PART 2, The Final Three Steps to Living in the Present Moment

How Good Are You at Being In the Present Moment? Most people I talk to these days all describe their difficulty in being able to live more deeply in the present moment.  The ability to stay present at any given time is becoming a rare art.  We get caught up in the crazy and often overwhelming demands of staying alive and what we think comprises living life.  Consequently, time flies by without us ever really having lived in the moment.  And we either get fixated on the past or anxious about the future.

My last blog post told a zen story from which emerges six powerful steps to learning how to be grounded more deeply in the present.

The Parable

A monk is being chased by a ferocious tiger through the jungle.  He breathlessly comes to a clearing and is faced with a cliff right in front of him with a rope hanging over the side.  With the tiger catching up and no more options available, he quickly grabs the rope and shinnys down along the side of the cliff until he reaches the end of the rope.  He glances up and sees the tiger baring its hungry fangs.  He glances down and sees huge, sharp, jagged rocks beckoning to him 100 feet below.  What should he do?  About that time, two mice begin gnawing on the rope above him.  Now what?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, he suddenly notices something that captures his attention.  It’s a bright red, delectable-looking strawberry growing out of the side of the cliff an arm’s length away.  Hanging on to the rope with one arm and both feet, he reaches out with his other hand, plucks the strawberry, and puts it in his mouth.  Eating it, he exclaims, “This is the most delicious strawberry I believe God has ever made and I have ever tasted.  Yum, yum!”

Quick Summary of the First Three Steps

I describe the first three steps in my last blog post:  First, notice the strawberry; pay attention to what's around you; Second, take a risk and reach for the strawberry; and Third, take it--don't just be a spectator, get involved, participate in life right now.

But if we stopped with these three steps, we wouldn't really be plumbing the present moment for all it can truly give to us.  The final three take us to a deeper, more fulfilling and satisfying experience.  Here are the next three steps the story describes the monk taking.

Step Four:  Eat the strawberry.

Had the monk simply hung there on the rope looking at the beautiful strawberry, or had he even just held it in his hand, admiring its beauty, he would have missed the most delightful potential of that moment.  He had to put it in his mouth and chew it.

I wonder how often we miss out on joy and delight by simply not partaking of what's in front of us?  We're great at analyzing and debating the pros and cons of strawberries.  We dissect the past and philosophize about the future--we're experts with this.  But could we be missing out on the deeper experience of the present, the eating of the strawberry itself?  We stop short of putting it into our mouths and tasting it.  We can talk about it until we're blue in the face, but if we haven't eaten it, we really don't know what we're talking about.

This is why sacred scripture makes this statement:

"Taste and see that the LORD is good."

No taste, no see, no good.  Without taste, everything else is only theory.

Step Five:  Savor the strawberry.

The fact that the monk, hanging on to the rope for dear life, is so present in his moment with the strawberry that he not only enjoys the taste but notices it enough to realize that it's the best strawberry he's ever tasted, shows that he has mastered the practice of savoring.

Savoring means you stay present long enough, you linger over something, that it deepens your enjoyment of it.

When is the last time you truly truly savored something?  When is the last time you stayed with an experience long enough to really really appreciate and delight in it?  When is the last time your lingering over something gave you an focused appreciation of the various nuances of delight caressing your senses in that moment?  That's savoring.

One of the reasons more of us don't savor is because savoring takes time in the moment.  We have to choose to invest more than a split second seeing and tasting something.  We linger and pay attention to what we're experiencing while we're lingering.  We develop vocabulary to describe what we're tasting or sensing or feeling.  And that takes knowledge and awareness, both of which take time to develop.

But if we practice it, we get good at it.  And consequently our delight and enjoyment and focus deepen and widen and profoundly increase.

Step Six:  Give Thanks for the Strawberry.

This is tying the bow on the gift we've just received.  Expressing gratitude.  The monk, in the throes of his culinary ecstasy while hanging precariously on a rope (with tiger above and rocks below), gives thanks to the God who could create such a marvelously-tasting strawberry.

Neuroscience research informs us that expressing gratitude is the strongest, most transformational activity your brain can engage in.  Brain function becomes more balanced, harmonized, and supple; your heart begins to pump in a much more coherent and harmonious rhythm; and biochemical changes trigger a host of healthful responses throughout your body.

