A few weeks before the 2024 U.S. election, I attended a local workshop about healing, mostly self healing. I hoped to learn some new skills, brush up on some older ones, to hone practices for remaining calmer and more focussed, as this national political campaign neared its quadrennial conclusion.
I was reminded to practice paying attention to my breath—afterward I resumed early morning sessions of “yoga breathing” several days each week. The workshop provided refreshers about reframing difficult situations to try to understand and respect opposing viewpoints while not abandoning one’s own. I practiced mirroring what I thought I’d heard, pausing before giving my perspective, then keeping my voice even and speaking slowly.
One practice that was new to me was a body-based sequence which I’ve attempted to adapt as a just-before-sleep ritual when a day has been especially stressful. It involves using the fingers of both hands to clasp successively, then release, five troubling emotional states: loss, fear, anger, worry, and self-doubt.
To practice this five finger exercise, I begin by grasping the thumb of my left hand with all the fingers of my right hand, bringing to mind personal losses, either recent or still raw: death or illness of a family member or close friend, end of a cherished relationship, a natural disaster, violence that has diminished me directly or indirectly. I keep holding onto my left thumb until the anguish of such losses subsides to a more manageable level.
Then I use my right hand to encircle my left index finger. I review any times during the day just ending when I’ve felt fear. I reflect on how severe the threat was, and how I can develop more effective coping techniques if a similar situation comes up later. Once I’ve gleaned as much wisdom as I can, I move on to the middle finger.
It seems fitting that this is the “anger” finger. Mostly when I start working with this finger, I’m angry at someone—either a personal friend or relative who I believe has slighted me, or a public figure whose abrasiveness I find off-putting. Before I finish with the middle finger, it often occurs to me that it’s the behavior, rather than the person, that I’m most angry at. Forgiveness may or may not come later, but distinguishing a person from his/her bad behavior is a start.
Dealing with my fourth finger rehashes the worries of the day. This finger reminds me to distinguish between fear and worry. For me, fear is about “big picture” threats like nuclear annihilation, another global pandemic, an asteroid collision, or about being physically assaulted. Worry is instead about niggling little aspects of daily life: Why did our indoor air purifier stop functioning correctly? Why aren’t the spring seeds I planted germinating better? Why has my toothpaste started tasting sour to me? It typically doesn’t take very long to realize the trivial nature of my worries.
My pinkie is the finger of self-doubt. For me, it’s totally appropriate that this is the final finger of the exercise. No next finger to hurry on to. As much time as I need to regain perspective on my place in the larger scheme of things. It can take a while (I don’t attempt to measure the time) for it to dawn on me that much of my sense of inadequacy comes from the fallacy that, as one of our national politicians likes to put it, “I alone can solve it.” Except for small problems, this is patently untrue. No one, alone, can solve the complex problems our society grapples with, though each of us can play our part.
After a bit, I do a rewind of my day’s activities. I give myself credit for small acts of kindness and empathy. Sometimes it’s just a smile to a stranger. Other times it’s a small act of service or consideration. If over the course of the day I’ve acted out of malice or spite, I chide myself gently, see if there’s a way I can make amends tomorrow, and then let the episode go.
Finally, I release my pinkie finger and drift off to sleep. As a well-known Southern belle movie heroine had as her mantra, “Tomorrow is another day.”
Jinny's Occasional Poems 