It's about focus and discipline and living in the moment, but not necessarily in the sense that I associate with Zen. (Confession I don't really know that much about Zen.)
It particularly applies to learning and improving skills by focusing on whatever I'm doing at the moment. I, for instance, have trouble with letting myself get distracted. Over the last 14 months I've often let myself get distracted by memories of Faye or sadness, or my sense of loss.
Sterner recommends focusing on the process rather than the results.
In a couple of days I'm going to be participating in a Toastmasters competition.
Focusing on the process certainly is applicable to my preparation for the competition and to the actual competing.Focusing on the process keeps me laser focused on what I'm doing right now, preparing and practicing and then, ultimately, speaking before and audience who will judge my speech and critique. By focusing on process. I will benefit and grow, regardless of the outcome.
I will get better at speaking in front of an audience, which at the end of the day is what I want. I want to get better. Winning is good, getting better is better.
What does all this have to do with grief?
Let me see if I can articulate it. One of the first steps to living through the loss of someone you love, as I loved Faye, is doing the next thing.
That, is focusing on the process. Paying full attention to what I'm doing right now.
For the grieving person--for me at least--it is very easy to get anxious about the end result. When will the loneliness stop, when will the sadness finally come to an end, when will my life finally be back in order.
I can't control any of that. I truly can't.
I can control what I'm doing right now, which is writing this blog post. And I can, and am, focusing on it and the process of writing and getting better at writing, expressing myself better. In the process I get better, inch by inch.
Pressing on.
An interesting read Tim, as are many of your posts on Beautiful Ramblings. I feel at this point I am stumbling through life, but taking on some physical projects has been therapeutic. I was writing a book “before”, but I don’t seem to be able to get involved with that process, at least not now...or not yet. I’ll read your piece again.
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