Floss Test

In recent years I have made efforts to take my meditation practice "off the cushion." I realized the real goal of the practice is to be constantly aware, continually present, moment to moment. Otherwise you just sit on the cushion 1-2 times a day and its an oasis of presence at best, a ritual at worst. The practice becomes alive and really starts to benefit you if you are able to apply it during the other 22 hours.

Continual awareness in day-to-day life is a big challenge. For a couple years, I've found pockets of mundane life where robust awareness and precense has made headway: when I drive, before I sleep, while I prepare food, while I walk around, while I sit and wait, etc. But these are just small punctures into the vast thick canvas of consciousness that covers life.

One test of awareness and mindfulness I've been playing with is the Floss Test. Every morning, I floss my teeth. Usually, I wake up and brush or floss and its so mechanical I forget that I've even done it 30 min later. I stood in front of the mirror and picked at my teeth for several minutes, but I don't even have the prescense of mind to remember what I did or sometimes that I was even there.

So I've made a habit of trying to be fully aware while flossing my teeth. More times than I'd like to admit, I start flossing with mindfulness, but by the time I'm at the end of the line my mind has wandered and I wasn't there for the experience of cleaning the last few teeth or throwing away my floss. It's crazy how many times I've promised myself I will end that two minutes with the same presence as when I started, for the sake of this game, but was still not able to maintain. But over time it's slowly gotten better.

This bootstrapped approach seems inelegant. Once I'm able to master flossing, I'll move on to showering, then eating, then exercising? Seems quite brittle.

Is there a better way than "fake it till you make it?"

Winning Is A Drug

Our U-12 team recently competed in a league, hosted by Kahaani. They played about six matches, one every Sunday morning, over two months. Heading into their last match, they had lost 3 matches and drew in two. In the final match, they got their first win.

The children played brilliantly. They passed, they ran hard, they stayed in position, and they played together. Though they dominated the entire game, they were down 1-0 at half. They scored two hustle-style goals in the second. After they took the lead, they frantically protected for the next five minutes. The stakes were very high. When the final whistle blew, they were over the moon. Flying around whooping and hugging. It was difficult to calm them down enough to shake hands with the other team.

Afterwards Manishaben hosted a very cute ceremony for all the league teams with parents and coaches all around, and medals were handed out. I forgot how exciting it is to receive a medal. The children continued to occupy cloud nine.

On the car ride home, the mood was night and day different than after the other matches. They were chatting non-stop with each other, singing songs, yelling, asking for the radio to get turned up, planning how to tell Rahulbhai the big news ("Neilsir, Neilsir! Don't tell Rahulsir we won, we want to surprise him!"). The spirit was highly elevated. All because they knocked a ball into a net one time more than another group of kids over a forty minute span. When we got back to MS, they flew out of the van straight over to Rahulbhai and the other kids to bask in the glory. The medals were shown off proudly and placed around each others' necks. It was tremendous joy.

Winning is a drug. It totally changes your mood and outlook on life. Everything in your lens is tinted with a special shine. This experience made me think about why I was never attracted to drugs or alcohol growing up. They never appealed to me, seemed irrelevant to my life and lifestyle.

It was because I was already getting high all the time on the football pitch.