There’s an old story I remember hearing [though I can’t find it online; makes me wonder if it exists ;)] of a young man who decides to seek spiritual enlightenment through a course of solitary meditation. To avoid distractions, he sequesters himself in a cave and meditates religiously for ten hours a day. Although it takes him several years, ultimately he feels he has quieted his mind sufficiently to have found enlightenment. Suffused with a deep inner peace, he returns to the city—where he is promptly assailed by real life. The traffic, the noise, the hustle and bustle are so foreign to him after years of solitude, that he cannot bear the onslaught. Slowly he finds himself becoming increasingly agitated until ultimately he decides to retreat back to his cave, where he can reclaim inner peace.

I’ve always thought of this story as a kind of Buddhist joke. After all, it’s no secret that it’s easy to find peace when nothing is upsetting your apple cart. But, in real life, it doesn’t work that way. And that’s true for all of us regardless of how serious we are about the practice of mindfulness.

Desperately seeking serenity

I’ve found that, because of the stories I share on this blog, people sometimes imagine that I spend my life pretty Zen. FYI, any of my close friends reading this right now are laughing their asses off. Yes, I’m a serious practitioner committed to finding—and remaining in—equilibrium. But I’m also the owner of a busy business, the mother of three children, and a wife—among many other designations (not all flattering). That means that sometimes—perhaps, on rare occasions, when the wind is blowing in just the right direction, and the stars have all simultaneously misaligned—I lose my cool. Spectacularly.

My most favourite recent story? I recently completed a mindfulness training course where I was learning to become a mindfulness facilitator. On my way into class one morning, I found myself locked out of the building. So I coat-tailed a security guard into the building. No big, right? Except the security guard got pretty upset with me. She told me I wasn’t authorized to be in the building. She told me I needed to go stand outside and wait for someone from my program to admit me. She told me I was making her late. So I told her that I’d be delighted to stand in the cold and thanked her profusely for her kindness. It may have been a bit sarcastic. Some might even say bitchy. Did I mention I was on my way into a mindfulness course? And, even so, I couldn’t remain calm enough to see her perspective or to overlook what I perceived was unfair treatment. As if I’m oh-so-special and deserve to flout the rules. Yay me.

It’s just about noticing

It wasn’t my finest moment. But it was an honestly human moment. I guess that’s why they call it a mindfulness “practice”. Ultimately, I’m just practicing to become more balanced. I’m not yet mastering it. I may never. And you know what? That’s okay too. Because I’ve discovered on this quest that I’m not looking for perfection. I’m looking for understanding. I’m trying to gain greater clarity around what upsets me, what angers me, what makes me defensive. I’m trying to notice the way my thought patterns shift when I feel uncomfortable, the way my breathing changes when I feel threatened, the way my body responds when I’m afraid.

As I become aware of all of these cues, I can gain greater distance from them. I can notice that my responses are not as skillful as I’d like and perhaps choose a different response. And I can recover with a speed I once thought impossible.

So, no. I’m not always Zen and I’ll never be perfect. But I am becoming wiser and calmer and kinder. Particularly when I’m sequestered in my cave. And as long as you don’t kick me out of the building.