I keep thinking about something local psychologist Mallory Smith said about the profound impact of prioritizing just 10 minutes of true, undistracted connection with a child per day.
In an age of globalization and tech addiction, I think taking a moment to connect with anything around you could be a balm for the apathy and overwhelm of the day.
Taking that home with me, I put my phone away to play scrabble with my husband after dinner.
I sat and closed my eyes to listen straight through Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor.
I sat in the pasture and asked nothing of my horses.
We know to practice mindfulness as a means to regulate our nervous system, but I fear it’s becoming a bit sterile, a task like brushing your teeth. A means to press on.
Smith described the moment a mother first holds her new baby, and experiences that flood of oxytocin and connection. Focus like that creates this sparkle - a sort of live wire.
It doesn’t just trigger our parasympathetic nervous system, it creates richness and meaning. It’s a liniment for our atrophied attention spans.
Then my ancient dog began to decline, slowly still. A stroke perhaps - she sits by my side unable to walk on her own, blue haze in her eyes, thin and ever-reaching for my hand with her head. She’s made time potent and precious.
I don’t suppose it’s very ‘love and light’ to say your dying dog is a catalyst for richness and meaning, but harshness has a way of distilling focus too. Sit in an ice bath and see how often you worry about tax season approaching.
Taking 10 minutes to fully connect with this dog, who saw me through my 20s, is a masterclass in the human experience. I felt no bliss or enchantment, but it was poignant and good.
I think of the artist Marina Abramovic and her performance piece The Artist is Present, where she sat silently all day for three months at an art museum. She sat at a table, where spectators one by one could sit across from her to gaze at one another. The feelings people reported were intense, some cried as they sat there becoming part of her art.
Approaching life like it is a performance art feels like a full and genuine way to be mindful, exploring our full range rather than being in constant pursuit of comfort and happiness. Ten minutes a day of using your focus to create a moment, like it’s art.
So, I let the dog on the bed. I savour something imperfect and true. It’s not sun salutations and singing bowls, but I’m fully engaging in life for those moments – and it counts.
