Mindfulness Without Therapy

I’ve taken a long break from blogging for a good reason (well, I think it’s good!). I’ve been wandering, time traveling and practising mindfulness. Mental mind wandering, mindfulness and time travel have been the focus of considerable cognitive neuroscience research and contemplation in recent years. My wanderings, time travel, and occasional intense mindfulness over the last six months has been “out there” in the physical world, as I traveled through the UK, Africa and Australia, and some of my experiences will provide illustrations of those inner states of mental mind wandering and time travel we all constantly experience without even thinking much about it, or, in the case of mindfulness, strive to experience in an attempt to enrich our lives. Some neuroscientists tell us that letting our minds go wandering off is a good thing, but many consciousness researchers as well as therapists stress the opposite; practising mindfulness will enrich our lives and make us happier. Can they both be good for us? What about time travel? Is this possible, and can anyone do it? Can other non-human animals perform these mental gymnastics, or are they just for humans (and aliens).

In this post I’ll concentrate on mindfulness, because as one of the cornerstones of “Positive Psychology” this has been popular for a number of years. Many of you will have practised it, and found it helpful or even life-changing. In my following two posts, I’ll muse about those less well-known psychological skills, mind wandering and time travel. Mind you, those next two posts will probably appear a month apart, to allow me to wander through Christmas, New Year and the long summer holidays in New Zealand. Slowing down is a good thing; deep down we all know the truth of this, even while we rush about multitasking, texting, scanning blog after blog (and taking in how much?). So I’ll feel positive about contributing to the “Slow Movement” and one aspect of that movement, slow living.

Mindfulness has become popularised through the therapy called Positive Psychology, but it has been practised by Buddhists for around 2,500 years. One simple definition of mindfulness is “to be mindful and aware of thoughts and feelings, while remaining locked in the present”. In order to achieve this, a state of concentration and focus is essential and is often achieved through meditation and/or the practice of yoga. In the modern, non-Buddhist psychologist’s therapy room, it is more likely to be encouraged through deep relaxation (although the word “deep” in this case is likely fleeting and indeed “light” when compared with the “deep” of Buddhist meditation). I am totally unqualified to write about mindfulness as practised by Buddhists, so the mindfulness I am going to muse about is that focused form of thought we all try for some of the time.

In October I participated in The Mind & Its Potential conference in Sydney, where mindfulness, and health and wellness, and the potential of our minds, were talked about and discussed by a wide range of speakers and practitioners, from Buddhist monks to cognitive neuroscientists. I was one of the speakers, and it occurred to me that my experience speaking there involved a form of mindfulness. I definitely wasn’t meditating at the time, and if I had been, I think the audience would have shocked me out of that state with their booing. (Or perhaps not, as they were a lovely audience—instead they would all have had a little sleep). The organisers of this conference requested of all their speakers that they have no notes, and speak from the centre of the stage with no lectern to lean on or hide behind. The timing was crucial, we were told, as there were many speakers. Each speaker had 10 minutes or 28 minutes, or some other exact period of time to say what they wanted to say, without notes, or any ums and ahs. They would be filmed and later the videos of the talks would be available on their Happy & Well YouTube Channel (where you can discover videos of speakers from all their conferences). Take it from me, these instructions from the conference organisers were designed to induce an intense state of mindfulness in the speaker.

The way speakers manage these sorts of performances, (think of TED talks) is to prepare thoroughly and get what they want to say down to the exact time. This takes practice, practice, practice. The more fluent and spontaneous the speaker seems on the day, the more practice has gone on beforehand. Once on stage, the well-prepared speaker must be absolutely in the moment and thinking about the meaning of what she or he is saying, rather then reciting the words in a rote manner. If the mind wanders, even for a second, the train of thought will be lost and fluency will suffer, if only briefly. When time is very restricted, even a few seconds of mind wandering can lead to important points being missed or fudged. To keep on task and remain spontaneous and excited and passionate by the content of their own talks (in spite of all that practice) speakers must be totally in the moment and thinking about the meaning of the wise words issuing from their mouths. A bonus is that such a state leaves no room for nerves or performance anxiety. Strangely, this state of speaker mindfulness often gives rise to truly spontaneous asides that fly from the speaker’s mind and out the mouth, perhaps in response to that particular audience, or simply because another new idea has magically blossomed. These quick asides don’t interrupt the flow or take up more than a split second, but add to the spontaneity.

My point is that being intensely in the moment is a state of mind that can happen in many circumstances. In fact, we all experience mindfulness in our daily lives when we are fully engaged in an activity. This might be when we are lost in a book, or in the music playing through our headphones, or, if we happen to be a neurosurgeon, when we are clipping an aneurysm. A neurosurgeon I know, when asked how he concentrated so intently for many hours when operating (23 hours for one very delicate and complex operation), said he was oblivious to time passing. When we are totally focused on an activity, time becomes almost meaningless; it may seem to fly, or perhaps stop or disappear. What it doesn’t do is drag. In most cases these intensely mind-focusing activities will make us feel good, fulfilled, and positive, and thus have similar consequences to those we strive for when we meditate or practice deep relaxation as a path to mindfulness. So if meditation, yoga, and relaxation exercises aren’t for you, seek activities that engage you totally, whether they last for five minutes or five (or 23!) hours. Try and do a few of these every week, and I guarantee you’ll feel happier and more fulfilled. You might even be able to wave goodbye to your therapist, and the money you save you can invest in your new “mindfulness” activities, or even better, give to your favourite charity (which will also make you happier).

Now here’s an aside. Do non-human animals experience mindfulness? I believe they do, if we use the definition “to be locked in the present and be mindful and aware of our thoughts” (perhaps being aware of emotions is too anthropomorphic). In fact non-human animals probably spend most or possibly all of their waking time “in the present”, unlike humans, whose minds constantly go wandering off. Animals living in the wild must be alert and observant simply to stay alive. That takes me right back to my recent wanderings in Africa. From the safety of our safari vehicle, we watched a cheetah standing motionless, observing her prey, before making her 100 km per hour dash to catch it. She focused only on the impala she had set her sights on, ignoring our vehicle, the alarm cries of birds and monkeys, and the stampeding herd of impala through which she ran. This was mindfulness in action. Mindfulness is a cognitive ability that evolved a long time ago, and a state of mind that is certainly not confined to humans.

But wandering minds and time travel? Are they distinctly human? More next time.

Seasons greetings to you all, and do slow down and enjoy every little moment.