my eyes peruse the river. It's creating gentle ripples in the water. But, nearer the side it's still, shielded by the vegetation. Serene and calm. From the murky depths of the chocolate coloured river, some reeds are growing. Near the surface, where the water is clearer, I can see them gently moving with the current, like floating thick strands of hair. A few blades poke up into the air, swaying gently, bending in the breeze. I feel the calm wash over me as I watch how they move. Delicately perched on one reed is a gorgeous male Banded Demoiselle with its wings closed together. The metallic green colour of its body shines gloriously in the sun. The band of dark green near the end of its clear wings stands out beautifully too. These damselflies are unmistakable. Stunning.
From the warmth of my apartment I’m watching the snow falling outside. I’m sitting on a chair looking out of the window, mesmerised by the simplicity and beauty of the moment. I’m in a calm relaxed meditative state, with my feet planted on the ground and my back supported by the chair. My breathing has slowed right down. There are a few areas of tension in my body, so I tense the muscles in those areas, then with a quick release I relax them whilst simultaneously exhaling softly. It helps to release the tension deep inside. I repeat this a few times. My hands are relaxed on my legs and I simply observe the snow. I love the white stuff. It makes me smile. I feel almost tearful. I don’t even know why. Is it that release of tension? Is it just the happiness I feel in this moment?
I couldn’t ask for a better day – a cloudless azure sky, only a slight cool breeze caressing my skin and the sun shining down on this beautiful white wintery scene high up in the French Alps. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face. The fresh mountain air fills my lungs and I smile. It’s so good to be here again. The lake behind me is frozen and hidden beneath the snow that covers the whole valley floor. In contrast, the green fir trees stand out on the slopes around me, uncovered by the white stuff. Evidently, it hasn’t snowed a great deal recently and the sun has melted much of it away. I’m sitting on a rock beside a stream and I can see the sun glistening on the water like diamonds sparkling brilliantly. The sound of the water is so relaxing as it gently moves down stream. I feel the calm wash over me, that lovely familiar feeling as I let all thoughts drift away and I remain fully present in the moment. Small clusters of foam bubbles swirl and dance on the surface as they navigate past a rock that lies in their way. Just to the left, below the surface, reddish coloured roots of something growing in the stream protrude outwards, gently moving slightly as the flow of water glides by. Beside me, the snow has melted from the riverside slightly, exposing flattened brown grass, revealing a fragment of the world that lies beneath the snow.
We’d enjoyed a lovely late afternoon stroll along the River Ouse on a fairly sunny warm winter’s day. We’d been busy chatting, but all the while keeping an eye open for Short Eared Owls flying about. Sadly, it wasn’t to be today. On the return leg, we were more hopeful to see a Barn Owl. It seemed more likely as the day was drawing to a close and the sun was lowering ever closer towards the hills of the South Downs. Soon it would disappear from sight altogether, taking with it the gorgeous golden glow that illuminated the tops of the tall reeds and bathed the bare wintry trees. It’s such a beautiful time of day. It was so lovely having the opportunity to notice everything around us. We dropped down off the bank onto lower ground and stopped talking, standing still for a while. Our eyes constantly surveyed all around us, ever hopeful Barnie would appear. Occasionally, the binoculars were lifted to see into the distance further, but still it was being elusive. The sounds of human life were a distant hum, but ever present. I saw a bird fly down into the reeds to roost, just in front of me. I noticed the absence of twittering birds as the light was dimming and darkness was descending. Instead, I could hear the wind in my ear when I turned my head slightly. I pulled down my hat some more. The cold was starting to creep in, despite my layers. But the stillness, the calm, the peace, it kept me there for longer, enjoying the moment. High in the sky, the entrails of a plane long gone to some far-off place, were breaking up into puffy fragments, still aglow from the last light – a beautiful soft pink set against an otherwise cloudless darkening blue sky. I like to capture these abstract moments. It’s the simple things that can please so much. It didn’t really bother me that much that we didn’t see the owls. There’d be plenty more opportunities ahead. You can’t be lucky every time. If wildlife watching were easy, the rewards would probably not seem so worthwhile. There was plenty to be happy about. We walked the last stretch of the riverbank holding hands, having enjoyed a wonderful afternoon together. These are the moments to treasure.
I headed down to the beach at dusk. It was a sunny autumn afternoon and several people had the same idea as me. I walked down the beach away from most on the esplanade. I recalled one of my last visits to the beach, when the air was warmer and the sea calmer. Today, the sea was noisy. There was no silent moment between the rise and fall of the tide. With the wind behind me, I flipped up my hood and instantly it dulled the sounds around me and provided some warmth. I realised my shoulders were tense. So, I let go and relaxed, standing, facing the sun as it neared towards the horizon. Despite the distraction of the sea and wind, everything else seemed calm and effortless, the way the seabirds were gliding across the darkening sky and how the sun slowly dipped behind the faraway clouds and then appeared to melt into the sea. The sun was such a gorgeous fiery orange. I stood still, watching the light change and the sun set, thinking about how happy I've been the last few weeks. The challenges of this year have been floating away behind me. What’s past is past. The sun has set. I’ve embraced the hard times and delved deep inside to get to where I am now. It’s all been worth it, in ways I never dreamed possible. With a feeling of hope and optimism I can move forward. I’m so happy about all the things on my horizon. I continued to walk along the beach, wondering if the sun would provide that wonderful encore, that last light, before the day was done. It didn't look like it would, so I turned around and started to head home. Thankfully, I cast a glance over my shoulder and I saw it, the last rays of the sun illuminated the underside of a band of clouds. The glow warmed my heart and made me smile. It was beautiful.
It’s hard to know when summer is over and autumn has begun when you have a glorious warm sunny day in September. There may have been fewer people on the beach compared to the height of summer, but some were braving the water, having a swim. Three paddleboarders drifted by close to the shore and further out, two groups of small single sail boats were gliding across the relatively calm water. It looked so inviting as it glistened like diamonds in the sun. On the beach, a lone gull was standing on the last wooden post of the groyne, like a sentry keeping a watchful eye out for intruders. A wide band of brown seaweed stretched along the high tide line from earlier in the day. Thankfully, it was downwind from me, so its strong salty smell didn't pass under my nose! A single white feather was sticking out of one clump, its origins unknown – it could have been from miles away. Closer to where I was sitting, near my feet, a small spider suddenly appeared, crawling amongst the pebbles, then disappeared from sight just as quickly. I turned my face towards the sun and closed my eyes for more than a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of its rays. Ever since I discovered it’s good for your eyes, I’ve tried to bathe my closed lids in the sun whenever I can. It felt good to relax them and not observe anything for a while, other than the orange marble effect I could see with my eyes shut. Being out in nature, away from the computer, the TV screen, books, or any other device that adds strain to the eyes, was a welcome relief. Life slows down in these wonderful precious moments. When I opened my eyes to the world again I noticed a Small White butterfly head towards the water, but quickly it changed direction - there was nothing to entice it further. Instead, it flitted past me towards some Sea Kale nearby, reminding me why they’re sometimes referred to as Cabbage Whites. I got up and wandered over to photograph it with my phone. I noticed its dark grey wing tips and how this extends further along the horizontal edge than the vertical one, reconfirming to me it was definitely a Small White, not a large one. It looked as though it was freshly emerged with beautiful pristine brilliant white wings. Periodically, it rested in the big curled leaves before moving on to another. I was thrilled to capture a moment when it was in flight.
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