CULTIVATING A GARDEN. . .

I have a friend who was diagnosed with Restless Leg Syndrome.  I think that, as a culture, we are also restless; we are easily diverted for we lack the discipline of focus. One antidote we try is what we call multi-tasking.  This morning I am thinking of another: the discipline of attentiveness.  In a sense this is a stewardship of the present, of the now; it requires the discipline of focus. 

   I miss the present in so many ways – two of my favorites are to ruminate about the past and to anticipate the future.  Another, for me, is to try and multi-task.

   In order to be attentive I must embrace a responsibility/response-ability to notice what is occurring right now and to what the moment is calling forth from me.  Many years ago Henry James, the writer, advised us to ‘Try to be one of the people on whom nothing is lost.’  There are a number of ways that we can grow our garden of attentiveness, here is one way.

   We can grow our garden of attentiveness by clearing and cultivating.  Prior to planting the seeds we want to nurture into life we might well have to clear the land of debris and weeds.  This might take us some time.  Then we have to prepare the land so that the seeds we sow will have an opportunity to settle in.  Then we have to choose which seeds to sow.  Then we have to ‘work’ the garden on a daily basis; we have to watch and be aware.  We have to notice and respond and if need be we have to be able to appropriately react.  Finally, we have to be patient during this entire process.  Over time the flowers and fruits of attentiveness will grow and ripen.

   For me, if I am going to be an attentive steward of the present I must learn to ‘clear out’ and perhaps to ‘fence off’ all that distracts me from the ‘now.’  I spend too much time going through the motions or abiding to certain rituals or reacting out of habit that I miss the ‘now.’  I caught myself doing this today as I was driving from home to my favorite coffee shop; after some minutes I realized that I had been driving without being attentive [the car in front of me slowed down suddenly and I ‘woke up’ quickly].  I used to think that I could lower the volume on the T.V. and put on some quiet music and read at the same time.  Oh, I could read the words and once in a while I could make sense out of what I was reading but on too many occasions I would truly have no idea what I had read.  So now I might have soft music playing when I read and even then I usually end up by turning off the music so I can be more fully attentive to what I am reading and to what is being stirred in me in response to what I am reading.

   Cultivating my attentiveness also helps me listen intently and receptively to others.  It also helps me focus during my time of meditation and prayer.  It seems to me that this type of attention is in short supply – perhaps it is in short demand.  I am bombarded by distractions – look here, look there; see the attractive colors, designs; listen to the clever jingles and pay attention to the magical words written and spoken; look at the seductive pictures [if you had this hair transplant you could be as successful and as happy as this person is].

   When I ‘fast’ I discover that not only can I do without, I discover that I am more able to be attentive to the ‘now.’  Being attentive, like ‘fasting,’ involves deprivation also.  So, I nurture my garden of attentiveness and I also deprive my garden those things that will hinder, if not, cause harm to its well-being.  In order for me to care for my garden of attentiveness I must be attentive to how I nurture it and to how I deprive it.

   Here is an exercise that has helped me:  Go to a coffee shop (or a public spot).  Practice being attentive by focusing on one thing; for example, I read with focus and note when I am distracted.  I then begin again and read with focus until I am distracted.  I then pause and attempt to discern what I need to ‘clear’ in order to be more attentive. I have become pretty good at reading with attention and focus while in coffee shops.  A by-product of this is that I am also more attentive when my focus shifts from my reading.  If I find myself, for example, being distracted by a young child – as I was just a few minutes ago – I purposefully shift my focus to the ‘distraction’ [in this case, to the child] and I seek to savor the distraction.  This helps me slow everything down and helps me not only be attentive but it helps me appreciate even that which has distracted me.