Real-Life, Real-Time Mindfulness
Recently, I co-hosted Inseus’s first-ever all day silent retreat on Zoom. I’ve led silent retreats in person many times before, but this was the first fully online experience.
People always comment on how much they take away from our silent retreats. As it turns out, I probably gained more insight into the power of mindfulness at this particular retreat than any of the other participants.
The retreat was scheduled to begin on a Sunday morning and I was thrilled that we had more than 40 registrants from all across the United States and as far away as England, India, and Sri Lanka.
That morning, when I tried to log in to Zoom, I could see that other members of the teaching team and a few students had already logged on as well, but there was no audio or video. “What’s up with that?” Immediately, my anxiety level began to rise. I tried logging off and logging on again. The others did the same. Nothing changed.
Then the texting started, a trickle, then a barrage: “Are you there?” “Can you hear me?” “Why can’t I see you?” “What’s going on?” “Do you have video?” “Can you try logging back in?”
With all that pinging back and forth, I began to experience a physical response. My heartbeat sped up. I felt warm. I felt tension in my chest. My thinking was scattered. My palms began to sweat.
And then came the mental blaming. “Did I set up the meeting wrong?” “Did my assistant set up the meeting wrong?” “Am I logging into zoom incorrectly, even though I’ve done this thousands of times?” “What do I do now?” I’ll log off and go back in again. And on and on.
I texted my assistant who’s really good with the technical stuff. She was at a loss for a fix as well. After a bit of googling, she reported back that we were experiencing the impact of a far-reaching Zoom outage issue that went well beyond the United States and impacted 10,000 hosts that Sunday morning.
“Holy crap,” I thought, “what the hell do I do now?”
Suddenly, it struck me that I was hosting a mindfulness retreat. Mindfulness. It took several moments to register. Then, the practice came to my rescue. In a split second, I paused and objectively observed myself progressing through the classic phases of the stress reactivity cycle, which I teach in MBSR courses: the stressor (Zoom outage!), the activation of the sympathetic nervous system (immediate physiological response), the reactivity mode and conditioned, emotional automatic responses (anxiety, panic, blame, DOING mode).
Recognizing where I was, I used my training to put the brakes on reactivity and move into the more productive response mode. I turned my attention to my breath, activating the parasympathetic nervous system. I plugged into body sensations. I paused, and took a few more breaths. Being mode. There, I could create the space to see more clearly and identify a few more options. Surprise, surprise—how about sharing with the whole group via email and asking for patience as well as help?
As soon as I did that, there was an instantaneous outpouring of ideas: “Use my Microsoft Team’s account,” one offered. From others: “Google Hangouts might work although let me share a few limitations.” “I have Skype- would that work?” “What about Facetime?”
We quickly moved to another platform, got everyone connected, adapted the agenda a bit to the new environment, and continued with a day of silent meditation together. Microsoft Teams is my new best friend.
Was it a flawless experience? No. Rewarding? Yes. And at the end of the day, I thought to myself, “What a great case study in the full stress reactivity and response cycles!”
There I was, using every mindfulness tool in the shed to navigate this moment in life. Interrupting the stress reactivity cycle. Becoming more aware of what’s happening in real time, so I could deescalate the activation with awareness. Noticing physical sensations. Observing thoughts, emotions, behaviors. Stopping—the sacred pause. Taking a few breaths. And then the simple aha moment. “What would happen if I asked for help?”
That Sunday was like a living laboratory for my Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction course students, who were attending as part of their eight-week curriculum. One summed it up, saying, “It was a great lesson of mindfulness in action, seeing your teacher apply mindfulness techniques in real time.” At that, I was able to put another mindfulness practice into action: self-compassion. I had done the best I could in the circumstances and, in doing so, became more vulnerable, authentic, and strong. Real-life, real-time mindfulness. It works.
Of course, we’re looking forward to the time when we can come together for a silent retreat in person. But even pre-Covid-19, Inseus had embraced virtual learning for our flagship Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction course offering. In fact, the next online eight-week course begins June 1st, followed by another starting July 7th. If you’re interested, there’s still time to enroll. I hope you’ll join us to experience this powerful practice!
Mindfully yours,
Ashley