Wednesday, May 1, 2013

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

16 comments:

  1. Blessed Beltane to you, Oriah. This dancing with the fire takes so many different shapes and forms.

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  2. Thanks for this Oriah. I often use the image of the closed fist/open hand to check how I'm holding things. As for "doing something that echoes the fear",I was thinking about this at the weekend. I'm not very comfortable in groups of people I don't know, and my defensiveness often shows in judgementalism towards people there or rather paranoid feelings that I'm being misjudged or misunderstood. I'm learning that the best way to deal with this is to make efforts to talk to the people I feel negative about - actually seeing and hearing the individual usually deals with all that my mind is busy putting on them and restores perspective.

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    1. Anne- love this example. As an introvert I am often uncomfortable in social situations (particularly large ones) and have come to realize that this can look to others as if I am aloof (when in fact I may just be feeling nervous or overwhelmed.) Delibertately extending myself to someone is a great way to connect and dissolve the fears that could really get going internally. Thank you.

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  3. Dear Oriah, your posting spoke so forcefully to me today because of the way I am presenting responding to the loss of a dream. A heart wish. Thank you, you've helped immensely. Peace.

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  4. Oriah, two things. Love this post and I love the concept of a "homeopathic approach" to breaking the mental loop or cycle of anxiety. In fact I love it so much that I wish you would have included more examples of how you see this playing out. I am a strong advocate of homeopathy so I would like to thank you for introducing this idea to me -- to take the philosophy behind it and explore other places to apply it in our choices and behavior. I hope you include this thread in your book-in-progress.

    The other thing I wanted to express is my shock at hearing you say -- in response to Anne, above -- that you are an introvert, often uncomfortable in social situations. We have known each other for years and whenever I have seen you in groups, you are the "life of the party", if I could use that expression -- articulate, fluent, engaging, funny -- a fabulous storyteller. This is not news to you, I'm sure. So how to put that together with what you are saying, above? Maybe it has to do with the company you find yourself in, and the context. In any case, it will make for an interesting discussion the next time our paths cross.

    Thank you for this posting Oriah -- insightful and valuable.

    Jesse

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    1. Jesse- lol- I understand your confusion. :-) I am actually extremely introverted- although (for survival reasons) I have a highly developed extroverted function that I can use when I need and want to- but it always costs me. Extroverts gain energy/recharge with others. Introverts gain energy/recharge in solitude. Extroverts often do get many valuable things out of solitude (as introverts do out of social time) but the energy cost/recharge is the biggest clue. Once watched Marion Woodman arrive at a workshop looking truly frail. I knew she found writing (an introvert task) exhausting. Four days later, after interacting and teaching, Marion looked 10 years younger- she had been energized, renewed by the group. Although I have loved teaching and facilitating I have never walked away from a class or a workshop or retreat with more energy- always with less and the need to renew in solitude. I'm an introvert. Marion is an extrovert. :-)

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    2. As always, you express yourself beautifully and eloquently. But I realize I should have specified. I have always intuited what it takes out of you to teach, and have watched as you pull back in order to regenerate. What I was referring to is you in social situations -- the ones I was present in. It is in this context I refer to you as "the life of the party", funny, a great storyteller. You are CHARGED, woman! So when I said I was shocked, it was at the suggestion that these interactions would not enliven you, because you take such joy in them. Because you do far more than just laugh along -- you are the force that ignites everyone present.

      Like yourself, I have developed an strong extroverted function, and I love to socialize, even though I consider myself (primarily) an introvert. But while I find myself needing to pull back afterward and be alone to digest my experience, a good, fun conversation will leave me high for days. :--)



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    3. Thank you Jesse- love the idea of being the life of the party even if I get to very few. Interestingly I can experience the two things simultaneously- which leaves me after parties lying in bed for a day or two smiling broadly at how wonderful the conversation and shared fun was. :-)

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  5. Very wise thoughts, Oriah. Sometimes, my problem is this: I find it difficult to be nice to somebody after I have been treated badly by someone. Then I have a deep feeling of being unworthy and a part of me thinks I shouldn't bother other people with a kindness nobody asks for. And here comes the better part of me that tells me that perhaps there has been the ONE who was mean to me, but most of the others are beings like me, happy and thankful for any form of kindness. And they will appreciate my smile, my words, my curiosity. At the place life has put us, we will build a little stronghold against the rigours of life.

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  6. Nora, I don't think we're oblibgated to be "nice" to someone who has mistreated us- which is not to say we can't try to be civil (although, depending on the severity of the mistreatment, simply not having interaction may be appropriate) but we can betray something within ourselves if we pretend the mistreatment has not happened. Holding ourselves with kindness and tenderness is probably the best way to recover our balance after these kinds of things.

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  7. Oriah,

    I have been reading your blog for some time now and haven't left a comment prior to this one. I always find it amazing how I can connect to what you write and how it always seems fitting to where I am at in my life: mentally, physically, emotionally.

    I identify well with the "trick to match the act that stops the spiral to the imagined fear". I myself have used this approach to attempt overcoming fears, and it has helped me immensely.

    Love what you write and where it puts me mentally.

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    1. Thank you! And thanks for taking the time to comment.

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  8. Hi Oriah, I decided to tune into the Green Bough this morning and this post really spoke to me. I just came off of a 2 month Vipassana silent retreat where i was able to see alot of core habitual obsessive patterns of mind and how they almost always ( for me ) seem to be tied to some strong past conditioning around being a woman and the how the feminine is seen in our culture. ( by both men and woman. ) Tremendous patience, kindness and compassion for oneself is needed and then to turn to others with small but potent acts of acknowledgement and tenderness, as you describe, can be the thing that slows everything down and re-routes the neurological pathways of "worry" or "fear" habits. Thank you for your honest self disclosure. Much appreciated.
    Lot's of love, Rachel

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    1. Rachel, how lovey to "see" you here. Yes indeed, patience, kindness, tenderness, mercy toward self are so important if we actually want to reroute the habitual thinking- so tempting (sometimes) to be harsh with myself- but that just never works. Made me smile to see you comment- felt like we were once again sitting on a circle together. :-)

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  9. Oriah,
    I have just encountered your website via a posting on Facebook. I really connected with a reading of "The Invitation." I have struggled with dealing with a life that has been mostly difficult - a childhood of emotional abuse, rape, two failed marriages, severe depression - within which I made choices that were detrimental to my life and career, and being bullied out of a job I loved, then the poverty that comes with being jobless. I strive daily to live today's life, but there always people who "talk about me" to others, bringing up past events both true and untrue, so I continue to relive past events because of others' cruelty. Thank you so much for "The Invitation." It is something I can look at daily to try to remember that my goal is to be a good person - for myself and my family, and to embrace life and the beauty it holds. I can't understand, though, why there are so many cruel people who only seem to want to hurt others - even people they don't even know - by spreading untruths, even years after the purported events happened. How do you get through that?
    Thank you for your website and your outlook.

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    1. Christy, so glad you enjoyed the book. I am right now doing a daily meditation on how we deal with being misunderstood or lied about- one of the hardest things I think there is to resist the urge to explain or justify or correct what is inaccurate information. Will be writing about it at some point in the next few weeks as I feel my way into accepting even this when it is just what is.

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