Part of my 11-day course “Mindfulness Made Easy”
Working mindfulness into your day can be as easy hanging out the laundry or making a cup of tea.
There was a time when I used to hate doing the laundry. I would put off the task of sorting out the clothes to put into the machine, of hanging them out, and then folding and putting them away. I’m ashamed to admit that during my twenties, the whole process could drag on and on. I was always far too busy during the day, far too tired in the evenings, and housework in general could easily get out of control. But since I have learned of the importance of mindfulness, since I have become a parent, and in fact become more busy, I have come to regard such everyday tasks as the perfect way to incorporate a little mindfulness into a hectic routine. They become sought-after oases, that can help get me through a difficult day.
So how do we work mindfulness into our day?
Many of us lead very full lives. We over-subscribe to work and leisure commitments, or if we have children, we put our own needs second, being constantly on-call to provide the best we can for our family. This kind of lifestyle can leave little room for the kind of mindfulness you might picture a Zen Master practising. Being someone who generally likes a quiet life, my lifestyle can often leave me feeling far too overstimulated, and that’s before the worries, strains and stresses we expose ourselves to. So how can we balance this with moments of calm?
Well, on those days when there simply isn’t any opportunity for a proper, uninterrupted session of meditation or contemplation, the answer lies in all those tasks that cannot be avoided, but do not necessarily require much brain-power to complete. In such circumstances, whether, tidying, cooking, cleaning, dusting, grocery shopping, walking the dog, making a hot drink, washing the dishes, lighting a fire, DIY, etc, meditative moments can be found like hidden gems throughout the day.
How do I approach a task mindfully?
The first, and most important part of working mindfulness into your daily routine, is to not put off those tasks that need doing. I know it’s easier said than done. I myself walk past my potted plants several times a week, and think “I must get round to watering those,” until eventually, I feel so sorry for them I cannot put it off any longer. Accepting that these little tasks can’t be avoided forever, is the first step. Not tidying, not cleaning, not doing the laundry will eventually lead us into greater states of unhappiness and stress. We don’t have to live in spotless, immaculate environments, but learning the joys of keeping on top of your environment is a skill that can in itself reduce all kinds of negative feelings.
This type of thinking doesn’t need to be limited to the home. It can extend into our work-place too. With several tasks under our charge, and sometimes tight deadlines, we can often leave the ‘general housekeeping’ of our jobs on a back-burner, leaving admin, accounts or emails to pile up until they begin to cause us stress just thinking about them.
Step one: Don’t put off the little jobs
Just a few tasks a day, for a few minutes here and there, is all that is needed to maintain your home and other environments as happy, positive places to be. When we also accept that the act of performing these tasks can actually be good for our mental health, this gives us even more motivation to do them. Finally, if we discover that we can enjoy the experience of, say, ironing or polishing, or tidying your work area, then we may even look forward to doing these chores.
Step two: Break larger jobs into smaller chunks
You don’t need to tidy for hours on end in order to make a difference. 15 minutes of tidying a day (even in a busy household) can be enough to keep on top of things, for example. Perhaps you can focus on a different room each day. This way, rather putting off jobs, and allowing them to build up even more, we simply reduce the task down to a size that is digestible. 15 minutes of mindfulness, is perfect for recharging our batteries.
Step three: Turn tasks into a ritual
As you prepare for the task, one way you can help to get into a state of mindfulness is to perform these preparations as if they are an important ritual. Stop. Take some slow, deep breaths. Try to clear your mind of all the rushing thoughts you might be juggling. Slow your actions for a minute. Make them more deliberate, really notice what you are doing. Imagine that what you are about to do is something profound and important, like a sacred ritual in a temple. And in a way, this is an important task. You are a temple. You are about to perform an essential activity that will help your state of mind, which will in turn help your overall general health.
So perhaps you are filling the kettle for a cup of tea, or uncoiling the chord of your vacuum cleaner. Perform these actions with as much gravity and deliberation as you feel you can, and as you do so, remember to take your breathing into a slow and steady pattern. Really enjoy breathing in deeply with your nose, and place your tongue upon the upper palette of your mouth. Find a rhythm that is comfortable and relaxing. Then, when all is prepared, you may begin the experience of the task…
Step four: Performing the task
There are many ways to practice mindfulness whilst performing a daily task. Most involve the act of noticing—either your surroundings, or the task at hand, or your actions, or the sensations of your body. Not all tasks can be tranquil and quiet—vacuuming, for example is very noisy. But the most important thing is to clear your mind of unrelated thoughts—thoughts about work, or of rehashing conversations, or creating shopping lists, or stressing about your problems. This is your chance to escape all of that for a few blissful moments.
