When I roll out my mat I try to do it in as peaceful an
environment as I can. I get up early while my wife and kids are still asleep
and tip-toe downstairs. In the warmer months, I set up on the patio facing the
rising sun and feel it’s warmth on my face as I run through a practice. In the
winter, I clear a space in the room next to the garden and light it softly. I
am uninterrupted apart from by the cat. In those circumstances, it’s easy to be
tranquil.
When we’re all in the house though, as we were over
Christmas, it’s not so straight forward. My motivation to get up early when I
don’t have to work is, frankly, compromised. I often get downstairs last. The
TV is on in one room, breakfast is being made in the kitchen. The space I
normally practice in is occupied with a small person in pyjamas busy with the
first art project of the day, or clarinet practice, or watching something on
the iPad.
So I find myself in a different room which, as well as being
empty, also joins all the other rooms together. My kids come through, curious,
and ask me if they can have a biscuit. Sometimes they join in for a while.
Other times they just sit and watch. I can hear the radio and the TV talking over
each other. My wife is trying hard not to interrupt, and sneaks past to get the
milk from the step. The washing machine is beep-beep-beeping.
It isn’t what I’m used to, but it’s good. My purpose isn’t
to escape from life; I’m trying to discipline my interior hustle so I can concentrate
on enjoying the exterior bustle. What good is a quiet space inside if you can only access it when it’s
quiet outside too? I want my quiet to be there even when it’s
noisy. In fact, especially when it’s noisy. So bring on the interruptions and
the distractions. I don’t want my peace in some otherworldly space, I want it on Earth.
