My mind has, over time, collected some recursive thought patterns, accumulated and rehearsed over the years, thought patterns that have become ruts, demanding my focus even though it's my desire to set my attention elsewhere. My personal ruts are usually attached in some way to little relentless character flaws, like anxiety, or, uggghhh, the desire for control.

This morning I found myself wrestling with these old ruts, trying to violently, but unsuccessfully, force the wheels of my apple cart to go in another direction. Entranced, stuck, in unproductive circular thinking, I remembered the famous tale from The Odyssey about the Sirens' song.

The Odyssey tells a classic tale of the brave-but-weary warrior Odysseus who, dreaming of hearth and home, is thwarted by the gods as he is trying to make his way his way back from war. The story is in many ways a solid metaphor for the human experience, a Hero's Journey, and in it we are reminded that our battles and boons are meant to lead us ultimately back home where our newly acquired gifts and hard won wisdom can not only help us to see our previous lives in a brighter light, but also serve the higher good.

The Sirens' Song is the part of the tale that depicts some enticing but threatening ladies who attempt to waylay (and ambush) the hero Odysseus with their song:

"Come this way, honored Odysseus, great glory of the Achaians, and stay your ship, so that you can listen here to our singing; for no one else has ever sailed past this place in his black ship until he has listened to the honey-sweet voice that issues from our lips; then goes on, well-pleased, knowing more than ever he did..." (12.184-196)

The Sirens sing their song in an alluring way that mesmerizes passing sailors, promising both pleasure and knowledge, but sadly, fulfillment of either promise is a lost cause. In reality, their end goal is to sink ships and absorb them, and the men on board, into the sea.

Although the story has taken on different themes over the years, having been manipulated to instill fear as a cautionary tale against a variety of perceived vices, the Sirens are still a ready metaphor for whatever threatens to sink our ships in real time.

The way I see it, the Sirens are all in my head.

 This morning, wrestling with my ruts, I happened to be pulling  out of the garage to go pick up my grandson Finn when I noticed the changing colors on our Fire Maple, peeking over the top of my house from the back yard. Suddenly, the mesmerizing translucent leaves on that tree had my attention, and I realized I had been reminded of a powerful tool.

 I had inadvertently lept over the ruts onto a new path in a matter of seconds.

I am aware of the unproductive tendency I have to force my brain to study blisteringly painful problems that are actually unsolvable in the moment. So, instead of fighting with a mind that was clearly intent on continuing to do what it was doing, nature had given me something else to focus on by simply allowing myself to see what was happening right in front of me.

In a matter of seconds, I was able to do something I couldn't do before; I let go of a negative thought cycle to fix my attention on a positive one.

Since this morning, my pulsing, rhythmic song of the stressors has called to me, pounding against my amygdala, inviting me to engage in an exhausting-but-hypnotic fight-or-flight dance, and in different moments, I have both resisted and succumbed. It seems to be based on whether or not I am able to simply remember the lesson. This is going to take some practice.

James Taylor wrote a song called "Home by Another Way" that refers to another Hero's Journey, the biblical journey of the Magi, or "wise men," that visit Jesus at the time of his birth. King Herod, afraid of the prophecies that a king would be born who would build a kingdom greater than his, sends soldiers to kill all of the children born within a certain time frame, and the wise men rightly assume that Herod's men would be less than kind to any visitors venerating the potential Messiah.

The original "wise guys" decide that to return the way that they came would not only lead the soldiers to the child, but they might not even survive the journey themselves, so they seek out another route. We trust they made it through on their way home.

The mind is a scary place. Do not go in there alone. 

Although this phrase has been repeated by many people in many circles, it was my sister her shared this piece of wisdom with me.

And she was right to do it.

I have a habit of bouncing back to anxious thought patterns like a boomerang. Compulsion. Like a rat who keeps slapping the sensor in the cage knowing that there will be an instant reward.

What exactly have I been awarded by nurturing this habit of mind?