Clearing your mind is perhaps the most tricky part of this whole process. Trying to clear your thoughts when we are in the habit of letting our conscious voice prattle on, is a little like trying to banish a catchy song that’s stuck in your head. Keeping your mind clear is even harder, but don’t worry—the more you practice mindfulness, the better you become.
Children are very good at being completely in the moment. Adults are, by modern requirements, necessarily bad. We have to remember what’s coming, we are responsible for seeing ahead, meeting deadlines, regulating our work, and our spending, providing for our families, preparing for all eventualities. Children, as I know to my own stress, often think nothing of planning ahead. We might need to leave the house in ten minutes to be somewhere on time for our next scheduled appointment, and yet there is no urgency in their actions. Very often they are completely absorbed in the moment—in their imaginary game, or watching the baby sparrows in the back yard, or immersed in song as they forget they are meant to be getting ready.
And yet, it is this very state that we are trying to emulate. This sense of immediacy, absorption, delight in the sensory offerings of the moment. We need to taste the present, to climb out of our internal struggles and set aside our endless processing of the past and future. We need to experience the now, and in so doing, attain a joyful peace, one that can heal or fortify. We are trying to see how we fit into the unfolding world around us; how the interchanging actions of our environment are just as much a part of us; that we can sample a little of the Tao, or perhaps the spirit of the moment, or of the spaces we inhabit.
Being mindful is pausing to observe, but also to participate. To be fully present, instead of intellectually and emotionally absent. Mindfulness isn’t about multi-tasking, trying to be as efficient as possible, trying to cram as many tasks into as small a time as possible. It’s not a race. Being mindful is slowing time down to a standstill. It is the act of removing the marking of time altogether. Rather, it is learning how to experience time as an ever-unfolding moment. After all, there is only ever the now. The past and the future do not exist.
Like Taoists trying to explain the Tao, it is futile trying to pin mindfulness down with words. It is something to be known and perceived through experience. So here are some examples of the ways I practice mindfulness in my daily tasks, and perhaps you can try them too, first hand…
Cleaning teeth
When I clean my teeth, I do not decide to listen and observe my surroundings, like I might do when I hang out the washing. My electric toothbrush is noisy and I am inside the house. Instead, I use the two minutes to practice Tai Chi walking. Before I start, I remove my socks. I use the ritual of reaching for my toothbrush and applying toothpaste as my chance to transition into mindful awareness. To slow my breathing. Then, with deliberate footsteps, I walk up and down the landing of my upstairs, as I brush my teeth, placing each foot down as slowly and carefully as possible.
The aim of Tai Chi walking is to always be in balance. To really feel and be aware of your internal structure, so that you can lift one leg slowly and effortlessly, without misbalancing, without having to compensate with other muscles. As I place my feet on the floor, I notice the weight transferring through my soles and into the wooden floor. I notice the sensation of the floor itself. I notice the structure of my bones, and of my muscles, and of the air on my skin. I concentrate on breathing, on deliberate movements, on tranquillity.
Tea making
When making a cup of tea, it is possible to turn the process into your very own personalised tea ceremony. I have a selection of teas, and of herbs in little glass bottles. My tea cupboard resembles a small apothecary, not only because I love tea, but because I love making tea. It’s the perfect time for a little mindfulness.
I have many cups of tea during the day, and not all of them can be mindful, but if I have the time, I will go the whole hog. As the electric kettle boils, I prepare my Japanese tetsubin teapot. I empty the old leaves, carefully washing out the inside and wiping away any dribbles or marks along the rim or surface, as if it is a priceless artefact. I prepare the correct blend of tea, perhaps I add a cardamom pod or other spice, and then when the kettle has boiled I scald the pot, swilling it around in both hands, feeling the warmth seep through into my fingers. Then, after empting once again, I observe the glistening water cascading from the kettle as I fill the pot fully.
I take the teapot over to the kitchen table where I sit, and arrange my mug and teaspoon in a pleasing ensemble. I am not, generally, obsessive about how objects are arranged, but in this particular ritual, I find it pleasing and conducive. Here I sit whilst the tea steeps. My breathing is slow and I watch the steam rolling up from the spout—illuminated by the shaft of sunshine, or from the overhead lights. If the window is open, I listen to the sounds of the day, and observe how the breath of outside plays with the coils of steam. Watching these tendrils can be incredibly relaxing, hypnotic even.