Studies how us that people who practice gratitude consistently report a host of other benefits:

• Stronger immune systems and lower blood pressure
• Higher levels of positive emotions
• More joy, optimism and happiness
• Acting with more generosity and compassion
• Feeling less lonely and isolated

What's so amazing about this simple practice, step six in living in the present moment, is that it in the end grounds us and anchors us to the delightful moment we've just experienced.  It seals it for us, physiologically, emotionally, and spiritually.  It ties the bow on the gift we just received.

We could learn a great deal from that little old monk who hung there on the rope suspended between a fearful past and uncertain future.  There's always a strawberry.  So look for it, risk a reach for it, take it, eat it, savor it, and express thanks for it.

Your present moments will never be the same again!

Personal Reflections For You:

• When you notice something good in your present moment, do you take the time to taste it, to put it your "mouth" and feel it?
• Describe an experience when you truly savored something, lingered long enough to relish the flavors or delightful nuances to your senses.
• How often do you express thanks and gratitude for your positive experiences in life--whether it's to yourself, to others, or to God?
• Do you have a regular gratitude practice?  What or Why not?

Six Steps To Living in the Present Moment

The Challenge of Living in the Moment I was leading a telecall the other day with people who participated in my first spiritual retreat back in January.  At the beginning, we shared with each other brief updates about our lives--one high and one low over the last few months.  Most of us, including me, were wrestling with the challenge of how to be able to live more fully in and enjoy the present moment without being so obsessed and caught up in either the past or the future or the extreme busyness and demands of every day life.

I don't think we're alone in this challenge.  The ability to stay present at any given time is becoming a rare art with so many people.  We get caught up in the crazy and often overwhelming demands of staying alive and what we think comprises living life.  Consequently, time flies by without us ever really having lived in the moment.  We lose opportunities to create wonderful memories and experience deep enjoyment because we're so focused on other things.  And not living in the moment means that we're more likely consumed by the past or the future and whatever those two represent to us.

I shared the following story on our telecall out of which emerged during our conversation six powerful steps to being able to stay more fully present and plumb the depths of life.

A Parable

You've heard the zen story of the monk being chased by a ferocious tiger through the jungle.  He breathlessly comes to a clearing and is faced with a cliff right in front of him with a rope hanging over the side.  With the tiger catching up and no more options available, he quickly grabs the rope and shinnys down along the side of the cliff until he reaches the end of the rope.  He glances up and sees the tiger baring its hungry fangs.  He glances down and sees huge, sharp, jagged rocks beckoning to him 100 feet below.  What should he do?  About that time, two mice begin gnawing on the rope above him.  Now what?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, he suddenly notices something that captures his attention.  It's a bright red, delectable-looking strawberry growing out of the side of the cliff an arm's length away.  Hanging on to the rope with one arm and both feet, he reaches out with his other hand, plucks the strawberry, and puts it in his mouth.  Eating it, he exclaims, "This is the most delicious strawberry I believe God has ever made and I have ever tasted.  Yum, yum!"

The Parable's Point

What's the point?  If the monk had been totally preoccupied with the ferocious tiger (his past) or the menacing rocks below (his future) he would have missed out on the delicious strawberry (his present).  Right?

I often realize, when I'm reflective enough, that I tend to allow the guilt or regret or memories of the past to weigh in on me, which can overwhelm my present.  Or I tend to focus on the uncertainties of the future which inevitably raises my anxiety level in the present.

Why do we allow this to happen?  As one author puts it,

"The past is already gone, the future hasn't happened yet; the only moment we have is right now.  Why waste it?"

Notice what the monk does as he finds himself caught between his past and his future which empowers him to live in the moment in a beautiful way.  Six Steps:

Six Steps to Living in the Moment

FIRST, he sees the strawberry.  He notices it.  He's paying attention.

Do you realize how many "strawberries" you and I miss out on because we're simply not seeing or noticing or paying attention?  You can't enjoy what you don't see.

SECOND, he reaches for the strawberry.

It's one thing to see something.  It's another thing to reach out for it, to take an action to engage with what you're seeing.

Sounds easy enough.  But why then don't we do this more often?

