Yesterday I was doing some cleaning, when you’ve lived in the same house for a long time, there are layers of memories to be unearthed, one has a tendency to leave them be. However I have started reading again, with love and attention, and I want to clean out some space to store my new books and rearrange the old. I came across her, she’s probably my oldest doll, accompanied us across the continent from the UK, when we migrated back many years ago. I gave her a good scrub and haircut, mom safety-pinned her dress. As I proceed with my mindfulness training I find myself looking at the world as I used to, when I was a child and everything was new. Children in general are far more mindful than their adult counterparts, but I was even by child standards far more sensitive. It was natural for me to pay attention and absorb the colour and light and sounds. It still is, but it has been dulled by years of living. And yet it is still there, I have only to shake off the dust and the cobwebs. Imagine if we had been taught to be consciously mindful in school, or rather to continue and dig deeper into what we already knew, how different life would have been. Perhaps when I have nailed the rudimentary technique, I will start teaching children, so that they can be better people and have richer lives and teach their parents this forgotten skill. 

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