Finding my Feet. Keeping my Balance.

There is no doubt that were I asked to design a retreat centre it would have a pool.  Or two, perhaps – one indoor, one outside.  The bigger and deeper the better (for deeper is faster, as I learnt this week).  Even when not in training for an epic fundraising effort, an important component of my mindfulness practice takes place under (or at least in) water.  For me, it is like coming home.  I immediately, with ease rather than effort, come into contact with my breathing and can practice to my heart’s content (usually for at least 40 minutes, without interruption, sometimes considerably longer).  The water supports and also challenges me, providing the ideal forum in which to practice.  I swim just to swim, and I swim myself back into sync.  When I swim, I feel connected – to myself, and to my senses. 

Until someone joins my lane...!  Enter the difficulty we are taught to turn towards.  In the pool, I have little option.  I do not, nor am I likely ever to, have exclusive use.  As I enjoy mid afternoon swim, so do others.  Practice is not, and never has been, reserved to times in which conditions are at their optimal.  I cannot sit around on the poolside, waiting for the other swimmers to leave the pool, though that would be lovely.  I cannot even wait for the lane to clear, though that might be nice.  I must remain focused, and renew my commitment.  I remind myself why I came.  Even a difficult swim is still a good swim (so long as I’m not kicked in the mouth by an overexcited child).  I recently had not one, or two, but three fellow swimmers.  We swam largely at the same pace, to begin with (even though I might report, with some pride, that I was pulling using my arms only for all eighty lengths) and then tiredness began to set in.  We paused, at different times, at the either end of the Pool.  The rhythm got interrupted, and our pace staggered.  Distractions come and go in any practice, the challenge is always to maintain one’s endeavour, renewing one’s intention whenever necessary. 

Using my breath as an anchor is always helpful.  It’s always there.  I can count my strokes between breaths, and concentrate on timing my breathing so that I alternate, turning to my right, and turning to my left when I come up for air, a technique known as bi-lateral breathing.  I return to my posture, and check the alignment of my ankles, knees, and hips, my spine and neck.  Swimming, in this way, is a little like a more conventional practice.  I am tuning into my body, and responding to the messages I detect, to adjust it, if I need to.  

My dry-land practices are progressing too.  In and out of water complement each other, so long as I bring the open mindedness and curiosity with me.  I am getting better at sitting still for periods of time.  Whilst I am seated for much of my working week, sitting to practice is a wholly different exercise.  For one thing, I lack a chair.  Practising several times a day (seven, to be precise: beginning the day with half an hour before breakfast, and finishing it in the same position at 9pm) certainly helps.  Here, I have the opportunity, in abundance.  There are no phones to answer, no emails requiring a response.  There is no TV, radio, or newspaper.  There really is no time like the present.  There is nothing else, either.
 

Walking practice presents different challenges.  Whilst I’m certainly more comfortable standing upright, than I am sat crossed legged, there are more distractions on offer.  The grounds offer a fabulous environment in which to deepen one’s practice, but their beauty can also be quite off-putting.  I have devised a way round this – I take walks (at normal pace) to absorb and appreciate the scenery in-between the practices, in order to come into contact as fully as I can (wearing shoes) with the sensations of walking.  In slowing things down, and directing my attention to the full geography of the soles of my feet, I am forced to come crashing off the bicycle I learned to ride some years ago, and re-learn how to place one foot in front of the other – lifting, shifting and placing.  Retreat-ing is hard work.