On Settling into Your Body (Blog #1053)

Today I’ve been thinking about, and trying to, relax. I’ll explain. Last night I listened to a podcast that said if you audibly sigh (like, AHHHH) when you exhale enough times (five to ten seems to work for me), it will cause you to yawn and, consequently, trigger your parasympathetic nervous system. Your parasympathetic nervous system being the “rest and digest” part of your nervous system, the part responsible for relaxation and healing. Your autonomic nervous system, of course, being the “fight or flight” part of your nervous system, the part responsible for hauling ass or, if necessary, kicking ass and taking names.

Naturally, we need both parts of our nervous system. The problem being, however, that the majority of us spend way too much time in “fight or flight” mode, either because we live in a high-stress environment (like America) or because we’ve suffered a trauma and our bodies haven’t completely processed (or realized its over) yet. Or both.

More and more I realize just how much stress I carry on a daily basis in my physical body. My shoulders have been tense for decades. My hips are tight. Often I can’t bend over and touch my toes without first taking a muscle relaxer and saying three Hail Marys. You get the point. Alas, somewhere along the way I convinced myself these little aches and pains were normal, a natural consequence of growing older. But having experienced some wonderful improvements in terms of headaches over the last few months thanks to upper cervical care, I’m starting to believe, like deep down and really, that freedom from chronic pain is possible. And whereas I wish I could just push a button and–voila!–be at ease in my skin, I’m learning that this type of freedom 1) comes incrementally, not instantaneously and 2) often requires practice.

Getting back to the idea of relaxation, recently I ran across a blog that reminded me of a form of standing meditation I learned through Chi Kung. Since the blog explains it better and more in depth than I could (or even have a desire to), suffice it to say that teachers of the stance claim that it can help improve posture, increase relaxation, decrease pain, and stimulate chi (energy) flow and, therefore, promote healing. You know, in as little as ten minutes a day. And whereas I can’t personally speak to all these claims, I can say that the stance has helped me relax this last week. Like, you don’t realize how much tension you carry in your body until you begin to let it go. Even a little.

Along the lines of letting go, I’ve done the audible sigh/exhale and yawn thing several times today, either when I felt like it or when I noticed tension in my neck or shoulders. I guess part of the idea behind this practice is to “retrain” your nervous system. This makes sense to me, since my normal reaction to pain (my habit) is to brace against it rather than relax in to it. Consequently, my body has learned to be uptight and on edge constantly. Which is no fun. But after just one day of consciously letting go ever so slightly, I already feel more at ease, like there’s more space here. Plus, what’s great about this exercise is that it can be done at your kitchen table, in your car, hell, in line at Walmart. This afternoon I tried it while bending over and trying to touch my toes, and, y’all, I went from not being able to touch the ground and feeling pain and tension to being able to touch the ground and feeling loose and (mostly) flexible in only six exhales.

This experience, in addition to a number of others, convinces me that–generally speaking–our bodies absolutely CAN relax and be flexible. However, more often than not, they haven’t learned to. Better said, our nervous systems haven’t been convinced it’s SAFE to. That’s what I keep reading over and over again, that our bodies create pain and stiffness because they perceive that we’re in danger, that there’s some sort of threat. And no, it doesn’t matter that you know you’re safe, sitting here right here, right now. If your body doesn’t know it (if it hasn’t fully processed your past dramas and traumas), it continues to be “on guard.”

More and more I’m grateful to my body for always trying to keep me safe. Sure, it’s frustrating when something hurts, but I’m coming to truly believe that if the brain, body, and nervous system can create pain, they can uncreate it. This is when healing really gets fun, when you begin to see what a wonder you truly are, what you’re really capable of. All of a sudden or over a period of time (and what’s the difference, really?), tensions relax, pain that showed up out of nowhere goes back to where it came from, and you let go of the notion that things will never get better. Settling into your body, your home, you breathe deeper than you have in years. Finally, you feel safe.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Why should anyone be embarrassed about the truth?"

