Mindfulness: Feeling & Thinking

by Sylwia Beligotti, Graduate Intern Counselor

How do we voice what we are feeling right now? Is it easy to discern what this jumble of feelings is comprised of? Perhaps there is one or two more prevalent sentiments that we are confident in naming yet hesitate to actually utter out loud? Anger, frustration, disappointment or fear?

What a time to be alive. Many of us could not have imagined this reality yet some not only imagined but prepared. Finally, after relentlessly refreshing the “Check out” page of a local grocery store, I get to place an order with delivery today, sigh of relief.

I have never spent this much time online trying to buy something, tickets to events or sale items, rare collectibles or whatever else the virtual treasure troves has to offer. Having to press that “Refresh” button for at least 3-5-then-10 times at any one time since last night has given me reason to pause and acknowledge this as part of my new reality.

There is undeniable loss accompanying us in this time of Shelter-in-place and distancing precautions. We have lost that freedom of mobility, of connection with others, of being able to walk down grocery store isles just to see what new products have come in or to smell the fruit. The loss is real and so is the sadness that accompanies it, disappointment at unfairness of it all and fatigue, from mining the possibilities of the unknown future or having to stare at the same check out screen for hours at a time to get groceries.

One thing that is also present, is a sudden wonder of the smaller joys in life. “Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity” said David Whyte, Irish poet and philosopher who is known for his rambling around the globe and his home country. As I discover each room in my house as a different universe, scanning it slowly from left to right with my head, I discover such spaciousness in the slow panning through the room I sit in.

As I take my dog for a walk early in the morning, I look up into the crowns of the trees and revel in all the shades of green, the rustle of wind and dance of the leaves. I smile as I pass a flower, any flower, because it too is alive and vibrant. The clouds shift and create whole worlds on a blue canvas and all of a sudden, I feel like a child again, sometimes imagining shapes into the formations, a puppy mid jump, a turtle on its back. Even my small back yard in the afternoon is a wonderful escape from the confines of the walls meant to protect and keep.

As I return to my desk, my new working space, I name the feelings I experience, as Dr. Dan Siegel, renowned author and psychiatrist suggests (name it to tame it). I am disappointed and saddened by the news of more cases of the virus in most every corner of the world. I feel worried about the inevitability of the virus affecting someone I know or me and frightened of what it may mean. I feel deprived of so many things I took for granted, simple conversation with my neighbors or in line at the grocery store. I feel heartbroken for the people who live alone, who are homeless, who lost their jobs in the midst of all this.

I also feel encouraged by the reports of generosity, warmth and care people are showing each other in this time of worry for all. I am inspired and feel optimistic about the universal drive of all of life to stay alive and flourish. I feel humbled by all adjustments and mandated safeguards, reminding me to rejoice in the small discoveries I can make in my room, on a walk or my photo albums.