Welcome to the Buddhist Boot Camp Podcast. Our intention is to awaken, enlighten, enrich, and inspire a simple and uncomplicated life. Discover the benefits of mindful living with your host, Timber Hawkeye.
Even though I generally fare better in quiet places with very few people so that I don't get overstimulated or overwhelmed, I do often find myself in loud, crowded areas, which I can handle in small increments if I bring a pair of ear plugs and a plan to regain my balance with some solitude later in the day.
But I had a dream the other night where I was trapped in a crowded room with way too many people, all of whom were very loud, angry, and screaming, while I was desperately trying to remain calm in the midst of it all, without noise-canceling headphones or any end in sight. And with me being somewhere on the spectrum, it wouldn't be a far stretch
to call that a nightmare. I woke up sweating profusely, heart-pounding ridiculously fast, in the midst of a full-blown anxiety attack, somehow simultaneously gasping for air and breathing heavily at the same time, and all of that was from a dream. I wasn't in a loud, crowded room, I was in bed, comfortably tucked under the covers in blissful, quiet, solitude. So, why was I freaking out?
This reminded me of what you've probably heard me mention before or read in my books about a guided meditation exercise in which a group of us was first asked to recall the saddest moment in our lives in great detail, and then the happiest moment we could recall, as we shifted from quietly crying to giggling to ourselves, even though we were just sitting in a quiet room with no external stimuli. The only thing that changed was what was going on in our heads.
So, when I woke up from that nightmare exhibiting physical symptoms as if I was actually in that uncomfortable situation, I reminded myself of what I already know: that I can be alone in my room fighting a panic attack, or in the middle of Manhattan during rush hour, yet calm as a Hindu cow; it all depends on my state of mind. Where I am physically and where I am in my mind has nothing to do with one another.
And since where I am in my mind is not only far more important but also the only thing within my control, I guided myself back to where I wanted to be and actually already
safely in bed with no one around. I lay there thinking about how much of what weighs heavily on us is only in our minds, and it reaffirmed for me that learning to exercise the mind like a muscle is more important than weightlifting or any other workout.
It's not just helpful in times of trouble; we constantly try to create what we consider ideal conditions or circumstances for ourselves, and people even regularly tell me about their favorite, most beautiful meditation spot, for example, be it on mountain tops, in the woods, or along the beach, but when we close our eyes to meditate, we can transport ourselves to wherever we want to be. It doesn't matter where I am physically, because what's going on in my mind has a much deeper effect on me.
The reason I bring this up is not just because it's helpful to those with anxiety, it's a tool we can all use by first bringing awareness to where our mind goes when we leave it on auto-pilot. Here's what I mean: when I lived in the Bay Area and regularly drove East across the Bay Bridge, as soon as I got in the car, my body, through nothing more than maybe muscle memory, took me in the direction of the Bay Bridge regardless of where I needed to go.
One morning, even though I knew I needed to go North across the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin County, I found myself halfway through the Bay Bridge before I realized I was heading in the wrong direction. In the same way, I believe that through repetition, we can make our default response to any situation be calm, cool, and collected.
True, the danger of always remaining calm would present itself when a true emergency arises, and one may find themselves calmly oblivious to an incoming tsunami, for example, but I'll take those odds over the alternative of reacting to daily inconveniences as if each was a natural disaster. It's actually amazing to me that we need driver's education, a license, and insurance to drive a car, but we get no training whatsoever on how to use the most powerful tool we've got: our minds.
So let's take the first step of training our minds, which is to acknowledge that whatever we're feeling at any moment is a choice, and then ask ourselves: why am I choosing anger right now? Why am I choosing fear? Why am I choosing scarcity, lack or not-enoughness? What can I choose in this moment instead that would benefit me in the long term? The simple act of reclaiming that power is a huge step. Let's take it together.
Timber Hawkeye is the bestselling author of Faithfully Religionless and Buddhist Boot Camp. For additional information, please visit BuddhistBootCamp.com, where you can order autographed books to support the Prison Library Project, watch Timber's inspiring TED Talk, and join our monthly mailing list. We hope you have enjoyed this episode and invite you to subscribe for more thought-provoking discussions. Thank you for being a Soldier of Peace in the Army of Love. 🙏🏼