I’m not that into “mindfulness”. I don’t mean that I’m oblivious to the world around me, but rather that the Oprah-esque nature of the word sends a shudder up my spine.
Every weekday morning, I take my spawn to school, and then I have a 25 minute walk home. Usually, I listen to the previous night’s Rachel Maddow Show on my ipod. Rachel and Kent are a great accompaniment on a walk; they give me something to thing about, and I find that news mediated through a left-wing perspective is much less personally stressful – Rachel takes on the burden of my annoyance at the world. This morning, although it was way too early to have to think about what kind of woman would consider dating creepy spit-combing Paul Wolfowitz (obvious answer: the kind who is happy for her boyfriend to organise inappropriate raises for her), my walk was essentially the same as it has been every morning.
Except it wasn’t. Last night, I was chatting to Lorelei, who reminded me about Found Magazine. The whole way home, I was really attentive to all the stuff around me that I normally ignore – little bits of paper, trash on the side of the road, kept catching my eye. It was an interesting transformation, and I thought about mindfulness.
I found a letter, mostly covered in mud, but one of the legible parts is “…since my face was black and blue which no amount of make-up could cover, I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I didn’t think removing a small skin cancer on my skin would wreak as much havoc…”
I suck at graphic stuff. I should learn to do better.