I found this book at a local second hand book fair over the summer holidays. I picked it up because the cover was beautiful, and I bought it because I’d lately been noticing anxiety taking over my brain (again). This book is a wonderfully thoughtful and honest exploration of anxiety, and it became a sort of literary soundtrack to the rest of my summer. Now that school is back and life has resumed its regular pace, I’m feeling the need to return to this book and some of the ideas that resonated.
Be okay with the mess
I have this thing where I feel like I can’t relax until I have done all the jobs, fixed all the problems, ticked off all the lists. Which is, of course, impossible. There will always be more jobs, and new problems. And those lists are never finished: I tick off one task and add two more. Right now my head is full of things I want to get done this weekend – school prep, housework, writing this blog post – and the undone mess of them is distracting. Wilson points out that this chaos, this mess, this uncertainty will always be there. That instead of trying to control it we should accept it. That this acceptance will help us release our grip, and relax.
The same goes for anxiety itself. Instead of trying to ‘fix’ anxiety, maybe we are better off accepting it. Working with it, rather than treating it like a foe to be vanquished. I have type 1 diabetes, and I’ve accepted the fact that I will never not have it. I manage it, with insulin and diet and exercise. I’m starting to think of anxiety in the same way. Instead of fighting it, I’m doing things to manage it. Like meditation, and exercise, and reading. In First, We Make the Beast Beautiful, Wilson writes about meeting the Dalai Lama. She was only allowed one question, and she asked – ‘How do I get my mind to shut up?’ The Dalai Lama replied ‘There’s no use.’ There is such relief in this. Once we know something is impossible, we stop trying so hard. We let go. There’s no use trying to do all the things, there’s no use trying to completely eliminate anxiety. Just. Stop.
‘You can be crap at meditation and it still works’
I am very crap at meditation. I’m so crap that I hardly ever do it. I started again, over summer, and then I just stopped. There always seems to be something more important to do. And when I do actually do it, I am constantly distracted by other thoughts. But Wilson reminds us that these thoughts are actually essential to meditation. She writes – ‘it’s the repeated gentle returning to a quietness that counts’. Without the interrupting thoughts, we wouldn’t have anything to return from. Remembering this takes the pressure off. It makes meditation something I actually want to do, rather than something I avoid.
This is it
Wilson’s book is also a good reminder that this is life, right here, right now. It’s not coming up, we are in it. She talks about how we have a yearning for ‘Something Else’ – an elusive perfection, a thing that will make us feel like everything fits and is how it’s supposed to be. We look for it in relationships, in work. Wilson quotes Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, who suggests that this searching for Something Else ‘is why you check your email many times a day’. The truth is, this Something Else does not exist. Or maybe it does – but it’s not something up ahead or outside of ourselves. It’s in the recognition that we are right now exactly how we are supposed to be. We don’t need to be anything else. About fifteen years ago a friend and I went regularly to a yoga class in St Kilda. At the end of the class, when we were all lying peacefully in shavasana, the instructor would yell at us ‘YOU ARE PERFECT THE WAY YOU ARE!’ We can stop all this outward striving and searching for perfection. We can just exist, the way we are.
Slow. The Fuck. Down.
Even right now, as I write this, I’m rushing. I want to finish this post so I can do whatever the next thing is on my list. Laundry. The dishes. School work. Next thing next thing next thing. Rushing pulls us away from life, away from creativity. I’d been pushing so hard all week, struggling to come up with lesson plans for school. As soon as I stopped and went for a walk, I was flooded with ideas. It felt easy again, and fun. Wilson quotes David Malouf: ‘we are still bone-heavy creatures tied to the gravitational pull of the Earth.’ We are not meant to go so fast, to jump from thing to thing to thing. And we don’t have to.
Doing hard things is worth it
Wilson writes about how doing things that make us uncomfortable can bring about ‘a particular joy’. Over summer I’ve been running with my dog, and then diving into the cold creek. It’s super uncomfortable for about ten seconds, and then it is the best part of my day. Feeling weightless in the water, watching my dog swim after sticks. It is a very particular joy.
‘You are not the captain of your life’
My anxiety is largely caused by my need for control. This is why I make lists, and stick to schedules. But there are so many things in life that are completely out of my control. I am not in charge. Realising this, Wilson writes, can help you release your grip and surrender. Someone else is flying this plane, and there’s really nothing you can do, so you might as well just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Scraps & Fragments 