Mindfulness is a term that appears everywhere today.
In books, in conversations, in psychotherapy.
That it has become so widespread is, first of all, a good thing.
Mindfulness is nothing new.

It was recognized as helpful long ago – and touches something fundamental about being human.
At the same time, the term has become somewhat blurred.
And it is not always clear what is actually meant by it.

Put simply:
Mindfulness means noticing what is happening – as it is happening.

That sounds obvious.
It is not.
Of course, we know that we are walking, speaking, or reading.

But often this happens almost in passing.
Our attention is caught up in thoughts about the past,
in ideas about the future,
in inner conversations that repeat themselves.

Seen soberly, many people spend a large part of their lives this way.
Not in the direct experience of what is happening – but in thinking about it.

Thinking itself is not the problem.
On the contrary, it is a fundamental human capacity.
It becomes more difficult where thoughts take on a life of their own,
where they keep moving along the same familiar tracks,
and we no longer notice that we are following them.

Practices can help us begin to see this.
But what matters is not whether a technique is performed correctly,
but whether we actually notice what is happening.

We all know this from everyday life:
you read a text – and suddenly realize you have not really taken in the last few sentences.
Or you listen to someone – and find that your mind has wandered elsewhere.
There is nothing unusual about this.
It is, rather, the norm.

And yet it is not without consequence.
Because it means that we are not really aware of a large part of what we do.

Another common misunderstanding is to confuse mindfulness
with a particular kind of “self-care” –
taking up more space or asserting one’s own needs.
This has little to do with what is meant here.

Noticing what is happening can be very simple.
Sensing that one is breathing.
Noticing that one is sitting.
Becoming aware of thoughts as they arise – and pass, if one does not become entangled in them.

In this way, something may become visible that usually remains in the background.
Not as a special insight or an achievement,
but as an initial recognition
of what we are doing most of the time without noticing.

What develops from this cannot be produced.
But without this noticing, it does not begin.