A reflection written in Bali over a decade ago that still resonates:

Struggling Mindfully

In some ways, mindfulness is the most powerful tool we have. Yet, it is not easy to be mindful when we struggle. Most often when we are not in a good place, we want to escape. Instead, can we watch what is happening with our full attention? As it has become the lens of my exploration, I would like to explore the struggle I face when I write.

For some reason, writing has always been a battleground for me. At times, I totally shy away from it; at other times I pursue it like a one-way love affair. Two years ago, I embarked on the project to write a novel, and a struggle it has been. Now, I am committed to this blog for at least the next thirty days. The idea here is to create a new opportunity to change my relation to writing. Yesterday was a struggle and today I feel a bitter taste in my mouth. Instead of finding new tricks to entice me to fill the page, I want to meet the struggle in the eye, to come face to face with it.

Mindfulness is our full potential. We may experience it at times, but on the whole we are too preoccupied with a multitude of concerns and thoughts that we forget to be aware of the present moment. It is relatively easy to be mindful when one is sitting quietly or walking in nature; it is much harder when one is involved in a complex activity that relies on the mind and that may bring out emotions.

I am sitting at the desk and the thoughts come to me: I have already taken too long over this task. There are a lot of distractions outside. I would rather relate to people in the real world. I am not sure who I am writing to. Too many ideas come to my head and I cannot seem to be able to reconcile them. How do I know the truth of what I am writing? How authentic am I? My perception is so fragmented. I wish I could find a formula that would make the process more effortless. It feels uncomfortable to meet the circular movement of the mind. There is heavy monsoon-like rain outside. The roof is leaking in my room. I need to stop and go to the veranda to witness the downpour…

Back at the desk. A feeling of gratefulness is descending on me. I breathe. The air is clear. I scan the body; my posture is straighter. Watching the thoughts has created calm, or was it the rain? Am I starting to enjoy the activity? I understand that there will be urges for me to want to run away, to escape as soon as it becomes unpleasant. I can choose to let go of them. When the struggle comes, the challenge is not to chase it, not to feed it, but to let it be. Look at it with kindness. Is it a ghost of the past? Is it a genuine fear?

Mindfulness is effortless. It dissolves the false and lets us meet reality. The reality may be uncomfortable and even unpleasant. We may have very little to share today. Our writing may feel pompous or contrived. The critic will often come uninvited. We can tell him to come back during the rewriting stage or while proofreading. The struggle is worse when we let it take over. The struggle may never disappear, but if we meet it mindfully it may bring with it some learning. We cannot mindfully struggle, but we can struggle mindfully.

L.