I don't blog much these days, my degree (and love of cooking and wine when not degree-ing) takes up most of my time and mental energy so it has to take something super duper to inspire me to post something here...I guess this post is about one of those things.
Last Saturday I cried at a tree. Not because we were arguing, that would suggest I hear voices coming from trees and I'm pretty sure I don't. I cried because I stopped walking and thinking and said 'what a lovely tree'. Then came a flicker of synergy and I shed a tear for a beautiful tree with the sun's light streaming through it in Wolverhampton's West Park. A word on West Park whilst we're here: if you live near it and think, 'I really should go for a walk around West Park, visit the hothouse, see if there's anything music-y going on in the bandstand, enjoy the beautifully kept grounds and have a reason to praise the local council for a change' then stop thinking and do it. I go a few times a week if I get chance. They've also got lovely tennis courts that you can use for free. I have all the gear, a bit of an idea but no one to play tennis with so if you want to play tennis with me in West Park followed by a cuppa in the little tea room then that would be swell. I realise this post is beginning to resemble an online dating profile so I'm going to talk more about the tree now.
When staring up at the tree, (I don't know the name of the tree but it didn't know mine either so I didn't think it rude that I never bothered to ask) I thought, I'm Nietzsche, I am West Park's Nietzsche without the syphilis (I hope) but with the overbearing sister, the ability to grow a moustache and the belief that, to quote dear Friedrich: 'there is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy'. I switched my incessant thinking off and felt the energy between me and this other living thing, the both of us rooted to this baffling world. I can't speak for the tree, of course, but this isn't the point. What I was trying to do that day was put into practice some of the techniques I learned through a year of cognitive behavioural therapy I received during my first year of University; at the time my shrink called it 'mindfulness' and apparently it was all the rage at the time of my therapy. I was given a book called the 'Mindful Way through Depression'. Unfortunately for this particular book, my reading of it coincided with my falling head over heels in love with French philosopher Jean Baudrillard (although I didn't know it at the time, I thought I hated him but that's how it usually goes with love isn't it?) and an increasing awareness of Foucault so I read the first chapter, groaned and chucked it on my dining table, never to be read again.
Psychology buzzwords aside, being mindful of mindfulness is something I reckon we could all do with practising a little (probably a lot) more, in fact I think your existence depends on it! By existence I don't mean I am going to kill you if you don't heed my warning and I am not going anywhere near negotiating the nature of existence and what it is to exist in this post; I get enough of that from my degree and again from my philosophy buddies in the pub. By existence here I mean noticing that you're alive, again whether that means as a simulation, a brain in a jar or a living, breathing animal civilised right into a pair of jeans and a jumper. For example, if when you're washing up your cereal bowl in the morning you are wondering about your impending journey to work, in particular the state of the traffic on the M6, or are fretting about a conversation you had last night where you felt didn't quite say the right thing or didn't sound smart enough (all hypothetical situations, of course) what becomes of the person stood in the kitchen elbow deep in suds? I was discussing this with a friend and asked, 'if I am pondering the future or mithering over the past then where exactly do I exist?' It's a bit creepy to think of myself walking around like a zombie with my mind lodged firmly in different time zones.
It's pretty obvious of me to suggest that we're encouraged by the media and various discourses to better ourselves (buy stuff), to strive (buy stuff), to succeed (buy stuff) and this takes some bloody planning if you're going to try and do it. It's commonly accepted, for example, that to lose weight you need to plan meals to avoid being caught starving in front of a chippy and to lose more weight and up your physical and mental health, exercise is also key. Again, to do this you need to plan times to do it especially if you have a job, a partner, kids, a house to run, a degree to finish all the while living each day to the max and living for the moment. This living for the moment, being more ‘you’than you’ve ever been bullshit falls on its arse when British Gas calls asking why you didn't make your last gas bill payment or when your waistline expands due to not planning your meals properly. Perversely, being free and living in moments defined by consumer capitalism means being a participant in a game where, to feel young, healthy and relevant you need to not only play by the rules but be good - the best - at it too. You can choose not to but then what? I try to answer this everyday and haven't managed to come up with much. Even if you were to run away to live the 'good life' somewhere you'd need somewhere to live and hot water and heating, well I would, perhaps I'm a sissy.
