As I write this, I am sitting at a large window situated at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for artists, writers, musicians, and dancers. The centre is an Anglo-Irish manner house situated on 450 acres, overlooking a beautiful lake in Co. Monaghan.

People come here to be mindful.

To focus on creativity in their chosen field. People can leave behind all their concerns and distractions from the outside world here. But it’s not always easy. I came here to work on a novel I’m near the end of writing, finally.

    The day before I drove the three and a half hours here from Kilkenny, I’d just returned from a month in the States visiting members of my USA family. I unpacked and packed again on the same day. I left the next morning with many things undone at home and in my life. Though none were life threatening or shifted to the shoulders of others.

     When I was twenty minutes away from the centre I was involved in a car accident. My beloved two-seater convertible sports car was totalled. By some miracle I was bruised but otherwise uninjured. I made my calls to the insurance company, the recovery tow truck driver, my understanding wife, and gave my statements to the Garda, all by the side of the road. By 2 p.m. I was in a taxi on my way to be dropped off here at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for a week of solitude. I’d done all I could do, had to do, and that was it.

    For a week now I’ve been lost in a flow of thought about my novel, the story, the characters, the quality of the writing, and trying to decide when I might call it finished. I’m up at 6 a.m. and in bed by 10 p.m. I share three meals a day in the dining room with others who are here. We talk briefly about our work, creativity, and tell stories from our lives. Then return to our rooms or studios. Being here and following that sort of routine nurtures mindfulness.

But what happens when I leave here.

Go back to my home, my obligations, my family and routines that take me in and around the rest of my life? How will I maintain mindfulness. It sounds odd, but to remain mindful, I will need to take action. Desiring something gets us nowhere.

    In my life I have accomplished mindfulness by some tried and true means. I have belonged to a weekly meditation group, taken meditation classes, and attended meditation retreats. Sought the support of others. These should be obvious, and they work. Yet, we may not have access to these resources all the time.

    In thinking back over my life, there have been many times when I’ve found myself focussed and mindful as I went through my daily life. Often from simple acts like pausing in front of the microwave while I cook my dinner (yes, in a microwave). I pause, breathe and let go of all the thoughts swirling about in my mind and just let myself be clear headed for a few minutes.

    There were all those times in my youth when I fell in love and nothing else mattered except thoughts of the woman who had captured my heart.

    Times when I was out photographing and almost got hit by car traffic because I was so focused on finding a small daisy poking out of a crack in the road.

    Standing in one of the dozens of lines we can find ourselves in each day, and getting lost in a daydream of a life that we hope one day finds us.

    The times when we realize what is really important in life as we stand at the side of a loved one’s coffin.

     Yes, mindfulness comes to us in many planned but also incidental ways.

You can contact Robert at www.writingrobert.com and here are the titles of Robert’s books:

1. Man Poems - Collection of 100 poems

2. Bits and Bobs - Collection of Flash  Fiction short stories.

3. Sitting by the Lake - Collection of short stories

4. Remembrances of Lost Time - Memoir