Many of us have companions in our life - friends, spouses, partners, co-workers, pets - those with whom we share time and experiences. Sometimes we do things together like share a meal, go to movie, or be each other’s +1 to a party. Sometimes they are beside us through the highs and lows of life - doctor’s visits, weddings, break-ups, first tattoos, funerals. We spend a lot of time with companions, in a variety of ways, however it is that we choose to share time with another. At the present moment, my dog Beefy is my companion. Not only does he take his companionship to a height beyond human friendship, he also acts as a beautiful reminder of just how I can and should be a companion to myself.
My loyal friend wakes from a restful post-breakfast snooze (or mid-day, night, or anytmine-nap) to do the most mundane things with me. If I get up from my desk to go to the bathroom, he’s with me. If I move from the kitchen table to the couch, he’s with me. If I’m vacuuming the floor in any room, he’s with me (albeit at a safe distance where he can lay down and observe my progress). The minute my foot hits the ground in the morning, he’s up, at attention ready to do whatever’s on the docket. All of this usually begins with him following me step by step. When I stop, he stops. There, he stands by my side, exchanges a glance with me both anticipating the next move and recognizing that we’re in this together. If he assesses that I won’t be moving for at least 30 seconds, he plops down, spreads his front legs, and lies as flat as can be, waiting. I cannot express just how much tenderness I feel for him in these moments. Also, he doesn’t discriminate between tasks. Whether it’s important or meaningless, destination bound or pacing, he cares not. He’s wholly uninterested in calculating whether or not following me here or there is worth his time or effort. No questions asked, if I’m going, he’s with me. He even watches from the window as I leave the apartment, squeezing out just a few more moments of ‘withness’ before I vanish from sight. The feeling of togetherness and connection in these mundane moments of my life feel so powerful and nourishing, I can’t believe I’ve lived without them for so long or him. But, absent a pet like Beefy, how can we expect to have this level of ‘withness’ with anyone or for any extended period of time? How can we find this sense of nourishment and connection?
Well, as a Mindfulness teacher, I’m here to sell you on the idea that we can give it to ourselves. You don’t need an intensely loyal dog to do it, although having one is a great reminder (and a real joy). This feeling of ‘being with’ or ‘withness’ is one of the many benefits that arise from a consistent Mindfulness practice. Maybe even the main benefit. It offers a way to cultivate that feeling so that it’s accessible at all times or even infused into everything you do. Further, many teachers claim this lack of ‘being with’ ourselves is the root of much of our suffering - this feeling of separation; separation from ourselves, others, and from the world at large. ‘Being with’ may even be what we really mean when we say the word ‘love’, in the spiritual sense… but that sounds like too large a topic for this blog. Or any blog really…
In basic meditation, people are taught to notice their breath, notice their body breathing (because the body does it on it’s own). Often times the focus in these beginning classes is on how to direct one’s attention to the breath, especially when our minds are so active and distracted. We learn to bring it back, over and over and over again. This is a major part of the practice. Cultivating focus and concentration. But once we get used to it a bit and find our minds settling more, then one of the things we begin to notice is our orientation to our breath. To that and everything else we find in there - thoughts, feelings, moods, etc…
As we sit, do we note our breath and these other things, like a scientist, observing and analyzing data? Are we fixated on them, like helicopter parents eyeing their child, anticipating disaster? Do we cling, terrified the winds of distraction might blow our attention away? Does the uncertainty around the practice bring up anxiety? All of these examples are orientations every practitioner has experienced at some point. And no matter how many years you’ve been doing it, they return again and again. So how and what type of relationship to the breath and our inner life should we cultivate? That’s the real question.
Ultimately it’s up to you. And you may want to take your time in deciding, noticing the parallels between the feelings and attitudes you find in your practice to the feelings and attitudes you find in your life. Further, notice how each orientation affects your body and mind. From my perspective, and I think a lot of teachers and long-time practitioners of mindfulness might agree, finding the most engaged and compassionate relationship with yourself will likely light you up the most and feel the best. Be with your breath, your thoughts, your mind, your body in whatever way you find them. Be with it in the way you’d like a companion to be with you in your most vulnerable moments.
From my experience of being, and I’ve tried a few in my 45 years alive, I tend feel the best when I sense there’s enough space in any given relationship for me to fully be who I am and for that person or other to witness, empathize, and be present for whatever’s happening. No matter what it is. I want someone to be with me while I’m being myself. Good and bad. I want to be seen, yes, but also accepted and supported and loved. No fear of abandonment or judgment. And no need for advice, solutions, teaching, preaching, pity or encouragement.
Remember the STYX album in the 80’s - ‘Kilroy was here’. I remember being so confused by that. But at my age now, after years of searching, I think I get it. There’s a deep, universal need for our presence to be validated - I was alive in this moment; I was present. Or, at least I have that need and I’m glad these practices have allowed me to know it. And I’m also glad that I’ve found in the practice of mindfulness a way to cultivate it for myself. Not only that, but because I’ve found it for myself I tend to give it to others. And because I give it, they give it back. And the ‘being with’ just grows and grows like a crowd at an arena waiting in anticipation for the band to get on the stage and begin the show only to realize that they are the band as well as the audience. And the music that will be played is the rhythm of our shared heartbeats and breaths, the melody our thoughts and feelings, the words our stories, each one of us recognizing it silently in one another as the moments tick on. And if we didn’t understand it when we bought the tickets to this show or when we sat down, we get it now, not just in our minds, but deep down in our bones.
Speaking of bones, Beefy likes bones. Why? I don’t know really. You can probably find that info on a different blog. But Beefy knows about ‘being with’ and he teaches it to me with every pitter patter of his four paws on the pavement, following me like percussion reminding me that this is this is the music of our friendship. And that friendship we have is something I need. We both need. Everyone and maybe every thing needs. That this, after all, just what ‘being with’ is and has to offer - giving us not what we want, but what we need, moment to moment.
