I answered a phone call from my friend, Adam, on Tuesday night. His voice broke as he spoke of leaving the known maximum-security prison for an unknown minimum-security destination. He has been in prison for five years and was being transferred to a new “camp”—as inmates call prison. Would he be bullied? Would he get a job in that camp? As he shared his concerns, he finally said, “I know it is fear of the unknown. I want to stay open.”
After we hung up, I considered that most of us, if we’re honest, fear the unknown. Although we live with uncertainty every day, this past year has magnified this fear. Will we or a loved one contract Covid? When can those who want the vaccine get it? As a result of the pandemic, many people are struggling financially, unemployed, or at risk of losing a home. How will they manage? It’s a lot to deal with. The truth is, we don’t know what will happen—now, next week, or a year from now. Although these fears may be worrisome, worry is not preparation. Anxiety is about the future, not the present. Sometimes, in one moment, we might need to prepare intentionally by planning appropriately for the future. That’s different.
I commend Adam for his willingness to acknowledge his fear and his intention to stay open. He’s not running away from his fear, not checking out. He has used his time in incarceration to read the Bible, meditate, and practice yoga. He quarantined in his room to put his legs up the wall. When the cacophonous voices of other inmates intruded on his solitude, he stopped the narrative by turning his mind to the aspiration of wishing for all beings to be free, in thought, if not in circumstance. He used the tools that he learned, rather than letting them languish in the toolbox. He’s my hero.
Another hero of mine is Betty, an 89-year-old student who recently passed away, a few weeks shy of her 90th birthday. She came to yoga without being able to get up and down off of the floor. She persevered. She used chairs, walls, and the moral support of other students. Betty used the tools that were available. She never said, “I can’t.” She always, and I mean always, said, “I believe I can.”
You can, too. What tools do you have to help you to stay stable in times of fear and uncertainty? Here are a few reminders and some tools that I rely on:
- Suspend the fear-based narrative in your head. Track the sensation of anxiety where it lives in your body, and ease it with gentle breaths.
- Get on the yoga mat, even if all you do is get there. Find a different point of view from there by twisting, getting upside down, or lying down and looking up.
- Connect with a wise friend by phone or a walk (socially distanced, of course).
- Read contemplative books for inspiration or a novel for a short escape.
- Take an online course of something you’ve been interested in and haven’t yet pursued.
- Take a walk in nature and listen for birdsong.
- Pet your cat. Snuggle with your dog.
On Sunday I received another call from Adam. He transferred to a facility six hours from where I live, a long way for me to drive to visit him. He lives in a dorm-like situation with 32 other men. He reports that his fears were ungrounded and that the inmates treat each other with kindness and respect. The camp offers courses in diesel mechanics and landscaping, both of which interest him. He remains open to the unknowable future.
Can we remain steady, kind, respectful, and open to uncertainty?
I believe we can.