Don't just do something. Stand there.
We’re conditioned to act, to do something. As we limp toward soft reopenings, we want to fortify ourselves, our families, our organizations with something mimicking the life we lived months ago. We want to regain footing amidst the uncertainty that pervades. While some of the restrictions have been lifted, and the sun shines like a super power, it is hard to shake the fear. Doubt contaminates our confidence, our open heartedness.
An agitated brain is a lousy north star. It wants certainty, above all else, and it is willing to cut a few corners to get it. Rather than pause to really assess a situation, the agitated brain yells, “Threat! Fight! Charge! Act! Do something!”
The gift of this forced slow-down is something we’ll be pondering for the rest of our lives. For me, it’s been a stingy gift, opening a tiny bit at a time, revealing only loss at first … my son’s senior year and meticulously planned gap year. My freedom to share dinners, hug friends, shake the hands of colleagues, pass treats around the boardroom, numb out with a little clicking and liking.
For the first several weeks of the new world (I am still not willing to call it the new “normal”), I fell victim to my brain’s lazy cleverness. Before I knew it, my days were full of meetings (virtual!), new trainings, book lists, strategy sessions, recipe clubs. I filled up all the uncertainty with a bunch of business. Laughably, I signed up for every imaginable online discussion in my race to problem-solve, flatten, act and do. Pretty mindful, eh?
And the other day, a funny little thought popped into my head during a walk, outside, with dogs, nature, and no earbuds humming with the facade of certainty ...
“First, be. Then, do.”
Most of us have spent our whole lives doing lots of things. It’s the American currency, being so busy, so agile in setting agendas, checking boxes, closing deals. Many have remained as busy as ever during this pandemic, especially essential workers in healthcare, grocery businesses and frontline organizations staving off economic and mental collapse. These folks have a legitimate claim to busyness. They are saving and securing life and sustenance.
But what about workers who are non-essential, like me? What is our role? How can we help?
Here’s how we can help . . . By disobeying our reactive brain’s “fight or flight” directive. By taking time to be thoughtful and calm. By being truly present for conversations about “Now, what?” For now, our essential work is TO BE. Not do. To sit with the discomfort of uncertainty long enough to think of more than just returning to normal.
Most of us remember being a kid and having a parent or a coach yell out, “Don’t just stand there! DO something!”
Well, I’m asking you now . . . Don’t just DO something. Stand there. Stand there long enough, long enough to settle the mind and pause the distraction.
Stand there. Be there. Then do.
Does that sound impossible right now? You’re not alone. Let Amy Manhart show you one eight-minute way to do it. Scroll down. Get comfortable. Push play.
this week’s 8-minute guided meditation: loving kindness
Amy Manhart, local instructor of yoga AND middle school science, offers a simple loving kindness meditation with a community focus.