Little Messes Everywhere

How making sourdough and scrubbing uniforms made me more mindful.

Eddie Breader was reborn a few times, and unlike the crocheting hobby, I was determined to make him live. After several tries and a lot of flour (why is flour so expensive?), Eddie is thriving. Making sourdough taught me a patience I never expected. I don’t measure when I cook; I cook with my soul. My soul tells me how much seasoning goes into something, but sourdough, accidentally adding too much water and you have a blob of dough? Ha! Now, baseball uniforms—I mean, did you really play with your heart and soul if you aren’t fifty at the end of the game? However, my son takes filthy to an entirely different level. While scrubbing one day with my arsenal of stain removers, I texted a friend who is a college baseball coach and said, “Please tell me there will be a special person assigned to my son to clean his uniform” (FYI, the answer is yes).

Baking sourdough and scrubbing uniforms turned out to be more than just hobbies. They made me slow down, notice each step, and really pay attention to what I was doing. That’s what mindfulness is—being present, even during simple routines, and letting yourself focus on what’s happening right now. Practicing this awareness showed me I can bring the same mindful attention to any part of my day, and I encourage my clients to try this in their own routines too.

The combination of mixing, waiting, and scrubbing put me in the present, kept me mindful of what I was doing, and focused me on the issue at hand. I try to focus on being in the moment with my clients. Recently, one of my clients mentioned being in full uniform in 100-degree temperatures. We discussed identifying how his body temperature will be higher due to his uniform, how to be aware and mindful of how he is feeling, and identifying that feeling more uncomfortable with the inability to do anything about it can impact his mood at work; and if we acknowledge what our bodies are feeling, we can be mindful of how we react.

If you want to practice this in your own life, try a quick mindfulness exercise: Take a moment to notice your breath. Breathe in slowly, feel the air fill your lungs, then let it out. As you breathe, scan your body from head to toe, noticing any tension or sensations. Even just one minute of this can help bring you to the present, whether you’re scrubbing, baking, or sitting in your car. Give it a try next time you feel yourself slipping into autopilot.

Last week in New Jersey, it was over 100 degrees, but I still decided to go to hot yoga. Ironically, the studio was cooler than outside. As a friend joked, “When you go to hot yoga to cool down.” I went into yoga focused on how my body felt. Instead of pushing myself or judging myself for not keeping up, I paid attention to my breath, the heat in my face, the sweat on my skin, and how my muscles relaxed when I held a pose. My mind felt quieter, and I found a sense of calm, even when things got tough. I skipped chaturangas those days and went straight to down dog. In the past, I would have tried to keep up with everyone else, but at 49, I know my limits. Listening to my body and being mindful reminds me that I showed up for myself—even if I skipped the chaturangas.

On these hot days, whether I’m in a hot yoga studio or sitting outside at a baseball game, I focus on taking cooling breaths. It reminds me that even in tough situations, my breath is always there to help.

We’re all human, and most of the time we’re thinking about what’s next. But small moments—like making sourdough or scrubbing a uniform—can bring us back to the present. Listen to your body and your inner voice. Be present; tomorrow will come. Just show up for yourself, because that’s the one thing you can control.

Remember, mindfulness isn’t about being perfect or always calm. Life gets busy, and it can be hard to slow down. But even a few conscious breaths or a quick check-in with yourself can help ground you, no matter how hectic things get. Keep practicing, and those small mindful moments will add up over time.