Monkey Mind to Closet Mind

Last summer, I tried meditating – the premier activity, it seems, for staying in the present rather than worrying about the future or ruminating about the past.  But no sooner was I sitting still than  I fell asleep or remembered that I was almost out of regular coffee and dashed off to buy some right away.

Apparently, I fell victim to “monkey mind,” the Buddhist term for a “restless” or “unsettled” state.  And the monkey had not only crawled into the car that was my mind. He had reached over and grabbed the wheel. 

I am happy to announce that have found a way around monkey mind and into mindfulness.  It is “closet mind,” or the complete focus on cleaning out one’s closet.  When I am clearing the unwanted and unloved into garbage bags, I do not fall asleep or think about the coffee supply.   The past is cleared out and so – for that particular garment – is the future.

Jon Kabat-Zinn would be proud.  And possibly Goodwill.

Mom’s Jacket Gets Second Act

In honor of my late mom, who might very well have worn it today, I’m proud to announce that her favorite navy jacket is undergoing renovations.

Handmade with her usual precision and sporting giant pearl buttons, it’s been hanging in the back of my closet since her death more than two years ago.

“Get on with it,” I’ve heard her say. “Someone could put that to good use.” Or, consistent with our family history of button-snatching: “At least take off the buttons and use them on something else.”

Mom finally got her way Mothers Day weekend, when – inches from a Goodwill bag in the making – I tried on the jacket one more time before the toss. It fit perfectly. And as I’m sure I heard her point out, “It just needs a different neckline and it will look lovely on you, dear.”

Fortunately the alterations lady at a place called Cottage of Tailoring not only agreed. She inspected the inside seams and nodded with approval.

“Very nicely sewn, she said.

“It certainly is” came a whisper from behind me, even though no one else was in the shop.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom.

Bring On The Poetic Playfulness

Last night, Billy Collins came to town for a reading at Bexley (OH) High School.  The 2001-2003 poet laureate is my all-time favorite poet, and sitting in the packed auditorium with other Collins enthusiasts, I figured out why.

It’s his playfulness that grabs me.  He makes fun of the poet, whose chief occupation is to stare out the window.  But with the world in his observation tank, Collins lets his mind poke around wherever it pleases. He  imagines on a snow day three girls plotting to bring down “some small queen” at one of the schools on the closing list. He playfully becomes a boy, whose aging bike has “all the dark blue speed drained out of it,” dreading his 10th birthday with the moans of an adult. And those real memories that slip from us with age?  They retired “to a little fishing village where there are no phones.”

The pleasure of his poetry reminds me that a little more time spent staring out of windows, curious and taking it all in,  might stoke the creativity in all of us. Why let our minds rush by in business casual when they could be out in the world wearing play clothes?

Nose Knows About Stress Relief

What could be better than hanging out with nearly 200 people who cheer people up for a living?

That was the scene at the Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor (AATH)conference these last several days in Orlando, where there was a nonstop buffet of chuckles, inspiration and colorful costuming.

Clown noses were standard fare, along with garbage bag capes, multi-colored wigs and everlasting bubbles. And the stories! Cancer survivors credited humor and laughter with helping them recover. Hospice nurses thanked their patients for bringing humor into their lives. And several laughing participants vowed to die with their clown noses on – and breathe a final “Ha!” as a last breath.

Now…just to hang onto the magic through at the grocery, the traffic, the drive-thru bank. The clown nose will be handy in my glove compartment.