How White Are Your Knuckles?

Relaxletgoopenreceive. Relaxletgoopenreceive. Relax,let go,open,receive. R-e-l-a-x, l-e-t- g-o, o-p-e-n, r-e-c-e-i-v-e. Relax… Let go… Open… Receive…

As I say this mantra out loud in my car, I slowly begin to see, in my mind’s eye, my fingers loosening their grip on the steering wheel of life. Why do I hold on so tightly in the first place? Fear, of course.

Fear of having another episode of vertigo. Fear of having to cancel yet another T’ai Chi Chih class because the room is spinning. Fear of having to pull off the road, again, because the road is spinning. Fear of the not-so-subtle and sometimes very subtle barometric pressure changes inside my head that often precede another vertigo attack. Fear of often having no warning before the vertigo hits. Fear of the steady stream of bills that come even when I am missing a lot of work.

How humbling to be brought to my knees, sometimes literally, with these debilitating occurrences. How embarrassing to be a TCC teacher who cannot regain her balance… To be teaching a moving meditation designed to circulate and balance the Intrinsic Energy.

Am I so connected to Mother Earth that my body begins to shake and quake soon after a devastating earthquake and tsunami hit halfway around the world? As much as my ego would like to entertain that idea, give me a friggin’ break. Do I feel anger with having been diagnosed with Meniere’s Disease? You bet. In fact, I’m moving through quite a few feeling states – sadness, vulnerability, dependency, brokenness, emptiness.

Wait a minute…emptiness? Do I smell Zen? Justin was called to be the Big Hermit, to be able to find serenity on the corner of 42nd Street and Broadway. Any body can feel peaceful doing TCC in class or in a quiet room. Can I find and stay balanced in my center, when I can’t even stand up? I have always believed that TCC is a metaphor for life. Perhaps it’s time to put that theory to the test.

When I wake up at 3:00am to my room violently spinning and bouncing, I consciously drop my attention to the soles of my feet while I lay in bed. I wiggle my toes. I feel the sheets. I breathe. I focus. I actually begin to feel quiet in spite of the room continuing to bounce. I close my eyes, stay in my feet and begin to feel my center. The eye of the storm is calm.

Upon awakening, I realize just how much my thoughts rush forward, creating fearful images through much of my days and evenings. What if I can’t drive? What if the vertigo strikes during class? What if I have to cancel appointments for work again? What if. And my knuckles begin to tighten their grip again.

Then, I am gently reminded to drop the attention to the soles of my feet and to deliberately bring my attention to the present moment. To accept “what is” in this moment… to breathe… to loosen my grip (again) and to let go of trying to control what happens.

Soon, I go through days, weeks, and months of this moment-to-moment mindfulness. I am learning to shrug my shoulders in response to the fearful “what ifs” that my mind tries to create. I realize that I am applying the principles of T’ai Chi Chih to my practice of life. And I am grateful. Thank you, Justin.