Loosening the Clenched Fist

It's been a challenging week around tending my parents' needs (both have Alzheimer's) but it made me remember this little trick I sometimes use when I recognize that I am worrying. Sometimes just noticing is not enough to stop the cycle of obsessing about possible worst-case scenarios. 

Mostly the "trick" is just a way to help me loosen the mind's death-grip on the certainty that disaster is bound to ensue and, on a less conscious level, the unfounded and erroneous belief that bad things can be averted by ceasely reviewing, anticipating and worrying about things we cannot control. The worrying mind is like a clenched fist wrapped around some preoccupation. The "trick" is to get the fist to unclench.

When my sons were young we lived on very little income, and I often found myself worrying about our finances. I am not talking about the mental work sometimes needed to figure out a way to take care of something that needs tending but the mental obsessing that does nothing but wind us tighter and tighter around fears of "What if.. . . ?" What I discovered was that no matter how limited our finances were, the easiest way to stop this compulsive monkey-mind-worrying was to give a little money away- make a small donation or give a little cash to someone I knew needed it. It was almost magical how quickly that gave me some mental breathing room and stopped the cycle of worrying about money.

I suppose it's sort of a homeopathic approach to breaking a mental loop we know is not doing us or anyone else any good and is robbing us of the joy of the present moment. The trick is to match the act that stops the spiral to the imagined fear.

So, if I am feeling ignored or badly used by someone (sometimes it actually happens and sometimes we just imagined it happened- and either way I for one can obsess) and I start worrying that I should have done something on my own behalf or have failed to take care of myself, I make a point of really seeing others I do not know, others with whom I will only have momentary interaction (and may be inadvertently treating as invisible:) I slow down and hold the door for a stranger; look a cashier in the eye and thank her; greet a fellow tenant in my building, asking them about their day and listening with real curiosity; send an anonymous note of appreciation for the tax revenue agent who gave me the information I needed to complete my forms. (True story- made me smile to think how that must have surprised someone!)

I'm careful with this- I was raised to revere martrydom I don't want to go into denial about feeling crappy or having a concern. And, of course, there may well be places where I need to speak up on  my own behalf or be more assertive. But what I am talking about here isn't about strategies to create a better outcome in the situation that concerns me. I'm talking about ways to press the pause button on the monkey-mind obsessiveness by doing something small in the direction of my fear. Fearing economic scarcity I give a little money away and the mind's terror loosens; feeling ignored or misused I acknowledge another anonymously and being invisible becomes part of the pleasure, does not interfere with good self-care or generosity toward others.

So, this week- imagining and worrying about possible future scenarios for my parents (and whether or not I will be able to meet their needs-) I offered to help an elderly neighbour whose family lives far away. It was a small thing that took very little time and energy. My parents' needs are real, and I am in no position to assume on-going responsibility for other elderly folks. But the act of offering small in-the-moment assistance stopped the obsessive worrying, reminded me that no one does this alone, that people everywhere offer what they can, that what can be done in the present moment is all we need to do. As the worrying mind was hushed by a small action, I heard once again the words of Arthur Ashe I often use as my calming mantra: "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."

The thing about the joy-destroying clench-fisted nature of worry is that it often cannot be stopped by either giving it free reign or by pulling away from it. The former just feeds the beastie and the latter just increases the tension and tightens the mind's grip on its obsession. And if it's picked up enough speed and energy, sometimes trying to calmly watch it doesn't slow it down much at all. But sometimes, doing something that echoes the fear- of not having enough, of not practicing good self-care, of being overwhelmed by the needs of others-  interrupts the cycle and restores perspective.

And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Oriah (c) 2013