Being mindful is something I often struggle to achieve. I very often reminisce about so-called better days long gone, or think about the future, either making long-term plans or needlessly worrying about it.
However, I seem to be most mindful when I am doing specific activities. During these times, I seem to be more appreciative of the little things that matter and I feel more relaxed which, in turn, helps me to feel more energised and ready to take on more challenging tasks.
After a busy day at school, not only teaching, but dealing with students’ problems, pushing admin deadlines, setting tests, planning lessons, printing, marking, marking and more marking (did I mention marking?), I find that the best thing to do to unwind when I get home and become fully conscious of the present again is to make a cup of tea, grab a snack and sit on my patio.
At first, I had to make an effort to focus on the present moment, so that my mind did not return to school and all the stress that I made an effort to leave there. It is, however, becoming easier each day to enjoy each sip of tea, savour each bite of my snack and immerse myself in the sound of the birds, the shade of the two big trees outside my tiny yard and the orange palette of the sunset.
After my snack, I water my garden, taking care to tend to my little herb planter, picking yellow, or dry leaves to discard, and big, healthy leaves to use in my kitchen. I admire and appreciate how well they are growing, and can’t wait until they are big enough to harvest a substantial amount from them.
I’ve placed a plant pot dish on an old tree stump and make sure that it is full of fresh water every day. Though I haven’t seen any birds drink from it, I know that by being mindful of them, taking care to make sure that the dish is clean and that I’m not just filling it out of routine, may make a difference.
It may seem like something of no significance to think about, but it refocuses my mind to the present moment and even reminds me that there are circumstances to each decision I make, no matter how small. Without water, life would not be possible; birds may not visit my garden. It takes a present state of mind to remind ourselves of the things we often take for granted.
I recently, watched as a little gecko sipped water from a leaf of my delicious monster. How could one not be mindful in a moment like that? It is not something you see every day.
It is important to me to be fully aware of the life around me. It somehow reminds me, even if for a brief moment, that I am alive and I that matter.
Speaking of life, now that my sister has a nine-month-old baby, I fully immerse myself in the present moment when I visit my family. Every smile, every giggle, every gurgle, every “Ooh” is so precious. I try to capture these moments, as if they were tiny bubbles of joy, and store them in my heart. If I am not completely mindful in these moments, I feel as though the bubbles would pop and disappear. It is at times like these that I feel as if I were living life in high definition.
I am probably most mindful when spending time with family and friends. I have realised more and more how fragile and fleeting life is. Also, as so many of my friends have immigrated to countries all over the world, it is so important to me to be fully present while in their company.
By being mindful while in the company of others, I’ve learnt so much just by listening and observing, even about myself; what I like and what I don’t like, as well as who I want to be and don’t want to be.
It has made my life richer and, believe it or not, my writing too.
Without realising it, I have included so many characteristics of the people around me into my characters, even those whom I have merely glanced on the street, being fully aware of their presence and taking in every inch of their somehow fascinating manner of standing out from the crowd. It is not surprising, as most writers will write about what they know, but it makes me wonder: If I were not mindful while spending time around people, even strangers, would I have been able to include what I observed in my writing?
I could say the same about reading. I am always relaxed, yet focused when I am reading, absorbing every word on the page like a sponge, soaking myself in the images created in my mind and wallowing in every new concept learnt. Subconsciously, what I read, especially if I am mindful when I read, inspires my writing later.
While reading for pleasure, I am both fully aware of my physical surroundings, as well as the fantastic, realising that every time I gasp out loud that others may look at me sideways with concern, yet so fully alive and alert in the created realm that I do not care for their glances.
Just as I love how reading takes me on a very real and present journey in my mind, I also love to travel in the real world. I would go so far as to say that I am probably at my most mindful when I travel. I am not sure whether it is because I somehow know that I only have one opportunity of which to make the most, whether it is because I am inclined to be highly sentimental, or because I really enjoy collecting as much sensual information as possible so as to share a very realistic version of my experiences with others. Perhaps it is a combination of all of the above.
