How to Calm DOWN When You Are Riled UP

The answer is right there in the terms we use to describe ourselves when we are upset or at ease. It is a matter of direction. 

A few days ago I had an appointment with someone who was coming to my house. The person didn’t arrive on time, and as the minutes ticked by, I became irritated. I texted her and didn’t receive an immediate response which irritated me even more. I kept going to the window to see if she had arrived and checking my phone to see if she had texted. My mind was spinning stories – judging her for being late, worried that it was I who had made a mistake about the time, and so on. I felt agitated and restless. My heart rate was up a bit. I felt disappointed and angry. 

I tried to think my way out of my distress. Maybe she was stuck somewhere and couldn’t get in touch. Even if she forgot, I have done the same on more than one occasion. Nothing terrible was happening. It would all sort itself out. That helped a little, but I was still unable to relax. I reflected on this a bit.

When we are upset or angry or agitated, our energy rises. Our breathing is shallow. Our weight shifts forward and upward. Our attention is in our heads. Our thoughts run amok, shouting stories about whatever has initiated our distress. We fuel the stories with fiery emotions. Or perhaps we try to douse the fire with other thoughts, which still keep us in our heads. 

So many terms identify this upward direction of energy. We get riled up, churned up, revved up, for example. Tempers rise. 

Other terms suggest a way to restore our inner equilibrium – calm down, settle down, slow down. The direction away from distress is downward. So how do we do that? Because we rely so much on our brains, our first instinct is to think our way out of a problem. However, thinking often is the problem. Our distress is in our thoughts. And while it is possible to think ourselves back into balance, a more direct way is to move out of our heads and down into our bodies.

So I did a simple exercise to bring my energy down. I inhaled and stood on my toes, raising my arms away from my body. I paused there a moment, then suddenly released my weight as I exhaled and dropped into my feet, letting my arms fall at the same time. I kept my knees relaxed so that when my heels hit the ground, there was a soft bounce, like I was shaking all the tension loose and letting it sink into the earth. 

On the third repetition, I felt an internal release and everything immediately relaxed. My body felt calm, my mind stopped chattering, my emotions settled. Equanimity was restored. Just like that. Only a few seconds. Not complicated. Simple. Effective. 

As I was marveling at the wisdom of my body, my friend texted. Indeed we had miscommunicated about the time. I’m not even sure which one of us was at fault, or indeed if there had been any fault at all. At that point it no longer mattered to me. We got together and had a good visit. 

At a time when many of us are feeling so much stress and anxiety, and other “up” emotions, this is a great exercise to help us stay balanced and grounded. Try it. I hope it’s helpful. 

Get yourself grounded and you can navigate even the stormiest roads in peace. ~Steve Goodier

Courage at the Testing Point

Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point. ~C. S. Lewis

As the tectonic plates of culture alternately drift further apart and then crash into each other with increasing violence, I am reminded of blog posts of the past, written in times of heart pain and despair over the fear and separation manifesting in our world. 

When I went back to read these posts, my first thought was that nothing has changed. Those posts could have been written today. Specific circumstances and events might change, but underlying it all is the same need for a better way.  

The posts observe a divided world, encourage us to be healers, and assure us that there is a better way if we have the courage to follow it. 

We are, I think many would agree, at a testing point. We are called now to be this time’s “righteous among the nations.” To march together across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma. To be the small but mighty child in the crowd who sees through illusion and says that the emperor has no clothes. 

We are called not to accuse but to model, not to condemn but to lead, not to fight but to free, not to know but to understand, not to inflict but to heal, not to win but to unite, not to hate but to hold.

What does that look like? It looks like listening to our own inner guide, leading us on our own path. It looks like inner alignment that manifests in everything we do or think or say. It looks like integrity, being fully integrated in body, mind, and spirit. 

It looks like courage at the testing point. 

The way we seek is not out there but within.

Now Is the Time

If it weren’t for my mind, my meditation would be excellent. ~Pema Chodron

You’ve heard me frequently emphasize and encourage practice. I’ve talked about the “razor’s edge” of practice, that place where we are challenged to release, expand, embrace, accept, forgive. The place where we meet fear on the battlefield and bow in respect. The place where we experience the distress of not knowing. The place where we come face to face with reality and find that it looks just...like...us. Not the us that we tell ourselves about, not the us that we hide from others, not the us that we want others to see – no, the us as we are, just as we are, right now in this moment.

