Today I Choose to be Mindful – How to be Mindful

It’s 5 AM and I’m awake. Again. Not the gentle, stretching kind of awake where you could drift back to sleep if you wanted. The fully alert, brain-already-composing-emails kind of awake that means sleep is done with me, even if I’m not done with it.

For years, I fought this. Lay there calculating how many hours until my alarm, catastrophizing about how exhausted I’d be, mentally yelling at my brain to SHUT DOWN ALREADY. I’d try every trick – counting backwards from 300, progressive muscle relaxation, so hum mantras, that breathing thing where you hold for seven counts. Nothing worked except making me more frustrated, more awake, more aware of time ticking toward morning.

But this morning, I did something different. I got up. Made coffee. Didn’t check my phone. Didn’t open my laptop. Just took my dragonfly mug (yes, the one Curtis brings me coffee in every morning) and went outside to sit on the back porch.

The world at 5 AM doesn’t care about your insomnia. The birds are already at it, having full conversations about whatever birds discuss. The sky is doing that thing where it can’t decide if it’s still night or becoming day. The air has that quality that only exists before humans wake up and complicate everything.

I’m not meditating. Let’s be clear about that. I’m not sitting in lotus position (my knees would file for divorce), not focusing on my breath, not trying to empty my mind. I’m just… being. Being awake when I’d rather be asleep. Being present to what is rather than fighting for what isn’t. Being mindful that this moment, this unwanted 5 AM moment, is happening whether I resist it or not.

The Accidental Discovery of Mindfulness

I always thought mindfulness meant meditation. You know, the whole sitting cross-legged, saying “om,” clearing your mind thing that everyone from Oprah to my dental hygienist swears by. I’d tried it. Multiple times. Downloaded the apps, bought the cushion, even went to that workshop where the instructor spoke in that artificially calm voice that made me want to scream.

But mindfulness, I’m learning at 61, isn’t about formal meditation. It’s about paying attention to what’s actually happening instead of what you wish was happening. It’s about being present to reality, even when reality is insomnia at 5 AM.

This morning, being mindful means noticing:

• The coffee is perfect temperature, that sweet spot between tongue-burning and lukewarm
• A cardinal is having an argument with another cardinal about tree rights
• My shoulders have crept up to my ears again (they do that)
• The sky is seven different colors, none of which have names
• My neighbor’s cat is stalking something I can’t see with intense dedication
• I’m actually okay being awake
• → Today I Choose to be Insightful

That last one surprises me. When did I become okay with insomnia?

Mindfulness as Radical Acceptance

Here’s what nobody tells you about mindfulness: it’s not about achieving some blissful state. It’s about accepting the state you’re in. Even if that state is cranky, exhausted, worried about that presentation, annoyed at Curtis for snoring, overwhelmed by your to-do list, and wondering if that weird pain in your left hip is arthritis or something worse.

Being mindful doesn’t make those things go away. It just means you stop adding suffering on top of suffering. The insomnia is what it is. The story I tell myself about the insomnia – “I’ll be exhausted, I’ll mess up the presentation, this is ruining my health, I’ll never sleep normally again” – that’s optional suffering I’m creating.

So I sit with my coffee and my birds and my gradually lightening sky, and I practice being mindful of what is rather than catastrophizing about what might be.

The 3-Minute Rule

I can’t be mindful all day. Let’s be realistic. By 10 AM, I’ll be deep in spreadsheets and compliance issues and the eighteen fires that need putting out. I’ll be reacting, not responding. Doing, not being. That’s life.

But I can be mindful for three minutes. That’s my rule. Three minutes of actual presence. Not three hours, not thirty minutes, not even ten. Three minutes of paying attention to what’s happening right now.

Sometimes it’s the 5 AM insomnia acceptance. Sometimes it’s really tasting my lunch instead of eating while typing. Sometimes it’s standing in the parking lot after a brutal meeting, feeling the sun on my face and remembering I’m a human being, not just a problem-solving machine.

Three minutes. That’s it. That’s my mindfulness practice. And you know what? It’s enough.

Mindfulness in the Chaos

Last week, in the middle of absolute chaos – Curtis’s medical bill confusion, a work crisis that required immediate attention, Jesse calling about a life decision, and the washing machine deciding to die dramatically – I found myself standing in the laundry room, surrounded by wet clothes, and I just… stopped.

