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#130: The power of our “slogful” years

November 15, 2024

I’m in the middle of a multi-year slog and I can see that it is an endurance game. Working hard over a long period of time isn’t the same as working hard for an afternoon or a week. We often use the analogy of marathon vs. sprint to land this difference. The longer slog is less about a looming deadline and more about a vision that we are trying to bring closer with every step. There are a lot of steps on a “slogful” journey. There are also a lot of thoughts! Our personal state of mind is an ever present companion.

The brain is a three pound personal universe that processes 6,000 to 70,000 thoughts each day. Over 90% of our thoughts are repetitive and over 80% are negative*. So as we are slogging, we may appear silent on the outside but the inside is constantly chattering. Imagine trying to do something important while the brain is quietly whispering “trouble…fear…caution…pain ahead…trouble…fear…caution…pain ahead….” Most of this happens subconsciously.

All contemplative practices are designed to free us from this deeply encoded pattern, and you can find one that’s a fit for you. However, what I find most useful is first acknowledging that nothing is wrong with any of us. This pattern exists quite naturally in every single person. It’s just how our nervous systems are designed. The second thing that helps is to notice first-hand how our thoughts change our everyday experiences. For instance, we behave differently when thoughts of doom are replaced with curiosity before a meeting.

People who go through a long slog note that the journey changed them. Of course it did! Long-term intensity leaves a mark and the thoughts that kick around inside us have a big role in shaping us. The years of slog can be empowering when they become more than just about reaching that precious goal. They are a perfect training ground for the mind because hard times trigger even more negative thoughts.

Most of what happens inside our brain is subconscious but we do have agency. Life yanks us around during our slogful years. Not sure we can fully stop, but we can limit how much we yank ourselves from the inside. We can use the slog as a golden opportunity to become more aware internal observers.

This is important because while we are not our thoughts, in time we become our minds.

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” ― Carl Jung, Swiss psychiatrist and psychotherapist

*  These numbers change depending on the study referenced but the point remains. We have a lot of thoughts and most of them are repetitive and negative.

Our negativity bias is a survival mechanism. Since the brain is designed to keep us alive, it over indexes on scanning for threats.

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#128: Fasting for renewed intention

October 11, 2024

Growing up in New Delhi, India, I knew water was a scarce and valuable resource. The city’s water supply came through for a few hours daily and every household had to install pumps to haul it to rooftop tanks, so it could be stored for on-demand use. This is still the case in Delhi and I imagine many places around the world. Sometimes in the summer, the city’s supply would get interrupted and taps would run dry. We would then pool resources with neighbors to buy water privately; these big water trucks would come and fill our tanks instead.

Everyone knew that constant supply was only an illusion created by our overhead tanks. Over time, I started noticing the amount of effort it took to make water usable and drinkable.*

Then I came to the United States and saw that some people had a very different relationship to water. Many people brushed their teeth after lunch at work and a few would leave the faucet running at full force for the entire duration of their brushing session. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this made my insides convulse. We lived in Miami, Florida, which is surrounded by water so perhaps this created a subconscious sense of abundance.

While I never leave the faucet running quite like that, I noticed this sense of abundance quietly seeping into me over the years. I saw myself taking slightly longer showers when I was tired but what really bothered me was that on such days, it felt burdensome to turn off the warm water while lathering.

Then recently I visited Bogota, Colombia, where the city is facing a water-crisis due to lack of rainfall and each neighborhood has 24-hr water cuts a few times a month. We filled buckets with water in our Airbnb to ensure we could bathe and use the bathroom. Business establishments are impacted too, so the toilet at the neighborhood coffee shop was also non-functional.

I believe one of the most difficult tasks for humans is to keep our sensitivity and awareness fresh. It’s easy to forget the hard-earned lessons we learn during hardship. It’s easy to slide back into excess in the face of perceived abundance. I believe this is why most cultural and religious traditions have an element of periodic fasting.

Daily life keeps us spinning many plates with too many things to keep track of. So we deploy surface level awareness, which is perfect for managing overwhelm but doesn’t always create values-aligned action. I believe the goal of fasting is to re-sensitize us to the building blocks of a thoughtful life through intentional action. In fasting, we can’t partake in abundance unthinkingly. We are asked to remove ourselves from stimuli we take for granted, enough that we experience discomfort and take proper notice.

When we come back to re-engage with our daily life, we relate to it differently. Fasting is not an experience of lack, it’s an act of intentional forgoing. Conservation and waste, compassion and self-centeredness, gratitude and greed, self-discipline and overindulgence are all orientations and each of us carries their seeds. Any of us can slip into any of them given the right conditions.

