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Nurturing the Positive in Difficult Times
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Reframing Social Isolation as Seclusion
For many city dwellers, the physical world has shrunk to the single-digit walls of their apartments. In dense suburbs, postage-stamp-sized backyards have become parks. Getting out for brief walks along the familiar streets of home has become a new form of commuting.
Many among us are suffering now—gravely ill, steeped in grief, or worried sick about how we’ll pay the rent. We’re hunkering down with social distancing, at-home sheltering, and lockdowns as new normals. Tedium is setting in.
Yet, as the boundaries of our physical world contract, the limits of our mental, emotional, and spiritual worlds have the potential to expand.
Meditation teacher Shinzen Young compassionately suggested to students on an online retreat recently that they could reframe the pandemic predicament of social isolation as a time of seclusion during which their mindfulness practices could deepen. Provided our basic needs get met, such a subtle shift in perspective has the power to lighten our load psychologically.
For centuries, human beings have used seclusion to birth creativity, for physical, psychological, and spiritual renewal and as a means of understanding fundamental truths about the world.
Great inventors, philosophers, artists, writers, and the like, from Albert Einstein to Harper Lee to Georgia O’Keeffe to James Baldwin to Bill Gates and countless others valued time alone. Often, they contributed their gifts to the world after phases of reflection and solitude. There’s a reason silent retreats are a mainstay of mindfulness practice.
Like a good broth, sometimes we need to simmer our lives on the stove to uncover the richness within us.
Yesterday, from my open kitchen window, I heard the painful sounds of an inexperienced violinist in my neighborhood struggling to discover the music within her. I thought about the passion projects, the inventions, the new business ideas coming to life during our worldwide hibernation. It also takes relentless creativity to keep kids entertained and engaged all day and to run a household amid shortages, stoppages, and uncertainty.
Thankfully, not all creativity is serious. The other day I got the giggles watching comedian Will Ferrell methodically wash his hands for 20 seconds while singing George Michael’s “Careless Whisper.” My husband is playfully growing his facial hair into a ridiculously retro mustache. So far so good on the home front, but I can do without the 1970s slang he’s tossing around. “Can you dig it?”
Seclusion also makes room for renewal and insight. My neighbor’s frequent, bi-coastal air travel has halted, allowing him to recoup his energy, and spend more time with the family. A back injury his older son incurred during rowing team practice is mending. His younger son finds Zoom learning more enriching and less distracting than being in a loud classroom.
Perhaps more starkly, when we’re secluded, there are fewer excuses to avoid the inner work that our souls naggingly request. A lot rises to the surface in difficult times—maladaptive ways of coping and harmful behaviors we only dimly see in the rush of our busy routines. If we’re willing and able, we can lovingly turn toward it all and gently begin the work of healing.
Whenever you feel the fizzy energy of anxiety bubble up, stop and, like a mother attending to a toddler, give it your attention.
- Take a breath.
- Put your hand over your heart and soften your belly, giving the anxiety more space to move through you.
- If it’s all too much, turn your attention away.
- Feel your feet on the ground, listen to the hum of the heater or turn the on the TV, and watch a Hallmark movie. Either way, you’ll have mindfulness as your companion.
The other morning a friend shared that when he was a little boy, he loved to watch his grandfather prune trees, and his memory of it has become a helpful metaphor during the COVID-19 crisis.
He explained that after the pruning, once the trees were down to their bare essence, they entered a period of botanical seclusion and apparent dormancy. But in time, the trees stood tall again—more lush and beautiful in the morning light.
We are in a time of tremendous pruning and seclusion, said my friend.
Let’s hope and trust that when this period ends, we, too, will emerge from our global seclusion more vibrant and beautiful than before.