Because reaching out for the "strawberry" takes a risk.  Think about the monk.  In order to reach out for the strawberry he has to let go of the rope with one arm.  That's risky.  Letting go is difficult.  But because he takes the risk, he ends up getting the reward.

I truly believe that nothing good in life comes to us without some risk.  You choose to love someone and you risk being hurt or rejected.  You choose

THIRD, he takes the strawberry.  You can't just reach for something, you have to take it to enjoy it.

So much of today's culture is a spectator culture.  People are satisfied simply sitting on the sidelines watching the game of life happen in front of them.

The tragedy with a spectator culture is that people actually delude themselves into thinking that watching is enough; that watching is the highest level of enjoyment and satisfaction.

It certainly might be safer on some levels.  If you're in the stands watching football, you're not getting beat up and tackled in the game.  But it's interesting, isn't it, that if the team we're watching wins, we feel really really good and satisfied.  But there's no way that feeling can match the exhilaration of the players who gave it their all in order to win the game.  Right?

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."  George Bernard Shaw

We delude ourselves into thinking that spectating is good enough for joy and satisfaction.  But we're missing out on the deeper depths of truly worthwhile living.  We're robbing ourselves of real living in the moment.  We can't enjoy the strawberries unless we reach out and take them in hand.

Stay tuned for my next blog  the final three steps to plumbing the present moment for deeper joy and fulfillment.  "Six Steps to Living in the Present Moment."

Four Personal Reflections for You:

• Which is your tendency more often:  living in the past or living in the future?  Why?  What is it about either of those that traps you there?
• Describe a time when you simply missed seeing the strawberry in the moment--you weren't paying attention.
• What are some risks you face in order to reach out to the strawberry?  Which risks are hardest for you?
• Would you describe yourself more as a spectator or a participant?  Why?  Are there any excuses you have for watching more than participating?  What might be some fears you have of getting in the game more often?

Encountering God in the Dark Zones

I have to admit I don't especially enjoy the unknown, uncertainty.  I'd rather have a clear picture of where I am and where I'm going.  My strengths of vision and strategy tend to compel me to always want to be moving toward clarity and purpose.  Looking through blurred lenses doesn't appeal to me.  In fact, when I wore eye glasses, I was always cleaning the lenses as the day progressed (kind of like I do with my iPhone).  I just happen to like to see things clearly.  I'd prefer not being in dark zones where I can't see very well. And then I read the following profound statement from the Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield.  It challenged me and immediately brought to mind some powerful scriptures that reinforce this truth.

"It is the basic principle of spiritual life that we learn the deepest things in unknown territory. Often it is when we feel most confused inwardly and are in the midst of our greatest difficulties that something new will open. We awaken most easily to the mystery of life through our weakest side. The areas of our greatest strength, where we are the most competent and clearest, tend to keep us away from the mystery."

Jesus and Seeds

Jesus used seed planting as a spiritual metaphor.  And when you unpack it, the similarities of what Kornfield is suggesting are striking.  The seed is planted under ground--it lives in the deep dark place of the unknown--seemingly entombed in a coffin of nothingness and insignificance and apparent defeat.  And right there, in this dark zone, is the essence of life.  The seed has within it the entire and ultimate fulfillment of life.  And in time the seed begins to sprout--new life emerges--and the plant pushes through the dark dirt out of the unseen into the seen and vibrant life above ground.  As Jesus said, unless the seed falls into the ground and "dies," it remains alone, unseen, unfruitful.  (Matthew 13)

Life comes into being in the unknown territory where we are in what appears to be great difficulties and confusions, operating in our weakest side, in what feels often like defeat and despair.  But that's when we encounter the Mystery.

Creation and the Void

In fact, that is the Hebrew picture of the creation story that sets up the earthly paradigm of how God operates.  "And the earth was empty, a formless void and mass cloaked in darkness."  (Genesis 1:2)  Do you ever feel like that's your life--a void, devoid of meaning and purpose and expectant shape--where you wonder where in the world God is?

But as this story of origins continues, it's in this dark nothingness that the Divine Wind (the Spirit/Breath of God) is blowing as it is "hovering over [the void's] surface.  Then God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."  (Genesis 1:2-3)  And God continues to breathe words into this void so that even in the nothingness--this unknown territory--life is present.  And because of the Sacred Wind, life emerges, takes shape, is formed into the most amazing realities.

