Tag: presence

Slowing Down

carissaricci

I used to get so much satisfaction from checking a million things off my to-do list in a day. The longer the list, the better the feeling. That feeling was usually accompanied by a dizzying fatigue, but it was worth it…right?

 It used to be. But not anymore.

Over the last few months, I’ve allowed myself time to slow down and for me to be in my life which is no easy task for someone who used to assign a good portion of her value to what she could produce.

In today’s world, I feel like we’ve lost the ability to be fully present in much of anything anymore. We’re constantly half in and half out of whatever task we’re doing because we’re thinking about what’s next and trying to get there as quickly as possible. Or trying to stay up on the latest of everything. And we’re multitasking…all the time. (Am I the only one who has caught herself scrolling Instagram, while intermittently having a text conversation with a friend, writing a grocery list, and also trying to watch something on Netflix at the same time?)

As I’ve been slowing down, I’ve been feeling more out of place in the world around me. But am also feeling more at peace. I’m not sure what that means about how I’m going to find my way in the world from here on out, but—as with most things these days—I’m just taking it one step at a time.

Beauty is so quietly woven throughout ordinary days that we barely notice it.

Morgan Harper Nichols

As I’ve been adjusting to a slower pace of life, it reminds me of the photography classes I took in college (which was a very different experience to what that looks like today). My time in those classes was spent learning old-school-style black and white 35mm film photography1—a method that forces you to slow down, pay attention, and be present.

The process started with finding something I wanted to capture, framing the shot, and then setting the aperture and shutter speed to get the desired effect…and there was no telling whether it was a success until I saw the result in the darkroom. No adjusting in the moment. No taking 10 slightly different shots and easily tossing out the ones that “didn’t work”. I would make educated guesses, take the shots, and hope for the best.

The uncertainty didn’t end there. Once I finished shooting a roll of film, I had to develop it (which was an anxiety-producing process in itself). I had to get the film out of the camera and threaded around a metal spool, all in complete darkness. All by touch. And if it wasn’t threaded properly and any part of the film strip was touching another portion, those pictures were ruined before they ever had the chance to hit photo paper.

The professor made us practice with old negatives first. I wound and unwound countless rolls until I felt fairly confident I could do it with the one I took. I can vividly remember sitting in that tiny little closet the first time, thinking about how much effort I spent shooting that roll of film. I had all my supplies laid out in front of me and knew that once I turned the light off and opened the back of my camera to get the film out, I couldn’t turn the light back on until it was successfully wound around the spool and safely in the light-safe container that would protect it.

Once I flipped the switch, every second felt like an eternity. After I wound the roll the first time, I wasn’t completely sure I had done it right, so I unwound it all gently and started over. Still not 100% sure I did it right, I decided that it was as good as I was going to get for my first one and popped the spool in the container, tightening the lid before switching the light on.

I ran through the process of adding the right chemicals at the right temperature…agitating the container…rinsing…adding different chemicals…agitating…rinsing. Then, the big reveal. Removing the negatives from the container and unwinding them from the spool, hoping against hope that I wound things properly. I did (thankfully), and they were now ready for drying.

I came back a couple of days later to take my negatives into the darkroom and try my hand at developing prints. When I first walked in, I thought “How do people spend so much time in here?” But within minutes, I was completely hooked. If you know me, you know that I took music everywhere with me, and the darkroom was no exception.2 I’d pop my earbuds in and get lost in the music and the creative process…watching as the pictures I shot finally took shape on photo paper. Developing them, deciding what needed to be tweaked, and repeating the process until I was satisfied with each print.

Enjoying the beauty of Sedona
(Side note: I didn’t hit the darkroom for this one…)

When I think about the difference between that process and how we take pictures today, I know some people might say “Why would we ever go back?” But there was something in it that I don’t get from taking pictures anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love photography. Always have and always will—in all its forms. It’s my favorite of all the art classes I took. But the “darkroom way” will always hold a special place in my heart. The tactile experience of handling all the pieces and seeing it come together with a little bit of luck and a little bit of magic—it was almost meditative. Some people say you can taste love in the food that they cook. I like to think the same thing about the pictures I take, and when I ran through that process, it provided so many opportunities for me to add a bit of myself along the way.

