Working with that panic feeling

As a child, I once remember waking up in a panic because I had difficulty breathing due to a bad bronchial infection. These scary memories suddenly came racing back to me a few days ago when I jumped into the Pacific, with my fins, mask and snorkel on. Upon hitting the ocean, I took on a gulp of water, with urgent thoughts “Can I breath?” and “Am I safe?” flashing through my reptilian brain. Part of me freaked out.

I am increasingly curious about these feelings of panic – small and large ones, as they arise in everyday situations. Like when I get scared or angry when having a difficult conversation with my boyfriend or a close friend, again feeling that panic instinct and the shutting down of my heart. How can I respond in a less reactive way? Can I find a way to still stay connected to my heart and others?

In looking back about the snorkeling incident, the big lesson for me is how I responded at the time: I watched my panic response and relaxed into the anxiety, letting go of my notions of safety and adjusting to what was really happening to my body, not what my mind was afraid of happening (e.g. not being able to breath and drowning). (This may seem counter intuitive at first, but give it a try.) I adjusted to the sea and breathing through the snorkel, soon diving as deep I could and just having fun. I was at peace until my mind issued its next warning bulletin: “There are a lot of the tiger sharks in Hawaii waters…be careful!” LOL

Having a mind is a necessary but challenging feature of the human experience – providing large doses of safety and suffering. Only in rare moments, like during meditation, loving-making and being in nature, have I been able to turn mine off for a few moments or minutes of quiet. And oh what a feeling it is when that happens!

As a very practical person I do not spend much time grasping for these fleeting periods of enlightenment. Rather, in getting to know my mind, learning its habitual thoughts and responses, I am finding that I have more choices on how I react, especially in loaded interpersonal situations. Relaxing into my point of discomfort seems to be key, allowing me to being more present and skillful with what is actually happening. When I remember to this relaxation approach, I find that I can handle that nasty cramp while riding my bike up a big hill, the anger that arises in debating a gay Republican, or brainstorming a new approach to a sticky business problem. In short, the more I relax into the point of discomfort, and keep my heart open, the better my life seems to get. This is a worthwhile practice.