We all know that practice makes perfect. There's various figures bandied about on how many times one has to repeat an activity before we get better at it. 100, 1000, 1000000!
But sheer repetition does nothing except dull the senses, enfeeble the mind and waste time.
It is not enough to be 'going through the motions', we need to be actively engaged with them, monitoring our performance and tweaking slightly for improvement with each repetition. Only when we are passionate about moving forward will those repetitions bring us towards perfection.
This is as much true about learning how to ride a bike, or master a piano concerto as it is about being a better parent, or a more environmentally aware individual or... finding the stillness at our centre.
I have spent a few weeks with my calm having gone walkabout without me. (How inconsiderate of it!) I couldn't think that I had changed anything in my life significantly but I felt discombobulated (totally awesome word, add it to your vocab post-haste); disconcerted and off-balance.
I ran through my checklist.
- Was I still taking time out in stressful moments to do some deep breathing? Yes.
- Was I engaging in regular exercise to clear out the cobwebs? Yes.
- Was I doing regular creative activities to refill my happy place? Yes.
- Was I connecting with friends and family? Yes, though this felt draining rather than energising.
- Was I taking the time to express gratitude? Yes.
- Was I making sure to not personally take on responsibility for things I couldn't control? Yes.
Ok, so all my usual triggers were being avoided and my usual calming measures were in place. What was up?
Me. I was the problem. I was just phoning it in. Going through the motions. Getting distinctly half-assed. I had taken my stillness search for granted and was paying the price.
My deep breathing was more the snorting of an angry bull: I wasn't thinking about calming myself down, I was using those 5-10 deep breaths to carefully compose the ultimate acerbic response to the situation.
My exercise periods have been more about yelling at the kids about how we're late for school and less about enjoying my body moving and relishing the segue of the seasons outside.
My creative activities were actually more a memory than a reality and only engaged in sporadically.
I didn't feel I had anything meaningful to talk about with my friends and family and the conversations as a result felt forced.
My gratitude practice had become glib, or self deprecating.
The demarcation between things within my sphere of control had disintegrated into a general avoidance of responsibility, rather than an actual considered choice.
Is this a painful realisation? You bet! I feel guilty for having let it all slip so far. And yet... and yet, it is also freeing, liberating, a joyful discovery! I am as passionate about finding my daily way to stillness as ever, and now I have a way to reclaim it.
Time to be mindful once again about my activities, and remember their purpose. Complacency is the enemy.
My challenge to you: what have you become complacent about? Where could you also be more mindful?