While travelling, all of my senses are on high alert. For example, once left alone to my hotel room in Bali, the first thing I did was explore the entire room. I started in the bathroom, smelling every complimentary toiletry bottle and soap. When I close my eyes, I swear that I can still smell each different scent.
I opened the wardrobe and took my time to file every item in my mind: the softest dressing gown ever, soft slippers, a trouser press, an ironing board and iron, and a safe.
The mini bar was the best I had ever seen, packed with various beverages and local snacks.
The television was huge. The room was huge. The balcony, from which I could chat to my friends on either side of me, was the best.
Being mindful of my hotel room and its surrounds was only the beginning of a ten-day experience in which I was present and alert in every moment, from simply walking on the beach and being harassed by hawkers while having philosophical conversations with friends, to savouring each bite of the local cuisine while overlooking an active volcano. There is nothing like the earth rumbling beneath your feet to make you feel fully alive!
Being mindful during experiences away from the routine of work and home, is one of the most fulfilling things in my life. Because I make an effort to mindful during these rare occasions, I appreciate and remember them better.
I also often write journal entries about interesting experiences, during which I need to be mindful in order to remember the finer details, such as feelings, which could fade or be embellished upon over time if not recorded as soon as possible and as accurately as possible.
Two other activities in my life which require accuracy are music and dance. I often tell friends that if I don’t go to my lessons, I will go mad because it is during these two hours of the week that I think of nothing else other than what I need to do in that moment. It can be no other way. These activities are my true escape from everyday life’s stresses.
If I am not mindful when I play violin, I sound like (in the words of my teacher), “A mosquito with flu that hasn’t eaten for a week.” Playing a piece that does not grate the eardrums requires absolute mindfulness, focusing on each note of the music in front of me and keeping a consistent rhythm. If my mind drifts elsewhere, I make mistakes. I need to remain in the present moment at all times.
Once I know and understand a piece really well, I shift my attention to how my fingers feel on the fingerboard, the pressure of the bow on the strings and each tiny speck of rosin as it flies from the bow and lands beneath the bridge between the F-holes. To me, that is when the music really comes alive, alongside a surge of energy from within my very being.
Most of the above could also be said of ballet. If I’m not mindful of my posture, as well as the placement of my arms, legs and feet at all times, I could injure myself. Not landing correctly while doing sautés (simple jumps), cost me a minor knee injury which kept me from dancing for a month.
Yet, again, once I know a move well enough and understand what techniques to apply so as not to injure myself, I focus on the rhythm of the music and how I may be able to flow with it, feeling the beat and becoming part of the music through dance. It is then when I enjoy dancing the most; fully aware and alert, but with abandon, completely carefree of all else other than the present moment.
Even writing this piece has required mindfulness. It has made me focus on what is important to me; of that which I need to become even more mindful so as to experience life fully.
Yes, I need remember the past, but not dwell on it. I need to plan for the future, but not get so ahead of myself that nothing else matters; that the simple pleasures of the present moment don’t matter.
About Andrea
Andrea Vermaak has been writing journals, stories and poetry since the age of eight. While studying a BA (Journalism) Languages and a BA (Honours) English degree, Andrea chaired the University of Pretoria's literary society, The Inklings, where she honed her creative writing skills at weekly workshops.
After freelancing for a few years and gaining experience on a working holiday in Scotland, Andrea’s career in the publishing industry began in 2009 as a publishing assistant at a small independent publishing house in Pretoria, South Africa.
She was promoted to the position of editor of a children’s general interest magazine in 2013. While working as a magazine editor, Andrea edited several fiction and non-fiction books for self-publishing clients. She is currently a full-time English teacher at a Cambridge International school.
Andrea has published several magazine and student newspaper articles, as well as poetry and blog posts. Her debut short story, ‘Draca’ appears in The Flight of the Phoenix, an anthology published by Siygrah Books. Her short story ‘Break Away’ appears in Journey, an anthology published by Muses and Broomsticks. Andrea still enjoys writing poetry, and is in the progress of writing and editing several other short stories, as well as a young adult fantasy novel.
