“Dawn pours
into the steaming cup
We drink the light of day
Our days are garlands—
strung berries in life’s tree
Smell, taste, touch and see.”
—Gunilla Norris
AH, to wake up early at dawn, waiting for the sun to spread its glorious orange-tinge glow gently and silently over the leaves, the grass in my pocket garden, over the books on the table in my tiny terrace as if to prepare the table for the day’s quiet banquet.
This is what life after retirement is all about, when you can enjoy days without any pending pressure to attend an early-morning commitment or errand!
Oh, to mute all these mobile gadgets and just listen intently to the chirpy conversations of little birds, dashing here and fro! If you are sharply attuned enough, they say you can learn to hear the leaves and the grass talk, the insects communicate and even the wind whisper a word or two.
I sit on my old rattan chair slowly as I sip the un-sugared black coffee from my slightly chipped mug. Unmindfully, I catch snatches of chatter from neighbors rushing by out there in the street, but thankfully, our walls shield me from seeing their faces. They need to out rush, out-elbow others to get into public transport to make it on time for work. I can see it all in the eye of my mind: stressed commuters coming from various parts like tiny rivulets converging toward and overfilling the main river.
But I shut my mind from that scene and, instead, I dip my bread into the mug of coffee. Out on the garage, mother cats and respective kittens are asleep, cozy in their mutually agreed and duly piss-sprayed territories. In just a few years, the original eve, a stray who found a home in our backyard, has spawned at least four generations of cats.
Now, I look forward to a day I can spend at home with my wife. I am a simple man of simple tastes, and by inclination, I like simple ordinary endeavors, that’s why I like my day to be as uneventful and un-busy as possible. I am reminded by Marcus Aurelius, who said: “Remember: Very little is needed to make a happy life.”
This is the one day in the week which I reserve for myself, my “staycation” day to enjoy unhurried moments. This is my “mindfulness day” in which I strive to pay attention more intently to the moments of the day, to see life unfolding through my eyes. Spiritual seekers have another term for paying attention: mindfulness. It is that sense of awareness, concentration, recollection, those moments of grace which show signs of the presence of spirit. Jean-Pierre du Caussade, a French Jesuit priest of the 18th century, calls it “the sacrament of the present moment.” A holy moment in small letters.
It is a day when I do one thing at a time, unhurriedly. I keep my mind focused on whatever I happen to be doing at the moment. It is through the mundane and the familiar that we discover a world of ceaseless wonders. It is also my way of training myself to notice details.
A Sufi master once said that the best way to express gratitude for a gift is to use it well. As for me, I like to express my gratitude for the gift of this ordinary day by savoring each moment well, experiencing the presence of the divine, mindful that He is here now moving through our everyday activities, no matter how trivial they might seem. Giving up the illusion of control allows me to feel grateful for the equanimity and serenity of doing simple mundane activities, including sitting around not doing anything in particular and relishing the sense of the quiet joy of just being alive.
I hear the soft strains of an old Simon and Garfunkle song: “Slow down you’re moving too fast, you got to make the moment last…” which aptly sets the mood. I pick two soft-bound books from a pile of second hand books I have been collecting (hoarding, my wife would call it) and lay them on the table. One is a biography on Saint Thomas More, and the other is about the life and times of Billy Wilder, a director whose films I admire. Both will do for the day. They will transport me to other worlds and other times. But that’s for later. The excitement stirs.
But first, I peel a banana and savor its freshly ripened lusciousness. It’s a perfect balance of tartness and sweetness with a suggestion of bitterness.
My wife, my life journey’s companion, and I casually pick up a thread of running conversation about trivial matters, immediate concerns, but nothing too urgent nor too dramatic to rile up our gastric juices and rattle the day’s tranquility.
The telephone rings, but I tune it out of my thoughts. I let my wife pick it up. She knows I don’t like to be disturbed. Mercifully, it’s a wrong number.
Many things must not be hurried. Like creativity, a relationship, a good book, a good conversation or even a good dinner. Life needs time in which to meander its way to revelation and insight.
Moments of grace, epiphanies and the wisdom in little things are often lost to us because we are in too much of a hurry to notice them. Through the ages, spiritual gurus, painters, filmmakers and poets have been encouraging us to slow down and notice the precious texture of the ordinary day.
So today, I heed them and let the day come to me without haste, receiving each moment with all my senses and sensibilities, an open mind and a grateful heart.