On practising mindfulness while driving

I've come to realize, in my more balanced moments, that I've actually been practising mindfulness since long before it became trendy.

I remember to this day how, fifty years ago, one of my school pals, a farm kid, invited me over for an afternoon of beam walking in the barn. That's what farm kids used to do for fun.

Now they play Fortnite instead.

But back in the day, they'd head out to the barn for a turn of barn-beam walking. You'd climb into the heights of that barn, and set out on a beam that traversed the barn's upper reaches at maybe thirty feet above the floor.

Being afraid of heights, this immediately became an exercise in mindfulness for me. Take one step. Stop. Close your eyes. Smell the hay. Smell the manure. Smell the cow flesh... with every breath. Take another breath and repeat. Take another step and repeat...

They say mindfulness is closely related to the practice of yoga. I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure I'd clear out any yoga studio in the world in a hurry if I showed up in my Lulu Lemon yoga tights.

Mindfulness, on the other hand, doesn't require a studio. Or tights.

Mindfulness can be practised anytime, anywhere.

In fact, I've even incorporated mindfulness into my driving routines. Just the other day I was motoring at a good turn of speed down the 400 highway, and I suddenly came up behind some idiot choking the far left lane with his Toyota Prius, ambling along at an environmentally friendly 85 kilometres per hour.

I flashed the high beams a couple times. No reaction. It briefly crossed my mind to pull the .357 out of the glove box and fire a warning shot through his rear window to get the fucktard to move out of the passing lane...

But then my years of experiential mindfulness came to my rescue.

Hey, what's the hurry, I asked myself.

There is no hurry, I replied.

And so I snuggled up behind that Prius. 85kph on the 400? Who cares?

I guess those fast and furious VIP types passing on the right and waving their middle fingers at me cared, but so what? I stuck behind that Prius poking along in the fast lane all the way into the city.

Then, when I found myself at a red light, I'd lean back and close my eyes and think about the smells in that barn fifty years ago. Breathe deeply, I told myself, and I'd keep my eyes closed through two or three traffic light cycles before moving, slowly and mindfully, forward.

And you know what? That trip to the city took a little longer than normal, but I felt totally calm and together when I got home!


Too bad all those go-getters giving me the finger couldn't join our little caravan of mindfulness out there on the 400 highway. They got all stressed out instead.



But I feel great!


That's the magic of mindfulness!

I'm too sexy for my yoga pants

Coupla weeks ago I decided to take up yoga. I'd heard a lot of good things. Tones your muscles. Tones your mind. Lowers the blood pressure and enhances the libido all at the same time.

So last time I was in the city I trotted into the Lululemon shop and picked up a pair of stretchy black yoga pants. They felt so damn good I wore 'em right outta the shop!

Must say I got some envious looks as I was sauntering up Queen Street. There's something about wearing yoga pants that boosts your confidence; gives yer strut a little extra swagger, if you know what I mean. It's something I never experienced while wearing my Big Bill coveralls.

Had an immediate impact on folks around me too. The Farm Manager just busts out laughing whenever she sees me wearing them. The lads at Jason's Pub let me play pool whenever I feel like it; don't even make me wait my turn.

And there's nothing like watching an afternoon of left turns from Bristol while lounging on the couch in your yoga pants, twisting the top off another Bud every ten laps. By the way, ever notice that a twist-off twists off to the left? Just like the Nascar guys only turn left?

What do you suppose that means?

Anyway, I'd pretty much decided to live the rest of my life in yoga pants. Was planning a trip to the city just to snag a couple more pairs.

Then this story hits me outta the blue. Lululemon takes their yoga pants, MY yoga pants, off the market.

Apparently you can see right through 'em... which makes me wonder what the lads at the pub were thinking?...