Equanimity
Every Wednesday morning, at 9am, I join a deeply thoughtful group of humans (somewhere between 9 and 12 of us, usually) for a 45 minute practice called the Empathy Standup. It’s run by two amazing people, Shelton Davis and Theresa Ward, and its format is the same every week:
5 Senses meditation
5 Senses sharing
Energy and Baggage inventory
Empathy Decathlon topic of the week + discussion
Kindergarten cooldown
Shelton, the founder of Empathy Lab, purposefully designed the stand-ups to follow this format, because he knows that repetition—or continued practice—is what builds muscle memory, both mentally and physically. It’s why meditation is a “practice.” It’s even why doctors “practice” medicine. Every time we engage with something repetitive, we’re building our skills and strengthening our abilities. Plus, having a stable and trusted routine can be incredibly grounding, especially when the rest of the world feels like it’s in a chaotic freefall. (The amazingly self-effacing and relatable meditation teacher, Jeff Warren, has a great article on practice here, if you want to learn more.)
I was in a pretty shitty emotional place yesterday during our Standup (see Wednesday’s post for more context). Miraculously, though, I was able to focus during the 5 senses meditation, which is odd for me, to be honest. During hearing, I noticed the Encanto soundtrack endlessly looping in my mind. For feeling, I rubbed my hands across the fabric of the couch beneath me, noticing how firm it was in density and texture. For taste, it was the Cinnamon Toast Crunch I had for breakfast. Smell for me is usually a blank canvas, unless I’d put on an inordinate amount of body lotion earlier that morning (which I had not on this particular Wednesday). And for sight, I zeroed in on the coffee mug sitting next to me, from the mental health organization To Write Love on Her Arms, with the phrase “Love is still the strongest force on the planet” emblazoned on the side. Reading those words does something to me every time.
When we got to Energy and Baggage inventory, I only had things in the baggage column…and definitely wasn’t up to sharing them with the group.
Then came the Empathy Decathlon section. This week’s topic was Meaning Making (#8 in the sequence), with a specific focus on the concept of equanimity. Shelton defined equanimity as mental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper. Jeff Warren defines it as “the mature and respectful and generous stance of allowing the people around you, the world, and yourself be exactly who and what they are, flaws and all.” I’ve also heard equanimity described as a state of presence or awareness where you’re able to hold two opposing thoughts or feelings at the same time, and allow both to be true.
Our group discussion took the shape of talking about the power of pausing—making space between stimulus and response to be able to connect with ourselves, and find the balance we need to mindfully respond to something, rather than reacting out of instinct. Everyone’s thoughts and musings were as insightful and deep as always. I listened, but didn’t contribute. Pausing for me has felt like an impossible luxury lately. I’m constantly sprinting from one thing to another, no time to rest, no time to breathe. And with no time to rest or to breathe, there’s no time to find the balance in anything. Whatever is most on fire at the moment is what ultimately gets my attention, but it it’s probably not getting my presence.
When Standup ended, I tried to pause—to see what my body and my mind needed in that moment. I decided that what they needed the most was sleep. Yes, it was 9:45am and I was technically working, but sometimes you just have to say “fuck it” in the name of sanity. (Out of a compulsive need to rationalize this, I also had a nagging headache…so, yeah.) I put on one of my favorite Yoga Nidra meditation tracks, closed my eyes, pulled up a blanket, and took a 20 minute nap. It would have been longer, had I remembered to turn off my Slack notifications. Damn Slack.
About an hour after that, it was time for my other weekly Wednesday practice: a 1:1 session with my coach, Kimberly Napier. And this was going to be a particularly heavy one, because I’d been spilling everything to her via email for the last few days. The full, messy, ugly, painful, confusing, self-gaslighting tumult that’s been overtaking every inch of my body.
We talked, and I cried. She asked me questions, and I cried. She said she wished she could come through the screen and give me a hug, and I cried.
I cried a lot.
But I couldn’t sit with the raw emotion for very long, or give myself the space I needed to process it, because—of course—I had a work meeting 30 minutes later. So I got up, put some concealer under my eyes, made tea, and got back online, hoping that my face wouldn’t look as puffy and blotchy over video chat as it was in reality.
The rest of the day was a series of more and more meetings, as is my norm. I had to close my eyes again in the afternoon, partly because the headache wasn’t subsiding, and partly because I was just so, so emotionally drained. When my last call ended shortly before 6, I was done. Not just with meetings, but with everything. Except…that I wasn’t, because my husband and I still needed to make dinner, and spend time with the kids, and get them to bed, and all the things you do in your second full-time job as a parent.
At 8:30, I decided that I was ACTUALLY done. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, took a swig of ZZZquil, and tucked myself into bed. I was asleep in 5 minutes.
Sleep is fucking amazing.
I woke up this morning at my usual time, 5:30am, and felt mildly refreshed. I probably would have slept longer if not for my alarm, but I appreciate and enjoy the practice I’ve created for myself (make coffee, read for 30 mins, write for 30 mins, walk the doggo), so I keep sticking with it. Even though I feel a noticeable change in my mood, I can’t say that all of the heaviness of yesterday, or the weeks and months before it, is magically gone because I got 8 hours of shut-eye. Far from it. But I can say, at least in the moment I’m typing this, that I do feel like I might be able to manage it 10% better today.
I feel a smidge of Shelton’s definition of equanimity: mental calmness.
I feel a smidge of Jeff Warren’s, too: allowing the people around you, the world, and yourself be exactly who and what they are, flaws and all.
And I also feel a smidge of the third definition, attribution unknown: the ability to hold opposing thoughts or feelings at the same time, and allow both to be true.
This last one is probably the strongest for me right now. I’m sad but hopeful. Still exhausted, but also more able to be present. Confused and conflicted, but more at ease with not knowing what to do next.
It’s only 7:45am, so I have no idea how the rest of this day will shake out. I might cry again for unusually long periods of time. I really don’t know.
I do know that I needed those naps yesterday, though. And the 8 hours of sleep. And yes, I needed the crying, too. If I’m honest, I probably need a whole damn week of sleeping and crying and doing nothing and eating Cheez-its straight from the box, if that’s what I’m hungry for.
I just don’t know how to make that happen.