more disciplined spiritual practice

Following up, Amy had asked of my practice, and I didn't really answer. What I got out of Richard Bach's Illusions, way back in the day, was that spiritual practice might best be a private thing, so I've tried to take a "live and let live" attitude since then -- only really falling out of it when evangelicals try to save me. I hadn't really reflected on my "practice" much; I just *did* things in life. Could I call it a "spiritual practice" if it's so much a part of my life that I don't even really think of it? Maybe not, since a big component of what I believe is "mindfulness".

So here goes a list of things that I'm automatically mindful of, but not mindful of being automatically mindful of: I breathe when paddling; when sitting up straight; when bike commuting; when stretching; when walking Seymour; when picking up his poop; when sitting in the sun; when watching the lake; when recognizing friends across the street or room; when hearing their voices; when being yelled at; when alone in a room of strangers; when blogging or painting or drawing or reflecting or thinking; when understanding how two or more things or people fit together; when ice cream melts on my tongue; when Seymour falls asleep, dreams of rabbits, and kicks me. There are a thousand more mindful moments in my life.

When I'm not mindful, and there are plenty of those times, I get tense, worried, upset, tight-jawed; or bored, melancholic, forgetful. Actually, "forgetful" sometimes fits in the "mindful" column too, but maybe better fits a third state -- flow. When I'm in "flow" I'm both mindful and not. I'm mindful at a level above procedures. It's the "Schema" stage of expertise. It's a beautiful place to be where the mechanical actions of my body cease to require conscious cognitive energies. I like being there.