God hovers in the middle of the dark, formless voids in our lives, too.  If we can become still enough, and with courage peer into our dark places, we will encounter that hovering Spirit--we will feel the very breath of God blowing Presence and Life there.  We will encounter the Mystery in our unknown territory.

No wonder the Hebrew poet said, "Be still and know that I am God."  (Psalm 46:10)  As it turns out, according to the poem's context, this intentional stilling of one's self occurs in the midst of terrible upheaval, trouble, and dismay.  The poet is reminding us that even in this "darkness" and void, "The LORD Almighty is here among us; the God of Israel is our fortress."  (Psalm 46:7, 11)

We encounter God in the middle of what we so often feel are circumstances devoid of the divine presence.  No matter how unknown your territory might seem, God is still there.

Paul's Weakness

Paul says, "When I am weak, then I am strong.  So now I boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me ... Because this Jesus told me, 'My grace is sufficient for you.  My power works best in your weakness.'"  (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

In our weaknesses, in our difficulties, in the unknown territory that makes us feel out of control, over our heads, unable to navigate well, even feeling like failures--that's when we encounter the power of God that produces life.  If, as Paul quotes here, God's power works best in our weaknesses, than why are we so quick to get rid of them?  Why do we tend to run from them or even sweep them under the rug?

Encountering God in the Dark Zones

Maybe we shouldn't run so quickly from our weaknesses and difficulties.  Maybe we should learn to stay put in those painful places.  Not because we need to love pain and hardship.  But because we can encounter the Divine there.  We can experience a side of ourselves that God chooses to show up in even when we're trying to deny it.  God brings grace to our places of greatest need.  Strength doesn't need grace.  Need needs grace.  Weakness needs grace.  Uncertainty needs grace.  Anxiousness and lack of clarity need grace.

That's why, if you look at the symbol of the Yin and Yang (in Chinese Taoism), which represents the polarities of life that exist together and come and go in cycles, within each side is a small circle of the opposite.  A piece of darkness always exists in light, and a piece of light always exists in darkness--you cannot have one without the other--or another way of saying it is, you can find one while in the other.  At night you still have the stars in the sky.  During the day, you still have shadows.  And in the transitions between those cycles, both exist in varying degrees.  So in Taoist philosophy, you needn't be afraid of or run from the other.  You learn to embrace the whole cycle and rhythm of life as bringing necessary transformation and depth.

"My power is made perfect in your weakness," Jesus told Paul.  "And the Spirit of God was hovering over the dark, formless void," describes the creation story.  God lives even in the darkest voids of our lives.

So maybe we shouldn't be so quick to try escaping from our dark places lest we miss out on the profound, life producing, strong and empowering presence of divine grace.  God operates in a very counter-intuitive way:  it's in the dark zones God is breathing life and we inhale that Life and we are brought to greater life.

Peace Like War Must Be Waged: What It Takes To Develop Inner Peace

This week my wife and I were in New York City for some business.  We had never taken the public tour of the United Nations Headquarters before,  so we got our visitors passes and went.  I was very moved as the guide took us around the headquarters building and described both the history of the UN and the many initiatives the UN continues to work on around the world. One of the most impressive statements to me was on a plaque:  "Peace like war must be waged."  Turns out actor George Clooney used that statement in a public service announcement to highlight the important work of the UN Peacekeepers.  Here's the 60 second spot:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-2rv8s8Zmg]

"Peace like war must be waged."  We often don't think of peace in those terms.  We talk about fighting wars, waging battles in order to have territorial, national, and international victories.  War is synonymous with action and powerful initiative.

And yet peace takes the same kind of energy, intentionality, and powerful initiative.  Peace doesn't just happen.  You can't sit around and hope for it.  You have to work for it ... hard!  You have to want it so badly that you're willing to expend lots of energy and personal resources to obtain it.

