This week’s blog is written by Margaret Fletcher, one of the certified MBSR teachers at the Center for Mindfulness.
As we speak, the building we work in at the Center for Mindfulness is in a bit of upheaval. For any of you who have visited us here in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts in recent years, you’ll know that we are the current stewards of the Hoagland-Pincus Building, part of the Maple Avenue campus of the University of Massachusetts Medical School. This unique building was originally built as a conference center. We are lucky to have it, and also challenged in certain ways to make good use of it given our business needs.
In the past, the building housed a full-service kitchen and catering servery, located just off the large conference space that we now use for big gatherings such as our all-day MBSR classes. While we’ve been here over the past few years, we have used this large area mostly as storage for historical files and business supplies. The area also held a small but valuable kitchen set-up with a sink, countertop, a few small appliances and a refrigerator. Recently, it was decided that the Center could renovate this large kitchen/servery area to create more appropriate workspace for the neuroscience lab. In preparation for the renovation, the storage and supply items are now housed in a cordoned-off area in a lower-level walking space, and the kitchen is simply gone.
Upheaval like this, inconvenient but not any worse, creates useful opportunities for seeing disagreeable and mostly useless movements of the mind. For example: entitlement. As I pack my lunch for the day, there is a little narrative running through my mental awareness. “What can I bring to eat, there’s no way to heat any food up, this is a hassle, how long will this renovation take, anyway…” Etc. This mini drama spins forward as a low-level nagging thought-thread, bringing with it a subtle belly-and-shoulder tension, and a slight grimace on the face. The mood is most likely annoyance. My mother used to call this “pooky.”
Is our storage solution optimal in the long-term? No. Do we miss the microwave and toaster oven? Yes, we do. Is all of this worth spending my time and energy on reinforcing an irksome thinking pattern, irritated stomach and tensed face? Not one bit.
Currently, these are my overall work conditions: a solid roof and four walls with reliable heat in the winter, civilized bathroom facilities, a classroom with a gorgeous natural view, an office with an actual door for holding private conversations with participants, friendly and engaged colleagues, good work to do, and for now, either cold food or the need to scoot 5 minutes down the road to pick up something hot for lunch. When I remember to actually take in the current conditions, including my own capacity to wake up and notice what’s right under my nose and in my belly, I find the conditions to be perfectly workable.