(Going) Out of My Mind
I have been thinking a lot about my mind lately.
Well that’s certainly an oxymoron!
But in all seriousness, I’ve come to realize over the years that my mind — something I’ve valued more than practically anything else about being a human — is not always my friend. I’ve truly appreciated my curiosity, the ability to look at pros and cons of a situation, certainly the creativity and imagination, and even the debate between seemingly different parts of my brain. While I haven’t cared for the mind’s desire to jolt me awake me at 3 a.m. in the morning to screech about potential horrors, I have appreciated the occasional really great idea from those very early morning conversations.
Sadly, I’ve discovered that I spend an enormous amount of time in my head, that little voice chirping away throughout the day and night. The conversations range from inane to profound, and it’s a little scary to catch oneself in the act, realizing that the mind can cheerfully chatter endlessly. My amazing yoga teacher always suggests that we try to take just one breath — one single breath — in stillness. It’s not as easy as it sounds.
Judging by the number of books on the topic, this is a serious issue, particularly when one adds in the fact that many people aren’t thinking about flowers and fluffy clouds but rather dark and negative thoughts.
In the last couple of years, I’ve begun a significant effort to quiet the mind, particularly when it insists on offering negative commentary. I use the analogy of the power and volume controls of a multitude of devices: just pick your favorite one. The opportunity is to power off the mind, or at least turn down the volume. The mute button also works. Every time I find myself thinking negative, useless and/or unproductive thoughts, I try to catch myself in the act, and stop.
How many times can one person find oneself planning the funeral of a (healthy) loved one, or imagining the fate of the neighborhood dog who wanders about unleashed? Or ponder all the things that could happen when one’s daughter decides to take a three-week trip by herself? Or perseverate about the dire causes of every sniffle, ache or mole — especially during a pandemic. I could go on and on and on.
STOP.
Turn it off, mute it, reduce the volume. Simply catch yourself in the act, and hold your ground.
This is why so many people are trying meditation these days, which is simply an exercise to quiet the mind. It can be as simple as breathing methodically, or repeatedly whispering a positive word or phrase. Another technique is understanding that a portion of the brain is wired to serve as Chicken Little, whose sole purpose in life is to assure that we understand that the sky is falling. We can talk calmly to that wired, frazzled and crisis-oriented part of our brain, and make sure that it knows that we’ve got this.
It’s all about awareness.
It can still take me some time to catch myself in the act, but the frequency of that happening is consistently rising. I can laugh when I find myself planning funerals. I can say “there there” to Chicken Little and tell her that it’s going to be okay. I can find one breath of stillness in yoga — before I start planning the dinner menu or worry about the possible dire consequences of the dog having diarrhea that morning.
It’s possible. It’s the art of getting out of one’s mind.
Going out of my mind takes on new and positive possibilities, and that is sure worth thinking about.
