When I'm in my head, I'm not on the ground

I feel the calmest when my ears are under water

I can hear my heartbeat,

My breath is slow and deliberate,

As I take in the majesty of the sky,

All I can hear is my existence.

Photo by Carlos Torres on Unsplash

As the world spins, and political events shift rapidly, you’re not alone if you feel overwhelmed.

I come from a family that was politically engaged, one that cared about other people and had pride in the fact that we live in a country of folks who take care of each other through social programs, one built with communities that step up and share what they have.

I live in Canada.

My brother, who has lived in the UK for 20+ years with his family, still considers Canada the best country in the world. I agree with him.

When President Trump imposed tariffs on Canadian trade last week, our Prime Minister (Justin Trudeau) responded quickly by imposing tariffs on American imports. Canadians, in a tizzy, began to create lists of Canadian-made products. Doin’t get me wrong, the show of nationalism was encouraging to see, but where were these folks after the pandemic, when businesses were teetering on closure (and many of them did)?

In a previous job, I supported rural entrepreneurs. These folks build relationships with other producers, whether they’re Canadian or not, in order to produce their products and/or to sell to folks that desire said products. In most cases, this isn’t about large corporations, it’s about humans and relationships, identifying with a brand, a story, a family.

I saw folks on my social feeds posting and sharing lists and images that were sometimes vastly incorrect. I saw memes being shared that represented hatred towards our neighbours.

All I could think about was, we are all humans just trying to human. Why are we looking for ways to despise one another? Why are we clinging to perpetuated division and ready to pounce, or even act, if someone on Facebook says it’s a good idea?

Sure, I got really angry that the US President thought he could push us around, and that it’s actually is all by design and we’re playing right into the hands of tyranny. Frankly, I was terrified.

I kept thinking to myself, I have to get grounded, I need to meditate, I need to rise above this.

My partner and I had words. We are both on edge. We don’t always agree. Again, I said to myself, I need to get to a place of calm. That’s not to say I’m ignoring what’s happening around me, but I cannot let it steal my peace and that’s a choice we all have.

I have the privilege of a home office with a wingback chair and a blanket to crawl underneath and listen to Insight Timer, my meditation app of choice. I meditated. Again, a privilege to do so.

I need to get out of my head. The more time I spend, spinning about stuff I have no control over, the less energy and space I have in my head to take action, no matter how small.

When I’m in my head, I can’t help, I’m too caught up in hysteria (my own and the chaos at large) about what has already happened and what could happen in the future.

Since I was a kid, I have always loved to swim. My mom took us to swim lessons at the local YM-YWCA. At the beach, you couldn’t get my out of the water. Today, I’m the earliest in to the lake for a swim (almost always too cold for anyone else) in May (the odd time March) and if we’re lucky enough to go south, I’m by the beach, in and out of the water. If we stay in a hotel, I’m taking a dip in the hotel pool if there is one.

I love to float.

Floating blocks out any sound, except my own breathing and whatever sounds are in the water. It is one of the most peaceful things I have ever experienced. I float to relax and forget the world. Floating helps me return to the present moment.

In the winter, I love to take a bath, mostly because I’m cold and it heats up my core temperature. I learned this when I rented some really shitty apartments with bad heat and some with ridiculously expensive and unaffordable for me at the time, baseboard heating.

In the bath, if I can let my ears go just below the surface and the rest of my head float, I can almost recreate the feeling I get from floating on a body of water. It forces me to listen to the sound of my own breathing. I often say to myself, “I can’t believe I get to do this. This is amazing!” It also reminds me that I’m grateful to be alive, listening to my own breathing and have the privilege to be seen, to see others and to serve others.

It helps me let go.

I still get agitated. All the time.

But getting out of my head happens a lot faster now and we’re playing a long game.

Our peace is our resistance.

Floating helps.