MY ONION JOURNEY

by BARRY BOYCE , FOUNDING EDITOR

not continue to ignore the halfdecade’s worth of extra stuff that had accumulated in the basement. This was not Marie Kondo. She would have a heart attack at the sight of my basement. It does not spark joy. But it could at least bring a semblance of tidiness. As I began clearing things out, I started to notice that I was in physical pain, and it was clear that most of the pain was self-inflicted. For hours on end, I rushed to get to my imagined finish line, fretting and to the center. I’m not so sure about the finality of that, so I find another metaphor even more powerful.

Continuing to meditate can be like traveling through different neighborhoods of an enormous city—the city of your mind. In my case, I finally stumbled into the neighborhood where people rush about crazily trying to get there. I didn’t notice it before, because I was preoccupied with exploring adjacent neighborhoods, where perhaps I panting, and the lack of rhythm and relaxation in the work was taking its toll. That’s when it came to me: Yep. This is what I do, and I’ve done it for a long time. And if there are other people around when I’m in that frame of mind, my ability to notice what’s really happening with them is vastly diminished. The baggage cluttering up my mind is not bringing joy to me nor to those around me.

The ongoing process of practicing meditation over a lifetime has been likened to peeling away layers of an onion, that trusty multipurpose analogy for getting to the heart of the matter in stages. I would agree it’s like that. The mind of curiosity freed up by the simple act of doing nothing starts revealing insights. Ah, something truly true. And then…after a while you realize it’s not the whole picture (That’s true, but also…).

The onion journey, though, presupposes you’re going to make it was discovering something about listening better, or judging less, or noticing the sky more.

The insights born of contemplative practice start to yield more insights, more neighborhoods to explore. It’s just like my basement cleaning: Just as I tidied up one area, the untidiness of another area revealed itself more vividly. More to clean up. It can be daunting; habits of cluttering up the regions of our mind can be longstanding and deep-seated. It could be discouraging. When will it end?

That’s just it, though. It doesn’t need to end. Each insight, each new neighborhood to explore, brings fresh air, and the only moment that matters is now. What’s the rush? ●

About The Author

Barry Boyce is the founding editor of Mindful and Mindful.org and author of The Mindfulness Revolution. He has been an avid mindfulness practitioner for over 40 years.