Addicted to thinking

Thinking, thinking, thinking. The virtual reality of our minds prevents us from experiencing what’s really going on in the present moment.

So much of our precious time is wasted ruminating on the past, or worrying about the future. We can feel powerless over the swirling, expanding tornado of thoughts and emotions, and feel a victim of life’s situations and the tendencies of the mind.

Because of the mind’s inclination to the negative, called the inherent negativity bias, the virtual reality we dwell in most is often one of difficulty and challenge.

Ruminating and spending time going over the past, or the anticipated future, prevents us from experiencing the life we’re actually living.

When this happens, we become distracted, and have challenge concentrating on what’s right in front of us, creating even more difficulty.

When challenging situations arise, getting caught up in life’s dramas has consequences.  It can keep us stuck in the fight-or-flight response, and our rational mind seems to fly out the window.

Our minds, our bodies, and our relationships bear the consequence of this very human tendency.

Have you ever snapped at a loved one because you’ve been lost in thinking about a difficult situation?

I sure have.

There have been many times when I’ve been surrounded by the beauty of life itself, but have missed it all. I was locked in the virtual reality of my mind, worrying, ruminating, or holding virtual conversations in my head.

There have been times when, sitting in a beautiful park, surrounded by peace and beauty, I was suffering. All I could think about was a problem from the past.

The problem was not happening in that moment, there was nothing I could do about it at that time, but it seemed like the only reality because I made it so.

Stuck in the virtual reality of my mind, I’ve missed out on the beauty of life, such as words shared by a loved one, the taste of wonderful meals, the reality of my physical space, and the truth of what’s happening now.

I was suffering at the hands of my own mind and felt like a victim of life circumstance.

How can we awaken from this very human tendency that creates so much suffering in our lives?

I’ve found relief from mental torture in a very simple practice.

Come back to your senses.

Take several slow, deep breaths, feeling the breath as it enters and leaves your body. This is not thinking about the breath; it’s experiencing the breath as it moves in the body.

Now, come to your senses.

• What do you hear? Notice the sounds around you without judgment. Listen to sounds near and far. Notice if you can hear more sounds now than when lost in thinking.
• What do you smell? You might need to close your eyes to really notice this sense because we often overlook what we’re smelling.
• What do you see? List the objects you see in detail: the names, the colours, and textures of what you can see.
• What do you taste? Can you taste anything? Notice the mouth. How does it feel inside the mouth? Feel the teeth, the saliva, the tongue.

Finally, check in and become aware of what you feel in your body. Feel your feet on the floor, your clothing as it touches your skin.  Feel the temperature of the air, and any other physical sensations happening right now.

If any tension remains, consciously soften your face and shoulders, take another deep breath, and relax your body.

Check in again. How are you feeling? Do you feel better? Has the mind slowed? If not, go back and repeat the steps. For me, this usually means I was thinking about the senses instead of using and sensing them.

My thinking usually slows, and things start to become clearer. This means I’ve invited the executive centre of my brain into action, and deactivated the fight-or-flight response.

This technique is helpful not only when I get stuck in challenging thinking, but also when I’m feeling overwhelmed, or nervous about something.

Coming to our senses is a simple, yet a powerful technique. It’s portable, and private, but helps put us back in the driver’s seats of our lives.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.