The Dark Dog: What the Body Wants

This is a part of an ongoing series I'm writing regarding my experience with bipolar depression, and practicing with a constellation of wellness. You can read more on two other elements here, vast nature and aikido. May it be of service.

Today I want to write about touch and connection, empty space and outbreath.

As I wrestled with the state of my mind and spirit this summer, trying to both honor grief and loss and also stay above water, I went back to re-read my own writings on my experience of depression and anxiety. I went searching for what levers I needed to pull to care for myself this time around. In my last serious depression three years ago, I remember my godfather Dennis Rivers sitting with me and suggesting I view it in an entirely different way. Since pain is a living system's way of communicating, what is this depression wanting to tell me? Even under the waves of anxiety and flatness, there is a center of light and wisdom that is truly me. Buddhists call this rigpa - the innermost essence [1].

So I centered myself one night, wrote a love note to my brain and body, the system that has carried my soul for 33 years, and asked. And it answered: I need more touch, more connection and empty space.

I think when I'm experiencing depression, my tendency can be to lean on one side of what I've learned to be three elements that create thriving mental health - wellness (read: diet and exercise), purpose and meaning, intimacy and personal relationships [2] It's pretty easy for me to be obsessive about the wellness side - that's the stuff I can most easily control. How many hours of Aikido am I doing? Am I eating enough of the foods I know are good for my airy/"vata" body type - heavy foods like meat, sweet potatoes, black beans, kale. Am I treating sugar like poison and staying away with a 10 foot pole?

But prioritizing touch, connection and friendship - these take vulnerability and empty space, slowness and emergence. Sometimes that is the absolute last thing my yacking brain thinks I need. I remember one colleague reflecting, "Geesh, Melanie, you're the most productive depressed person I've ever met." 

But that's just it. I've learned that busyness, flying from one place to another and overworking is a safety shape for my system - and in my opinion, for western culture as a whole. It's a desperate attempt to avoid pain by avoiding the empty, grief, the dark and the unknown. But these "yin" concepts are profoundly vital to every living system, and experiencing interconnection. And pushing past the inevitable need for empty and presence just dials up my panic. 

So I'm back to expanding my ecology of touch and deep respect for it, above and beyond sexuality. Babies that receive everything but touch DIE, and we adults are probably no different. In the absence of a partner, I'm back to gifting my body a short massage every week. I'm back to giving and vulnerably asking for long hugs and foot rubs. I'm back to prioritizing the fine art of hanging out with my kindred spirits, flopping around watching movies on the couch with them.

It's important to note - I'm not entirely sure this will work, and I'm not opposed to returning to the rocket blast method of anti-depressants that, for a short time, to make a bridge between one really hard patch of life and another, maybe supporting me to shift out of a season of grief. They've probably saved my life and the lives of other artists I love. And, it feels powerful to not to just ask - do I need to be on medication again - but also, what does my body need today? How can I give it the touch, connection, joy and empty space it's asking for?

And, on the more metta level, what happens when we as a culture make empty space together? What do we hear there about grief, anger and confusion as we see what is happening to our world? As eco-philosopher Joanna Macy suggests, that profoundly changes what choices we make, the very world we create, the Great Turning back to a life sustaining society.

NOTES

[1] Rigpa and the Nature of Mind, excerpted from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sungyol Rinpoche.

[2] So You're Depressed, Now What? with Nurse Rona on KPFA

[3] Joanna Macy

Record done! Scripts & Swim Buddies

RECORD DONE. Last week I scripted out the release process, above, so I can get it all to you before September 15th.

I find these types of scripts super helpful/totally terrifying. So thank goodness I remembered a few weeks ago month how essential it is for me to have a swim buddy on giant projects, to prevent me from lapsing into a freeze/tizzy of busy when I look at all my uncolored bubbles. Thank you, Molly Madden!

And, the buddy system helps me have a whole lot more kindness when my original timelines go out the window and my brain freaks out - why is this taking so long?! And I can more kindly take a look: Oh, right, I've never done this before (ISRC codes?! huh?). Ah, ok, that was the month when my mental health unravelled and I was at half mast. Or, hmm, that was the time where the incredible fiddle parts from my friend John Mailander in Nashville seemed like a weird avant-garde track against my song. And it took three weeks to realize he had recorded it to a version of my song with an accidental 20 seconds of silence at the start. (Whoops. One big nudge, another round of mixing and, voila, as usual, his playing knocked my socks off.)

So I'm still on the road, and I'm so grateful you've been here with me all along.

The Brain and Momma Bear

I wrote this for my beginner singing students, and wanted to share it more widely. It's so powerful for me to be reminded of this stuff for my own creative process, as my brain can be "cunning, baffling, and powerful."

When I'm learning something new, my brain has a whole lot of vinegar-lipped opinions to share about the gap between where I am and where I want to be. You're probably familiar with the tone of these thoughts. It's the voice Buddhists call "monkey mind," because It's like a monkey swinging on the trees from worry, doubt and fear. (you'll never get better at this, even putting in tons of time! that person over there is so much better, what's the point? Each of us has our own unique chorus of chatter) And it shows up when we are stepping outside our comfort zone into stretch zone, learning something new.

It can be exhausting to negotiate or tread water inside of that, so I like to remember what is probably the sole contribution of George Bush - "We don't negotiate with terrorists!". I can chose instead to be Momma Bear in the face of these thoughts of criticism - firmly and clearly waving them away like a fly or maybe even like a traffic cop, refusing to negotiate or spend time there. I can come back instead to my breathing, where my feet are and what brings me joy about the song. Because if I'm here taking a step, it is inevitable that the incredible brain will grow and integrate that new information. It's what we were made to do!

In that sense I really, REALLY like having other sources of information - like this attached musical meditation from Kenny Werner, and also this interview with Elizabeth Gilbert on "Choosing Curiosity Over Fear. " May it be of service!