To be mindful is to be aware. “I am aware that I feel melancholic.” This approach subtly yet profoundly differs from “I am melancholic.” “I am aware” provides a space that does not exist with “I am.” I am not connected to my inner observer, my inner witness, my Self when I fully attach to and react to what I’m experiencing. Mindfulness is the practice of creating space to observe, of strengthening the connection to the one who knows, of interrupting old neural pathways and creating distance from fleeting, mind-identified experiences.

I like to imagine a tree, a really strong tree - an oak tree - deeply rooted into the earth. The leaves on an oak tree change colors, die, fall to the ground; heavy winds and storms break off countless sticks and an occasional branch; its acorns drop and perhaps burrow into the ground and sprout new life; animals cling to the trunk, scurry across the limbs; sometimes parts of the tree may be mildly diseased; The happenings to and around an oak tree are really innumerable, especially given its centennials-long existence. But remember the roots. The roots hold the tree in place, allowing the tree to stand strong and just watch everything that’s happening. There is no instinctive reaction, no defenses, no thought or judgment about everything going on; there’s just observation, just a sense of being.

I will suffer more if I resist or dwell on whatever it is that I may perceive as a source of suffering. I will lose connection with my roots, with my essence, if I give of all my attention to the activity in my mind/body/environment. Instead, I can become aware of that activity while maintaining a connection to the part of me that is able to be aware. The part that is constant, despite the ever-moving thoughts, feelings, and sensations. The part that watches it all but stays rooted, allowing for the stillness and spaciousness required for wisdom to emerge. Only then can I know the best way forward.

“And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.” -Kahlil Gibran