Here's what Clooney's ad stated:  “Peace is not just a colored ribbon. It’s more than a wristband or a t-shirt. It’s not just a donation or a 5 K race. It’s not just a folk song, or a white dove. And peace is certainly more than a celebrity endorsement. Peace is a full time job. It’s protecting civilians, overseeing elections, and disarming ex-combatants. The UN has over 100,000 Peacekeepers on the ground, in places others can’t or won’t go, doing things others can’t or won’t do. Peace, like war, must be waged.”

Think of all the peace movements in history--the civil rights movement with Martin Luther King, Jr., Indian independence and equality with Gandhi, the women's suffrage movement for voting rights and greater equality.  None of these or any others just happened.  Peace had to be waged just as hard and as strategically as any war in history.  Huge obstacles had to be overcome.  And those peace battles continue needing to be waged even in our present in order to build on the successes of the past and bring about ever greater levels of equality.

Peace like war must be waged.

I'm thinking a lot about this as I prepare for a public speaking series here in San Francisco in 10 days (3 nights: October 19, 26, November 2).  My  topic is "Living Worry Free:  Developing Inner Peace in an Age of Anxiety."  Here's the link for the invitation.

The reality is, inner peace isn't something that simply happens or shows up in your life, either.  You can't just sit up on top of a mountain like the stereotypical guru meditating peace into your life.  Since most of us have to live "normal" lives in the "real" world, we can't be on retreat 24/7 away from the hustle and bustle.  Meditation is, to be sure, a highly significant tool (I'll be talking about that in my series).

But for you to have the ability to live life in the midst of all the chaos, uncertainty, anxiety, worry, stress, and busyness with a deeper sense of calm, contentment, and nonanxious presence, you're going to have to work at it--develop the ability--wage the battle to experience and enjoy this deeper place.  You're going to have to battle all the forces in our culture and world and our own divided selves that can keep you from that inward attitude and experience.

So how are you waging for peace in your life these days?  What strategies are you utilizing to build a deeper inner peace?

It can be strategies as simple as thankfulness--keeping a regular gratitude journal--or mindfulness (the "be here now" mantra which says, "In this moment, I have everything I need").

Believe me, as simple as using those tools might seem, we all battle internal walls that make it challenging for us to utilize them.  I'm going to talk in the upcoming series about what these obstacles are and why they're so difficult to face.  But if we neglect these available tools and resources, we push away the possibility for lasting and meaningful inner peace.

Wars are fought in this world to protect something of great value.  Even the desire to expand territory comes from a place of fear to protect something.  Imagine how many human lives have been sacrificed for these causes.

Even so, peace--that inner place of sacred calm--must be established and protected at great cost.  But instead of being motivated by fear, the development of peace is motivated by love.  And the reality is, our motivations impact our strategies.

What are the ways we can proactively engage in this protective pursuit?  How can we protect our inner sanctuary where God's presence dwells so that we are empowered to show up in life with more calm and peace, grounded in the divine goodness?

That's what I'm going to talk about in my upcoming series.  And I'll blog about each session so those of you who can't be here in San Francisco in person can get in on this hugely significant content.  For some of you, some of the strategies will be new.  For others of you, they will be reminders.  But for all of us, we will be able to center on the truth that even in the midst of chaos both outside and inside us, we can clear the way for a peace which passes all understanding which radiates out to transform our worlds in profound ways.

Peace like war must be waged.  The United Nations is on to something here.  Maybe we need to emulate the passionate and intentional initiative in our spiritual lives.

A Simple Tool for Confident Living in the Age of Anxiety

The Scream Edvard Munch, who lived from 1863 –1944, was a Norwegian Symbolist painter, printmaker and an important forerunner of expressionistic art.  His best-known composition (painted in 1893) is "The Scream" which has become one of the most recognizable paintings in all art.

It has been widely interpreted as representing the universal anxiety of modern man.  With this painting, Munch met his stated goal of “the study of the soul, that is to say the study of my own self."  Munch wrote of how the painting came to be:

“I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood.  I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired.  Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord.  My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear.  Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature.”

In the Norwegian language, the word he used for scream literally is "shriek."  Imagine the existential angst he was feeling to use that word.  He later described the personal anguish behind the painting:  “For several years I was almost mad…You know my picture, ‘The Scream?’ I was stretched to the limit—nature was screaming in my blood… After that I gave up hope ever of being able to love again.”

