Savoring Every Single Moment

I watch Lennon bopping from toy to toy in his three year old eagerness. Like a small sponge he soaks up language and mathematics, science and all the world around him and that is beautiful. He is programmed to learn. I am pleased and proud, but I have things to teach him that are more than this.

Someone once bragged to me that she could do ten things at once. I have worked very diligently to learn how not to do ten things at once. I try to do one thing at once. That is the gift I want to give Lennon.

Thich Nhat Hanh calls it mindfulness. Others might call it focusing, but it is more than reciting a mantra over and over. It is an awareness, a way of loving the moment enough to be immersed in it.

It is more than meditation and yet it is the meditation of life, of living well. It means that when I am with you. I am with you. I am not planning dinner, or thinking of the next paragraph in my story, or trying to second guess what you will say next. I am not trying to impress you. I am listening to you. I am responding to your words and feelings and actions. I am me being with you.

Attention deficit disorder is exacerbated by this idea that we chop ourselves up into little pieces and scatter those pieces around the room. If I am listening to the story and someone starts to scratch and I turn my attention to the scratcher, I miss the story. In rare cases it is good to be aware of other things so that I know if the house is on fire, or the dog is barking because there is a burglar in the yard, but most of the time it is better to just be aware of what I am doing. I have seen children listening to a story and someone interrupts to ask them what they want for dinner, or turns on a television set, or begins talking very loudly to someone else in the room. How do they learn to listen?

I drive the car and that is what I am doing. I am watching and looking and paying attention. I try not to already be where I am going, walking down the aisles of the store looking for groceries until I get there, or having tea with Aunt Jane before I arrive. How much more enjoyable it is to have tea when we are really together, holding our cups, feeling the warmth of the tea, tasting it in reality. And while I am driving, Lennon has the opportunity to be present in his moment. He will ask questions and I will answer, but I draw his attention to the fact that I am driving. We are riding together in a car and have the opportunity to smell the air coming in through the windows, to see the stop lights and the traffic that is coming and going. We can feel the road under us bumping differently here and there as we pass over different types of roadways.

I play with him in the afternoons and I pay attention to what he says, to how he relates to his Lego's or plays ball. I do not talk about tomorrow when I throw the ball. I say, "Here comes the ball. Keep your eye on it." And if he hits it, "I shout hurray! You hit the ball." I try not to distract him by saying, "Oh, here comes the school bus, let's go look." in the middle of a pitch. If I want him to notice the bus, I might wait until he hits the ball, or misses it and say, "I hear something. What do you hear?"

We stop and listen in the moment, experience that moment until it is over.

I want to teach him that life is worth savoring every single moment.