Keeping this blog is finally becoming a pleasure, rather than a project I think I should pursue. Selecting the quotes and photos, organizing my thoughts, crafting the content, checking to see how well a post is being received, all enjoyable. That is, once I select the topic for the week. Most often, I churn, debating ideas, mulling a title, fretting about the opening line, wondering whether this is of value to anyone other than me. This week, therefore, I decided to put all that on hold and to trust that an idea would simply emerge. It did.
Last night, I woke at 3 in the morning, a common occurrence of late. I got up to go to the bathroom and returned to note, again, how grateful I am that John no longer snores. A result of his stem cell transplant years ago. I tossed a bit, tried a couple relaxation techniques that sometimes help to lull me back to sleep, and then, unsuccessful, decided to heed the advice of sleep therapists to get up and do something else.
I padded into the kitchen, intent on getting something to drink before settling down with a mystery and spotted the jigsaw puzzle I have been working on for the past couple days. A great puzzle with sturdy pieces, an intricate and whimsical picture, bright colors and just the right level of difficulty, challenging but not frustrating. And close to completion.
For 90 minutes I persisted, patiently and calmly. I would pick up a piece, examine it carefully, scrutinize the picture. I noted tiny details I hadn't noticed before, variations in texture and subtle differences in shading. And the more I noticed, the easier it got. I could pick up a piece and put it down exactly where it belonged. With a surprising sense of accomplishment. If not, I would simply place it back in the box and choose another.
Patient, calm until finally done.
If anyone had seen me then, standing over the finished product, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, I'm sure she would question why I might take such satisfaction in completing a jigsaw puzzle. And she would have been missed the point. For I was grinning with the sudden realization that, for 90 minutes, I had been fully present to the task at hand, fully engaged. Not grappling with why I couldn't sleep. Not chastising myself for not having taken a sleep aid. Not worrying how I was going to manage today. Not stewing over this week's post. Above all, not wondering if this is my future, waking, alone, at 3 in the morning to do a jigsaw puzzle. Engaged. Present.
My grin almost dissolved into tears. For 90 minutes, I hadn't worried about John's health or dwelt on the state of the nation, or chewed on the daily challenges I am confronting with my own aging. I hadn't turned on TV nor checked Facebook. I had simply become engaged with something that required attention, complete attention in the moment. Simple, granted not easy, but always available. Like a good book, or a foreign film with subtitles, or deadheading roses, or really listening to a friend. Presence, my topic for this week's post had emerged.
Now, I have no illusions that having this experience means I can call it up again on a whim. I have been here before. It's just so much easier to dwell on past memories or future concerns. Easier to be lulled by distractions or caught up in the cacophony of the latest breaking news. Easier to get swept up in emotions (mine or others') or the internal chatter I sometimes confuse with thinking. Easier, but not very satisfying.
I have no illusions that at 76, I can develop the same ability to dwell in the present as a Buddhist monk who has meditated for decades, or a yoga practitioner, but I am determined to improve. To at least notice when I am somewhere else and to return to now, the present moment, the only moment in which I have some control. To restore focus and calm no matter the existing circumstances. Maybe jigsaw puzzles can become my meditative practice?
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