One at a time
In the ocean he findeth a drop, in a drop he beholdeth the secrets of the sea. - Bahá’u’lláh (Image by Roman Grac)
When faced with an overwhelming mess — I have one in my living room right now, the result of emptying the contents of a pickup truck, including a table saw, onto the floor — it is sometimes reasonable to take drastic measures. Let’s shove it all into a closet or call the junk people to haul it all away.
And when the mess is more of an intangible one — a broken process, a difficult relationship, a cluttered schedule — we likewise might seek ways to metaphorically shove it in a closet or send it to the dump.
But sometimes, the elements are too valuable to discard. We must salvage what we can. In these cases, we have to use a more deliberate process. At the very moment when we most want to rush and just be done with the whole thing, we have to slow down and be present. When we do, we might discover a much more satisfying experience and outcome.
I’ve been experimenting with approaches to mindfulness for decades now. I learned from Eknath Easwaran the value of slowing down and being present with whatever you’re doing, but I am still finding new situations in which to apply these teachings. One day, I decided to learn Marie Kondo’s approach to folding clothes. I experienced a fascinating shift in perspective.
Laundry had always been something I approached hastily and grudgingly — get this basket of clothes put away and move on. But now that I was taking my time, I was thinking about the clothes as individual items, not a “load.” Fold this shirt. Notice the feel of the fabric, the particular shape of the seams.
It had always seemed like I had infinite clothes, since generally managed to do laundry before running out of clean ones. In folding Kondo’s way, however, I was seeing that each item occupied a distinct space in my closet and life and represented a series of choices. I didn’t have to have them all. I realized that not every shirt or pair of socks was worthy of my ministrations. With finite closet space, finite time, and finite attention, it didn’t make sense to keep stuff I didn’t need if it did not, in Kondo’s parlance, “spark joy.” I winnowed my wardrobe to the essential. Ironically, spending more time on each item allowed me to spend less time dealing with clothes in the long run.
Ever since my laundry insight, I’ve continued to spot new opportunities to practice this “one at a time” mindset. Each bite of a meal is a distinct experience. Each email represents a conversation with one or more people, full of decisions to be made and possibilities to uncover. Each challenge that comes up during the workday is a sign of a process or procedure that can be improved upon or communicated more effectively.
As to the mess on the floor, it is actually a collection of items that don’t have a home. A decision can be made for each one, even if that decision is that the item gets tossed. Instead of being frazzled as a result of perfunctory stuff-shifting, I can take one thing at a time, figure out what to do with it, and then move to the next thing. No matter how infinite the mess seems, it’s not.
Sometimes, there’s more work in a day than we can ever get to. And yet, that which we have built through our own choices can be thoughtfully altered or dismantled the same way. One at a time, we can make decisions that allow us to live more mindfully and peacefully. There can be plenty of room and plenty of time; little by little, we can move toward it.
How do you develop mindfulness? Where have you seen the benefits of this mindfulness in your life? Where might you adopt a “one at a time” perspective to help you deal with a challenge? Let us know in the comments!
