Dealing with Distractions

This morning was a test in mindfulness. You know how it is... when you have plans and expectations and they get derailed. That can be so irritating! It started when I didn't want to get out of bed this morning. Really, I didn't. But my teenage son's alarm went off early to remind him to get up and shower before school. Four times that darn alarm screamed "Beep! Beep! Beep!" all the way from his room to mine. Needless to say, the shower thing didn't happen. And by the time my alarm went off, things were not pretty. I was cranky.

Some days this just feels too early!

So our morning routine looks like this pretty much every day. Usually all I ask is that he keep his bedroom door closed so that I can sleep through his alarm. Although to be fair, I can still hear his alarm through the closed door, but it's not so jolting that it irritates me like it did this morning.

Fast forward one hour. My son has left to catch the school bus, and he's off to a productive day at school. I hope. The house is peacefully quiet as my two college-student sons and husband still slumber quietly. Oh what gloriousness this quiet time is. I have just fired up the computer. My expectations are high for a half hour or 45 minutes uninterrupted by distractions. I can work on a project I've been intending to do for the last few months. I'll just get started before the bustle of the day begins. I have put this off, over and over, and I've actually planned my schedule so that I could get this project started today. I hate procrastination (but that doesn't mean I'm not a procrastinator. After all, its been months).

Often I just need to pause and prioritize

Guess. Go ahead, just guess what happens next. Yep, in walks my son who has missed the school bus. "Mom, can you take me to school?" There goes my long-awaited half-hour. Now, you might think that I might be crying inside, especially since my expectations had been repeatedly disappointed over the course of the morning (really, its been one thing and another, I've simplified my morning for the sake of your nerves). But this thing occurred that has kept me on the "good mother" path. During the few minutes of silence between the time when he walked out the door and walked back in, I had taken a few minutes to cultivate mindfulness. You might envision me sitting stiffly on my well-worn zafu. In a lotus position, mind you. But nope, instead I stealthily crawled back into bed where my husband has kept the bed warm (it's darn cold outside, who wants to sit in a cold room?). Sometimes this is where my active mindfulness practice occurs (to be frank, sometimes I fall back asleep). But is this what mindfulness looks like? Climbing back into bed? Maybe not in an Indian Ashram, but in my world, it works.

So I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, creating my intention for the day and doing a little trick that I personally call "mind-melt". Its actually super cool to do. I  do this by allowing my brain to relax completely. For me this feels like melting. The physical sensation mimics the psychological phenomenon. As the tension flows out of my cranium, the thoughts in my mind simply disappear and I find myself in this space of absolute inner quiet. Its fleeting, I'll admit, but I continue to do this exercise over and over again. Some days it happens easily, some days it takes effort. It actually want to keep at it, because the sensation is interesting and the result is phenomenal. (Yes, I said phenomenal). "How?", you ask, dear reader, "How is the result phenomenal?" Well, the way I see it is that just 10 minutes of this exercise usually gets me through the day, even a rough day, without screaming or pulling my hair out even if I feel frustrated or irritated, or downright pissed off (and I think in generally, I have a fair amount to scream and pull hair out about). It's sort of like drinking a 12-hour magical potion of tolerance.

So, back to my story. I am finally working on the project I have been planning and I'm in the groove. Ah, the beauty of flow. But life steps in and my attention is pulled in different directions again. "Pay attention to me", calls one interruption. "And me, I need your attention too", says another.

Do we need to escape or embrace?

Fortunately, I am prepared today and any irritation, which might otherwise evoke a sharp "I'm freakin' busy, can't you see that?!", rolls like water off a duck's back. Today, I say to the world "Bring it on, I'm ready".