venerdì 27 aprile 2012
About one of the many things my daughter has taught me
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh
Today, I took a mindful walk with my family. That is, though we were actually going to a park a few miles away from our apartment, we decided to take it easy and follow our daughter's pace. She is 3 and a half years old. She has no clear sense of time, or rather, she's still wonderfully tuned to her inner rhythms rather than to the hectic standards of our grown-up world. She's eyes and hands and nose and ears; she's perceptive, voracious of feelings, curious. In a word: mindful. She lives in the present moment, savours it hungrily and fully. She can naturally do what grown-ups (including me) try to learn in meditation classes, or by reading books on meditation: that is, to just focus on each second, feed your mind through the blend of perceptions the world around you can offer and that are often left unnoticed in our daily rush and through our tendency to think about what we are going to do next.
So, we took a wonderful mindful walk. We were nowhere else than where our feet were stepping, our hands touching. The earth and the trees had a gorgeous smell. The sky was breathtakingly beautiful. Buds on trees and flowers everywhere were delicious to see. The sun through the tree leaves in the forest drew delicate patterns on the damp soil. We were so calm that butterflies were not afraid of us, a few of them just kept leisurely flying close to us.
We discovered countless amazing small things, touched them, looked at them.
(To those who took the time to watch all the photos: THANKS!)