Spiritual traditions liken intentions to seeds that grow roots when nurtured by attention, to create fruits of action. We mostly think seed to fruit, right? From intention >> to attention >> then action. But the seed is also in the fruit. We are products of our repeated actions. Our wise ancestors knew this. They knew that action sometimes needs to come first, especially when we have decision fatigue. That’s why all traditions also prescribe specific spiritual actions like fasting, selfless service and charitable giving (daana/tithing/zakat). Considerate action has the ability to wake up our intentions.

Fasting forces us to act first, notice discomfort, then notice the benefit on us and our environment as we slide towards a more thoughtful orientation.

When I got back home from Bogota, I found it easier to pause the flow of water while lathering. My awareness has re-sharpened and new habits have followed with ease. My showerhead has a pause slider that keeps the temperature mix while stopping water flow. It causes me zero-inconvenience to use it. Now when I’m tired, I leave the slider slightly open so I can get comforted by a warm water while lathering but it’s a trickle and not a deluge, and a choice not a default.

“Sow an act, and you reap a habit.”― Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist and philosopher

*Only 3% of Earth’s water is fresh water and of that, only around 1.2% is drinkable. A lot of energy and effort goes into making water consumable.

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#124: Beating up on past self is easy, and unhelpful

July 26, 2024

Learnings from momentum, failure, and recovery
(Read the first two in this series here and here)

When we fail at something we care about, it’s easy to fall into a blame-vortex. We look for someone to cast doubt on. When this accusatory gaze turns inwards, we invariably blame our past self for messing things up. I certainly did when I failed recently; I blamed my past self from a decade ago. I’m noticing that I frequently do this. I am often frustrated with my past self, for not doing this or that thing when she could have. I constantly chide her for not having her shit together. Sometimes this past self is recent, from the month or week prior.

This time I also examined my current self and current life. The present-day self came across as a work-in-progress and the present-day life, a complex web of things. Always evolving, always in the process of becoming the next iteration, and never fully where I’d like it to be. I’d like to try some things out, and I know I will in the future when the time is right. So if life feels messy now and I’m not ready for some things, it was messy in the past too and I wasn’t ready to give certain things a shot because of valid reasons.

When I try something later in life than I or culture imagine, it’s because that is usually the first point in time I feel resourced enough to attempt this thing; given the unique way my life is unfolding. 

Then why does my mind keep harping about this magical past self? Who does it imagine her to be? There was no magical past self with all her ducks in a row.

With this honest realization, I see my psyche start loosening its grip on my throat and self-compassion flows. The focus shifts from blame to learning from this experience of failure. I scan my present to see what I might be holding back from trying right now, and whether this holding back is actually wise or fear based. With this knowledge, I can build capacity and skill to try what I want to try, and learn from what didn’t come to pass.

The longer I live, the more past selves there are to be frustrated at. But there is no pristine past life and no magical past self to blame. 

“Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.”— Marcel Proust, French novelist

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#123: Moving from habitual internal stories to deliberate metaphors

July 19, 2024

Learnings from momentum, failure, and recovery
(Read the first one of this series here)

Stories are how we metabolize life situations. When we try to understand why something happened, the first thing that sprouts inside our head is an internal talk track. One internal story layers on top of another and—over time—they crystalize into mental models, or the default lens with which we view the world. Our brains are designed for survival and favor efficiency, so this process of solidifying repetitive thoughts into permanent shorthands is simply what our brains do. That’s how we learn and file away events for future reference.

Sometimes these stories and mental models can be adaptive and make us more resilient, but they can also be maladaptive and create psychological burdens that get in the way of thriving. Either way, all internal stories and mental models are subjective and never the complete picture.

Why habitual internal stories get in the way
It’s hard to know when our mind has become littered with maladaptive stories. We face three big challenges in clear seeing:

  • We don’t realize we have a talk track. Because we’re so used to living with this incessant sound, it camouflages as if it’s a part of our insides.
  • We wholeheartedly believe our stories. They are ever-present inside our head and we mistake this presence as the truth. 
  • Our stories act as psychological balms in our time of loss, so it’s even harder to disassociate from them when we’re in pain.

