This Too Shall Pass

by Susan Shea

We recently lost my mother-in-law to cancer. Her diagnosis was a shock, and we lost her less than two months after her cancer was discovered. One day, my husband returned from visiting with her and said he didn’t know what to talk about with her now because he realized that much of his “normal” day to day conversation is about the future, and in this case, we all knew that she was not going to be part of that future. It seemed insensitive and sad to talk about life going on when we knew she would not be present for any of those plans.

My husband’s statement struck home as I realized that I too spend a good part of my life focused on things that have not happened yet, and may never happen. This realization really brought mindfulness into sharper focus for me. Sitting with someone who only has “now” gives a new, unfamiliar perspective. When we try to have a conversation with someone who has very little time left to live, we tend to reminisce about the past to avoid talking about the future. I know for me personally, I struggle to talk about the present moment and what it means to me, what it feels like and I especially feel uncomfortable just sitting and sharing silence with someone. I am always seeking something to keep my mind occupied and the moment filled with words and distractions.

Over the past two months, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would feel like to know that I only have now. I find that it is a very hard feeling to sit with for very long. It makes me feel anxious and my impulse is to push that thought away and try to think about something else. I want to escape that feeling.

I realize that what I want is to always be able to think about things that are upbeat and happy and not “waste” time sitting with feelings that make me feel uncomfortable. I am quick to try to “fix” or reverse those feelings of discomfort or anxiety. Losing my mother-in-law has challenged me to try to learn to sit with the discomfort of watching someone go through a scary and painful experience. It has challenged me to sit with the feelings of helplessness and sadness and anger.

I used to think of mindfulness as taking control of one’s thoughts and feelings. I thought of it almost like programming a computer. I thought that it was a way to avoid feeling overwhelmed or anxious. Now I’m realizing that mindfulness has nothing to do with avoiding or controlling anything. It’s about recognizing that those feelings and thoughts exist, however uncomfortable they may be, and allowing them some time and space.

Mindfulness cannot stop bad things from happening and cannot insulate me from feelings. Mindfulness is not about labelling a feeling good or bad. Mindfulness does not require that I find a lot to say about the current moment. In fact, it’s actually very freeing to realize that mindfulness is not about rules and requirements.

I have always had a very busy mind. I’ve always filled it with noise of one kind or another. Even just a few minutes of intentional quiet leaves me peeking at the clock to see how much time is left before I can resume my day. I have often thought that I should be more skilled at accepting my thoughts after so many years of practicing mindfulness. I’m starting to understand that mindfulness is about the process of tuning into my feelings and thoughts, not pushing them away. It reminds me of tuning a radio. I imagine adjusting the radio dial until I can hear the station more clearly. When I am practicing mindfulness, I am taking time to adjust that dial in my mind very slowly, until I can connect with what I am feeling. My thoughts are like the static in the background that make it hard to hear my feelings.

Another metaphor I find helpful is to think of mindfulness in terms of music. When I listen to a piece of music with a lot of instruments and voices involved, I may like the melody, but it’s very hard to pick out each instrument, or each individual voice. When I listen to acoustic guitar, I can more fully enjoy the sounds of that instrument. The individual notes created by the strings of that instrument become more distinct. Mindfulness helps me tune into a particular feeling, and quietens other thoughts and noise.

As I go through my day, when I notice that I feel I’m in some degree of chaos, or I notice myself rushing or trying to do too much all at once, I remind myself “One step at a time”. Sometimes I have to tell myself: “Finish what you are doing before you move on.” I have to redirect myself this way many times throughout my day. I try to incorporate mindfulness into little tasks. When I have to write for work, I try to pay attention to how the pen feels in my hand and how the pen rolls on the paper. I try to slow down and pay attention to my writing and deliberately form my letters rather than scribble them out in a rush.

When I cook a meal, I try to slow down and pay attention to the preparation of the food and I tune into the smells of the food. There is something I find so comforting about the smell of ginger or basil. I look at the food I’m preparing and notice the ingredients I’m handling.

I pay attention to plating my food, rather than just spooning it onto a plate. I pay attention to setting the food on the plate, stacking it carefully and notice the colours on the plate.

Mindfulness is something that I try to work into my day rather than reserve it for a scheduled quiet time. It can be incredibly calming and pleasing to just be tuned in to an activity fully, no matter how mundane the activity may seem. I need more of this in my life and less rushing around, trying to squeeze more tasks into less time.

Life is more vibrant and full when I live more in the “now”. I forget sometimes how much there is to enjoy in the moment. I sometimes fall into that feeling that I have to be busy to avoid feeling bored. Mindfulness is about the contentment that comes from paying attention to this moment. And even when the moment is a difficult one, there is something reassuring and comforting when I realize that I can handle whatever it is that is happening in this moment. The feelings may not always feel good. The moment may be painful or sad or overwhelming, but when I slow down and sink into that moment, I realize that I’m already handling it. I’m in that moment and I don’t need to worry about the next moment or the one after that. I’ll handle that moment when it happens.

My mother often repeated the phrase: “This too shall pass” and, when I’m in a moment that is difficult, I repeat this to myself and it helps me accept the moment I’m in. Nothing lasts forever, and this includes difficult times. I find it easier to stay in the moment and take from it what I can when I remember that it won’t last forever.