Considering his childhood, that despair makes sense.  He grew up with a cold, angry and foreboding father who was a fundamentalist Christian who used God as a punishing and revengeful authority.  Little Munch was always being threatened by violent punishment for his forays into creativity, imagination, and play.  So even as an adult, Munch felt alone, isolated, and incapable of being loved.  He lived with the constant fear of rejection.

The Age of Anxiety

This painting is more contemporary to today than ever before.  Psychologists and sociologists are calling this new millennium the age of Anxiety.  Fear, they’re saying, is the defining emotion of our time. Think back on this initial decade.  First, there was the Y2K hysteria, which portended widespread computer failures and a massive breakdown in public services.  Next, uncertainty gripped the nation as we awaited the results of the disputed presidential election.  This was followed by the start of the stock market's protracted crash as well as a surge in unemployment.  Then came the California energy shortage in which the world's fifth largest economy and the most populous state in the country experienced the kind of rolling blackouts typically associated with developing countries.

Finally, there was the tragedy of September 11th, the anthrax scare, and a steady stream of government warnings that we are no longer safe. In the midst of this turmoil, major U.S. corporations such as Enron and WorldCom collapsed because of corporate malfeasance by executives and accounting firms, and tens of thousands of people lost their retirement savings. Now there is the threat of bioterrorism, the possibility of successive wars, and growing multinational, multigenerational hatred of the United States and of Americans.  And we’re in what is unarguably the worst recession since the Great Depression – everything is uncertain, including who to trust as a friend.  Fundamentalism in religion increasingly creates enemies and terrorism of all kinds.

In the midst of this environment, in my work as a coach and pastor, I hear stories often of people wanting to move in one direction for their lives but instead finding themselves moving in another; people who claim to be trying, but repeatedly finding themselves failing; people who are bored and stuck yet unable to make the changes they know they want to make and to make those changes sustainable.

Which raises significant questions.  If we know what we want (for the most part), why are we unable to act on it?  Why are we unable to follow the directions given by our conscious minds and reach our goals unimpeded?  And when we do try to do the right things, why are we often unsuccessful?

For so many people, this is a source of much heartache.  Whether it’s a tortured relationship or a difficult job situation, we often feel regretful after we realize we’ve made the wrong choice.  Why do we continue to make these choices, and what steers us toward them in the first place?

The Science of Fear

Experts call this the “rip current of human nature.”  A rip current is the very powerful surface flow of water that is returning to the sea from close to the shore.  It can turn an eerily calm-looking body of water into something extremely dangerous that has the power to drag swimmers out to sea.  Many people who get caught in rip currents eventually drown from sheer exhaustion of trying to swim against the current.

Say the experts, the unconscious is the rip current of the human mind.  From a distance, it’s calm, barely noticeable, and difficult to anticipate.  And at its core lies the threatening force of fear.  Much like a rip current is helpful to surfers who rely on its force to pull them away from the shore, fear may be helpful if it urges you forward toward your goal.  But like the unpredictable rip current, fear can also drag you away from your goals and destinations.

Significantly, our brains are wired to default to fear.  It's the survival mechanism in play - the need to instinctively and instantly respond to a threat or danger to our system to protect our species.  The brain picks up on a threat (via our senses through the thalamus) and sends an immediate signal to the amygdala, the part of the brain called the "guard dog."  When that amygdala switch is flipped, it instantly sends a signal to the hypothalamus which engages the whole body's fight or flight systems (the heart starts pumping faster, cortisol increases, the eyes dilate, the muscles contract, breathing rates increase) - everything is mobilized instantaneously for engagement to protect itself.

Research is now showing that most of this process is actually taking place beyond our consciousness.  Our brain picks up external inputs (like even a fearful expression on someone's face, even as seemingly insignificant as eyes that show more white than normal - the posture of fear) and interprets it as a potential threat - and the fear response kicks in.  The brain needs as little as 10 - 30 milliseconds of exposure to flip the fear switch (far beyond our level of consciousness).

Which means, as experts are now realizing, that many of us are living in an almost constant physiological and emotional state of anxiety (much of it not even in the scope of our awareness).  Falling asleep with the TV on, for example, impacts our brains response, and the amygdala still sends its fear signals picked up from the drama taking place on the screen that impact bodily response, even though we're "sound" asleep.

