Day Four: Putting Together Awareness of Movement and Sensations

Over the course of the last three days, we have played with awareness in three fundamental ways: awareness of thoughts, awareness of bodily movements, and awareness of sensory experience. We have explored each of these separately so as to augment our receptivity to the deepening mind states that accompany the enhanced awareness that flows from each.

Today we combine the second and third -- awareness of bodily movements and awareness of sensory experience. This calls for a slowing down of the eating process so that we might more readily absorb the lessons our body will learn -- lessons that pave the road for the spontaneous movement toward mindfulness awareness.

To expand awareness, it is helpful to first recognize how we block out so much of what takes place around us. While you are reading this, are you aware of your heartbeat? Of your breathing? Of your feet touching the ground or curled up in your chair? Are you aware of the suffering taking place across the globe and next door? Are you aware of the awesome speed and paths of the stars and planets moving across the cosmos, including the Earth.

Are you aware of the small speck you represent as a living being somewhere on the Earth, somewhere in the solar system, somewhere in the Milky Way, somewhere in the vast reaches of the cosmos, somewhere -- somewhere.

Are you aware of the loved human being you are for another in this world. Are you aware of the important role you play for a friend, relative, colleague, acquaintance and the significant interactions you will come to have for one who today is a stranger?

In this moment, and the moment of your life, are you aware of these basic aspects of your existence, or are you, for example, aware mainly of the words you are reading on the screen and perhaps the event you have coming up next?

Mindfulness practice recognizes that we tend to put blinders on for much of what is taking place around us (and within us) and that through this biased scanning of our lives, we lose balance and perspective. As a result, the decisions we make, including what to consume, can be made without an appreciation of our genuine needs.

As we expand awareness to include more of what is actually happening, we naturally move in the direction of greater balance. Today, we'll do this by becoming mindful, while we are eating, of the movement of our arms, hands, fingers, and of our jaw, mouth and tongue.

There is no goal to this action. We are simply moving into states of greater awareness. In doing so, we become more alive.

In Practice
A plate of food has been placed before me and I begin to eat. It is almost automatic, how quickly I reach for my fork. The food enters my mouth and I swallow the first morsels practically unaware of what is happening. If I'm not careful, not mindful, the meal with be over -- all of the food and perhaps a second helping to boot -- before I know it.

Armed with this most powerful of tools -- awareness -- I begin to slow it down. My next forkful is emptied back on the plate. I rest the fork on the plate and, for the first time in a while, take note of the movement of my hand -- the lowering of my arm, the gentle release of my fingers, the sound of the fork again the plate. Conscious of this movement toward greater awareness, I relax my body and take a breath -- a nice full breath. Doing so, I feel the expanse of my belly and the spaciousness within.

Slowing down the process, my mouth begins to water and I take note. Wanting the wondrous parts of my body to collaborate, I observe my hand reach for the fork -- shifting almost imperceptibly between awareness and forgetfulness on this short journey from my side to the plate a dozen or so inches away. But, with sustained concentration, I succeed for the most part. I touch the cool metal of the fork and feel its weight as I gather together the food on the fork's three tines. I take a moment to observe the color of the food sitting on the plate and in readiness on the fork. Lifting the fork, I slowly -- very slowly -- bring it toward my mouth. In the "unnatural" slowness of the moment, I become aware of my heart beating. Is it anticipation? I can almost hear the breath flowing out of my nostrils. I feel my lips part as I being the food into my mouth and then hear my teeth as they close around the fork. My hand slowly retreats, depositing the food on my tongue, as I sense my arm (and watch in slow motion) retracing its movement returning the fork to its place on the plate. I feel the food's temperature, and how the same temperature feels different against my lips and tongue.

My mouth salivates, releasing enzymes to help digest the food. Since I can feel the flow of saliva, I appreciate even more the wonders of my body. This is not just the part of me I call myself eating. This is teamwork in action -- a thousand moving parts all working together, more sophisticated than the most intricate of timepieces.

I feel the muscles of my jaw working up and down, as the food is chewed, and then the instinctive clenching of my throat as I swallow it. While I don't feel the food enter my stomach, I know it is on its way.

Taking a slow steady breath, I reach for the fork prepared to continue the journey.