Toes, belly and breath medicine: More on fears and worries (thought-induced)

Fear is here. Right now. No, there’s no actual imminent threat (slithering snake, pouncing lion…). What is the fear about? It really doesn’t matter. Corona virus. A possible disaster. Dire financial straits… there are a million options for the mind to pick from.

Where am I? In my head.

How do I know I am in my head? Well, first off, until just now when I asked the question, I wasn’t even aware I had a body. Intellectually, of course I know I have a body, of course. But in the moment, I was swimming in thoughts, nowhere near my body.

My mind knows two timelines and two timelines only. Past and future.

In my past, reside my grief, sadness, anger. Also some joy, and happiness, but we’re not here for those, are we?

In my future, restlessly rest my fears, worries and resulting anxieties (the result of playing these fears and worries in a loop ad infinitum). I have a whole portfolio of those. A carefully managed portfolio. Hence the need for control and certainty in my life. Hence losing my cool when something doesn’t work right (according to plan, or expectation) - my entire future portfolio depends on it. As Byron Katie eloquently put it: “if you want suffering, get yourself a future”

And in the present? What? The everlasting fleeting present moment? This blink of an eye? Who gives it a second thought? It would be in the past by the time you give it your first thought, let alone the second… who thinks to invest time in such a narrow, thinly sliced piece of eternity? No portfolio, no promise about great riches, finding love, happiness, etc… it’s just a blink.

Well… not quite.

First, a quiz. What part of you is ALWAYS in the present moment?

Your body. Or more accurately, what you can perceive with your senses, within and without. This includes your sensations, as well as emotions which to some appear to be rising and falling within us entirely at random.

Now, back to that thought induced fear. As explained above, it’s a thought about the future. Even if you’re thinking about the mistake you just realized you made in the test paper you just submitted to the teacher, the fear is not about the mistake you made, it’s about the ramifications of it in… you guessed it, the future. It could seriously damage that portfolio of future promises you so painstakingly took time to build. Hence the fear.

So I have a thought about the future that is causing me worry. Now, there’s a popular YouTube video of Gaur Gopal Das pointing out the futility of worries here. That’s a sweet video, but frankly, if you’re not in on the secret of how to get rid of future fears and worries, all it provides is a comical break that tickles your intellect, which then immediately comes back with a the same question: “OK, but seriously, how do I stop worrying about this?”

So, here comes your greatest ally: your body. Take a moment to remind yourself of the key intersections in your life where you made your biggest decisions. Were these decisions the result of arduous intellectual mastery that yielded a nice little packaged clarity of thought about what to do next? Rarely. I typically find that our biggest decisions were made either from our gut* (“I just knew it” - hence the term “gut feel”), or taking a leap of faith toward what felt (in the gut? chest?) right after a prolonged thought process that yielded absolutely nada except for more confusion and frustration. Now, sometimes, we took the opposite decision to what our gut told us, and most often than not, that decision was made out of fear and we might be paying for it years and decades later… *Aboriginal Australians believe that ”we have three brains. The biggest brain is the gut, the instinct, and it sits in the belly. The second biggest brain is the heart and the emotions. The smallest brain, the logical brain, sits in the head. The word they use for the smallest brain is that same word they use for a fishing net that is tangled up beyond repair (and totally screwed).” - interesting, eh?

And so, let’s lay down, and move away from our heads. How? Focus on your belly. Focus on your wiggling toes. Focus on your breath - belly breath deep breath. Thoughts will offer themselves (free of charge, come get yours now…) - but you will steadfastly go back to your senses, to the present moment, to the now. My toes, my belly, my breath. Deep breath. “But there’s fear… what about X…?” and back you go to your belly, toes and breath. Your belly may even be contracted with the fear thought. That’s OK, talk nicely to your mind, understand that it is afraid (don’t get into the story of why it is so). It’s not trying to bug you in order to make your life miserable, even though that very well may seem so, it is really trying to alert you to a potential future and it has a negative bias about it, remnant of the times when you were in the middle of the food chain and your mind tried to tell you that the rustling in the bush was a bear and you better get out of there quickly. But now, you are no longer in the middle of the food chain, and there is no bear. It’s just your underemployed and overly busy mind still trying to warn you and keep you safe. Thank your mind, and go back to the belly, your toes, your breath. Remember to be nice to all of your parts. Nice but firm, “thank you, and, not now”. And back to sensations.

After a few minutes you may be surprised when you notice that the knot you felt in your tummy is no longer there. Hey, where did it go? The thought is not there to make the belly tight, so you soften and let go. If you want to practice softening your belly (that’s where tightness often begins), I highly recommend Stephen Levine’s audio book “To Love and Be Loved”. It’s a masterpiece and the soft belly meditation included within will untie massive knots and perhaps let out some profound emotions. Be forewarned: do not listen to Levine’s meditations while driving. Only in a safe, contained space, preferably laying down. And give yourself ample time afterwards, you may need it.

I hope this helps a bit. Feel free to leave comments.

Love,

Noam