Settle In, Get Comfortable (Blog #968)

This afternoon I finished reading the book I referenced yesterday, Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Overcome Gut Sensitivities, Inflammation, Brain Fog, Autoimmunity, Anxiety, Depression by Dr. Navaz Habib. The book suggests several PASSIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like massage therapy, chiropractic care, and acupuncture–as well as dozens of ACTIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like belly breathing through your nose, humming or chanting, listening to music, gargling, practicing mindfulness or meditation, laughing and connecting socially, and exposing yourself to sunlight. (Important note: I said TO not IN.) I’m all about this active stuff. What can I do at home to calm myself down and heal?

More importantly, what can I do on a budget?

One thing I noted while going through Dr. Habib’s book was the fact that I’ve recently been organically drawn to several of his suggestions. For example, deep breathing, cold exposure, and yoga or pilates. I’ve said before that I believe not only that our bodies know how to heal but also that we are guided to what we need, and this is what I mean. When something is right for your body, I think you’ll be attracted to it. Now, does this mean you’ll wake up one day and start CRAVING broccoli instead of chocolate cake? Doubtful. But you’ll likely start thinking, That looks interesting. I should check that out. I should stop doing THIS and start doing THAT.

Follow your hunches.

More and more I don’t think healing, or at least the habits that promote healing, are complicated. For example, two things I immediately implemented–well, started–right after I finished the vagus nerve book were 1) installing blue-light blocking software on my laptop and phone and 2) listening to classical music. The idea behind the blue-light blocking software is that blue light signals to our bodies that it’s stay-awake time even when it’s not, so by installing a filter on your electronic devices (or turning them off altogether two hours before bedtime), you won’t disrupt your natural sleep rhythms. And whereas–I admit–my sleep rhythms are less than ideal, I can at least stop adding to the problem by staring at blue screen.

Instead, I can stare at a red one.

Currently it’s 10:30 at night, and I’ve been listening to classical music–Mozart–for the last two hours. (On my streaming service I found an album elegantly titled 50 Mozart Masterworks you Have to Listen to Before You Die.) And whereas I’ve never been a big “fan” of classical music, I’m enjoying this. I guess the idea behind the suggestion is that our bodies (and vagus nerves) respond to what we listen to. As a dancer, this makes sense to me. I listen to Lady Gaga and I feel and move fast and punchy. I listen to a waltz and I feel and move gracefully. Anyway, I’ve had violins and orchestras in my ears for a good while tonight, and I do feel calmer. It’s almost impossible to get upset or hurried about anything. The average song on the radio is three minutes and thirty seconds, and the first classical piece I listened to tonight (“Sonata for Two Pianos”) was twenty-four, so that fact alone told my brain, “You might as well settle in and get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

This is the perfect attitude to take toward life, of course. Settle in, get comfortable. Just now (well, nearly two hours ago) I got distracted and started downloading previously uploaded music from my music streaming service because I read they’ll soon be going out of business. And not that I HAVE to have all 1,715 songs I uploaded over five years ago (because I’ve lived this long without them), but I might as well. My point being that because this service won’t let you download your music all at once, you have to go album by album. Well, tonight I downloaded over forty-five albums, over 800 songs altogether, and–seriously–the classical music has helped. Normally I’d be pulling my hair out. But tonight I’m like, Whatever, there’s no hurry here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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On Arguing with Ghosts (Blog #905)

This morning I met some friends to watch their four year old son play soccer. Talk about the cutest thing ever, a bunch of toddlers doing their best to kick a ball down a field (in the correct direction) and into a goal. Bless their hearts. The second cutest thing? Nobody keeps score. The kids dress up, kick the ball around, make goals, and whatever, but it’s all just for fun. No winners, no losers.

After the game my friends and I went to lunch then went back to their house and crashed on their couches. That’s right–we all took naps. This was seriously the best thing for me. So often I fill up every minute of every day. I go, go, go. But taking a nap forced me to slow down, to stop, stop, stop.

