Yes, you read that right. I once had to roll a raisin across my face for work. Not because I’d lost a bet or because I secretly enjoy raisins (I don’t), but because it was part of a mindfulness training. Apparently, the path to inner peace begins with fruit on your cheek.
The exercise went like this: roll the raisin across your face, pinch it between your fingers, listen to it, sniff it, and then chew it very slowly. And then eat another raisin right away and decide which one had more flavour.
Honestly, it was ridiculous. A raisin is a raisin. And for me, a raisin is something I never liked much. (Too sweet, weird texture…) No amount of slow chewing was going to create a deep connection and turn around my dislike.
Still, I understand the intention. The point was to pay attention, to slow down, to be present. And that part isn’t wrong. It’s just that I don’t need raisins for that.
When I write, I am present. When I am with the kids in my class, I am present, because they won’t let me fake attention. When I cook, laugh with my family, or watch stars and clouds in the sky, I am present. And when I listen to vinyl records, I am fully there too. Putting the needle down, sitting with the music, letting the sound fill the room – it’s almost meditative, a way of disappearing into the act of listening itself.
Where I could use more presence is elsewhere. When I scroll too long. When I rush through messages without really reading them properly and forget answering them. When my mind leaps ahead instead of staying here. When “what if” becomes too loud… Maybe that is where mindfulness has a point.
In the end, mindfulness probably just means noticing more of what is already in us. And if I can do that while sipping coffee, listening to music or watching the sky instead of rubbing dried fruit on my face, my mind will be full enough.
Still, stay mindful. Slow down. Sometimes it’s all we need.
reflections of an unquiet mind 