Zen and Bipolar: What to do When You're Going High, Part 1

This morning I'm having fun with a three-month-old list I made titled 100 Cool and Stupid Things to Do.  It is gratifying to see that though I closed that file and forgot about it, I got a lot of those things done.  (And am reminded to do others.)

One thing on that list was the suggestion to write this post, as part of a larger project about Zen for Bipolars.  I'm neither low nor high today, just in that nice balanced space between waves, so I'll take advantage of that and begin.

Starting up on a manic moodswing is similar to being pleasantly excited for a normie (I don't like that word, we're not abnormal, but what else can I call people-who-don't-have-moodswings?  Maybe "ordinary people"?)  But it includes the allure of a mental shapness and confidence.  And it will not naturally subside.  That's my experience, and I was just ordinary until I was 33, so I know the difference.  This difference highlights the crucial fact that bipolar is a neurochemical dis-order.  That's why chemicals are often useful in the treatment.

Science is telling us these days about brain plasticity, that is, how we can change our brains even into old age.  There's a lot of further research on the specific effects of meditation on the brain. My own experience is that nothing will calm you down better when you're too excited than meditation, which has been briefly described like this: 

Sit down.
Shut up.
Breathe.

Teachers of young children call this a time-out.  It works.  Even little ones can follow those directions for a few minutes.  For kids with temper or panic attacks, a one-minute meditation of three deep breaths, exhaling all the way, can work magic.

But the little ones have an advantage over us; someone is making them do it.  (Most elementary school is a formidable training in doing what an authority tells you to do.)  As a grown-up, you have to exert this control over yourself, unless a manic episode gets so bad that you are hospitalized.  Then you will be medicated.  If  you are really bothering people, you will sometimes be shut in a 'quiet room" for a time.  Interestingly, a quiet room is rather like a Zen meditation hall:  empty, clean, quiet.  No screens, no one to talk to, no stimulation, nothing but a mattress on the floor. But we can actually arrange our own quiet times.

They can have the same calming effect as contemplating nature.  That doesn't mean hiking, climbing, caving, making a big effort to accomplish something.  Contemplation is simply walking or wandering alone in a park or woods, just for the sake of experiencing nature.  I love doing that on retreat.  (Caution: it is  stimulating to be exposed to sun, heat, and light.)

To the left is a photo I took at Grailville in 2010, a month before my scheduled transplant, when I was very sick and very frightened.  It was a good retreat for me, given that. Perhaps you can see how calming it was.

I like the subtle colors and shadows in the photo, which is of the hedge that separates Grailville from a meadow; if you look, you might be able to make out the wire fence in the late-morning shadows.  I took photos that year for the first time; it became a contemplative activity for me, and neither the teacher nor anyone else chastised me.  Ama Samy's retreats are relaxed and kind in the way I understand retreats are at Springwater Center, founded by Toni Packer.

[If you know someone who is bipolar, or close to a bipolar, feel free to share this post on Facebook or elsewhere.  You can use the little icons below.]

A Discourse with Self, or Why I Don't Meditate

The thought in my mind this morning, planted there by reading Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, is that following our impulses is not real freedom. In fact, we can become slaves to them.  Now, in my case I will point to a really homely little thing, not hanging up my clothes.  It is related to changing outfits under the press of time and throwing things on the bed.  Or deciding I'm too tired at night and draping them over the brass rail thing beside the bed.  And that's what it's for.  So as I write it is occurring to me to take that incitement to disorder out of there. 

Anyway, this standing mess has led me to declare that my New Habit of the Week is hanging up my clothes or putting them in the hamper.  You see how this is not a matter of discipline vs. freedom? More discipline leading to freedom, the freedom of being able to find clean clothes without cursing your way through a heap.

And then there is meditating every day.  You'd be surprised the explanations I came up with yesterday just meandering, talking with my PT guy while he pulled my arm, breaking up lesions in the frozen shoulder.  It is good to talk while he does that, it takes my mind off the pain.  

But I am aware that talking about the reasons I don't do what I actually want to do is not very helpful. There's lots of Why.  In some quarters, explaining why you can't is called excuses, excuses.  I can imagine a dialogue with my higher self:

me: Ummmm

self:  Go ahead.

me:  Well, I was going to explain how it came to pass that I got out of the discipline of sitting every day.

self:  You were going to do that instead of meditate.

me:  Ummm.........  Anyway, they're not excuses.  They're, like, reasons. Cause and effect. Karma. Like how I'm on narcotics, and sick all the time. And the moodswings from the steroids. And this irregular schedule. I could go on all day.  It makes sense.  Really.  I have a lot of reasons.

self:  Uh-huh

me:  So anyway.  Guess I'll go meditate and get a little more friendly with you, this self that seems a little wiser than me. (Though I would like to explain how when the creative impulse hits, you have to go with it.  An artist's life is very messy.  Well, the unsuccessful artists, at least.   And all these medical appointments........

self: So you have lots of good reasons why you don't do what you really want to do.

me:  [struck silent]  

p.s. I did take the brass rail thing (a quilt rack) downstairs. I did meditate.

A useless post about practically nothing

I subscribe to a (free) blog by one Peter Bregman, who writes often about time/self management. Mostly, I like his personality.  Of course, time management is a scoff in my life now.  When you are old, well, aging is a breakdown of systems, parts wearing out, though the shock absorbers do get better with practice. Your muscles actually lose a percentage every year, so you exercise to just stay even. And your brain slows down too, being busy with not falling.

The thing is, most time management is about Getting Things Done.  I myself, in fact, have a book by that title sitting right here at my relatively useless right hand.  I came across a reference to it recently, probably in Bregman's blog, and thought, I have that book somewhere.  Yep.  With post-its on it, too. I can't tell what year I bought it, but I was obviously ambitious.

The book asks us to sit down for a few hours or longer and write down every single damn thing we want to get done.  Everything.  All the things that have piled up around you for years, if you're a regular human being living the good life in America. For instance, that box of old photos and slides from the film era, which I have mentioned before: it cries out to be gone through, throw out the many bad pictures, convert the rest to digital - you know.  At least do the pictures of Sherlock, beloved cat of many years.  At least that.  And I bet you have a box like that too - though maybe some of my readers are so young they have always been digital. An amazing thought.

Well, I thought of writing that down - just that one undone project - and I quailed.  [to shrink back in fear, cower - and the synonyms are great]  To even think of seriously setting out to do that project, buying one of those converter things, creating a[nother] big mess . . . no, I thought, I'd do better to do something small, like figure out where to keep my headscarves.  Somehow they have all ended up on top of my dresser in a heap.

You know I must have a larger point, and it is this: when you are old enough you get to stop Getting Things Done.  You don't need to accomplish stuff anymore.  You are done accomplishing.  You can have the great pleasure of . . . doing not much. And knowing that it doesn't matter.