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We were encouraged to be curious and to bring a respectful kindness to our observation of any thoughts or feelings that arose in the mindfulness exercises; to relax and pass no judgement or criticism on them.
One of the exercises was to place one hand over the other initially and to observe how it felt. Having explored that hand position, the exercise moved on to clasping the hands together.
The thoughts that arose in these hand exercises seemed deep and weightier than the simple actions. I noticed that the captive hand felt more aware of sensations arising than the free hand, and this led to a thought around the subject of oppression, and the powerful emotional attachment to the word 'captive'. Using one of the techniques suggested, having observed the thought, I treated it as I might treat a unique, precious vase - putting it down gently, knowing it would be there if I needed to return to it at a later date to examine it more closely. The exercise moved on to clasping the fingers together and again observing the different sensations. I noticed it was difficult to tell the hands apart, to identify which hand was feeling which sensation. "Do you struggle with discernment?" the question appeared in my thoughts as though from some external source. With gentle respect I declined to answer and brought my mind back to the chosen object of attention, my hands.
I particularly enjoyed another mindfulness exercise. With eyes closed, we held out a hand palm up and received a stone. Mindfully, we explored the stone, at first simply observing how it felt - the cold weight of it in the palm of the hand - then moving on to explore with touch, feeling the contours, texture, etc so that we would be able to identify the stone again later.
I noticed how my mind went immediately to a poem I wrote many years ago, called Metamorphic Rock:
I am a stone
so round and smooth
that no moss clings;
no snags to catch
unwary hands
that touch my cold reality.
These gentle contours have been formed
through years of chipping constantly
the roughness of my edgy youth.
Though sunlight warms me,
nights are cold and featureless
and lonely.
Come hold me in caressive hands,
feel the weight of sadness
in my vast indifference.
Please touch me, reach me
if you can.
From this exercise I received an insight into the difference between simply offering the stone the warmth and support of the palm of my hand, and the probing curiosity of my fingers as I sought to become better acquainted with its contours. "How would it be to offer people that simple warmth and support without subjecting them to the probing curiosity of my questions?" Another opportunity to gently lay aside the thought as a unique and precious artefact to which I may return some time, and practice the discipline of bringing my attention back to the object of attention, the stone in my hand.
The exercise moved on to the next phase - with closed eyes, we held our stone in our left hand and dropped it into the open palm of the person to the left, receiving a new stone from the person to the right. I liked this exercise. I liked the anticipation of waiting for the new stone; the warmth and contact of my neighbours' hands to my right and left; the curiosity to feel and explore the new stone. Later I received an insight about this - how sometimes in relationships, a remark might come my way and I might encounter that remark as wounding. How would it be to receive it in the same spirit as I was able to receive each new stone - with openness, curiosity and trust, with no resistance - to observe how I felt about it, and then to let it go, rather than taking it in and hurting myself on any jagged edges? To trust that life has prepared me with the readiness to receive whatever may come my way, to be willing not to hold onto anything so tightly that I give it the power to cut me?
