September 7th, 2009
building something
Flying Books. San Francisco.
I was saying to Andy the other day that despite the fact that we are very busy lately–he is inundated with freelance work and I am doing my usual juggle of putting time and attention into one passion and then another–I have this strong sense within that we are building something. The word “juggle” seems an apt metaphor, though the image to conjure up is one of someone with all of the balls in the air, having fun with it, passing one to the next hand with ease. A lot going on, while having this intense focus.
I am going through a reading/personal growth phase. I go through these a few times a year. During these phases, I enter this space where I simply cannot get enough of any kind of book with a message about personal growth, wishing, manifesting, believing in oneself, etc. I always enjoy these periods immensely–what could be better than immersing oneself in positive thinking? Sounds like a win-win to me–and then I eventually ebb out of them when I hit a place where I feel burned out on analyzing my life and want only to live it, not to think about my choices quite so deeply. I think the two sides complement one another; I see them both as a good thing.
One of the books I’ve read recently was Jill Bolte Taylor’s book, “A Stroke of Insight,” which was also named after her now infamous TED talk (and if you haven’t seen it, or if you got bored somewhere around the middle and didn’t watch it all the way through because it was twenty minutes long, you’re missing out! See it to the end; it’s worth it!).
I really loved this passage: “Although there are certain limbic system (emotional) programs that can be triggered automatically, it takes less than ninety seconds for one of these programs to be triggered, surge through our body, and then be completely flushed out of our bloodstream. My anger response, for example, is a programmed response that can be set off automatically. Once triggered, the chemical released by my brain surges through my body and I have a physiological experience. Within ninety seconds from the initial trigger, the chemical component of my anger has completely dissipated from my blood and my automatic response is over. If, however, I remain angry after those ninety seconds have passed, then it is because I have chosen to let that circuit continue to run. Moment by moment, I make the choice to either hook into my neurocircuitry or move back into the present moment, allowing that reaction to melt away as fleeting physiology” (153).
I loved it because anger is not an emotion I am unfamiliar with. I think back to how much time I have spent being angry, often over things that didn’t matter, and it seems like such wasted time. Yet I would have well-meaning people tell me, “Well, don’t let it get to you. Don’t get angry; just let it be. Let go of that negative energy.”
And for years I’d always have this (angry) response of, “Gee, thanks for your insight. Why, I’ll just go flip the ‘anger’ switch and then I won’t be angry anymore! Great! It’s that easy, right? Sure it is!” (Sure it is, you freaking New Age weirdo. Now run along and go pet some crystals and cleanse your aura.)
I had such a response because: A.) I had/have a little kid inside with her own unhealed stuff, and that little kid was always told that she was not allowed to have her anger, and anyone who has ever told a little kid not to feel whatever emotion they are feeling has seen the result–they don’t like it. B.) These people made it seem so easy, and I didn’t feel “heard,” or like they acknowledged that I was struggling . C.) I felt totally controlled by my anger. The thought that it was something I could control felt utterly unrealistic. D.) I was (and in some ways, still can be) addicted to my anger, using it as a way to keep myself a Victim, and anyone’s assertion that I had more power than my Victim wanted to believe I had was a threat to Victim/Ego/Gremlin. Victim/Ego/Gremlin wants to stay in charge, so if someone suggests letting go of the anger–boy howdy, those aspects of myself were not liking that.
Today, I stand in a place where I have shifted a lot around the anger. I don’t get angry as often. I don’t get angry as fast. I don’t get as angry as I did; the level is lower. I look at my part in the situation faster. And when I do miss the mark and blow my top and get angry, I get calm a lot faster and let it go a whole lot faster. I used to have a fight with Andy and be pissed at him for an entire day. These days, if we get into an argument I’m mad for all of ten minutes before I want to shift it.
Now, I think ten minutes is pretty damned good, and I honor myself for that. However, when I read Jill Taylor’s book, and in particular that passage, something really clicked for me. I think I had believed that the reason I managed to get anger down from an entire day to only ten minutes was due to a combination of getting more mature, doing more to acknowledge and honor my inner little kid, finding people who could support me so that anger didn’t have to be my only response (sadness, I believe, is always underneath the lid of anger–and I believe we pull the weed out by the root when we process through the sadness, so having those people available helps), and doing more to step into my own power and not be a victim. Basically, lots of getting honest/real with what was real for me in a moment (the anger) and then allowing it (processing it out) with support, and then choosing something different.
But when I read that passage, and read that it’s really only about 90 seconds…it was just like, “Whoa.” Ninety seconds? That’s it?
This just seems so incredibly powerful to me. For one thing, it completely rips the head off of the story I carried for a long time that I didn’t or couldn’t control my anger. So any time Victim/Ego/Gremlin wants to start chattering in my ear about that, I have this little bit of scientific evidence to pass on.
I’ve been thinking about what other emotions this applies to. I remember that when I taught public speaking, someone told me that it takes only one full minute for the initial stress rush that people experience when speaking to subside. The rush that causes the sweaty palms, dry throat, etc., will be fully over and done in only one minute if the person does not let their mind take over with inner critic chatter (which only stimulates more symptoms because the body has a new rush in response to those thoughts). So I would encourage my students to just keep telling themselves, “Once this minute is over, I won’t have a red face anymore” or “Once this minute is over, I won’t be shaking as much.” I’d also have them focus on their breathing. And for many of them, knowing that it was only going to be one awkward minute seemed to really help.
So what other areas could this be applied to? How about fear.
Oooooh, fear. This has been coming up for me a lot lately, as I continue to get deep with acknowledging what I really want for myself, for my life. There’s been a lot of asking “How Big can I live?” these days (hence all of the spiritual and personal growth).
Sometimes I will just be walking along and then have some thought of fear and it can stay with me for a few hours.
Or does it?
After reading Taylor’s book, I strongly suspect that it is the same for fear as it is for anger. There is probably an initial surge and then it’s done, rifinito (finished). And probably within 90 seconds to three minutes, somewhere in that range, and when I say that it “stays with me for a few hours,” I bet what really happens is that I choose to run a certain circuit of old patterns, habits, and interpretations.
Now, I of course already knew that this is what fear is–the running of old patterns, habits, and interpretations, and believing that they will be our present and future. However, what I’m getting at is just how small the part is that we actually cannot control, the part that is automatic, the part that is a surge through our body. It’s only a few minutes, at most.
So what are most of us doing with all of those hours, all of those days?
Investigator Kate is on the case to answer that very question–and I hope that others will be on the lookout for answers, too.