I should do this more often.

This evening I stayed home, did laundry, and spent a few hours doing myofascial release. This amounted to lying on lacrosse balls and poking myself with a Theracane, which is basically a plastic cane with knobs in various locations you use to put pressure on trigger points (fascial knots) until they release. I did this one night earlier this week on my lower body, so tonight I worked on my upper body. And whereas I had mild success with some knots, others melted away like butter. I could feel an immediate letting go in my body, a chain reaction of relaxation. Do I feel perfect? No. But I feel good enough to know that I’m headed in the right direction.

The lesson: any letting go is good letting go.

Earlier this week I saw several funny drawings online about “titles of honest books.” One was called Hypothetical Arguments I’ve Won in the Shower: Volume 1 of 16. Is that funny or what? And, as one of my friends commented, “So true.” Anyway, tonight I went for a walk and thought a lot about just how much time I spend mentally arguing with people I no longer talk to in reality. My personal answer is “too much time,” but the truth is that any time mentally arguing about something that’s already over is too much time. Why?

Because it’s over.

My therapist says sometimes we get into these cerebral debates because we so often bite our tongues in real life. Like, if we authentically expressed ourselves more, we wouldn’t have a need to go round and round in our heads. Screw you and the horse you rode in on, and all that. (As if people ride in on horses anymore.) In my experience, this is true. The more I speak up, the more I’m able to feel good about whatever has happened. I guess that’s part of the deal with those situations we can’t let go of–we don’t like the way they turned out, so we keep them alive between our ears, or between someone else’s ears if we’re wont to bitch and moan about them.

There are, of course, other theories as to why we do this, why–let’s just call a spade a spade–we can’t forgive a person or situation. We want to be right. We want to humiliate them. We don’t want to be humiliated (again). We want revenge. We want control. Because we don’t trust God or life to take care of things. Because we think we know better.

At lunch today my four year old friend dropped his chocolate chip cookie on the floor. (Shit happens.) And whereas I personally would have eaten it, his mom said, “Don’t put that in your mouth. Here’s a snickerdoodle.” Alas, our little buddy still cried. This is what’s great about children–if they feel something, they express it.

Thankfully, he was over it in no time.

Now, I realize that if someone’s really done you wrong, you might not be able to get over it so quickly as our pal got over his chocolate chip cookie. If someone’s betrayed you, I doubt a snickerdoodle will make it better. But my point is that it is possible to move on. So many of us get stuck in thought loops of revenge and bitterness that go on for decades. I recently heard a story about someone who said, “I’ll never forgive you.” Now, I obviously don’t know what’s happened for this person since, but that’s a lot for anyone to carry around for any amount of time. Because in order to not forgive, you have to stay angry and you have to be mean. Simply put, you have to disconnect from your own good heart. This comes with a price.

A price that hurts you more than anyone else.

My prayer tonight as I was walking and thinking about the things I can’t get over–and to be clear, I don’t seethe about them day in and day out, but I do spend time thinking about them that could better be spent otherwise–was, Lord, give me the strength to drop it. Just that simple. Give me the strength to drop it.

One of the things that occurred to me tonight was just how exhausting it is to keep score with everyone in my life. They broke my heart. They were an asshole. I’m a winner, they’re a loser. Whatever. It’s so tiring to play judge and jury with everything that happens in one’s life. This was wrong, and now I’m going to be mad about it the rest of my life. Please. Those soccer-playing toddlers have it figured out. We don’t have to keep score. There are no winners, there are no losers. Other people hurt us. We hurt other people. Shit happens. If you’re doing the best you can (damn it), everyone else is too. It’s not your job or responsibility to make yourself miserable, to rob yourself of the joy of this present moment, by arguing with ghosts. It’s not my job either.

It’s my job to let it go (even a little), to drop it (like it’s hot), to set it free, Nancy.

