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The sixth-century BCE Greek writer and thinker, Heraclitus, noted the permanence of impermanence: The only constant in life is change.
But that’s not what humans crave.
Change is inevitable, and yet, it produces fear; unpredictability feels out of control, and we seek stability and familiar patterns. Thus, stereotyping, conspiracy-making, and connecting events, actions, or motives that may not be accurate or true are human tendencies. We feel better knowing than not.
Our survival and evolution once depended on detecting predators’ tendencies and other natural dangers. We’re wired for fear and pattern recognition.
Our brains are certainly pattern seekers, so when personal or societal shifts occur—uncertainty—one part of the brain, the amygdala, produces anxiety and stress as we yearn for control over our lives.
Not knowing what will happen after the first big fight in a relationship (Will we make it? Will we break up?) or an email summoning you to the boss’s office (Will I be fired? Reprimanded? Humiliated?), the mind leaps to danger. It builds on that jump with ruminating thoughts of doom and disaster. I’m going to lose my one chance at a good relationship, good job, and so on, thinking about the extremes of possible adverse outcomes.
Will the planet survive climate change? Will I get cancer, diabetes, or dementia? The fear of the unknown can drive us to distraction. So, how do we control fear and the resultant overthinking?
Give up.
Don’t cave. Don’t fold. Let go of the need to control what will happen. It’s an illusion, anyhow. That doesn’t mean do nothing in the face of conflict or potential danger. It means you can’t predict the future, no matter how hard you try.
And even your gifts of keen intuition and sensitivity, while powerful detectors, require a stew of clairvoyance, energetics, and faith, in the end.
No one knows for sure what happens next. We work on assumptions about how things may turn out, do our best to better the odds in our favor, and then surrender.
Let go.
And rehearse. Inuring yourself to the fear and anxiety impermanence brings helps you cope and become resilient to life’s unpredictability. It starts with awareness.
Mindfulness and presence keep us firmly planted on the stable earth. “I am here. I am now. That is all there is.” The future does not have to intrude when you practice inhabiting each moment.
Yoga and meditation help build tools to hone the practice, but a simple walk with antennae on can be a practice. Feel the sole of your foot with every step you take. Listen to the sounds your feet or shoes make as you walk. Then tune into other sounds that keep your mind tethered to the sense of hearing, not roaming to unknown regions of what’s gone or yet to be.
Practice makes perfect…sense.
Breathe.
Count each inhale and each exhale. Count how long your inhale is relative to your exhale. Lengthen your exhale by one second every 10 breaths. Keep breathing, practicing incremental ratio breathing. You may find the fear of the unknown melts away for a while. You may also see a tool to carry with you while you navigate traffic, wait in the doctor’s office, or take an exam.
Meditate.
Counting the breath is a meditation. A single sustained focus (dhyana) grounds the mind to a simple task and builds focus and concentration. Hum on every exhale, and gaze at a candle. Inhale the word “I” and exhale the word “am” as you sit or lie down in soft light with your eyes closed. Listen to a Yoga Nidra YouTube or guided meditation of a walk through a rain forest.
Grow.
Find the opportunity to grow as you challenge your fears and learn to befriend uncertainty. Don’t overwhelm yourself with triggers, such as doom scrolling or constantly consuming the news throughout the day.
Changing perspective helps. Consider uncertainty an opportunity to learn new things, new skills. Whenever I fear what the future may bring, I make plan B. For example, when I’ve suspected that my landlord wants to sell the property I rent as my home and business location, I calm my fears by considering possible scenarios.
Rather than dwelling on being houseless, my business destroyed, or the overwhelm of moving, I dream of the possibilities of so many “what ifs.” What if I had to move? I could find a more suitable place, one with less traffic and a yard for my dogs. I could have cats in my home again.
The what-if impulse drives me to research nearby housing, which inevitably draws me to broaden my search to other states, even countries. Before I know it, I have a wealth of knowledge about the best places to live on a budget, to retire in, or pass through while pursuing the nomad life in a retrofitted van for a spell.
Possibilities can open blockages, giving voice to worries to an empathetic ear, creating boundaries too often overstepped, following intuitions, diving into creativity, and boldly embracing vulnerability.
Imagine.
Picasso said, “Everything you can imagine is real.” The Barcelona Museum, dedicated to the expansive scope of his work, contextualizes the quote by touring his life’s art, the blue period, the rose period, Cubism, and even surrealism. Each reinvention created new lines, styles to imitate or reject, be against, revere, or revile.
Cubism was groundbreakingly non-real, and the art world of Picasso’s time rejected it. Now, it is a staple of art history classes and one of the most influential art movements of the last century.
We are the elements of change.
Change is hard. Transformation is worth it. Just when the struggle becomes unbearable, you may be standing on the precipice of a great metamorphosis—if you don’t give up.
Fear is fire; it transmutes one state to another.
When controlled, fire heats a cold, wintry room or brings a slow simmer to amalgamate the disparate flavors of a stew, marinara, or soup. Controlled fear, uncertainty, or anxiety can motivate flight, escape, action, or growth, maybe all.
Befriend impermanence and its resulting angst, and you experience the alchemy of transmutational fire of self-awareness, motivation, and study (svadhyaya), using breathwork to process emotions and calm the nervous system.
Let discomfort be your compass, pointing to your inner core, where you treasure what you value by testing your relationship with fear. Stand on the edge of knowing and hoping and leap into faith. You might grow clear and connected to what you want and meet your most authentic self.
At least, take the first step.
Becoming your next incarnation, your next self, inevitably happens; human cells regenerate constantly. We morph into who we’ve been becoming all along.
We are water—strong, adaptable, and resilient, headed somewhere known and unknown, blind and free, clinging and liberated. Our daily practices, rituals (Dinacharya), and self-care shore us up to surf a vast, buoyant, and unpredictable sea.
Dancing the waves of change, we find balance.
~
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