Many times, throughout adulthood, sometimes
verbally and oftentimes inwardly to self, I have complained about my ever
increasing lack of clarity, and how I miss my crystal clear mind of childhood.
For me, as a child, everything was so vivid and clear. My eyesight (until about
the age of ten (more of that later!)) was sharp and focused, and life was like
a never ending kaleidoscope of vibrant colours, mesmerising patterns and
memorable events. Christmas decorations and other such pretties seemed
infinitely more beautiful back then, as did the emotions associated with them.
I was super sensitive to smells too. I would often embarrass my mother by
openly remarking on the ‘funny smell’ of someone’s house, or worse… them! Also,
I had, as it was affectionately referred to back then, a terrific ‘bremembory’ (remember/memory
with an extra b thrown in for good measure.) I could recall the minutest
details of times gone by... which is sadly no longer the case as I struggle to
remember what I did five minutes ago!
I also remember from early childhood, a regular occurrence
that usually happened when I was very sleepy and, most likely, dropping off for
a toddler nap on our sofa. I would focus my attention on one object, usually the
fireplace or something on the hearth as it was situated directly opposite the
sofa. I would stare at whichever object my gaze had settled on so intently that
it would seem to grow and grow and fill the whole room, until it was all there
was, and then I would fall asleep. I think now, looking back, that I was
unconsciously doing some kind of meditation, shutting everything else out by
focusing entirely on one single inanimate thing, and resting my tired baby
brain. I have since tried the same technique, but to little avail as, once again,
my natural abilities and perceptions of childhood have been smothered by the ever
pressing forces of adultdom.
I’ve been thinking about such things quite a lot
of late, and have begun to wonder if maybe we subconsciously choose to partly
shut down or dull certain aspects of ourselves, our senses, our emotions, as a
mechanism for coping with certain aspects of life that make us uncomfortable.
For instance, in my case, I was terrified of spiders from a very young age, and
we used to have one of those busy, patterned, 1970s carpets which, every now
and then, you would catch a glimpse of something black and fast hurtling
across. I trained myself not to focus on that carpet. I was very good at it;
blurring my vision, and in the process I also became very adept at crossing my
eyes and moving them independently of one another. A very impressive party
trick for a six year old! By the time I was ten I had astigmatism and a very
natty little pair of NHS specs, and I have been very short-sighted and
spectacle clad ever since.
That is just one example of how, in my own life, I
feel I may have subconsciously dulled down a part of myself in order to shut out
or cope with something that gave me displeasure. As I grew older and nasties
like exams, broken hearts, driving tests and job interviews loomed on the
horizon, I learned to deny my emotions and feelings of dread in order to get
through. Then there’re the inevitable mistakes, even regrets (some like to say
they have none, but I have numerous things I would have done differently with
hindsight) or just plain bad experiences… and this is where the practice of choosing
to unfocus the memory or selectively forget comes in… and thus the memory
becomes less sharp over time. I must have had some truly terrible times,
judging by the appalling state of my memory these days… but… I just can’t bremember!
I can’t help but wonder if all these things, along
with other pressures and mounting concerns that accompany our increasing years,
and our efforts to manage them, results in a self-accumulating fog in our
brains, dulling our senses and causing us to lose awareness, living each day in
a perpetual daze, on auto pilot, just surviving and getting by… worrying about
the future, fretting about the past… everything but fully appreciating the uniqueness
of each moment we’re in, as it's happening.
My desire to become more aware and recapture some
of the clarity of my youth has recently led me to read numerous books on the
subject of mindfulness and living in the moment. The book I am currently
reading, ‘Peace Is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh’ teaches the simple technique
of ‘conscious breathing’ alongside various other methods for getting back in
touch with the present and realigning your mental and physical selves so that
you are completely aware and focused on the moment of now. I intend to practice
these methods of mindfulness, in particular the conscious breathing, (as I know
this will also help to alleviate my high blood pressure) until I notice a
considerable improvement in my everyday clarity of mind. I imagine it will take
time and a lot of conscious effort… probably equal to the time and subconscious
effort it took for my brain to fog up to the point it’s at now… which, by my
calculations, means by the time I’m 88 (if I make it) I will have the clarity of a new born! Sounds
about right! :-D
