“Mental immunity,” the Dalai Lama explained, “is just learning to avoid the destructive emotions and to develop the positive ones. First, we must understand the mind—there are so many different states of mind—the diverse thoughts and emotions we experience on a daily basis. Some of these thoughts and emotions are harmful, even toxic, while others are healthy and healing. The former disturb our mind and cause much mental pain. The latter bring us true joyfulness. “When we understand this reality, it is much easier to deal with the mind and to take preventive measures.1
There are many ways to practice mental immunity and I will talk on some of my favorites ways in future posts. But the first step is to stop, get present, and take notice your thoughts. While that sounds simple enough, I think it’s often the sticking point for me and maybe others too.
It turns out that pausing is not my strong point. Letting go of lots of doing? Letting go of thinking I should be looking good and making appearances and pleasing people? I’m kinda hooked into all that. After all, I am busy! Busy pleasing others, setting a perfect example… surely that is more noble and worthy than stopping and spending time with to check in with my thoughts, right? But wait…when I do stick to that busyness, while I (or especially my ego) may think I’m being worthy and wonderful, pursuing some false noble action, because it isn’t based in my true, higher, wiser sage self, it goes awry.
It’s like climbing the tree in the backyard of my childhood. When I was about four years old, we lived in a house with big pine trees in the back yard. I loved climbing those trees. They had many branches, making climbing easy. They offered an enclosed green place where I found delightful refuge. I remember feeling the excitement/exhilaration of going higher and higher, and at the same time, the security of having the strong, stable tree trunk nearby to ground me, make me feel safe.
My life often feels like climbing trees. I love getting going, climbing higher than yesterday. Sometimes, in order to see more or to feel more exhilaration, I step out away from the trunk a bit. Ooh, this is fun, and exciting. And I can still see the trunk, knowing I can return to it.
But in life I’m not as wise as my four-year-old tree climbing self. I tend to stray too far away from the trunk. I claim good reason for doing so (those noble, seemingly selfless, people pleasing BS reasons) and continue and say, I am fine! I’ve got this. I can manage by myself and need no grounding element, need not return to the trunk. Nope, I am good out here all by myself. Look at me, showing off what I can do! Do you like me more yet? No? It’s okay, I can do more! And I step further and further out on that ever more slender branch.
Sometimes the branch begins to sag under my weight. But most times it cracks before I notice that I’m not grounded. Without the connection to the ground, I make less than wise choices. I live a more shallow experience. While it can seem exciting, it is not satisfying. And it can be painful when the branch actually breaks and I fall to the ground, hitting myself along the way (when I’m disconnected from my groundedness, I seem to beat myself up alot). I land in a sad crumple, feeling sorry for myself, angry and sad that I must start my climb all over again.
And yet the tree is still there for me. It doesn’t berate me, or tell me what I should have done, it is just there, always ready for me to climb. I can hear it’s deep inviting voice, calling me up to it’s glorious views again, reminding me it is here to support me and that if I remember to stay close to it’s rooted trunk, I can stay and climb as long as I like.
When I remember to check in often and stay grounded, I can withstand more storms or whatever otherwise throws me off my game. When I stay closer to the tree trunk as I climb, or at least remember to come back to it often, then I am stronger, more resilient.
Meditation, yoga, sleep, eating well, practicing presence, practicing RAIN, reading inspiring word, all these things keep me connected to my wise self. All these things I sometimes love and enjoy.
But here’s the crazy part; when I need them most, when I’m far out on the branch and feeling ungrounded, I don’t want to do any of them. And that, my dear Rylla, is the sign that you need to pause. That is the time to stop and try one of them. Or a few. Or whatever it takes to get back to your wise, sage self.
I don’t find this easy, but I do find it rewarding. Oh so very rewarding. And I know I want to do this in community. That’s why I’m so glad you are here, reading with me. I’ll offer other opportunities very soon for us to practice this game of living life mindfully together. Thank you
“Think about it this way. If your health is strong, when viruses come they will not make you sick. If your overall health is weak, even small viruses will be very dangerous for you. Similarly, if your mental health is sound, then when disturbances come, you will have some distress but quickly recover. If your mental health is not good, then small disturbances, small problems will cause you much pain and suffering.2
The Book of Joy…
The Book of Joy
Thanks for this valuable reminder. I have a popup once a week "Remember the pause" to help me remember that Pause is an option. Sometimes I just hit delete instead of really taking that moment to explore where a pause would be so welcome. Your sharing invites me to value it again and listen to the message.
The tree climbing analogy is right upto the mark. I am finding it easier to pause these days, because I know that it will help me bouncing back on a new project. It's like crouching to take a leap. I think pausing makes you resilient and it helps you find the reason behind running. Loved your compilation of thoughts.