How do we practice when, well, when things are like they are? Especially like they are these days? How do we practice when everything from viruses to earthquakes to politics to not enough toilet paper threatens our equanimity? When our routines are disrupted, our expectations disregarded, our assumptions revealed and proven false? When fear runs rampant in our minds and our hearts are shattered in grief?

This is precisely the time to practice, to practice, as Pema Chodron says, like our hair is on fire. (That always makes me laugh...and motivates me!) This is when the practice we do when things are easy, shows up to support us and sustain us when things are hard. This is when the trust we have built up in our practice is put to the test and carries us steady on the course.

And what is it exactly that we are practicing? What we can. Awareness. Loving kindness. Meditation. Too much? That’s okay. Practice mindful breathing. Start with this breath. Now this one. It is enough.

The point is not to add more to our to do lists, or to reach some self-imposed standard, but to permeate our lives with compassion, beginning with ourselves. How many times have I heard someone say recently, “I have to,” or “I should have,” or some version of self demand or self failure. When I hear this, I just want to say, “It’s okay. We are all muddling through as best we can, learning and adapting as we go. It’s okay.”

Bring awareness and compassion to the muddling. It is enough.

Now is the time, not to be perfect, not to know everything. Now is the time to practice, to practice being here, now. Take another breath. It is enough.

If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath. ~Amit Ray

Note: The photo above is one of my statues of Kuan Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy and compassion. I love this statue because she is surrounded by coiling dragons with water churning beneath her. Yet she remains serene, pouring the nectar of compassion right into the dragon's mouth.

George Pays It Forward

In a recent post, I described my grandson’s loving acceptance of George the lemur who lost his tail. This morning, George was found with his hand resting on Chao Chao in what appears to be a gesture of kindness. (Everyone denies staging this scenario, so think what you will about how this came about.)

Chao Chao recently joined the family, brought home by my daughter (my grandson’s aunt) from her visit to China over Thanksgiving. He is a rat, symbolizing 2020, the year of the rat in Chinese astrology.

Perhaps George is inviting us to make 2020 the year of kindness and compassion, to encourage others rather than criticize, to accept rather than judge, to reach out rather than reject, to forgive rather than hate, to love rather than fear.

The Dalai Lama says that his religion is kindness. The Chinese goddess Guan Yin pours the nectar of compassion over the world. Jesus cautioned us to judge not, and commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Buddha taught that hatred ceases not by hatred but only by love.

All these great wisdom teachings have been modeled for me in the last few days by my grandson and his stuffed animal. “And a little child shall lead them,” says the Bible. Perhaps one of my last lessons this year is humility.

In a few days I will head up to my forest cabin for my year end retreat. On New Year’s Eve, I will sit in front of the fire. First I will write a letter to the year ending, thanking it for its lessons and blessings. Then I will write a letter to the new year, welcoming it with hospitality and openness. Finally I will burn both letters, offering all my gratitude and anticipation to the heavens and the earth.

We each choose what to pay forward in the next year. May we choose well.

In Our Mother's Arms

We think ourselves unworthy
Always falling short
Damned by fatal flaws
We have forgotten who we are
Beloved children all
Of the Divine Mother
Ever held as babes
In her sacred embrace
Rocked in her arms
To the rhythm of her heart
Listening as she sings away
Our dreams of separation
Gazing into her eyes of grace
Reflecting back to us 
Our own perfection

Just Sayin'...

Buddhism says:  Hatred never ceases by hatred but by love alone is healed.

Christianity says: Love your enemies.

Taoism says: I am good to people who are good. I am also good to people who are not good.

Islam says: It may be that God will ordain love between you and those whom you hold as enemies.

Judaism says: Love covers all offenses.

Hinduism says:  A noble soul will ever exercise compassion even towards those who enjoy injuring others or those of cruel deeds.

The photo above is of Kuan Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy and compassion. This is my favorite depiction of her because in this statue, her serene countenance is untroubled by the swirling water beneath her and the dragons coiling around her. She is often shown holding a vase containing the nectar of compassion, which, in this statue, she is pouring into the mouth of the dragon.

I don’t know what else to say about what I see in the world right now.