One Spoon at a Time

I’ve been struggling to write this blog post. I had intended when I started this blog to complete at least one post a week. I find that discipline and structure can help with my messy, anxious mind and I thought that setting myself a target like this would keep my writing on track. I started well and I gained confidence from the positive response to the first couple of posts. I looked set to achieve my writing goal.

I hadn’t counted on life intervening once again.

The last two weeks have been a time of loss, grief and fear. Life seemed determined once again to teach me the lesson of impermanence. That all things pass away, that stability is a myth. 

I lost one of my anchor points and began to drift back into anxiety. It is difficult not to get overwhelmed by the big changes in life, particularly when those changes are unexpected and unwanted, and threaten our emotional or financial security. As I became overwhelmed I found myself falling into old mistaken anxiety-based habits.

I haven’t been able to decide what to write, if I should write at all or If I should just curl up and pull the covers over my head.

I couldn’t write, but I did carve spoons.

Following my breakdown, when I was trying to get to the root of my anxiety issues I did my research. I read books about anxiety and fear, listened to audio books about anxiety and fear (audio books are one of my favourite anxiety distraction tools) I talked to my counsellor and I read a lot of online material.  Almost all theorists that deal with anxiety talk of the ‘fight or flight’ response to an anxiety trigger. But this didn’t seem to describe my response.  I eventually came across an expanded model that included ‘freeze’ as a third response to an anxiety trigger. The model then began to make sense to me. 

Freezing, not fight or flight was my default behaviour when anxiety overtook me. My anxiety fuelled brain would fill with all the possible outcomes arising from a ‘threatening’ situation and as a defence mechanism I would disassociate and freeze. If I did nothing, then I couldn’t do the wrong thing – right? 

Wrong.

The problem is that freezing is a choice in itself and although I may have intellectually absolved myself of responsibility, my freezing had consequences and they were usually negative. Believe me, not opening official letters from the bank, credit card companies or Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs Office due to anxiety does not make the contents or consequences go away and, apparently, ignorance is no excuse.

And so, during the last fortnight I found myself filling with anxiety and fear and beginning to freeze. I knew from my past experience that I had to do..something…anything. I just couldn’t afford to freeze and shut down. I needed a controllable, safe project to accomplish. 

So I carved spoons. Every day. For hours.

photo: E.Craig 2018

 

Actually, I first sharpened my knives. I find sharpening a relaxing and meditative process with a very clear, ordered process. I re-flattened the bevel on my carving knife and then honed it working up through the grades of wet and dry paper and finally leather until I had a smooth, flat, mirrored edge which I knew would slice through the wood leaving clean facets. Then I worked on my hook knives. This all took time. Time during which I wasn’t scared about my future and I wasn’t terribly sad about recent events. And I felt better afterwards.

 Then I carved spoons.

And for the time I was carving I tried to stay mindful, to focus solely about the next cut and then the next. Striving to make each cut clean, purposeful and economical (this is what I see in the spoons that I own by great makers – the intention and precision in their carving), until the spoon was finished. 

And as I spent more time in mindful carving I felt my anxiety release me. These peaceful hours gave me the breathing space to face the changes in my life with a more balanced and positive attitude. I reached out, made connections and found new doors opening for me. I didn’t want the recent changes and I still feel grief at the loss but I’m learning to accept the impermanence.

After I experienced some success on a creative project last year the friend, mentor and guide that I’ve just lost congratulated me wholeheartedly (he didn’t do things any other way). And he finished by saying “..but don’t rest on your laurels, you’ve gotta keep moving!”.

He was right, we’ve gotta keep moving. When anxiety and fear turn your heart and body to lead and the journey seems too difficult, too long, you’ve just gotta keep moving.

One foot in front of the other.

One step at a time.

One spoon at a time.