From the compulsion standpoint, standing knee deep in the miry swamplands of worry and dread, focusing on the ticker tape stream-of-consciousness that feeds me all of the possible disaster-scenarios on the horizon of potential…well, this exhausting practice is simply a form of hyper-vigilance.

For people who are in severe distress, particularly for long periods of time, repetition of hyper-vigilant thought patterns become ingrained. It’s a tough habit to break.

There’s a drive behind it, this need to keep one’s eye on the ball. Still, does hyper-vigilance pay?

If analyzed closely, I guess I have to admit there have been a few times that being a watcher-on-the-wall has served me. I might not have been able to see something coming down the pike that could have had a more-negative-outcome…if I hadn’t been uber-attentive.

But if there’s a problem here, it’s buried in the premise.

Hyper-vigilant-me is always trying to think ahead, read the room, block potentially negative outcomes, prepare for the worst. But because of my history, it’s what I’m preparing for, and what I’m trying to block, that is off base.

Here’s the faulty premise: if I pay close attention to my relationships, to patterns, to behaviors, and even more pervasive, moods, I can manage the emotional lives of not just myself, but also others around me.

It’s taken me a long time to get to the bottom of this because I was driven and reactive, as opposed to thoughtful and responsive. In other words, I was doing what I was doing without knowing why I was doing it.

When we get to the bottom of the memes that drive our patterns of thought and behaviors, it’s not unusual to find fault lines… weak foundations upon which we have built unstable lives and relationships.

Bottom line, I can’t control anything other than my own actions and responses and behaviors. Trying to do so is Sisyphean in nature… pushing a boulder up to the top of the mountain only to see it roll back down.

Based on clear-headed evaluation, compulsive hyper-vigilance is more destructive than it is helpful. Huge investment, minimal reward.

Peace isn’t achieved just by picking off one negative thought at a time; attempting that practice is like playing the classic Galactica video game in which the invaders continued to be more aggressive and attack more quickly until inevitably, the player will lose.

A variation on the gaming theme, in the 1983 film entitled War Games, starring Matthew Broderick, the young hacker accidentally breaks into the government’s nuclear database and begins a terrifying game with the military base’s computer. The computer’s program believes it’s engaged in war game and prepares to fire a nuclear weapon, for real.

In the climax of the movie, it appears that nobody can regain control of the computer’s belief that it needs to fire the weapon, and it is only when Broderick’s character introduces the computer’s program to tic-tac-toe that it can understand the concept of an unwinnable game. 

The resolution of the film offers an unmistakable conclusion:

The only way to win is not to play.

And the only way to win at anxiety-gymnastics is not to play.

So…here are three solid tools for surviving mental war games.

Awareness:

Anyone facing anxiety really benefits from a daily meditation practice that’s authentic, consistent, and compassionate. If you need support, find a meditation group, or contemplative prayer group, and just get on the path.

Among the many gifts meditation can offer, it will help you calm yourself and know your patterns, your habits of mind that aren’t serving.

Substitution:

Sometimes, we need a new gear, or a different track. A gentle redirect.

If our minds are used to returning again and again to similar patterns of worrying or unproductive fixing, we need to stop doing what we’ve always done and just change the channel.

Here’s another short essay on this for reinforcement.

 "Rut Jumping: Home by Another Way"

Faith:

I know…I have a lot of nerve barging into something this personal, but whatever your faith tradition…lean into it, and be present.

Let go of the destructive habit of looking behind you, or seeking relief in future-gazing for deliverance.

Help is always here and now, not then or there.

Ask for help.

We can ALWAYS decide, make a choice, to take in the sights and sounds of the present moment including smells, movement, tastes, touch. Infuse the moment with acceptance and gratitude, and you’re on your way.

Like I said, sometimes, the only way to win is to not play those games.

"I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me."