How metaphors can assist
Metaphors are when we refer to one thing by painting a picture of another. They help us bypass the habitual internal chatter and stories because:

  • Image first, words later. With metaphors, we don’t get lost in words right away. We experience the experience we’re having in that moment and then create a mental image to capture how we feel. Only after we have an image, we use words.
  • Words describe the image and not the event. When we finally use words, we describe the image of our experience and not the potentially charged event we’re dealing with.
  • Nuanced, yet not exhaustive. Metaphors don’t try to slice, dice and explain every little thing. They can help us zoom in or out and extract a key flavor of the situation without getting lost in unhelpful details or spurring rumination. We try to get to the core of “what is” going on inside us. Also, we can be more nuanced with images because sometimes words fail us.
  • The process is deliberate. The metaphorical images we create are deliberate (vs. habitual internal thoughts) and if one metaphor doesn’t resonate, we can adjust it till it does. This process itself offers clarity because we try to accurately see the experience we’re having.

My metaphor during this last round of injury was an ant working at the base of a massive tree, and believing that the world was entirely made of dirt. Through this metaphor I realized that there’s a lot I can’t know and will never know, so my stories and judgments about why I was dealt this blow will always be incomplete. There was comfort in simply letting go of the need to know definitively. Paradoxically, reminding myself of my profound smallness helped me move through this harsh experience faster. 

I know I’ll keep using stories as healing balms to adapt to a new realities. I also know that I’ll keep another eye on the imperfection of those stories, and use deliberate metaphors to hold complexity and nuance, and pierce through my internal chatter.

“Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.”— B.K.S. Iyengar, Yoga pioneer and teacher

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#122: Momentum requires caring, but recovery requires letting go

July 12, 2024

Learnings from momentum, failure, and recovery

I’ve been away from this space for a bit; I was trying to do something big and intense that I’ve been hesitant to even attempt. I finally faced my fears. I created a stable psychological base and leapt knowing I might fail. And fail I did. The speed of failure was unexpected and the loss has reverberated in unexpected ways. It has also been an unexpected teacher. The observations and learnings are still unfolding and, over the next few weeks, I’ll share a few that are top of mind. May these be helpful to others.

Here’s the first one: Momentum requires caring but recovery requires letting go.

I knew going in that there was a high likelihood of failure so my goal in trying wasn’t to succeed at all costs, it was to minimize regrets and squash future “what-ifs”. I thought I’d give it a shot and move on if I failed. But my path was littered with obstacles and I could only build momentum by admitting to myself that I cared about the outcome and that it wasn’t all nonchalant under the surface. Once I acknowledged this truth though, I became more attached to specific outcomes. I gave my best in the service of a vision but giving it my all melted my internal boundaries. I started dreaming just a bit more even as I tried to be even-keeled.

I looked back at my hard road and I looked ahead at the potentially positive outcome. I thought maybe everything was harder for me for a reason, maybe I was meant to enjoy the richer sweetness of delayed joy. I didn’t even realize I was weaving these ephemeral stories. Although these stories were fleeting, they left enough of a mark that I started becoming a wee bit more attached to outcome. Even when I knew I was facing failure, there was a part of me quietly looking for the silver lining: “maybe the sweet ending will come in a different way…if I just keep going.”

The reality is that I don’t know why I was nudged in this direction by my psyche or the powers that be. I know definitively that this experience has added to my personal history and given me a glimpse of a life experience I didn’t have, and in turn created another flow of empathy. A big personal realization is that the act of letting go needs to be absolute and without caveats.

Abhyasa (practice) and Vairagya (non-attachment), is a core principle of Yoga philosophy that helps me in letting go whenever I get stuck.

  • Abhyasa means having an attitude of persistent effort but it’s a specific flavor of effort; it requires a focus on mental stability and not the outcome. This stance doesn’t just appear out of the blue at our time of need, it’s an everyday practice. It’s recommended we practice this type of effort uninterruptedly for a long period time of time so it becomes a part of our operating philosophy.
  • Vairagya is about learning to let go of the many attachments, cravings, aversions, fears, and false identities that get layered on just by the act of living and engaging in the world. This non-attachment isn’t about abandoning things and not enjoying life, it’s about the relationships we create with everything around us. We attach value, create dogma, feel aversion based on our subjective interpretations and then spend inordinate effort craving or avoiding things and situations. Vairagya is a tool to cut through these erroneous perceptions and projections to reclaim mental and emotional stability.

Abhyasa and vairagya represent two essential aspects of a spiritual life that, when combined, liberate us from everyday injuries. These principles help us create a dynamic balance on the polarity of practicing and caring on one end, and letting go on the other.

Failure is never easy but it’s a pretty regular life-occurrence. Being able to move through loss without letting our sense of self and psyche get too dinged is a helpful skill. It makes us more capable of navigating loss, taking chances, and contributing in life without the fear of getting burned. 

“The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.”— Tara Brach, psychologist and meditation teacher

Photo credit:  thelittlelabs. Click image or here to view animation.

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