It was the end of November, yet not a typical day for late November.  The sun was shining strong and it was warm enough to wear shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals.  This made it unusually easy to drop whatever I was doing and just get outside.  Just go.  So I found myself quickly choosing summer clothing, moving out the door, and taking my first steps on the sidewalk.  I never planned on going for a walk, I didn’t know where I was walking, but there I was, walking.

I felt my body moving.  It was as if I was moving in and out of experiencing no resistance.  No resistance to the temperature, no thoughts about how I looked, no grasping to know where I was going, no desire to learn about the street names, and no desire to look at the letters and numbers on the passing car’s license plates. I didn’t feel a desire to know anything.  There was already enough going on in my body as I walked.  Feeling my body move, ever so subtly, filled me with enjoyment and satisfaction.

This first walk lasted two and a half hours, but as I rounded the bend to find myself back at the Center for Mindful Learning, it felt like it had just been 10 minutes.

This first walk, truly felt like a gift.  I had never experienced anything like it before.   I walked with my feet on the ground and the sky above me, nothing more.  My body was moving freely.

[su_dropcap style=”flat”]T[/su_dropcap]oday is Sunday, the free day at CML. The experience of my first walk was so powerful, that I will go on another walk to see if I can feel like that again.  So I put on my long johns, layer a few long sleeve shirts over me, wrap a scarf around my neck, and find my jacket.  I have four hours to place one foot in front of the other.  No expectations.  I step out the door, and begin walking.

As the cool december breeze blows against the skin on my face, my mind is there for a moment with that feeling, nothing more.

I feel the gravel under my left foot through a thin rubber soul, absorbing the craters and hills.  Then my right foot.

I hear the waves calmly break against the frozen sand of Lake Champlain.

I hear the birds.  Their chipring relaxes the brain in the skull.  The mind doesn’t have anything to do, but become what already is happening, become the sound of the birds.

These moments are few and far between, but nonetheless when they occur, no thoughts about what I have to do come into my mind. Walking becomes a relief.  Walking becomes beautiful.  Walking becomes amazing.  I could have never imagined walking could feel this good.   The mind is in the body.  The body and mind are yoked together, having the same experience perhaps.

I spend a lot of time at the Center for Mindful Learning sitting.  During these times of sitting, I can not say that I experience much, but the impact of my mindfulness practice is unmistakable when I surround myself in Nature or go on walks.  Things seem fresh and new.

[su_dropcap style=”flat”]T[/su_dropcap]he total contentment of these seemingly common experiences is a mystery to me because they have always been there.  However, just the subtle change of carefully listening to them radically enriches my experience of them.  All that is needed is for me to settle down enough to realize that it is Okay to have my attention fully on the sound of the birds.  Now that I have discovered this, I can not continue my life ignoring it.  I can not continue living without an appreciation for the moment.  For when my attention is being carried away on the wandering mind, I do not stand up as tall, I do not walk with ease and confidence.  When I am caught up in my thoughts, I do not have a grounded appreciation for the happenings of the moment.

 Ironically, walks were never enough for me.  I always felt they were lazy exercise.  But as I grow older and as I progress on this path of mindfulness, I realize I have not been able to slow down enough to appreciate walking because I am deeply insecure.  This insecurity manifests as anxiety.  Becoming aware of these insecurities took (and continues to take) awhile for me to see because I have constructed a view of myself being a mindful, relaxed, and Nature based person.  But after throwing myself into a rigorous mindfulness practice for 4 months at CML, I have begun to clean myself out, revealing the uncomfortable barriers that I have created to live in false comfort.

Deep down, I have anxiety.  It is very difficult for me to slow down and just hold my attention on anything, from feeling the body to being present for another person.  I am becoming aware of the unrest in the body and mind.  Yet, I have tasted the experience of what it feels like to be content with what is happening in the given moment.  To be filled with the energy and beauty of this Universe.  A small taste of freedom.  A worthy pursuit in life.

Now, it is getting colder in New England.  Walks are becoming more difficult to endure. But that’s okay, I am determined to translate this life energy that I have experienced while moving when walking, to moving when doing other activities.  Hey, cross country ski season is here!

It is hard to believe that a year ago I was cooking for just myself, in a college apartment, here in Burlington.  I would strive to cook using the simplest and most local ingredients, because I have a deep respect for the land and the food that the land magically grows.

