Clif Smith - Mindfulness without the Bells and Beads

Here is a quick overview of the 8-week course:

Week 1: No Trivial Moments: Moving from Autopilot to Aware

Week 2: The Mindset You Bring to Your Experience Matters

Week 3: Do You Have the Story or Does the Story Have You?

Week 4: The Saber-Toothed Tiger of the Modern World: Everything

Week 5: Delving into the Difficult

Week 6: In the Same Boat

Week 7: Who Watches (Out for) You?

Week 8: Maintaining Momentum

Getting the most out of this book requires a commitment to doing the practices consistently. It's fine if you want to read the entire book first to get a sense of things and then actually do the course later, but do not lie to yourself as you close the last page and think, “I got this; now I know how to be mindful.” If you do that, you'll be about as mindful as one of those rocks in a Zen garden. You'd only have an intellectual understanding of mindfulness, which is pretty much useless. Whether you are new to mindfulness or have a long-term practice, I encourage you to start at the beginning of the book and work your way through in chapter order, doing the exercises consistently along the way. Practice is the only way to reap the benefits of mindfulness. Let's get to it.

1 1. https://www.dimensions.guide/element/track-and-field-400m-running-track

2 2. Hróbjartsson, A., & Norup, M. (2003). The use of placebo interventions in medical practice—A national questionnaire survey of Danish clinicians. Evaluation & the Health Professions, 26(2), 153–165. https://doi.org/10.1177/0163278703026002002

3 3. Luthar, S., Small, P., & Ciciolla, L. (2018). Adolescents from upper middle class communities: Substance misuse and addiction across early adulthood. Development and Psychopathology, 30(1), 315–335. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0954579417000645

On June 13, 1994, I stepped off a bus at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, and was immediately assailed by the shouts from a group of US Army drill sergeants. As you might imagine, my heart was pounding in my chest and I was thinking, “What the hell did I get myself into?” I had barely made the grades needed to graduate from high school just 3 days prior and this was the first step on what has turned out to be an incredible journey through life with its ups, downs, and hard-won lessons learned. I had many family members who served our country and inspired me to do the same, and I wanted to “earn my freedom,” a phrase which, as it turned out, had two meanings.

The first meaning of “earn my freedom” was recognizing I won the world lottery by being born in the United States of America but had done absolutely nothing to earn it. Serving my country was one way to do so. I grew up being inspired by my Uncle Ernie, who served in the US Marines during the Vietnam War and later joined the Army, where he served until retirement. Every Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, we would gather around the phone for our chance to talk with Ernie for a few minutes when he called in from a far-off place. There was always talk about service, patriotism, and sacrifice after we hung up that phone each year. Those sentiments instilled in me a desire to earn my freedom, and Ernie's stories kindled my interest in leaving my small town to explore the world.

The second meaning of “earn my freedom” came from the fact that we were dirt poor, and earning my financial freedom was high on my list of to-dos. I learned at a very young age what many kids do not learn until later in life, sometimes much later, that the food that arrived on my table each night and the roof over my head were there due to others sacrificing and laboring for me when I could do little in return. Crossing that threshold of understanding about the world fueled my motivation to become self-reliant, claw my way out of poverty, and help others.

Joining the US Army was one of the most important and impactful decisions of my life. The self-discipline, friendships, and experiences I gained in the Army shaped who I am, carried me through challenging times, helped me find the courage to take personal and physical risks, helped me get into and graduate from Harvard, and continue to fuel my motivation to serve others today. But I needed far more than just my experiences in the Army to move from poverty to prosperity.

My journey has not been linear by any stretch of the imagination. I was raised by a single mother of three. We were on and off welfare for much of my childhood, moved nearly a dozen times and across several states, lived in government-subsidized housing, a trailer park, and even had to stay in a shelter for a time when things went sideways with my mom's boyfriend. At Christmas time, we often got free toys from Toys for Tots, 1and during much of my time in school, we were on a free or reduced-cost lunch plan, which required the issuance, carrying, and “spending” of lunch tokens daily in the cafeteria. Noticing my cheeks turn bright red and dealing with intense feelings of embarrassment and shame when a classmate pointed out that I was getting free lunches was an all-too-common occurrence in my school. These circumstances kept me feeling small, feeling like a failure, and wondering why everyone else had it better than I did.

I was not, you might agree, set up for success. That said, I did not lack love and attention from my mother nor good examples of hard work, discipline, and the importance of family from her, as well as my aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I remember my mother working tirelessly to make ends meet while operating her station on the production line in a shoe factory, which was kind of a family profession back then. My grandparents moved from coal mine country in West Virginia to work at Gettysburg Shoe, in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Everyone in my extended family worked factory or other laborious jobs. Their collars weren't blue; their entire shirt was. Other than my Uncle Ernie, who was one of the main inspirations for me joining the military, the adult family members who surrounded me worked in shoe factories, cabinet factories, dinnerware factories, and quarries. They drove trucks, welded bars, sawed wood, and laid brick. All jobs that were much better than breathing in coal dust like my great grandfather.

My mother bore the brunt of raising us in difficult times, but there was much I'm sure I didn't see because she shielded it from my siblings and me. After each long day's work, my mom would pick us up from the babysitter's house and give us her full attention, ask about our day, and shower us with love. When I was old enough to go to school the schedule changed a bit, and in third grade, I became a latchkey kid. My mother's affection didn't wane, and she always came up with ways to give us opportunities she knew she couldn't provide on her own. One day she heard about a contest for low-income families to win free martial arts lessons at our local martial arts studio, So's Tae Kwon Do. 2She knew, from the stacks of old kung fu magazines and my penchant for wanting to watch every Chuck Norris and Bruce Lee movie a hundred times, that I would kill (pun intended) for a chance to actually learn martial arts and so she entered me into the contest. She didn't tell me about it before getting the results because she knew how devastated I'd be if we didn't win. Fortunately, I was one of the five lucky kids who won and although the free lessons were to last only two months, the owner and head instructor, Grandmaster Chong C. So, was an amazingly generous man. He was the architect of the contest and when he heard my mother was going to cancel “cable and HBO” to pay for my lessons to continue, he said he would keep teaching me for free as long as I was committed to the training (see Figures 1.1 and 1.2). I spent the next two years or so taking free lessons and, although it wasn't explicitly labeled mindfulness, Master So also taught us focused attention meditation and how to be aware of some often-overlooked aspects of our experience as we trained, competed, and navigated day-to-day life. I picked up three things in that program that I carried forward in my life that have helped me thrive.