When I travel, I find myself gravitating back toward my love of photography. Not just for the sake of taking pictures, but to try and fully capture a moment. The spirit of it. The essence. The light. What I was feeling. For me, that’s the real beauty of art—to look at something and experience how it makes me feel. To be transported to another time and place. Even if just for a few seconds. And even better if you can make someone else feel something, too.

Those seemingly small and fleeting moments can be some of the most impactful we’ll ever experience.

“Slow down and listen to the way your heart beats; a subtle act of resilience right here in the wild of things.”

Morgan Harper Nichols

Lists will always be there. But there are so many other things in this world that won’t. Let’s keep those to dos in their place and not forget to embrace what’s happening in our lives now. I don’t want to look back and wish I had been paying closer attention to the things that really mattered. The beauty in the world that would otherwise pass me by, unnoticed.

Let’s encourage ourselves and each other to be fully in the moment. In our conversations. On our travels. In our experiences. Eating our meals. On our walks.

Instead of grabbing our phones and snapping a million pics to post on the ‘gram, let’s opt for the darkroom way of living—approaching each moment with our undivided attention, adding a little love along the way, appreciating each part of the process, witnessing things unfold, taking the time to breathe in between the steps, and watching as the picture gradually comes into focus on the paper. You might be amazed at what you find once it comes fully into view. The unexpected surprises are sometimes the best gifts you’ve ever been given, so let’s slow down and make space for them. Let’s allow ourselves to feel, to be transported, to be inspired, to be moved.

And to live. Fully present.

1 If you’ve never heard of 35mm film photography, here’s your tutorial.

2 If you need a start to a darkroom playlist of your own, here are some artists to try (in no particular order and inspired by what I used to listen to when I would develop prints): Alicia Keys, Coldplay, P!nk, Lauryn Hill, U2, Fleetwood Mac, Justin Timberlake, Dave Matthews Band, Nickel Creek, Prince, Allman Brothers Band, Foo Fighters, Beck, The Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, No Doubt, Usher, Elton John, Alanis Morissette, Goo Goo Dolls, Gin Blossoms, Hole, Melissa Etheridge, Radiohead.

Bonus points if you can guess when I took these classes based on some of my playlist artists.

Presence Over Perfection

carissaricci

Meditation. It’s meant to be relaxing, right? But for YEARS, I would approach my meditation practice kicking and screaming. Even lasting 3 minutes* was torture—my mind churning through my to-do lists, all the things I’d rather be doing, and whether or not I turned the stove off. And that was just in the first 5 seconds. That still left 175 seconds for internal dialogue like, “Why can’t I just clear my mind for 3 minutes? I’m never going to be good meditator if I keep this up. Maybe if I hiked more, clearing my mind would come easier. I need to pick up some trail mix this week. My big toe hurts. I wonder if I tweaked it when I worked out this week. Should I stretch more next time? How do you stretch your toes? When is my yoga class this week? What day is it, again?” The chatter in my head rivals that of Lorelai Gilmore. The only thing missing from mine is a similar triumphant ending of “…monkey, monkey, underpants”.

Over the years, I’ve heard the term “progress over perfection” bandied about in different circles. That still doesn’t feel exactly right to me, though. Presence over perfection seems like a better approach.

I decided I had to start small. Smaller than 3 minutes a day, you ask? Yep. I started with 3 intentional rounds of breath a day. 4 counts in, hold for 4, out for 4 and hold for 4 at the bottom of the breath. It’s called box breathing, and that’s how I started to build a daily habit. It’s all I could commit to at first without feeling overwhelmed. And it’s something I knew I could do. Every day. For a recovering perfectionist like myself, I had to set an achievable consistent first step so that I wouldn’t shame myself into quitting altogether. Even though it’s called a meditation practice, I still found myself slipping into “but it has to be perfect” thinking. Ironically, this is something that meditation can help you overcome, but to get there, you have to first be okay with imperfection in your practice. So, you can see the problem. Hello, vicious cycle.

