Be here. Now.

My personal exploration of Buddhism, which kicked off the previous posts, was initiated with a desire for peace and tranquility of mindfullness, being here now. There are so many ways in which this practice, being mindful, improves our personal well-being, our interactions, our communities, and the larger health of our ecosystem, it is hard to begin. So, I will begin with someone else's words. Manitonquat of the Pokonoket Wampanoag (indigenous to southeastern Massachusetts) tells this story in The Children of the Morning Light:

Long ago, there was a time when Grandfather Sun only showed up for a few minutes each day. It began gradually, and so went unnoticed at first. A few minutes less each day, until the people began to get worried. There was not enough time to plant, to hunt, to gather fire wood. The people were bored and restless, sitting by fires in the dark and cold all the time. They asked their divine helper, Maushop, to speak with Grandfather Sun on their behalf.

Maushop made himself a giant, went into the ocean to the east, and waited. The first three times he tried to speak with Grandfather Sun, he could not get in all the words before the sun had set in the west and was gone again. So, he wove a giant fishing net of seaweed and waited again. This time he caught Grandfather Sun, who was surprised. He agreed to listen so that he could get out of the net.

When Maushop explained about the people's concerns, Grandfather Sun was surprised again. He said he had thought the people here did not notice him or care if he came since they had never greeted him, and never said good-bye. The people on the other side of the world had paid more attention to him, so he was spending all of his time with them, as traveling through the silence and being ignored made for lonely work.

Maushop returned to the people and shared Grandfather Sun's words. The people were ashamed. They had not thought the sun had feelings, and asked if they could make it right. Maushop returned and told the sun how the people had felt and that they promised to greet him every morning, smile and wave to him every day, and bid him good-bye every evening. Grandfather Sun felt better about this, and now lingers with us as much as with those on the other side of the world. And the people teach their children to keep the promise.

As I tell this story to my children, I realize that it is in many ways literally true. If we do not notice the sun, the beautiful day we have right now, it is as if it never happened. Many other traditions also teach us to take time and reflect. Judaism, Christianity and Islam, for example, all have weekly days of rest and reflection. However, these are days to reflect on our actions and thoughts of the past, on the meaning of our traditions' teachings. How often are we invited to reflect on the here and now? No judgement, just taking a minute to get to know this moment and place. Thich Nhat Hanh, in You Are Here, also shares with us a daily practice to welcome the day and focus on the here and now:

I begin my day by making an offering of incense while following my breath. I think to myself that this day is a day to live fully, and I make the vow to live each moment of it in a way that is beautiful, solid and free. This only takes me three or four minutes, but it gives me a great deal of pleasure.

What a beautiful practice: acknowledging each morning as a gift from the universe to us. When that day is hard, frustrating or unpleasant, our starting point lowers the stress we experience. My practice is to take a cup of tea out into the postage-stamp yard, barefoot in the grass, and face east. The sun (or clouds) in my face causes me to look up and close my eyes for just a minute. Feet on the earth, face to the sky. I thank the sun for shining and warming, the earth for supporting and giving life, the breeze for cooling and providing change, and the rain for quenching and nourishing. Then I face my work, my children, my day. Those few minutes of connectedness and grounding provide me with more patience and stability in my day. My stress is lower, and my health and well-being higher. Not a bad return on my investment!

When we approach our days from this perspective, being here now, we also approach other people more peacefully, empathetically, connectedly. The research shows us what we intuitively know: people need people. People who are disconnected from others and community have poorer health, more stress, and lower health and life outcomes. Youth who drop out of school feel that they are not connected to any of the adults around them. Elders who are connected to community are healthier and more active. Parents who have meaningful and supportive community around them suffer less from depression and parent better. And, communities where neighbors know each other and are connected to each other are healthier places to live, stronger communities, and safer for everyone.

Instead of connecting, we spend much of our times disconnected from each other, not making eye contact, isolating ourselves. This deepens our chronic health problems as individuals, and as communities. The disconnect comes in the form of racing minds, planning and worrying about the future and past. It comes in the form of interactive and passive technologies that take us away from the here and now. It comes in the form of social norms of not communicating with each other.

To reconnect with others we need to break those social norms. Breaking norms is always challenging; it takes us out of our comfort zone. It is easier to start with just a smile, nod or "hello" to neighbors and strangers as you walk around, commute to work, or do your shopping. Greet the person at the cash register next time you are in the store and you may be surprised at the good it can do you both.

Disconnecting from technologies can be tough. We have so many reasons to feel that we need to get email the minute it arrives, be available by phone every minute of every day, or "connect" with people through the filter of the internet. Try making a change. A colleague of mine used to be completely attached to his Blackberry device, always getting emails and calls. He operated under a constant state of stress as a result. One day he chose to only check email twice a day, to let voice mail get his calls when he was busy. His stress level dropped dramatically. His productivity also improved. He could now concentrate during meetings and conversations. He could really connect with the people on his team and work more effectively together. Not to mention he was much more pleasant to be around.

To stop the racing mind is a bigger challenge. It takes practice to calm a mind that hops from topic to topic or worries an idea to death. The Buddhist practice of meditation is exactly for that purpose: to be here now, and truly see and comprehend this moment, we need to be unclouded by busy-ness; to calm the busy-ness, we need to practice calming our minds. In some Buddhist traditions, meditation is practiced in a special, quiet place at a special time. This can be helpful for many people, and I recommend exploring that option if that works best for you. (Peaceful Piggy by Kerry Lee MacLean is a very easy to follow, family-friendly approach.)

For me, however, I am discovering that I need to connect to the here to calm the mind. I focus on each of my senses to appreciate the moment and connect to where I am. The moment need not be perfect to be embraced. To change whatever is not working, I have to first know -- really know -- whatever it is and why. I have to embrace what is so that I can understand it well enough to change it. When I start to hear the thought, "This isn't how it is supposed to be..." I know that I am disconnecting from reality, and it is time to reconnect.

Whatever your practice, whatever way works for you, remember: Here is where you are. This moment is the only one of its kind and is precious. Everyone, even the sun, needs and deserves to be heard and connected with. With these lessons, we can make the world a better place.