The River

I heard Michael Singer (The Untethered Soul, The Surrender Experiment) describe how our inner life is like a river. The clear calm flow of the river is the peace everyone is trying to achieve. The rapids, formed by bulging rocks in the river, is the part we want to lose. To do so, we have to acknowledge the rocks, and relax and release. We cannot stay in the calm part of the river (the vacations, the retreats, or the easy parts of our lives) and not expect to never float in the rapids. On first listening to this talk, I assumed he meant we had to take the rocks out of the river. But a friend questioned my interpretation, so I went back and listened to the rest of the talk (eye roll at self here). His actual message was to acknowledge the rocks and then, relax and release. It is no wonder that the relax and release part was what I missed - it is the part that I struggle with most. When I first got sober, much of my inner work was to learn to recognize the things that bothered me. I learned it was called “sitting with your feelings” (insert for feelings: the rocks, the problems, the triggers). But now that I have learned to identify my feelings, I immediately go into solving-mode; which, from my experience, is the opposite of relax and release.

In January, I began working out with The Class, which I highly recommend for those looking for a combination of working out and mindfulness. After maybe two months of practicing, I heard the instructor say “Relax and it will become easier”. While this may not have been the first time these words had been given to me, it was the first time I received them and acted on them. I relaxed and became amazed at how joyfully my body did the plank jacks. It only lasted for twenty seconds, give or take, before my mind started spinning with “Wow! Look at that! It worked! I am great! I wonder if this would apply. . .”. Before I could finish mentally spinning, the pain of the exercise doubled down and I collapsed on the mat. I started to feel defeated, but I laughed and relaxed again. I was unable to get back into flow, but I had experienced it, and knew it was possible.

I am not sure that relax and release is a switch that can be flipped in the moment. I began a new job a year ago, and I have spent most of the months trying to “fix” the problems: the added hours, the added responsibility, the added stress. I tried to sit with the feelings. I tried to therapy-solve it. I tried to journal it. I tried to talk with friends and family about it. I spun and spun and spun. About six months in, I went on spring break. I spent two days on a tropical island, surrounded by my favorite things: sun, waves, sand, and family. I spent two days, unable to relax and let go. On the third day, I finally relaxed into the vacation. I let it all go: the spinning, the worrying, the solving.

I came back to work: the hours, the responsibility, the stress. But I no longer spun. I relaxed and let go. I found joy in what had given me angst. I cannot credit the tropical island. I certainly cannot go to a tropical island every time I need to relax and release. I am not sure that relax and release is a switch that can be flipped. In fact, I have recently been back in this place of spinning. This is the continual work I do, forever spinning around the same stumbling blocks in my head, but I hope not to forever. I hope as I see the rocks causing turbulence in my inner landscape, I will associate it as the catalyst to relax and release. I hope to utilize the rocks as a way to witness my own compassion and grace, thus allowing them to become the foundation for the calm and peace of my inner flow.