Hermann Hesse, Demian

                                                Copyright © 2017 Laury Boone Browning

"I'm Fine" by Rachael Ibanez

Equinox 
                                                                                                                                           

"What's Left of Us" by Rachael Ibanez

Some folks from my church here in Ft. Collins regularly serve meals together at the Rescue Mission, and since I facilitate and schedule the teams, I also try to show up and serve most of the time myself. I enjoy it, and the service helps to keep me grounded. Last night at the Mission, a concerned and supportive friend of mine looked at me and said, "Are you tired? You look really tired."

I was. But for some reason, at first, I felt like I needed to defend myself. Then, a little rush of shame, or embarrassment.

For some weird reason, I feel forced to justify the need to rest. Ever since I can remember, I have ignored physical and emotional urges, messages from the body to sleep, eat, or just to pause, choosing instead to fixate on my terribly-important worry list, or on the very-real needs of those around me. I have a tendency to avoid or even ignore self-care, and this pattern oddly doesn't always actually serve the needs of others, and it leaves me flattened like a pancake.

One part wonky childhood dysfunction, and three parts trauma from all of the little earthquakes within my first marriage, I lived for decades in a state of watchful waiting, anticipating another painful blowout at home...and there were plenty. Negotiating life within this unpredictable environment produced the hyper-vigilance familiar to people who have survived addiction, trauma or loss. Becoming adapted to an unhealthy habitat gives way to an underlying sense that there just isn't time for the basics like rest, food, or showers. A helpful coping strategy during certain types of crisis, the instinct to do whatever it takes to avoid more trauma would eventually become a habit of mind, leaving me stuck in the trenches and foxholes long after the war was over.

Years ago, I attended a workshop, a group counseling experience, that ferreted out some of my most basic defects of character. It was really eye opening. I was gifted with the opportunity to listen to complete strangers offering their initial impressions of me. "You probably think you're too good for me," and, "you seem obsessed with your appearance," were favorites. Truthfully, I was riddled with insecurity, most of the time, feeling "less than," not "better than" the others in the room, so the workshop gave me a lot to consider about what my internal messages were portraying to others.

After enduring a challenging barrage of simulated situations that typically coerce attendees to run headlong into typical emotional reactive ruts, or triggers, we were ultimately encouraged to know and accept ourselves completely: darkness and light, strength and weakness, beauty and scar tissue. The whole package. During a meaningful moment at the very end of all of these workshops, having lied down on the floor under dimmed lighting, I listened to my own heart as it spoke to me the following statement of purpose to guide me moving forward.

Through beauty, healing and openness, I use my energy and my voice to empower and inspire to create a world that's tender and safe.

These are my values. This is what mattered to me then, and it's what matters to me still.

Yes, I am greatly in need of restoration this week. Sitting outside this morning, I have carved out a few moments for meditation, not in my usual spot, but on the back patio overlooking the open space behind my house. The spring rains have been generous, offering up twenty different shades of green, including pale, sweet smelling Russian Olive trees and pungent, blue-green spruces. There's a friendly-but-worn oak porch swing sitting invitingly just a few feet beyond the back gate, and tall, summer grasses are bending to the breeze, accented by a wave of slow moving Cottonwood seed pods, all scouting out a soft place to land. In this moment, I am reminded of my personal mission statement once again: through beauty...

So, how is beauty a part of my purpose?

I am laughing at myself this morning,  remembering how important it seemed, back in the day, to be beautiful. Here and now, in my 60th year, I feel like I have finally laid some meaningful groundwork on this one. It's not about me. There is no longer any mandate to be physically beautiful, or to age better than the next girl. It doesn't matter, and it doesn't satisfy.

Maybe, on some mystical level, I knew even then that the goal of this adventure is to be restored to wholeness through experience: through nature and the present moment, through writing and poetry, through music and art, and mostly, through relationships and community. There is beauty erupting and rising through all of these gifts when our eyes are open to it.

It's this kind of beauty that resonates all around us, offering the simple abundant quality of life we need to be whole, to be a vibrant, to be at peace and to be generous.