Imagine all the fearful input we're receiving every day - the news, people's reactions, TV, movies, music, dangerous sounds all around us.  But then add on top of all that our own thoughts - the perceived "threats" we insist are coming our way from others, even those close to us - our almost automatic assessment that other people are not liking us or are displeased with us or think we're stupid, dumb, or you-name-it.  Even though we might be making faulty assumptions, our brains still interpret these signals as "danger," kicking into gear the fear response via our highly trained and instinctually-wired amygdala.

So for one thing, we should do more monitoring of how much fearful and anxiety-producing input we're allowing into our brains.  Do we tend to listen to people who use fear motivation (e.g. so much of politics and religion these days)?

But in addition, the problem is that not all input is in reality something to be feared.  We make faulty assumptions all the time.  And unless we intentionally refuse to flip the amygdala switch, our systems go straight to fear mode.  And we end up living in high stress, unnecessarily.  No wonder so many of us feel drained and exhausted.  No wonder we so often find ourselves sabotaging our success or desires to move forward effectively with our dreams and goals.  We're flipping the wrong switches in our brains.  We're not living intentionally enough and instead are letting our default instincts control us.

A Simple Tool to Moving Ourselves Forward

Dr. Pillay, Harvard neuroscientist and psychiatrist, encourages a rather simple strategy to help us overcome this fear tendency.  It's not by any means the only strategy but it is effective.  Here's the way he puts it:

"Sometimes it helps to take a lighthearted look at what we're feeling.  Life is short.  Experiences do come and go.  And our brains, because their fast, unconscious responses are like barking dogs, are not always barking or frenzied for an actual reason.  If we take every physiological sensation and narrative seriously, then we are assuming a certain conscious responsibility that is entirely outside of awareness.  So if you are afraid, you might be able to calm yourself by asking yourself, 'Now what is my brain up to?'  It helps to give yourself this feedback because it can stop the vicious cycle of 'Oh my God ...' that then leads to a greater sense of catastrophe."  Dr. Srinivasan Pillay, Life Unlocked, p. 44.

This simple stopping and phrase-speaking is enough to delay the amygdala's instinctive fear response.  The interruption is just long enough and strategic enough to allow the secondary brain signaling system to be fully engaged.  Upon sensory input, the thalamus sends the signal to the cortex (the more advanced outer layer of brain cell connections that are involved in evaluating and processing the signal).  Because the cortex takes longer to process the visual information, its assessment is more accurate than the amygdala's.  When you see a coiled rope, for example, out of the corner of your eye (or perhaps aren't even realizing it), the amygdala would automatically assume it's a coiled snake and kick into gear your fight or flight response.  But when your cortex is allowed evaluation, it assesses that the object is in fact a coiled rope (not snake), and it calms down the amygdala and turns off the body's fear response.

For this reason, it's important for us to often take the time to ask ourselves about the fear we're feeling (unless of course we're being chased by a mugger, in which case we're better off letting our bodies react instinctively and instantly into the fear mode).  Is this is a legitimate threat to our system?  What is the nature of this fear?  Is it simply my self-defeating feelings and self-thoughts that I've accumulated and chosen to hang on to through the years?  Is it worth allowing to control my entire system?  Is there any truth to this fear?  And even if there is, is it necessary for me to cave in to it?  Am I allowing this fear to flip the amygdala switch too automatically instead of sending it on the cortex where it can be accurately evaluated and I can develop a more proactive response?

"Now what is my brain up to?" instead of "Oh my God ....!"

"Knowing that fear can turn on your amygdala without your conscious knowledge may help you feel more certain about the need to develop new neuronal connections" by using tools like this simple one.  "If you are feeling limited in your life in any way, examine your life through the lens of 'Am I afraid?' even if you don't feel afraid" (Dr. Pillay, p. 45).  Our instincts are wonderful - we're wired to protect ourselves from real danger and threat.  But our instincts can also lead us astray if they're not based on reality or if they're not helping us go where we truly want to go.  We can take control of them.  It's nice to have the choice!

[If you liked this post, feel free to share it with others - click on the share button to the right.  If you would like to receive each new blog post as an automatic email, please subscribe at the right.]