It’s my job to forgive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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How to Change the World (Blog #834)

Yesterday I started reading a book about dream interpretation and active imagination, active imagination being a technique you can use to dialogue with various parts of your unconscious. For example, you could dialogue with the part of you that’s depressed, angry, or lazy. Or the part of you that doesn’t want to lose weight (and probably has a good reason for that) even though you do want to (or rather, your ego or personality does). The basic idea is that you get quiet and still, then ask your unconscious to present an image or symbol that represents that energy pattern in your life. I’d like to talk to the part of me that’s resentful. Then you see who or what shows up and you have a conversation with it, with yourself.

As I spent most of today continuing to read the book I started yesterday, I tried this active imagination exercise earlier this evening with several different parts of myself, including my resentful part. Y’all, it was fascinating. It presented itself as a poor, newsie-type boy with bad grammar. “Whadayawant?” it said.

“I’d like to hear what you have to say,” I replied.

“Oh yeah, you ain’t been so interested before,” it said.

“Well, I’d like to try again,” I said.

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation, but this is an important point in active imagination or talking to your internal parts–because they’ve been so frequently ignored, they often won’t want to chat. So you have to let them know you’re serious about (re)establishing a relationship with them. Sweetheart, I’m here for you. In the case of my inner resentful kid, he ended up saying that I give him a lot of crap for not knowing enough, not knowing enough being an internal attitude of mine that manifests itself as my cramming book after book into my brain and always having to learn. “You must think I’m a real dope,” he said. Later he said that it wasn’t that he was against learning, but he’d really like to have a break now and then. “Maybe you could just sit around and chew on a toothpick,” he said.

I realize this may sound like a bunch of crap, but it’s something that hit home for me. Lately I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself to produce, stay busy, learn more, and even heal. Because my outer life doesn’t look like I want it to, I feel like I’ve got to DO something about it. And whereas this may be true, going nonstop is exhausting. But when I think of that kid I dialogued with this evening, I picture someone free in his body and world. A kid who’d just assume lie around or play baseball than read a book or LEARN. Honestly, that sounds nice. I could use more of that–relaxation.

One of the book’s points is that when your unconscious gives you information (in a dream or via active imagination) it’s not enough to think about or even interpret that information–you need to do something with it. For example, after my inner resentful kid told me I could be a real stick in the mud, I went for a walk and–according to his suggestion–didn’t listen to an informational podcast along the way. Last night I dreamed I drank pickle juice, which I associate with being sour but also full of electrolytes (energy). And whereas I’m still chewing on the meaning, I’m thinking it has to do with the idea that although some of my current experiences are sour, they’re giving me energy for what’s to come. Anyway, the point is that in order to HONOR the dream, I drank some pickle juice for breakfast.

This idea, that you need to do something with the knowledge your unconscious gives you, seems to be true across the board. For example, recently I got a text message that fundamentally bothered me. Essentially it was from someone I really don’t know that well who wanted a favor. Well, this has happened a number of times before, and although it’s always bothered me, I just ignored it, which is to say I ignored the part of myself that was bothered. However, when it happened this time, I dealt with it directly. I said no. And whereas my answer was well-received, that’s not the point. The point is that when your unconscious or even your intuition gives you information, it’s usually asking you to take an action. To further illustrate the point, there were a lot of insights about my relationships I had in therapy that never really “sunk in” until I had the balls to have difficult conversations and–in some cases–set boundaries.

Granted, my therapist says that you don’t have to take action EVERY time you’re alerted to a problem or a situation. “The important thing is to see things for what they are,” she told me once when someone I knew had said something shitty to me. In that case, I acknowledged their behavior for what it was and let it slide. Still, I had fantasies of telling that person off and ultimately wasn’t satisfied until I said SOMETHING to them.