Then, after two or three minutes of quiet, formless contemplation, I pour the tea into the cup, listening to the sound, watching the liquid layers ripple and roll. With careful movements, I pour in a little milk and allow the creamy swirls to permeate the tea like a complex weather system. Placing importance into these actions, feeling present and noticing how every instance of the ritual is different, due to the time of day or conditions, allows me to feel the Tao of the moment.
Vacuuming
Vacuum cleaning is noisy and strenuous (especially with my ancient and heavy machine), but even this task can offer opportunities for mindfulness. Sometimes, in acoustically reflective corners of the house, the machine is so loud it rattles my eardrums. For this reason, I often choose to put on my ear-defenders. They block out most of the bedlam and suddenly I am immersed into a cocoon of cleansing white noise.
Without the ability to hear my environment, my attention now is placed upon the sensations of my body. The back and forth rhythm of pushing and pulling. The rhythm of my breathing, the ebb and flow of the distant, whirring noise. The feel of resistance against my hand on the handle, fighting my movements. I am keenly aware of my muscles working away, and of my structure. I pay attention to corners of my room that otherwise aren’t afforded a glance. It is the carpet’s time in the spotlight, it is the lino’s chance to shine.
Vacuuming becomes a kind of meditative dance. Steps that I have repeated hundreds of times. I notice the smell of the working motor, I notice the satisfaction of rooting out clumps of dust or fluff that have found their way under the TV or sofa. Vacuuming is a workout that can build up a sweat, and yet can be extremely meditative at the same time.
Hanging out laundry
This is my perhaps my favourite of all the repetitive household tasks. Cooking has more potential for satisfaction, due to its complexity and variation, but for pure, in-the-moment mindfulness, pegging up knickers and socks is hard to beat.
I’m out in the back yard. It’s about three meters wide with a cracked, concrete ground and is surrounded by a higgledy-piggledy quad of other adjoining houses that, after two to three-hundred years of ad hoc extensions and improvements, reach upward and jut outward in interesting ways. Above me, there is a rectangle of blue sky, streaked with thin clouds. My washing line zigzags up the length of the space as the yard rises in stepped sections.
As I calm my breathing, and enjoy the cool, fresh air, I begin my task and take in my surroundings, trying to sample the Tao of this moment with wordless awareness. I hang out socks, tea-towels, shirts and trousers; dresses, tights, leggings and underwear. As I do so, I let the sounds sink into the receptacle of my mind, like raindrops into a lake. Swifts pierce the air high above me, sounding like the whoosh of a salvo of arrows. A scutch of sparrows squabble in the guttering of the surrounding rooftops. From open windows I hear the chinks of cutlery being washed, a distant radio, snatches of conversation. I hear a dog bark at the postman. A breeze gets caught in this rectangular space and rustles past leaf and flower, sighing past my pots and raised beds.
I take pleasure in the openness, in the simplicity of my actions, in the joy of moving air from far away places. I feel a geometric satisfaction in dividing the space of the yard up into discrete diagonal sections with gently waving boundaries. I hear a tap running. I hear a boiler vent gushing out steam. I hear some neighbours bringing tea out into their own yard. I catch the scent of wildflowers, and of tomato plants, and of freshly-watered herbs. I taste the salt of the sea, carried on an invisible frond of wind. I look up to watch a passenger jet get overtaken by a solitary seagull.
In this brief island of calm, all feels well with the world. I see a snail venture over a moss-covered stone and think, not of invaders, or of pests or predators, but of a life form simply trying to make its way in the world. Feeling charitable, I watch it searching gently with prehensile horn and I try to empathise with its perception of the world. I feel warmth and connection, with the bees that frisk the flower-heads and with the ladybird and the black beetle risking all by crossing the cracked concrete in daylight. And the spider with its web in the corner of the shed door, that tends to its silky housekeeping.
I take one last lungful and let it go with a wistful sigh. The last sock is hung. I am done with my own housekeeping, for now. Time has come to return to the rest of the day. But I shall try to fold up a little of this Tao and take it with me, as my own.
Conclusion
Mindfulness can start small. It can start with the little corners of the day that need folding down or wiping up or hanging out. It can provide stepping stones of calm to give you passage through the stresses and strains of hectic schedules. It can give us practice grounds to improve our breathing, our awareness, our listening, our passive observation, our ability to experience the moment, wordlessly.
And once we become more proficient, we may find that this mindful approach bleeds into other parts of our day. That we can take this state of mind and apply it to our work-life, or our play. Start small, and make achievable returns. Take pleasure in how you are getting more done. But most importantly, feel the benefit that just a little mindfulness can do to your mental well-being.
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