Over the years, I’ve heard the term “progress over perfection” bandied about in different circles. That still doesn’t feel exactly right to me, though. Presence over perfection seems like a better approach. Even if you don’t make what you deem “progress” over a week, the very fact that you intentionally chose to be present is a win. Give yourself props and keep going. There is no “one-size-fits-all” approach and trying to adopt a meditation style that doesn’t fit isn’t going to work. It’s going to feel like when we all went from wearing sweatpants every day during the pandemic lockdown to putting on jeans for the first time after months of luxuriously stretchy trousers. I don’t know about you, but those first steps back to denim were a solid “nope” for me.

There are visualizations, binaural beats or music that can help, breathing patterns, and the full-on “sit in silence” method. Play around and experiment! Try different combinations. But the most important thing—and I can’t emphasize this enough—is to start small and practice non-judgment. As a heads up (if you didn’t already know) that is much harder than it sounds. But it’s worth the work. When I judge myself for not doing enough or being enough or “doing it right”, it automatically shuts me down and prevents me from continuing to build the habit I was striving for, and I decided I didn’t want to keep getting in my own way.

The road to self compassion is an ongoing and challenging one. We can be so scathingly self-critical. Someone once said, “If you talked to your friends the way you talked to yourself, I’m guessing you wouldn’t have many friends.” And she was right. Now, when I catch myself being a bully to myself, I pause and recognize that I deserve better than that. I ask myself: if my friend came to me with this situation or problem, how would I respond to them? Often, it makes me realize just how much I expect from myself and how ridiculously unrealistic it is. Let yourself be human and fallible…and pick it back up again tomorrow.

Sometimes, nothing comes in the quiet. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can’t calm our minds. But sometimes, profound revelations can happen when we make the space for them. That’s where the magic is.

As Elizabeth Gilbert learned from her friend, it’s okay to let go:

“At some point, as Richard keeps telling me, you gotta let go and sit still and allow contentment to come to you. Letting go, of course, is a scary enterprise for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we were to drop this handle for even a moment, well—that would be the end of the universe. But try dropping it…sit quietly for now and cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens. The birds do not crash dead out of the sky in mid-flight after all. The trees do not wither and die, the rivers do not run red with blood. Life continues to go on…Why are you so sure that your micromanagement of every moment in this whole world is so essential? Why don’t you let it be?”1

Sometimes, nothing comes in the quiet. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can’t calm our minds. But sometimes, profound revelations can happen when we make the space for them. That’s where the magic is. We just have to be brave enough to sit with all the things that may bubble up to the surface when we clear out the noise. Make friends with them. Even the ones that might be hard to befriend. They are all parts of us and deserve to be seen, heard, and acknowledged. May we find peace in the allowance of their presence and in our evolving relationship with them. 

And as you continue experimenting with your practice, you might want to try ending each of your meditation sessions with your version of, “…monkey, monkey, underpants”. Because life is too short to take ourselves so seriously and no one said meditation couldn’t also be fun. 

It’s time to make our own rules. Throw out the jeans (who needs ‘em?), break out the yoga pants (hello, non-constricting fabric), remember to breathe (box style, perhaps?), and give yourself permission to try again tomorrow if things don’t go the way you’d hoped today. You’ve got this.

* I’ve managed to work my way up to a consistent practice of 30 minutes a day. I’m not saying this to say, “Look how great I am!” I wanted to share this because I NEVER thought I’d ever be able to do it. But I found something that worked for me and that was the key. So, go on fellow experimenter! Find what works for you and don’t be afraid to try something new.

1Excerpt from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.