Wake Up

I just woke up from a dream. A very vivid dream. I was present at a friend’s wedding, an event at which I was “supposed to be” this past weekend. What does this dream mean? Is it a sign that I should’ve been there and my subconscious is regretting? Is it meant to show that I want to be in two places at once? Or that I can be, but only in my imagination, only in another dimension? I should clarify, I woke up from this dream a couple of times. There was a few instances that I woke up this morning, then went back to sleep. Amidst these subtle experiences of waking up, I realized that my physical body was not, in fact, at a wedding outside San Francisco. I was, indeed, lying in bed in the Philippines. These momentary glimpses punctured the illusion of this dreamy event and my dreamy attendance. I was reluctant to wake up from this dream, because it was a good one. Again, I got my wish of being in two places at once. I’ve been wishing that I could be in attendance at the wedding and here in the Philippines. Whether or not the actual attendees felt me “there in spirit”, it was comforting to be “there in imagination”. My subconscious imagined it and allowed me to attend it for hours, albeit while I was sleeping. I was reluctant to wake up from this dream, because it was a good one. Even though it wasn’t Reality, I was enjoying it. However, now I see, that indulging in these imaginary fabrications for too long is a dangerous game to play. Over the past 24 hours I was plagued by anxiety. That most unwelcome guest at the Brain’s Imagination Party. Anxiety is a loud, obnoxious, destructive attendee. It proactively knocks over the champagne tower, shattering glass on the floor, because it’s afraid that somebody will bump into the table, causing a flute to fall and cause a mess later. It kills everybody’s appetite, as it questions whether the salmon was farm-raised. And yet, it’s too afraid to ask the service staff because it’s also afraid to appear obnoxious to its tablemates. So, it shifts the whole dinner conversation to the dangers of salmon farming and why eating meat, especially the steak entree, is bad for the environment. It wants companions in its frightened & fasted state. Anxiety is fear-inducing & doubt-spreading. After the groom announces that the cake took over a week to prepare, Anxiety questions whether it’s been properly refrigerated, especially amidst all the recent power outages. It will meet comments of “Ahhh don’t they look so perfect together!” with questions like, “Well, are you aware of the 50% divorce rate?” It shares the stat, then just leaves it there. Conversationally, Anxiety loves the alternative of the “Icebreaker.” It loves the “Ice-over.” It suggests the downside possibility, then just leaves it there. Anxiety never bothers to go one layer deeper by analyzing said possibility’s probability. It certainly doesn’t bother to use its powers of future-prediction to see the bright side either. Anxiety prefers to focus on the dangers, convinced that by preemptively worrying about these threats, then they’ll never come to fruition. Anxiety loves to fret about falling coconuts and watch serial killer documentaries. Anxiety’s core contribution to the Brain’s Imagination Party is injecting a subtle hum of negative energy. Anxiety presence sounds like a scratchily-streamed, timidly-sung karaoke. It’s playing right outside your door and the walls are thin, so you can almost, kinda-sorta make out its melody. You get the mood that it’s going for (which is often a state of anticipatory fear), but you can’t quite pick out the words it’s singing. It’s annoying. It’s distracting. But it’s not quite bad enough to do anything. Sure, I could go next door and ask the neighbor to turn it down — or just turn it off — because it’s 7:38 in the morning. Even though they’ve been jamming for the past hour, as I’ve attempted to fall back asleep in order to enjoy my imaginary dream, I allow Anxiety to convince me that “making this most unreasonable request would make me high-maintenance.” At first, it feels good to reframe the situation to show that I’m stronger than that: “I’m unbothered by a lil morning concert.” So, rather than do anything to address the issue that unrelentingly persists, I sit here in an agitated state of “acceptance.” And yet, upon zoom-out reflection, I see that it’s not a state of real acceptance where I truly embrace whatever’s happening. It’s the state of feigned acceptance, that’s more accurately described as “suppression”. Upon reflection, I eventually realize that my agitation is persisting, along with my unwillingness to address the root of the emotion. I choose to cover over the whole situation with a disingenuous-not-fooling-anyone grin and a declaration that “This is fine”, like the memefied pup in the burning building. As I do, I adjust to my “new normal”. A world where the melodies of the birds chirping, roosters crowing, and palm trees swaying is drowned out by another half-a**ed rendition of a song that deserves to stay in the mid-80s. Anxiety is a most-unwelcome guest at the Brain’s Imagination Party. I succumbed to intense anxiety over the past 24 hours, as I placed my center in an imaginary future. A future state that had not happened yet. A future state that had the same likelihood of happening as all the other outcomes my imagination could possibly come up with. A future state that was entirely illusory. And yet, my Anxiety anchored my mind to this one mental fabrication, convincing my whole being that this would be my Reality. It convinced my entire brain apparatus that this would most definitely be the outcome that happened. I needn’t be surprised, worrying about the future is my drug of choice. You know what they say (whoever “they” are), “Know thyself.” Here’s some rips I took from the Anxiety pipe yesterday: “If I ever have a kid will I be able to handle the responsibilities of fatherhood?” “Am I going to run out of money amidst my retirement?” “Am I going to find something fun (or at least, productive) to do tomorrow? Or will I just waste away aimlessly?” (Everyone thinks they want to be retired, but it can be uncomfortable to decide what to do every day without any constraints. Once the retirement period shifts from “I’m on vacation!” to “Oh… this is just my way of living.” it can be unsettling. That’s why I start my day with writing, moving, reading, and meditating. This helps me return to center. Then I can flow from there. Otherwise, the concerns about the completely unpredictable, entirely unknowable, future become unbearably overwhelming. 