This morning I woke up at 9:45 (!), much earlier than what I’m used to. It’s a tough life. But I’m not complaining–this was my choice–my dad had plans to take my aunt to Oklahoma to visit her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, and I wanted to tag along. So after a quick breakfast (toast with peanut butter and a cup of coffee), I got myself together and that’s what I did. Or, that’s what we did, rather–hit the road for two hours, met my cousin in a McDonald’s parking lot, dropped off my aunt and all (!) her luggage, and turned right around to come back.

We’re in the car now.

For most of the ride, I’ve been reading an honest-to-god book. Lately most of my reading has been on my laptop, but that’s tougher to do in a car. Plus, I enjoy the satisfaction of turning a page versus scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Dad and I are getting close to home. Maybe thirty minutes ago I put down my book and pulled out my laptop to blog. However, internet (my hot spot) sucks in Oklahoma, so it took forever to get connected. This happened last night, and my first inclination (my habit) is always to spit. But I’ve been realizing how important it is to not get swept away by every emotion that knocks on your door and offers to take you out on the town and show you a good time. So rather than spit, I looked up, took in the scenery, listened to the radio, and felt the cool breeze of the air conditioner on my skin.

Sometimes our family dog, Ella, just sits and stares. “I wonder what she’s thinking,” Dad has said a number of times. Well, apparently, she’s not. I’ll explain. Recently I talked about an attention technique called Open Focus. The idea is that rather than narrowly focusing on one thing (your damn internet problems, for example), you can “open focus” on multiple things (sights, sounds, feelings, smells, thoughts, and emotions) simultaneously. And it’s not like you’re trying to ignore whatever it is that’s stressing you out. Rather, you broaden your focus and INCLUDE it. For me, whenever I do this, two things happen. First, I immediately feel more calm and connected (even if my internet isn’t). Second, whatever it is that’s bothering me is put into perspective. That is, rather than my entire world being my frustrations, my entire world becomes partly my frustrations but MOSTLY the fact that I’m riding in a car, it’s cloudy out, there’s a song on the radio, and so on.

To be clear, whenever I open focus, it’s not like I’m labeling everything that’s going on. There are drops of rain on the windshield. The flowers on the side of the highway are yellow. That’s what my mind WANTS to do, of course, but thinking is not required to EXPERIENCE life in this present moment. That was my point about our dog and the idea that she’s probably NOT thinking whenever she just sits and stares. Rather, she’s most likely simply noticing and experiencing being right here, right now, free of thought or inner commentary.

Inner commentary. Or hell, even outer commentary. There’s a can of worms we could open, and I guess I just have. In terms of inner commentary, just notice how much hell you can create for yourself by labeling what happens in your life. Not like, There’s a green tree, but like, This is a TOUGH life, I’m so fat (and that’s BAD), Things will never get better (and that’s BAD too). I’m talking about the knowledge of good and evil, how you can kick yourself out of the garden whenever you take a fact (like how much you weigh) and turn it into a GOOD fact or a BAD fact.

In terms of an outer commentary, I once went to a spiritual/personal development workshop where we had to pair off and listen to each other’s problems. But we could only listen. “You’re not allowed to give advice,” the workshop leader said. Try this sometime. It’s excruciating. Your ego hates keeping its mouth shut. We like to think we know stuff. But by keeping quiet, you provide someone a space where they can actually hear themselves. This is what my therapist does. She doesn’t interrupt. And it’s affirming. By being allowed to speak, I’m given the message that I have everything I need to figure things out. I don’t need someone else to tell me what to do. And neither do you. Each of us inherently wise.

When I started blogging earlier, I didn’t think I had anything to say. Of course, this is never true. After two full years of daily writing, I know there’s always something in The Well That Never Runs Dry. All you have to do is dip into it. I’m talking about life. This is something I’m currently learning, that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, there’s life to experience–to see, to smell, to taste, to hear, and to feel. All you have to do is notice. What’s going on right here, right now? (Just look around. See if you’re not fascinated.) And, again, try not to label it. Life is meant for living, not labeling.