Even though I was committed to living in a way that was locally supportive and food conscious, I found myself questioning what I was doing: “What is the point of making a beautiful meal just to eat it alone?”  “Is all the work I’m doing helping the world change for the better?”  These questions of course applied to my daily culinary routine of cooking wholesome eatables, but also to the general direction of my life.

I was in my third year at the University of Vermont pursuing a dual-degree in Communication Sciences & Disorders and Psychology. Strangely enough, the recent semesters had found me maxing out my credit hours with alternative health courses.  Yoga, Ayurveda, and Eastern Traditions filled empty spaces of my schedule.  I connected with the material effortlessly and found myself thinking and talking about this new world with whoever would listen.

Things were great; academically I was on track with a 3.88 GPA, I was pleasing my parents and feeling “in” with the flow of society, and I had time to explore alternative health modalities.  However, I still felt I was missing something important in life.  I wanted to be able to fully appreciate my surroundings, I wanted to be able to flow with life harmoniously.  It seemed like my lifestyle, and everyone around me, was not willing to slow down to appreciate the simple things in life.  There happened to be no classes on the subject either.  I was hungry to explore my spirituality.

Here, in the kitchen at the Center for Mindful Learning, I open the oven and realize that the granola has been in for 10 minutes too long! … “Wow! Again!? I burnt it again!”  The outside edges are black, and the middle is edible.  Well… edible for someone who doesn’t mind the taste of carbon.  If I were not the head cook at the center, I would throw it all in the compost.  But here, there is a practice to let nothing go to waste.  I salvage the middle and can’t help but throw the burnt edges in the compost.  This is a good compromise, right?!  I was originally going to throw it all out.

5 minutes later, I find myself propelled by the integrity of the CML community to let nothing go to waste.  I crouch down next to the compost and dig the burnt granola out of the (recently cleaned) bucket to serve for breakfast the next morning.  If I deal with the consequences of my actions fully, there is a better chance that my actions in the future will gradually lead to more happiness.  Who knows, maybe it’s a good thing I burnt the granola, I know the other residents here will appreciate the resourcefulness.

I discovered CML for the first time in the early fall of 2013, when I accompanied a dear friend to an evening meditation.  The atmosphere was calming, a relief from the bustling life of a college student.  That first visit, I realized that others my age were living in this monastic training environment, engaging in a life where they were supported to live mindfully throughout the entire day.  I couldn’t believe it, it was not only possible, but it was happening right here in Burlington.  I knew I had found something special.

The Center’s community meditations rose in importance over my collegiate affairs. I found that I could apply CML’s teachings on mindfulness to every situation I found myself in, and the teachings helped me develop healthier habits which enhanced my social life and academia.  In less than a year of attending the Center’s meditations, I knew I really could learn about life here.  However, I wondered if I too had the courage to immerse myself, fully, in what I felt was the essence of life, or if I would continue on through the motions of contemporary society, with graduation and the immediate pursuit of a professional career.

I was in the UVM Library (where I spent the majority of my time in college) when I opened a letter of acceptance from CML.  It was brief and to the point, “welcome to the program.”  I was overjoyed, ecstatic – the library was too congested for my joy.  With a smile that poured from my face, reflecting the heavens, I walked briskly outside, fell down into the grass and felt relief ran through my body. I realized that the next year of my life was going to be devoted to self exploration and the natural flow of life I so longed for.

Upon arriving three months ago, I was given the responsibility of head cook. I have the important and humbling job of making sure that the body and brain of CML get the energy they need to function to their highest potential.  In other words, I like to think that I am the stomach of the CML organism.  When I cook here, I am giving energy to unique and compassionate people.  They assimilate energy from that food and can mindfully engage with the world.  My question of what can I do that will help benefit the world is beginning to be answered.  Cooking nutritious food with local ingredients is great, but it is necessary to continue the energy cycle and manifest compassionate actions in this world from that healthy food.  I believe this is a worthy pursuit in life, and this is what we are achieving at CML.

It is now 1pm, lunch is supposed to be starting and I’m still in the kitchen as Jacob, another fellow resident, comes in to ask if there is anything he can help with.  I give a frenzied exhale as I realize that it’s over, everything is done, the kitchen is a mess, but lunch  is out.  As we walk down the stairs to the lunch table, Jacob asks, “good day of work?”  I reply, “Great day.”