I’ve been doing a lot of reading these days, of books. Books of all sorts: from research on the intersection of yoga and science, folk stories and the psyche, white fragility (uh oh!), to cookbooks. Books have always been such a comfort to me growing up – a chance to get to step into worlds beyond the walls of my room – and they continue to be a source of expansion, challenging me in my opinions, or bringing vocabulary (usually better than mine) to thoughts previously unfleshed.
The company of books remain a true fellowship, and they help sort out the confusion of navigating this life and this world. Recently I did a bunch of research to brush up for a workshop I led on breathwork: looking into human anatomy, the nervous system, and the inner workings of our emotional and spiritual lives. Questions like, “How do we truly feel rested?” And “How do we insulate ourselves from the stresses of life while being useful citizens participating in the larger world?” Have been of prominence. You know, casual existentialist stuff, no big deal.
Intertwined with our own whirlwinds of personalized nitty-gritty, we have climate change, poverty, systemic racism, a bunch of other -isms, all busting out of every seam and corner of our collective consciousness. It is an uncomfortable time. But if yoga teaches us anything, it is to sit with discomfort. It is to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. If we can hold a belly-smushing twist for five breaths, it will strengthen our nervous system to hold steady when we are in disagreement with someone. Useful.
So the next time you are taking some deep breaths (hm, how about right now?) remember this about yourself, you amazing human specimen: the sympathetic nervous system is one arm of the autonomic nervous system in the human body. When we are in stressful situations, it becomes activated. Stress could mean running away from a bear, not getting enough likes on your Instagram post, seeing someone deemed “sketchy” walking towards you at night. Sympathetic means the response of fight, flight, or freeze.
To complement, there is the parasympathetic nervous system, which becomes dominant when we feel safe. It is a “rest and digest” state, in which our inner resources are directed towards digestion (of both food and thoughts), repairing tissues, and rejuvenation.
In trying to make sense of what is happening in our communities, both local and beyond, it feels apt to think of our communities as a giant body. Collectively, we can be operating from either a parasympathetic or sympathetic state. For better or worse, we seem stuck in sympathetic: fighting eachother about what’s mine/yours, running away to not deal (aka denial), and/or feeling paralyzed by fear or overwhelm.
How do we collectively move ourselves back into parasympathetic, where we feel safe enough with eachother to have honest conversations, hold space for eachother’s hurt and opinions, and heal?
Perhaps the answer can be found again in observing how an individual body operates. The vagus nerve is one of the most important nerves in the body that connects to almost all of our internal organs above and below the diaphragm. It sends messages from our organs back to the brain, and vice versa. Essentially, it is a huge network of communication that sends internal messages about our physiological and emotional health. It is a beautiful, elegant manifestation of interconnectedness.
So if we truly want our communities to exist in peace and happiness, if we want a sense of belonging and safety, we have to start with ourselves. Can we find contentment within ourselves? Can we create safety for ourselves? Can I take good care of myself? Can I belong to myself, fully accepting myself in all my shades of grey? It is the work of a lifetime, but just as we stand on the shoulders of the previous generation, we can create the steady ground for the next.
Inner peace as a conduit for universal peace is not a new idea; in fact it might be a trope that is annoyingly repetitive. Well let me answer with another trope: suffering will keep showing up in your life until you learn the lesson. And so we keep trying to take steps forward.
As always, I return to food. Within a meal is the sun, the rain, the earth, the farmers – all the people and things that had a hand in creating this deliciousness. Within a meal is both joy and a vote for change. So eat good food. Eat real food. Eat food that nourishes your soul, your cells, your inner community of gut bacteria that really want you to stay alive and thrive (it’s helpful for them). Eat well for your community, for your farmers, for your land, for your oceans and lakes.
The details of what consists of good food will vary based on your location, genetics, socioeconomic status, and some more -isms. At the end of the day, take good care of you. And let that be synonymous with taking good care of a whole lot of other things.
And, one more thing. The esteemed Zen teacher Bernie Glassman used to say frequently that if we ended every statement with, “That’s just, like, my opinion, man” – then the world would probably be a much better, calmer place. So, like, this is just my opinion. May we all have the inner resource to reflect and form our own opinions.
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Carrot and coconut soup
This soup is based off of the same lifehacking tools as the previous post (“lifehacking” sounds so scrappy. How about we say, “skillful”? Hm, classy.) Consistency and reliability are soothing qualities to have in life, as is a soup that is blended into a velvety puddle of muted amber orange. As well, it can easily scale up, in case you want to gift it to someone and use it as a soupy token of friendship. The following will make about 2 L of soup.
2/3 cup caramelized onions
2 largish handfuls of roughly chopped carrots
A thumb-sized knob of fresh ginger
1 can of coconut milk
Splash of lemon juice
Salt to taste
Bring to a boil the carrots and ginger – in just enough water to cover them. Let it simmer until the carrots are tender. Pour it all into a blender with the caramelized onions and blend until buttery smooth. Pour back into the pot and add the can of coconut milk. Take your time stirring the milk into the orange velvet, as this is a calming aesthetic and somatic experience. Add the lemon juice and some salt to help bring out the flavours. Ladle out and eat.