This post originally appeared on Mindful.org https://www.mindful.org/
The Wonders of Walking
| Forget baseball. It’s official now. America’s favorite pastime is walking. With COVID-19 lockdowns in full force, walking has become a liberator from the confines of home turned office turned school. Going for a walk is now a standard diversion from a world that’s both wildly uncertain and tediously routine. A stroll around the block isn’t as exciting as a trip to Kuala Lumpur. But there are discoveries on every outing. While on a walk recently, a friend of mine spied a series of “fairy gardens” that children in his neighborhood made at the base of trees. Tiny doors set against the tree trunks presumably opened into a magical land. (See pictures below.) My friend took this as a hopeful sign. Maybe the children know that somewhere out there is a better world, he mused. In my neighborhood, it’s become prime-time entertainment to look out my kitchen window and see pedestrians boldly walking down the middle of empty streets. A hot pink mask counts for fashion on the catwalk of LA sidewalks now. I can’t tell if the dogs I see trotting alongside their owners on their multiple daily jaunts are gleeful or exhausted. Long before COVID-19, we knew walking was good for us and that sitting was the new smoking. Fitbits and iWatches prodded us to get off the couch. But it took a pandemic to motivate us. It’s one habit that I hope stays with us whenever our world returns to normal. Standing upright and propelling ourselves forward on two legs is uniquely human. Walking is so beneficial to us in so many ways that if it were a pill, we’d pop it like an M&M. Walking is one of the most studied forms of exercise, and research shows that it can lower body mass, cholesterol, and blood pressure. It improves memory and cognitive function. Studies also show that walking can boost our moods and reduce depression. It even spurs creativity. Have you ever wondered why your best ideas strike you while strolling? Researchers at Stanford asked people to come up with alternative uses for everyday objects and found that people who walked before given the task came up with twice as many ideas as those who stayed put. A walking brain is a more active brain and is more capable of ideation and creation, according to Shane O’Mara, a Trinity College professor and author of the book “In Praise of Walking: A New Science of Exploration.” She recommends that before working on any thorny problem, you write down a few questions about your dilemma or project and then take a hike. Often, the issue solves itself before you return home. Walking is the low-hanging fruit of physical activity. And if you’re getting less than 5,000 steps a day, you’re considered “clinically sedentary.” Physical therapist and mobility guru Kelly Starrett says that our ancestors walked while carrying heavy things. He sometimes schleps a 50-pound sandbag when he walks just to up the ante. But, of course, it’s enough to put one foot in front of the other. You can do so mindfully by paying attention to the swing of your legs and the step of your feet. Bringing awareness to the body and using walking as a meditation is a sure-fire way to quiet a mind whirling with worry. What’s more, you’ll never know what you’ll discover once you’re out the door. I like to walk at dusk when the street lamps begin to illuminate the peace that descends over my neighborhood at night. If I can get a walk during the day, I’ll do that, too. The other morning, I felt a bit deflated, realizing that we’re in for a long COVID-19 haul. To boost my spirits, I went on a walk and came across a poem – yes, a poem – that was heaven-sent. Typed out on a sign in a neighbor’s yard were the lines below from poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. Maybe you’ll discover something just as inspiring on your next walk. “From the apprehensive present, from a future packed With unknown dangers, monstrous, terrible and new- Let us turn for comfort to this simple fact: We have been in trouble before… and we came through.” –Edna St. Vincent Millay |
Thanks to the Unsung Heroes of COVID-19
| Before the COVID-19 pandemic, how many of you appreciated the work of airline reservationists, garbage haulers, grocery store cashiers, delivery people, janitors and housekeepers, waiters, and waitresses, cooks, and bakers, etc. Like rambling Oscar winner accepting her award, I know I’m leaving so many others out. But the cogs in the wheels of society are rarely valued until the machinery is exposed. And right, now, everything is exposed. My daughter turned 17 yesterday. Her birthday was a quiet, at-home-sheltering affair with a Zoom session with friends and more time with family. A very bright spot: a birthday cake from a local baker, who I profusely thanked for her confectionary ray of sunshine. Who knew bakeries were essential and still open during a pandemic? The truth is so many people are essential to our civic functioning who go unnoticed or are only casually recognized. We herald our doctors, but often forget our nurses, hospital administrators, or janitors, who are working extra hard now to keep things sanitized. The seamless way packages arrive at our doorsteps shields us from the role package pickers, boxers, drivers (again, I can only guess how many I’m leaving out.) play in getting goods to us often within a day of ordering. We love (for Trader Joes that’s not too strong of a word) our grocery stores, but typically don’t think about people inside them keeping shelves stocked. A recent story in the Wall Street Journal mentioned how the pandemic might close our borders to new immigrants in the future, but noted that it’s immigrants who are doing much of the work on the front lines of COVID-19. They’re in the hospitals, in the grocery stores, and out mowing our lawns. Many of them are afraid of getting sick, but they’re still doing the work because they need a paycheck or simply because they feel it’s the right thing to do. All of it reminds me of the reflection I use before I teach students how to eat a grape mindfully. Before we begin, I ask students to picture a vineyard and imagine the causes and conditions that came together to put a single grape in their hands. Sun, rain, and soil nurture the vines. Farmers tend to the grapes. Pickers harvest them, and factory workers package them. Drivers bring the grapes to stores traveling along roads others built. And grocery store employees set the bunches of grapes on the shelves so we can buy them. Those are just the top notes in a series of mind-boggling connections involving a single grape. Every day, countless relationships allow our lives to hum along often without a glitch. Once in awhile, it’s worth picking out an object – your toothbrush, your shoe, or your computer – and think about the invisible hands that brought it to you. It’s good to remember how connected we are and how many unrecognized people support us. New Yorkers, like Italians, are leaning out their windows and banging their pots and pans to salute doctors, paramedics, and, yes, nurses as they battle a rising tide of COVID-19 cases. Let’s do some “Hip Hip Hoorays” for everyone else as well. Feel free to thank the UPS delivery person, the grocery store cashier, and the smiling baker, too. At the beginning of COVID-19, I called Alaska Airlines to cancel a plane ticket. It took me a long time to get through. When I finally got to a representative, it occurred to me to ask her how she was doing. Surprised by my question, she paused. Then, she gave me an honest answer. She told me that the night before – after a long day of handling calls from frustrated and angry customers – she broke down and cried. Everyone and, particularly those we don’t usually recognize, is trying to do their best right now. And that alone deserves our thanks. |
On My Mind
| Sometimes just a few well-written words can lift us from despair. The other day, I sent these lines from poet Linda Hogan to a friend, who told me that after reading them she could feel her shoulders drop. May they bring you ease as well: Suddenly all of my ancestors are behind me. Be still. They say. You are the result of the love of thousands. |
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