(Be) Mind(ful of) the Gap

Last spring, soon after returning from Iraq, I took my son to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. While riding the Metro home, I noticed that a young woman seated nearby had a patch on her backpack that looked like this picture. I had heard of "Mind the Gap" in terms of a recent UUA campaign to retain young adults as UUs in the "gap" between high school and adulthood, so I thought that's what it referred to.

I asked the young woman if she was a UU, and she gave me a blank look. I mentioned the patch and the UUA program, and she smiled and said "no, it's from the London Underground." Aha. It's been nearly a decade since I have been to London and ridden the Underground, so I didn't feel so bad about not recognizing the symbol. For those not in the know, it refers to the space (gap) between the car and platform in the Underground station. When a train comes, the announcement of its arrival concludes with "mind the gap." Lately this term has entered British popular culture.

Recently I've become aware of another meaning of the phrase "Mind the Gap" - Be Mindful of the Gap. The Gap I'm talking about here is the space between thoughts; those often rare moments when the nonstop "tape" or barrage of thinking ceases momentarily. Next time your mind draws a blank, just notice this Gap and pay attention to it. Your thinking mind will start up again soon enough.

I first began to think about this Gap in terms of meditation, as the space in attention between outbreaths. In samatha meditation, I notice thoughts as they arise and then let them go. I pay attention to my outbreaths and let my discursive mind dissolve with the breath. But what happens on the inbreath, and between breaths? Often this space is filled with thoughts, of course, but sometimes there is nothing. Emptiness. Stillness. This is the whole point of this kind of this type of meditation.

But life happens away from the meditation cushion, so I started thinking about other places to look for this Gap. I quickly found one in my Morning Pages practice, where I spend 30 minutes each morning writing essentially whatever is in my mind. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming or thinking about what to write, so I have to remind myself just to write whatever I'm thinking. This writing is a sort of stream of conciousness exercise, and sometimes the stream just stops. The mind and the pen pause and there's nothing - another Gap.

The "best" kind of Gap, I think, is the everyday one. This is the Gap that comes when I'm in the middle of very "deep" thinking, or maybe even in a conversation. This is the "my mind drew a blank" Gap, the "uh...I can't remember what I was saying" Gap, or the "it's on the tip of my tongue" Gap. This is the kind of Gap to notice, to appreciate, and to give my attention.

Because when I notice this Gap, when I give it my attention and just sit with the absence of discursive and distracting thought, I am open to life. I am open to becoming a "human being" rather than a "human doing." I get a glimpse of who I am beyond the stories I tell myself about my identity. I perceive a deeper conciousness that transcends the little, egoic me.

I am mindful of this Gap - it is empty but full of potential; still but alive with possibility.