The Art of Pondering

What is the Art of Pondering? This process of turning things over in our minds and hearts. Entering the world and releasing it back out. Stepping in and letting go. The constant flow of movement from stillness to motion and back again. The fine distinctions 'in between'... that is what pondering offers.

For me, pondering is different from monkey mind or analytics. It’s not fretful, but it is curious. Exploring ‘what if’ in the most gentle of ways. What if I used gentlest instead of most gentle? Would that make a difference? Should it? Could it? Do I even care? Turning it over in the palm of my mind... the place that cuddles thoughts; doesn’t fondle; is not grasping, but arrives gentle as a whisper. Observing rather than trying to capture.

I remember my son as a young boy, tracking a furry caterpillar with great intensity. He adored that fuzzy bug, but in his adoration he got too close. What was it he wanted? To make it his own? To see the cause and effect of something? He decided to give it a haircut, but he cut too closely and the poor creature's life span was shortened. My son's zeal and fondling brought the undesired result. Had he given the caterpillar some space, it likely would have lived its normal life cycle... or possibly not.

Fondling. We do that with our personal stories. We turn them over in our minds, fondle them, and make what we think a static part of who we are rather than allowing the stories to serve their purpose and then expand, grow, and dissolve or integrate... whatever they should, could, or would do without such intense focus. For years I held a story that I was shy, silent, and would fall on my face in a public forum... and (through the fondling) I proved it to be true every time I stayed quiet when I wanted to speak up or shamed myself for stumbling over a few words. But once I began pondering the story rather than attaching to it, I allowed it to be what it was and is—just a story. Then came the opportunity to do something different. I started speaking up and found I wasn’t so timid (or clumsy) after all.

To ponder is to go deeper. To explore. To not simply take things at face value. Let’s do a little exercise here: Take a moment and study your hand. What do you see? Wrinkles? Nails that could use a manicure? Flesh? Joints? A scar? Something else? Now close your eyes and notice that same hand. What do you experience as your hand? Mine tingles and pulses with energy. I notice the texture—smooth... the center, a little clammy. It feels like it could do anything. Expand into the air. Disappear. Maybe it’s attached. Maybe not. Which is true? The visual or the felt sense?

We place so much weight on what we think we know. Pondering allows me to go beyond those boundaries. It doesn’t mean my hand isn’t still my hand, but... maybe it’s more than that. More than a bunch of wrinkles and flesh. When I close my eyes it could be five years old stroking a fuzzy caterpillar or 5 million stretching into infinity. Why not?

Pondering allows us to dream and explore and be present to life right now. What do you notice in this moment? A heater blowing? An occasional drip of rain? A tickle on your nose or ear? As "evolved" beings, we quickly wipe our noses when they start to drip or scratch an itch when it arises. What if instead we pondered them and let the sensation be without judgment? Now I’m not suggesting we all walk around with dripping noses and unscratched itches, but have you ever considered what might happen if you ignored the impulse... for just a moment? Well, I have {smile}.

While on a meditation retreat, sitting in the midst of 80 solemn and still practitioners, a small tickle manifested around my nose. At this particular time, I opted not to scratch or control it in any way, but continued to observe it in my mind. Soon a second tickle joined in and a third, fourth, and so on until there was a dancing, tickling, joyous party happening in the area of my upper lip and nostril. It was delightful. This bit of minutiae that I typically would have wiped away without forethought brought unhindered joy into that solitary moment.

Pondering is an art. Children are naturals. Adults can learn or relearn. It’s like anything. It takes practice. I started pondering by doing Julia Cameron’s morning pages. Filling three notebook pages each day. Writing without stopping. After a while I got bored with my lists and what I thought I knew and just kept writing. Blah blah blah. Some days I started with prompts, like I did today... “The art of pondering...” I write to discover what I know.

Walking is another favorite pondering companion. Walking and noticing. What do I see? Feel? Experience? Smell? Hear? Bringing your senses into the picture just like we did with our hands.

My cat knows all about presence. A few days ago his tail got nipped in a drawer. For a moment he was very aware (present to the fact) that his tail had a different sensation. I think it was more surprise than pain. He felt it. He acted all bent out of shape for a minute and then he surrendered to me rubbing his belly which was much more pleasant. He didn't spend the rest of the day making up stories about how or why his tail got stuck in the drawer. I don’t think he does anything purely out of habit and certainly not out of fondled thoughts. His movements all seem to be motivated by pleasure and being present in the moment. Feed me. Love me. Let me have a party in my litter box.

click image to learn moreThe art of pondering... I love it. You don’t really need anything to do it, except attention and curiosity. Set a timer if it helps your practice. Start small. Three pages. 15 minutes. A walk around the block. A five-minute piece of music. Don’t try to get anywhere. There is no destination. Pondering is about presence... and presence is the key to living deeply, fully, wholeheartedly, and authentically.

I highly recommend it as an art form. It simply could change your life. Ponder that!