For the record, I didn’t tell them off; I was simply honest. I think this is shitty. This is another point the book I’m reading makes–that our dreams and fantasies are often extreme because they need to get our attention. Last night after the pickle juice dream I dreamed that I was yelling at someone who wouldn’t let me have fun with my friends or, later, be by myself. “FUCK OFF!” I said. And whereas I think the interpretation of this dream goes back to my needing to go easier on myself and take a break now and then, the point remains the same–my unconscious isn’t asking that I start aggressively telling other people, or even my inner task master, to fuck off. Rather, it’s simply trying to alert me to the fact that a previously ignored part of me would like to be heard, would like to be considered.

Start by accepting every part of yourself.

For quite a while now, there’s been a (small) idea floating around the globe about equality–equal rights for women, for all races, for all sexualities. Along these lines, there’s also the idea that everyone deserves to have a voice. And whereas sometimes when I look at the flapdoodle people say and share on social media, I fundamentally agree with this–the right to free speech. Also, and I realize I’m not the first to do so, I’d like to propose that equality and freedom of speech start at home, inside of you. What I mean is that if there’s any part of you that’s angry, resentful, sad, depressed or anything else, and you’re unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider it, then I guarantee that you’ll be unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider something or someone outside of you as well. Conversely, the more you open up to the variety of voices inside of you, the more you’ll open up the variety of voices outside of you. Want everyone in the world to be accepted? Start by accepting every part of yourself. This isn’t easy, of course, but it’s how you truly change the world. You change YOUR world.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It takes forty years in the desert for seas to part.

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We Could Use a Little Help Here (Blog #828)

Well gross. I’m out-of-town for the wedding of some dance students and woke up sick morning. Sinus crap. I’ve been fighting it all week. I thought I was on top of it, but it appears to be on top of me. I hate that. Anyway, it’s 11:30 in the morning, and despite the fact that I haven’t left the place where I’m staying or done anything today, I’m blogging now because–come hell or high water–I’m attending that wedding this evening and don’t want to force my body to stay up late in order to blog. This is what I’ve realized, that even though I can’t immediately solve my sinus infection problem, I can do little things to support my body and decrease how much we suffer from it.

Down with suffering.

I said I haven’t done anything today, but that’s not exactly true. That’s never exactly true. Even if you lie in bed and snore all day, that’s SOMETHING. Well, after I got up an hour and a half ago, I ate breakfast (a protein bar and fruit), then read about thirty pages in a book I recently started about headaches. Today I learned that tension headaches (which I have) can be triggered by stress, anxiety (defined as fear without an object), and depression, as well as certain foods (often nitrate-containing) or liquids (alcohol, caffeine, or the withdrawal of caffeine).

The book said that for those of us who experience tension headaches it’s important to remove triggers. Granted, if your job is stressful, you may not be able to remove your job (or punch your boss in the face), but you can work at how you respond to your job or boss. For example, you could go for a walk or try meditation. Serenity now! For Type A personalities, the book suggested scheduling in time to relax. Like, make yourself shut off your phone, lie down, and stare at the ceiling fan. Or listen to the birds chirping. Or pet your dog or cat.

Another suggestion was to tense your major muscle groups (biceps, calves, quads, butt, back, shoulders, and neck) one-by-one and then relax them. The idea being that–if you do this enough–they get the message that if and when they get tense, the next thing they should do is relax. This theory made sense to me, so I tried it. (I let go a little. It was nice.) Once I heard someone say that just like you speak English (or whatever), your muscles speak a language too, a language they’ve been taught. So if your body is constantly tensed and stressed and you want it to behave or feel differently, you have to teach it how. You have to teach it a new language. You have to take time to say, Sweetheart, there’s nothing to worry about. You can let your guard down now.

I’m working on all of this, although it’s often overwhelming to think about and do when I’m sick. That is, when I feel like crap from a sinus infection AND have a headache (or even just tight muscles), I want to throw in the towel. More than that, I want to yell and scream at my body, Get yourself together. I get so impatient with myself. And yet when I don’t feel well, this is exactly the time that patience for myself is needed–because my body is clearly communicating that it’s had enough of the push, push, pushing, and the go, go, going. It’s clearly saying, We could use a little help here. We could use a little understanding.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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