André - Looking at mindfulness: 25 ways to live in the moment through art

T he first thing we see is the intense, yellow light of the winter sun outsidea sun that dazzles without warmth. Then we notice the old man sitting motionless, having turned away from his table and the book he was studying. Is he thinking? Resting? Meditating? We look to the right and notice the low cellar door, then our eyes are drawn to the spiral staircase, but we have barely registered its first few steps when we notice the fire crackling in the grate and the woman stoking it. Our eyes return to the staircase, but it leads only into darkness.

The painting is small, the place it depicts is dark, yet we have a sense of immense space. This is the genius of Rembrandt, who leads us on a visual journey through all the dimensions. We travel the painting widthways left to right, from the daylight pouring in to the fragile, almost derisory firelight. Theres a dialogue established between the sun that lights but does not warm and the fire that warms but sheds no light. Are these the sun of reason and the fire of passion, two ingredients that combine in philosophy? We travel the paintings height by means of the spiral staircase that links the deep secrets of the cellar to the dark mysteries of the upper floor, and we travel its depth, from the background where the philosopher sits to the surrounding circle of shadows. But the sense of space also derives from the subtle interplay between all that is revealed and all that is hidden, where our imagination is crucialwhat lies on the other side of the window, behind the cellar door, at the top of the stairs? The largest of the worlds hidden from our restless eyes is the philosophers mind, his inner world. Shadows and darkness, a little light, a little warmth and a working mindis that what our inner selves are like?

Meditation means stopping

Stop doing, stop moving, stop twisting and turning. Meditation means withdrawing a little, stepping back from the world.

At first what we feel seems odd. Theres an emptiness (no action or distraction) and a fullness (a tumult of thoughts and sensations that we suddenly notice). Theres what we lackpoints of reference and things to doand, after a little while, theres the calm this lack brings. Things here are not the same as they are outside, where our mind constantly attaches itself to some aim or project, acting or thinking about something in particular, having its attention held by some distraction.

The apparent inaction of the experience of meditating takes a little while to get used to. As in Rembrandts painting, or when we move from light to shadow, we dont see clearly straightaway. We have gone inside ourselves, for real. Our inner world was close by, but we never went there. We tended to hang around outside; in todays world of frantic demands and frenzied connections, our relationship to ourselves often goes untended. We abandon our inner world. The outside world is easier to travel and better signposted. To meditate is often to move through a land without paths. In the room where the philosopher is meditating theres less light, so you have to open your eyes wider. The same is true inside ourselves. There is less that is obvious or reassuring, so we must open our minds eye much wider.

We expectedor hopedto find calm and emptiness. We often find ourselves in a huge, rowdy, chaotic bazaar. We aspired to clarity, we find confusion. Sometimes meditation exposes us to anxiety and pain, to things that hurt us and that we have avoided by thinking about something else or busily doing things elsewhere.

Calming agitation

It all looked so simple from the outside! We thought it would be enough just to sit down and close our eyes. But no, thats just the start. Its indispensable, but not enough in itself. So what now? Now we have to work. We must learn to look, to remain slightly apart from the world, sitting just like this with closed eyes. We must learn to allow the tumult to settle.