How To Listen To The Restlessness Within

by Susan Shea

This past month, I joined an online meditation challenge that required only that I devote 10 minutes a day to my practice for just three weeks.

I was excited by the challenge, because the timing seemed right, and I loved the fact that there was a community of people who could all encourage and inspire one another. There were not a lot of rules or expectations and the 10 minute time investment was extremely easy to accommodate.

While I am very happy, I took part in the challenge, it was eye opening, and even a bit shocking to me, just how hard it was to commit to those 10 minutes every day. I had days that I practiced with some resentment because I could not shut my mind off. There were days my body felt like it wanted to move around freely and not be confined by practice of any kind. There were days I gave up and ended early. I skipped other days entirely.

If I can’t even commit to 10 minutes a day, what does that say about me? Tonight, I spent some time thinking about this question and I came to the realisation that mindfulness is not about keeping time and remaining still; it’s about being in the moment just as it is.

So, rather than dwell on how many days I kept my commitment, or how many minutes I sat still, the point is more to just notice and accept when the current state of my mind is a restless one.

We can try so hard to quiet our minds that we completely miss what our minds are trying to sort out. Restlessness is the mind’s way of telling us to take notice. Maybe we need to take action, maybe we don’t, but something is needing our attention.

I realized I was not really resentful of the challenge, I was frustrated that I wanted my mind to be content and at peace. The reality is that it is neither of those things right now and I am resisting this fact.

This week, I visited a 95 year old woman in the emergency room. She said to me: “I feel like I have not done what I’m meant to do in my life, like there is something else I’m supposed to do, but I don’t know what it is.” I could relate to this because I am always questioning if I’m doing what I am meant to do. Then I wondered, what would happen if I stopped questioning that and I just let my life unfold? What if I just show up for each moment and treat it like it’s meant to be, just as it is? What if I stop trying to orchestrate my life and just live it?

Have you ever thrown a party that others have told you was a success, but you didn’t feel like you ever got to enjoy it? You spent so many hours planning colours and appetizers and making ice cubes that have little flowers inside them, but you never spent any time actually interacting with your guests or eating the food you so meticulously prepared? Well, one’s entire life can feel like that sometimes. Studying for exams, writing papers, making sure you get the grade point average, the right degrees, and letters after your name, so that you can get the right jobs, so you can move up into even better jobs. Buying the right car, the perfect house in the neighborhood you have always wanted and maybe marrying that perfect soul mate. Building the world that you think you want, the one that will surely make you happy.

But you are so caught up in building that world and feeling pressure to keep moving onward, that you can lose touch with whether you are enjoying it all or not. Maybe you are afraid to ask yourself that question.

I have had some days here and there where I decided to just immerse myself in what I’m doing, wholeheartedly. Almost as if it was an experiment. If I was sitting with someone who was angry and negative, I just let them speak. I let them be negative and angry. I asked questions and allowed them the space to reply in their own good time. I did not try to talk them out of their anger just so I could get to my next task and be done with this one. I just really sat with them in that moment. And, often, those meetings turned out to be some of my most effective ones. Because I had no agenda. Because the other person did not feel they had to fight to be heard or understood. There was no battle. Instead I just let myself sink into that moment and I did not try to orchestrate a desirable outcome. It’s funny how when you stop searching for it, clarity often shows up.

When I work with people who are feeling overwhelmed, I always tell them “one step at a time”. Yes, sometimes it helps to think and plan ahead so you are prepared for things that could go wrong. We do need vision and direction in our lives. But sometimes, as you take your first step, you may find it leads you to a different place than the one you expected. And maybe that is the better way to go. If you are stuck on your predetermined plan, and you hold onto that plan at all costs, you may miss an opportunity.

It’s important to pay attention to each step along the way and be open to the possibility that you may find a better answer, a happier path, by accident. Bob Ross, the warm- hearted, big-haired, squirrel-loving painter on PBS spoke often about having “happy accidents” rather than mistakes.

So the conclusion I’ve come to is this: I need to stop running from my restlessness. I need to call it what it is when it’s happening. Rather than walk away from it or shut it down, I need to approach it with curiosity and acceptance. I need to sink into it and listen to it. Growth and change are uncomfortable. But it pays to be open to those things.

Maybe in those moments of feeling restless, I’m not meant to sit still for 10 minutes. Maybe my body needs to move to work things out. Or maybe there is something that needs to be attended to before I can sit still. Mindfulness, to me, is about paying attention to what we need and honoring it.

My mindfulness practice may not look the way I want it to look. It may mean being on the sofa, holding my dog. But if it works, go with it.

My mindfulness practice right now is all about listening to the trumpet playing of Chris Botti. As soon as that music starts to play, I feel tuned in and accepting of where I’m at, so I know that can’t be wrong. Something about the music slows me down and shuts off all the other chatter.

I am on this path of trying to let my own mindfulness practice stray off the beaten path a bit and let it lead me. Rather than ignore what I know works for me and try to force myself into some formula, I need to pay attention to those moments that I feel connected to my body, to the moment at hand and notice what helped me reach that state. There are no Mindfulness Police, that I’m aware of, who will penalize you for not following a formula. Your mindfulness practice is as unique as your fingerprint.

As I sit sometimes, I picture playing one of my old record albums when we’d play musical chairs as kids and the turntable would be turning and turning and then suddenly, someone would pick up the needle and just like that, the music would stop and we’d all hustle to sit down and just freeze. Sometimes mindfulness feels like that to me. Like I just need to pick up the needle on the turntable and stop the “noise” of life around me. Even if it’s just for a few moments. Sometimes we lose our own voice in all the voices of those around us, telling us what to think and do and feel.

Your mindfulness practice is yours, and yours alone. You can be part of a community, all travelling together, but no two journeys will be the same.