On holding and being held part 5
“If a river flows easily, the water in the river does not express its power. But once you put an obstacle to the flow by constructing a dam, then you can see its strength in the form of tremendous power.”
-Swami Satchidananda
Holding and movement
Sometimes when I sit for meditation, I find anything but stillness. On the outside, I might be almost motionless, but on the inside, my thoughts swirl around like water boiling in a pot. I notice what I am holding: worries, frustrations, happy memories, dreams, and pressure to stick to my to-do list. I exhale and let go of one of those. I exhale again and let go of another. I exhale ten times and let go of ten things while one of the first ones tries to creep back in.
In times like these, it helps so much to move physically. When there is so much swirling around in my mind, I find that doing something to anchor me in the moment, physically, is the most helpful thing. These are the times I like moving meditations, a.k.a. doing some kind of activity with full attention on my breath and body. At times, that’s all I need, but sometimes it’s also nice to follow that movement with a few minutes of quiet sitting.
What about you? If or when you notice that you’re holding some tension or heavy emotion, what do you do to dissolve it? Does meditation or movement, or some combination of both help you the most?
Holding space for emotions vs. holding them in
What is meditation? To an outsider, a meditator might look stoic, contemplative, controlled. But on the inside, more often than not, a storm rages: emotions, thoughts, repressed restlessness. How can we hold space for this type of inner turmoil without just holding it in to our own detriment?
But who am I to really say much on this topic? I have the worst habit of holding things in until I explode. So I am essentially writing this for myself as well as for my readers, and that’s fine because I’m not here to teach you anything necessarily. I’m here because we’re all yoga mamas and we’re doing this together.
I’ve realized over and over again that holding feelings inside is not the same thing as holding space for them. Let’s break this down to distinguish the two.
My 4-year-old daughter has big emotions, like all kids her age. But we all have big emotions — we just also have big filters for our emotions that we’ve created as we’ve entered into adulthood. When my daughter freaks out over something an adult wouldn’t — like not wanting to brush her teeth — my first impulse is to get argumentative and ask her what’s wrong with her. In other words, I tend to expect her to hold in these feelings that seem too extreme for the situation. But instead, if I hold space for what her emotions are trying to convey, I might just notice that she’s tired or just wants help and doesn’t know how to ask for it. I might say something like, “I know, you’re tired. You don’t feel like brushing your teeth. Do you want help?”
We all have moments where we get prickly around the edges because of fatigue, stress, or frustration but most of us, in the name of being a decent human being, hold in the emotions that come up when we are in these tired, stressed states. That’s our cue to hold space for ourselves, because part of being a great yoga mama is mothering ourselves.
One way to hold space: the power of the pen(cil)
Historically, I’ve processed a lot of emotions through journaling. I still love to journal, but often find that I don’t tend to make time for it these days. Then I get stuck on my inner critic that says, “You say you’re a writer, so why don’t you write?” That inner critic gets louder on days when I have trouble putting my emotions into words.
Well, I’ve found that sometimes switching gears can unstick me from who I think I am. The truth is, I’m more than just ‘a writer,’ and we can all write to process emotions — we don’t need to be writers. And although I don’t call myself an artist, lately I’ve been doing some drawing here and there after revisiting my copy of Birthing From Within and following some of the author’s birth art prompts. It’s been very refreshing to express emotions and ideas on paper without words. The picture above is a drawing I did according to this prompt from the book: “Imagine your birth as a landscape...what’s the weather like? What and who would you want with you on your journey through the landscape of labor?”
The drawing at the end of this post is one that I did for another prompt from the same book. The prompt is called “Fantasy of Labor and Birth.” It shows me squatting, red and fiery (which shows a sort of power, in my mind). There are hands all around supporting and guiding me. My head is a spiral, bringing my attention both inward and outward as I navigate pain.
Doodling: a meditation externalized
If you’re like me, there is some inhibition with drawing sometimes. I like it to look pretty, to mean something. But much like freewriting, there is therapeutic value in just doodling. We essentially doodle mentally when we have a meditation that is swirling with thoughts, emotions, and restless sensations.
Doodling as a sort of externalized meditation, can bring to light what’s going on for us in each moment. Maybe jagged, sharp shapes signal frustration or anger; or smooth, flowing shapes might indicate anything from tiredness to relaxation or even sadness. Either way, drawing and doodling can help shed light on emotions and thoughts as transient forms — passing experiences.
If you have trouble relaxing into meditation, try movement: a walk, some asanas, or even the fine motor movement of your pen or pencil to draw out your tension and stress. Then, take a moment to sit still with the breath and hold space for your ever-changing emotional landscape.