Here’s something I realized not too long ago. It’s been a helpful way for me to frame the question of calming anxiety and finding peace. Perhaps it will be useful to you, too, in the occasional moment of distress:
When you’re anxious, you don’t need to create your own peace. All you have to do, really, is to lean into a peace that already surrounds you. This peace is always perfect, and always in the air, no matter how crazy or rebellious or out-of-touch with it you feel.
Sometimes I add to my panic because I think that I need to deep-breathe just so, or forgive my resentments just so, or pray just so, or practice positive thinking just so*, in order to preserve a state of inner peace. But this is a manufactured peace, and it’s contingent on my own abilities to be perfect. And if it’s not already evident to you, I’m certainly not perfect. So relying on my own peace-creating capacities is a dangerous game. In fact, I spoil half the time I’m actually peaceful by worrying that my peacefulness will soon disappear and be replaced by the old feelings of anxiety—just because I haven’t been using my “peaceful time” well enough!
To rely instead on God’s peace is a relief. This peace does not grow or diminish in response to the vagaries of your mind and physiology. It’s always whole and perfect and entire—no matter what. Nothing you do can spoil or threaten its existence. If you don’t believe in God, you can still envision a perfect all-encompassing peace that threads its way through the world: in harmony with the mountains and the flowers and the barking of dogs and the sleeping of babes. A peace that has sustained the cycles of life since the dawn of time.
I think of this proposition in very physical terms. Doing so helps me to realize that there is an objective peace that actually exists. I imagine my body slipping into the peace that already exists all around me—my shoulders automatically relax and I breathe a little more easily. It is less a matter of making a new peace of my own (through breathing or thinking or tapping acupressure points or even “perfectly aligning myself” with God) and more a matter of accepting an extant peace that’s available to me around the clock.
Does this make sense? Perhaps I haven’t sufficiently described the nuances of this insight that made it a useful, rather than banal, observation for me. But I do hope it helps at least one of you along the way! Pax—Elizabeth
*That’s not to say that these tools—breathing techniques, compassionate self-talk, EFT, even some approaches to prayer–aren’t effective at reducing anxiety. They can be. They’ve worked for thousands of people. But, in my experience, the responsibility of figuring out which techniques to practice, and trying to practice them perfectly, can sometimes cancel out their positive effects.
Lovely thoughts, Elizabeth. I heard a teacher say once that sometimes when we are struggling, it is as though we are in a maze whose height is just above our eyes. Instead of frantically searching for the exit, all we really need to do is stand on our tip toes and get a broader perspective. It has helped me when, like you, I find myself worrying about exactly what I should be doing to calm my anxiety. Also, sometimes it can help to just pick an approach, realizing that it’s not about perfection, and no approach is “the right one”.
Thanks, Marc 🙂
What a nice mental picture your teacher supplied. I think it’s fitting to imagine the mental anguish as a great maze whose walls are just above eye level. Finding a broader perspective is so important–but it can be so elusive when you’re “marooned in your own skull.”
And you’re so right about just picking an approach and abandoning the need for perfection! Sometimes I deliberately do something imperfectly, just to free myself from the weight of trying to get everything just right.