When we talk about stress management, wellbeing or mental health, the word ‘mindfulness’ is often mentioned. Mindfulness has been touted to promote working memory, emotional regulation and cognitive ability, just to name a few. But what exactly does it mean to be mindful?
Oxford University Press defines mindfulness as “the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.” Psychology Today describes mindfulness as “active, open attention to the present… observing one’s thoughts and feelings without judging them as good or bad.”
I think many of us understand that mindfulness is to do with being present in the current moment. I personally see it as being centred in my body, embracing the sensations I feel and/or acknowledging the emotions that come with that moment. It’s trying not to get distracted from experiencing all there is to experience right then and there, and it’s a struggle sometimes; I’m sure you’ll agree. You could be eating the best meal you’ve tasted in months with some of your favourite people in a beautiful location, and be momentarily bogged down in the realization that you forgot to turn the dishwasher on before you left home, or rehashing the conversation with that coworker who snapped at you earlier in the week.
Just the other day, I was walking on the beach with a couple of friends, and I buzzed with distraction: I’d just noticed my shoe was starting to fall apart , so I thought about how I’d have to buy new shoes. I also needed new work pants and I needed to buy a mother’s day gift, and why, I wondered, why didn’t I just do that when I was in town earlier that morning? My mind wandered and I started thinking about the million other things I had to do as I completely lost track of the conversation happening right next to me, until my thoughts were abruptly interrupted by, well, the very people I was there to spend time with.
“Isn’t this so beautiful?” my friend exclaimed. She had stopped mid-stride and was gesturing at the ocean and how the vibrant pinks and yellows of the sunset were reflected in the glassy-smooth surface of the sand at our feet, the warm colours divided in half by a rolling blue ocean.
I stopped. I looked. It was beautiful. Had I really missed what was right in front of me until someone else had said something? I was, I realised, very much not in the moment.
I can tell you right now, small children don’t tend to have this problem. I sometimes work with children, and am often fascinated by how they dedicate themselves to a single activity. They tend to be fascinated by what is in front of them, whether that be the lurid colours of acrylic paint they’re spreading across a page with their hands, or the story they are listening to and the pictures that accompany it, or the bowl of spaghetti they are devouring (and spreading all over their high chair, their face, hair, the floor, etcetera). Yes, they are easily distracted, but whatever task they are in the process of doing becomes their whole world.
When was the last time you got to experience that feeling? Children experience joy and wonder with their entire soul, even during the simplest of tasks. When do adults stop doing this? Does our lack of fulfilment coincide with an inability to be mindful and appreciate the simple things in life?
While you or I might glance at objects, or our surroundings as we go about our day, simply looking at things requires a lot more concentration in the early years because small children are still learning to recognise what is around them, and this is a highly involved process. Psychological scientist Linda B. Smith notes that “in the toddler, visual attention and learning involves the whole sensorimotor system… it emerges in the real-time coupling and self-organization of head, eyes, and hands.” It’s a highly immersive experience just observing the world around you when you’re small.
Babies and toddlers are also less tethered to those pesky things called memories, experiencing what is known as infantile amnesia. Can you imagine how free your mind would be if you weren’t haunted by some of the uglier things lurking in your subconscious? Or even just bothered by the sudden memory of a rude comment made to you earlier in the day? That’s not something two year olds have to lose sleep over. Young children are inherently mindful and much better than adults at experiencing the present moment, simply by virtue of how their brains work. They might be at a funeral, or a department store, or Aunt Laura’s baby shower; in that moment, they’re just interested in the centipede inching its way across the floor beneath their feet.
Spending time with children and observing their behaviour can help adults to become more mindful in a couple of different ways. Firstly, because the actual act of supervising children effectively calls for our full attention. We’ve all heard the horror stories of the person who “just turned their back for a second” when their child disappeared, and we all know that responsibility of small children requires constant vigilance. This sounds annoying, but as someone experienced in spending time with children, I can tell you it’s very freeing if you lean into it and find the joy in it. Your whole world boils down to singing, or eating fruit salad, or an impassioned retelling of Spot Plays Hide-and-Seek. You won’t have time to do other things; you won’t even think about them. It’s one of my favourite things about that job.
Secondly, if you immerse yourself in a child’s world, if you get on a child’s level and observe your surroundings through their eyes, or by their side, you will be forced to slow down and take your time. You will notice things you don’t normally notice. A airplane flying overhead, a passing butterfly, or the sound of a nearby train suddenly becomes the most exciting thing in the world. A picked flower is examined thoroughly and carried around for twenty minutes. A toddler’s lunch is not wolfed down over a keyboard in three minutes; it’s painstakingly wobbled from bowl to mouth for half an hour and sometimes (often) followed by a full outfit change. Which, if you allow it to be, can be tedious, but it can also be an enjoyable process and a moment for connection. You can get annoyed at the pasta sauce in their earlobe (how?) or you can laugh. They will probably laugh too.
As adults, we don’t really need to focus on the task at hand the way children do, but focusing our attention is not a bad thing when it allows your thoughts to slow and your overall sense of fulfilment to flourish. The world will wait. Another reason children don’t struggle with mindfulness is that they don’t feel guilty for just doing them, for living in the moment, and once in a while, you shouldn’t either.
All you have to do is give yourself permission.