Not stopped doing things. Stopped fighting reality. Stopped telling myself this shouldn’t be happening. Stopped adding my mental commentary to the situation.

I became mindful of:

• Water dripping rhythmically from a soaked towel
• The absurdity of appliances having perfect timing for maximum inconvenience
• My breathing had gone shallow and quick
• The late afternoon light making even the disaster look kind of pretty
• This would be a story we’d laugh about later
• → Today I Choose to be Insightful

In that moment of mindfulness, something shifted. The situation didn’t change – the washer was still dead, the clothes still soaked, the day still chaotic. But my relationship to it changed. It went from “this is happening TO me” to “this is happening.”

Small shift. Huge difference.

The Mindfulness of Aging

At 61, my body is teaching me mindfulness whether I want to learn or not. That knee sound when I stand up? I’m mindful of it. The way my eyes need different distances for different tasks? Mindful. The hot flash in the frozen food section? Extremely mindful.

But this forced mindfulness of physical changes has taught me something: I’ve been unconscious about my body for decades. Using it without noticing it. Taking it for granted until something hurt or failed or changed.

Now I’m mindful of:

• How my back feels when I first wake up (like a rusty gate)
• The exact angle my neck needs to avoid that pinch
• Which foods make me feel energized versus sluggish
• The 3 PM energy crash that’s as reliable as sunset
• How different shoes affect my entire skeleton by end of day – Quick plug for Vionics!
• → Today I Choose to be Insightful

This isn’t hypochondria or obsession. It’s awareness. It’s being present to the body I actually have, not the one I had at 30 or wish I had now.

Mindful Relationships

Being mindful has changed how I interact with people. Instead of planning my response while they’re talking, I sometimes (not always, I’m not a saint) actually listen. Like, really listen. To what they’re saying and what they’re not saying.

Yesterday, Curtis was telling me about his day, and instead of half-listening while mentally organizing my tomorrow, I was mindful of:

• The way his voice changes when he’s frustrated but trying not to show it
• His hands gesturing more when he’s engaged in a story
• The moment his shoulders relaxed when I put down my phone
• How his stories always have three tangents before the point
• That I actually like the tangents
• → Today I Choose to be Insightful

Twenty years of marriage, and I’m just now being mindful of how he tells stories. That’s either sad or beautiful. Maybe both.

The Mindfulness Paradox

Here’s the weird thing about mindfulness: the harder you try, the less mindful you become. Trying to be mindful is like trying to fall asleep – the effort defeats the purpose.

So I don’t try anymore. I just notice when I notice. Like right now, writing this at 7 AM (yes, still awake from 5), I notice:

• My coffee’s gone cold but I’m drinking it anyway
• The sun has fully committed to being up
• My typing rhythm matches the bird outside my window
• I’m procrastinating on that compliance report
• Procrastination feels different when you’re mindful of it
• → Today I Choose to be Insightful

Today’s Choice

Today I choose to be mindful. Not all day – that’s impossible and would probably be exhausting. But in moments. In the three-minute spaces between chaos. In the 5 AM insomnia acceptances. In the parking lot pauses. In really tasting the first sip of coffee (even when it’s cold).

I choose to notice what’s actually happening instead of being lost in stories about what’s happening. To feel my feelings without adding commentary. To be present to this life, this day, this moment, even when it’s not the moment I’d choose.

Because mindfulness isn’t about achieving peace or finding bliss or becoming enlightened. It’s about being awake to your actual life while you’re living it. It’s about noticing the birds don’t care about your insomnia, the sky doesn’t care about your deadline, and somehow that’s comforting rather than dismissive.

At 61, I’m learning that mindfulness isn’t something you do. It’s something you are, for three minutes at a time, usually when you least expect it. Like at 5 AM, with insomnia and birds and coffee in your favorite mug, discovering that being awake when you don’t want to be is still better than sleeping through the parts of life that only happen when everyone else is dreaming.

I’m not meditating. I’m not doing it right. I’m just being here, now, aware and accepting and slightly amazed that this is enough.

For three minutes anyway. Then I’ll go back to my spreadsheets and chaos and the beautiful unconsciousness of getting things done. But those three minutes of mindfulness? They change everything without changing anything.

And that’s enough.