The three things that matter in the end
Jack Kornfield is an American writer and teacher in the Vipassana movement in American Theravada Buddhism. He trained as a Buddhist monk and has taught mindfulness meditation worldwide since 1974.
The three questions he asks, as the cornerstones of mindful living, are:
#1: How well have I lived?
#2: How well have I loved?
#3: How well have I learned to let go?
During my time in Spain I was adamant about not stepping into any yoga studio - the downside about having your passion, practice and career choice overlap is, the thinking mind imposes a work hazard that never ceases to evaluate for all intents and purposes - and this robs me of my ability to be fully present for myself. Instead, I meditated on the terrace of my hotel room, and ended up self-practising in the hotel's gym in the midst of others who were running on treadmills and lifting weights.
I needed to unwind from four consecutive months of putting myself out there - The Inner Temple 1 and Song of Silence 4 retreats, Wall Rope Restoration Workshop, followed by the month-long stint in Shanghai.
My relationship with Rest isn't a straightforward one - my parents were not born with silver spoons in their mouths so hustle they did for the life that they wanted - and this was subconsciously imposed onto their three children. Down time seemed like it was an entitlement only for the wealthy, and any ideas of taking a sabbatical or prioritising wellbeing were met with raised eyebrows.
For 18 days I really took time to taste the food and wine that I was consuming; I sat down for the full duration of my meals without the usual habits of maximising my time by going on the computer or watching television concurrently. Without my usual obligation of being a fur-mom to 3 geriatric and special needs dogs, it also meant that I did not have to be interrupted by any potty accidents. Suddenly, meals did not just serve to satiate hunger, they revealed their full potential to be topics of conversation, displays of culinary artistry and a means to enjoy the agricultural produce of the land beneath our feet. I was whisked away on gastronomical day dreams as my belly processed the taste, textures and nourishment the experience gave me.
I sat on the cobblestoned pathways and wholeheartedly took in the magic of live music - my eyes closed, tears streamed down my cheeks and my heart sang with joy as though it accompanied the melody of the violin that perched upon the busker's shoulder.
My senses felt more alive than usual. My attention was involved and connected to the present moment. I was not restless nor did I reach out for distractions. The precious minutes which would have otherwise been wasted on mindless scrolling were now rerouted to purposefully serve up reflections and epiphanies. It was as though the answers to the questions I never knew I had, presented themselves on a platter for my scrutiny. The universe speaks, we just have to listen, is what I am saying.
I love selectively, but wholeheartedly; and my yoga practice has given me enough spaciousness in my mind to create the pause between stimulus and response so that I can choose what to fight for, be with and release.
My down time has made me question if I have lived well; and that will serve as a lighthouse for me to be more generous towards myself, and lookout for the slithers of magical light that pour through in between the busyness of everyday.
"Yes, the world is hard and yet - it is essential to learn how to remain soft. Cry if you need to, scream if you need to. Go outside and look up at the sky. Inhale the exhale of great bodies of water. Count the stars, stand beneath ancient trees. A tiny miracle in every blade of grass. A tiny miracle in every heart beat. A tiny miracle in every whisper, every touch, every pulse of the earth." - The Daily Rest