Being born in a big city, bombarded with images and being swept up in its fast pace I have become accustomed to this level of planning, game and role playing but that doesn't mean that I don't get sick of it, depressed by it and indeed scared by it but then again I do want to wear skinny jeans and saunter sexily into my local Ask restaurant for a bowl of pasta and a glass of primitivo. I'm reminded at this point of something Zizek considers when addressing those of us who 'do capitalism’ but 'ironically'. Zizek seems to be suggesting that it doesn't really matter how you do capitalism: ironically or in earnest, you're still doing it...what a bloody tricky idea to consider. I try not to worry too much though because, more often than not, you end up sounding like a self-righteous right-winger who thinks that if you're suspicious of the system and yet enjoy it's 'spoils' you have no right to attack it. What toxic nonsense!
Back to this mindfulness, (ironically, I went off track for a moment, it takes practice), I am actually suggesting something quite simple. I was slicing mushrooms for supper last week and whilst doing it I was thinking about the workout I had planned the next morning and whether, after the workout, I was going to shower first or eat breakfast. It was 8pm on a Thursday night and I was already 'living' at 7.30am Friday morning. I had said 'see ya' to my evening and, subsequently, already lived-out my Friday morning in my head rendering the 'actual' Friday morning a bizarre re-enactment. See what I am getting at here? Think Picasso, he said something along the lines of: if you already know exactly what you're going to do, why do it? I've already covered the impracticalities and seeming impossibilities of complete non-planning but I accept the sentiment entirely. For me, if I excessively plan everything (something I was pre-disposed to doing pre-CBT) I end up feeling like I am acting out my life and never truly living it. Like I wrote the script and am now cast in the starring role, again: creepy. For me, there's something magical about getting lost. The initial reaction is to think 'oh fuck, I'm lost and my important plans will be ruined', I still do this when my plans dissolve, which is often. Last week for example a friend and I got lost walking home from a restaurant, he had just moved into the area and we were busy chatting and somehow got trapped in a maze of terraced houses. At first I wanted to tell him off and let him know just how important is was for me to get home to, er, sit on the sofa but when he looked at me, sighed and said 'I've got no fucking clue where we are' I just laughed, opened one of the beers we had purchased on the way home and continued wandering around chatting for a bit. Getting my stuff ready for work the next day and making sure I got 8hrs sleep could all wait as we walked through unfamiliar streets enjoying a meaningful chat not sullied by putting the washing on, checking emails or getting ahead. In case you were worrying how we got home, in the end we listened out for the sound of zooming cars and followed it to a main road with sign posts.
Back to the mushrooms, I mentioned them as they provide me with a great example of how simple practising this mindfulness can be. Whilst slicing, I caught myself mid-thought and said, aloud 'I really like the way the blade slices through the spongy flesh of the mushroom' and, like that, I was back in the kitchen enjoying my evening. The next morning as I exercised I was already running through the lecture I was going to later that morning but, again, I said 'I like feeling the sweat running down my back as it shows I'm working my arse (and belly and bingo wings) off' and like that I was there, enjoying my workout. Like I said, it takes practice, I think we're hardwired to planning and the next thing on the list and if we can't do it ourselves we can employ someone to do it or download an app to help us. This level of auto-pilotism explains why people wake up one morning asking where the last 10 years went or are spooked to realise another week has passed. It's why people look at their partners one day and realise they don't know them anymore but how can you know someone if you're skimming past them all the time, living under the same roof but in different time zones? Such things inspire me to consider a year out of academia once my degree is finished. I have gotten so much out of it, learned so much and made friends I will treasure but I also live deadline to deadline and I experience a form of suffocation when I think that I could continue to do this without me being 'aware' of it until it's too late. I just need a little time to think about it, please.