9 to 5 can be a long time when nobody’s telling you what to do with it.) I don’t know where my dealer got this supply of Anxiety, but damn… this was some good sh*t. One hit and I was faded frightened. It knocked me on my a**. Paralyzed. Incapacitated. Even as I write this piece on Anxiety, I’m hearing Anxiety belt out its favorite ballad, “Will this writing piece be well-received? How are they going to react to your honesty? What are they going to think of you?” This is Anxiety’s most deceptive trick: to be vague in its anxiousness. Who are “they”? My parents? My friends from home? The guy who I met at the coffeeshop one day who asked me to sign him up for these posts? Are these the people whose perception I’m worried about? If so, what do I imagine they’ll say, specifically? Word-for-word, what am I imagining they’ll say to me about this particular piece? Word-for-word, write it down. Give them a real voice. Try to make out the exact words of the muffled stream of background music that simply will NOT stop playing this morning. Then, ask Anxiety the question that it absolutely hates to hear: “Are you sure?” “Are you sure that your parents will react with a blind fury? Or might it be more likely that they’ll react supportively? (The historical evidence appears to support the latter, even though Anxiety’s entire case is built upon defense of the former.) Are you sure that your friends from home will be critical? Are you sure that they’ll call you an “angry, tirading curmudgeon with bad intentions”? Have you ever even heard them say these words before? Or is this a voice and a vocabulary that you’re giving to them? Are you sure that the guy, who you randomly met at the coffeeshop, even reads these anymore? Are you sure he didn’t give you a fake email from the beginning? Given you haven’t spoke to him in almost 2 years, given there’s absolutely zero evidence to support Anxiety’s case one way or the other, are you sure it’s not equally likely that he’s your harshest critic OR your biggest fan?” And that is why Anxiety despises this question. Anxiety melts the moment it gets put on the stand. Anxiety is unable to defend itself amidst a simple cross-examination. Acing the LSAT (a standardized test known for producing debilitating levels of Anxiety) is not a prerequisite for winning this court case against Anxiety. The observing “I” in the brain needs only one question: “Are you sure?” The question makes no declaration about the way things will be. It does not attempt to predict the future. It makes no guarantees. And therein lies its power. It brings recognition to the vast uncertainty of the future. And this recognition is an honest assessment of the way things actually are. It exposes the absurdity of Anxiety’s proclamation that “This 1 imaginary future state is 100% what’s going to happen.” It releases the grip that’s choking out all other possibilities. It loosens the noose that’s cutting off all creativity. Its beauty is in its simplicity. 3 words that can change the experience of the present and the course of the future: “I love you Are you sure?” The moment it’s asked, it’s like turning the spotlight on all of the havoc that Anxiety’s been causing. The wedding photographer throws the camera roll up on the big screen for an exposure akin to The Hangover Movie’s ending scene. It leads the partygoers to ask the inevitable follow-up question: “Are we sure that we want Anxiety here? Sure, we thought it’s presence would be useful at the beginning for protecting us against threats. But now, are we sure it’s worth it? Anxiety won’t stop screaming over the top of the horrendous music it’s playing. Are we sure we even like this music? It seems to be leaving all of us agitated. It feels impossible to enjoy this most beautiful gathering with Anxiety present. Maybe we can replace this amateur karaoke singer with a professional musician, one who’s trained in seeing Reality clearly? We could also give silence a go! We could return home to the present moment and just enjoy a lil conversation amongst ourselves. Are we sure that Anxiety is actually adding anything useful? Are we sure that Anxiety is still welcome at this wedding?” I’ve realized that imagination is an extremely powerful tool. It gives me the power to envision, and then create, a brighter future for myself and others. It gives me the power to envision, and then create, writing pieces and newscasts. It gives me the power to be in two places at once. A useful tactic when I feel the need to momentarily disassociate from an unbearably painful situation (a la ice bath submersion). A tool that can also be used as a fun indulgence and satisfying substitute for when I want to attend a friend’s wedding but I’m a world away. Imagination is an extremely powerful tool, but imagination has its dark sides too. Anxiety creates an imaginary state, then convinces all the other Brain’s Imagination Party attendees that this is, indeed, Reality. I just woke up from a dream of attending my friend’s wedding. I was reluctant to wake up from this dream, because it was a good one. Yesterday, I woke up from a dream of Anxiety. It had boa-constricted my creativity in approaching my uncertain future. It also decimated my peace in the present moment. I was grateful to wake up from this dream, because it was a nightmare.

A note of gratitude for the Admired Friends who gave me the tools in my toolbelt for cross-examining Anxiety:

• Martha Beck’s book, The Way of Integrity, where she introduces the power of “Are you sure?”

• David Whyte’s poem, Anxiety, which served as the just-in-time wake up call for my nightmare yesterday

• Pixar’s movie, Inside Out 2, that most-geniusly personified Anxiety, making it a far less formidable opponent than when it’s just crashing the Brain’s Imagination Party in the abstract