‘Damn. I was late again. The yoga class would have started.’ I groaned yet again as I parked the car and rushed in.

I had a wallet and car keys in one hand, a bottle under the arm and a towel in my other hand while I pushed the gate open with my bum and ran in. The yoga mats were at the far end of the room. Balancing everything, I rushed to get my mat and in the process first dropped the bottle, then the keys and when I picked those up, the mat fell. The class had just started and the instructor decided to pause. Focusing on breaths would be a bit difficult with all the commotion I had caused. She waited for me to settle down. I finally plopped myself on the mat, all out of breath and flustered.

‘Why the rush, Tanuji? You could have walked to your spot, kept all your things and then gone and picked the mat.’ She smiled and added, ‘we are always in such a rush that we forget there are simpler ways of doing things, no? Need to be more in the moment.’

That seemingly small incident changed something big inside me. The rest of the class was spent realising that I was always someplace else. When I was at home, I was worrying about work. When I was at work, I had my thoughts on things to be done later that day. And when I was between these two, I was running late for the yoga class worrying about being judged. After the exercises, we have about ten minutes of breathing practice followed by a short meditation session. That was probably the first time I truly was with my breath.

Later that evening, when I settled down to read, the words made more sense. I was reading Silence by Thich Nhat Hanh those days. That evening I started reading it all over again, for the words were now newer, deeper. That day was like finding the final few pieces of the jigsaw when you are about to give up. Things started to fall in place. All I had to do was to focus on this moment, on my breath. I would be lying if I say that from that moment on I was the walking Buddha. But I was calmer, more accepting and more mindful. And in moments of anxiety or stress, I was able to calm myself down quicker. All it took were a few deep breaths.

We underestimate the power of a breath. Most of the times we are not even aware of it. It get reduced to that last peanut that we popped in mindlessly while watching TV. We didn’t want it, we most certainly didn’t need it, yet we just put in our mouth completely unaware of our actions. That is what our breaths get reduced to – shallow, quick, mindless. And the effect of this is not limited merely to our lungs, but spreads to the way we lead our lives -in short, quick bursts of action. We hurry from one breath to another, always postponing that one day we would wind down to another day in another time, not realising that the only true time in hand is this moment right now. That very moment which we spend worrying about moments that have either not happened yet or about the ones that have already faded in the pages of past.

I obviously do not propose that we need to hang our boots, and embrace the eremitic life. All I learned in that moment in the class that day is to be present now. If I am sitting by the window, looking at the autumn leaves fall to the ground, I do not want to fret about something else. I want to focus on my breath and watch life cycle unfold in front of me. If I am sitting in front of my laptop, rushing to meet the deadline, I do not want to worry about what is going to be there for lunch. I want to be. I want to breathe. And I am getting there.

Most people assume that this way of life is in complete opposition of what we were raised to do – acing the rat race. I think the two can work together to actually lead a good life along with creating your own race at your own pace. A mindful life is not devoid of ambition and deadline, it is just better prepared. The rat race we are so used to is nothing but a mirage – there is no finish line. With every step we take forward, it moves further away – just one more promotion, just a bit more security for my future, a little more money for a luxurious trip abroad, a bit more effort to fix relationships that remain broken – the list increases and makes us run more. Somewhere along the way, we forget to breathe. If, however, we were to make that list mindfully, we would probably ease out of the rat race and create a track of our own. We would learn to pause, we would appreciate that stillness we create by the simple act of striking things off the list and remembering to breathe.

I turned one more page of the book and was ready to call it the day. The older one rushed in. He had panic written all over him. ‘The deadline for the assignment is tomorrow! I had not seen the mail carefully and had assumed I had a week! I am going to die!’

I sat him down and held his hands. He pulled back. ‘Mumma I have no time for this!’

‘Shhhh! Close your eyes and take a deep breath in.’

The next few reluctant seconds gave way to a few moments of focussed breathing.

He was much calmer when he opened his eyes. ‘I still have 30 hours and quite a bit of work already done. But what if…’

‘Shhhh. What ifs happen in moments that have not yet occurred. What is here is now. And right now you have an opportunity to be on time.’

He stared at me for a few seconds, smiled and left.

I kept the book down, Hanh’s words lulling me to sleep:

“It’s okay to make a wish, to have an aim. But we shouldn’t allow it to become something that prevents us from living happily in the here and now.”

Previously published at: Roadfolk