Beam of Light: A Reflection on Focus
Once upon a time, I had a ritual of turning out all the lights in my apartment, sitting on the floor in front of a lit candle and just watching the flame. This exercise brought me a sense of peace by way of focusing my attention. Everything else fell away.
It was so simple, and yet it created grandeur of thought, gratitude, and wonder. Keep in mind I was in my twenties at this time which is a hey-day for thought and wonder, but also a notoriously angsty time in life. So it was a haven, and a reliable source of inspiration.
I’ve found myself thinking about this ritual of late, for two reasons. One, I crave the singularity of focus it provided. Two, I’ve touched that feeling again in my new massage space. The ritual of setting up the room before a massage gives me a similar sense. There is a tranquility to putting the sheets on the table, smoothing out the lines, getting the lighting just so. My mind wanders within the experience of creating an environment of relaxation and healing. My focus is clear.
That is a gift in the modern day where our thoughts can be scattered and fragmented. There is so much sensory information. Our focus is steadily being pulled in multiple directions. But we still have the innate ability to take a breath, block out some of the noise, and tune in to what we feel and see.
I dare say if we cultivate that further within ourselves, the world would benefit too. Can you imagine, all of us together taking a breath, watching a common flame, allowing ourselves to just be with the experience at hand — not having to manage it, achieve it, fix it, respond to it? And what of the healing that might create? Collectively, and personally.
I’ll admit, my inclination is to try and capture that feeling and hold on tight. But wait, doesn’t that defy its very gift? Doesn’t the act of trying to save it for later take me away from right now? So instead, I challenge my ability to trust in what I already know: it is simply about practice.
I’ve said this to yoga students for years: every time you practice yoga it is a gift to yourself, every time you chastise yourself for not practicing, it diminishes that gift. In other words, the times we show up for ourselves matter more than the times we don’t. We often flip that by giving more weight and brain space to the times we miss. We pile on judgment or failure or apathy and suddenly NOT doing our ritual becomes the thing we trust.
Let’s shift our focus back to the light and sit within the feeling of a soft gaze, an open mind, a quiet intention. Trusting in the art of practice, and our ability to bring ourselves back to what nourishes us most, again and again and again.
Just show up. Every day is a new beginning, a chance to find that light and dance within it.