Note to Self: Chill

Maybe this note applies to you too. Be not afraid. Peace. Let’s not let our hyper-masculine society or this anxious moment throw us off balance. Make us lose our cool.

The insight came in yoga yesterday.

Yes, it is a cliche to have an epiphany in a yoga class. In San Francisco, no less.

But whatevs. There’s a sizable grain of truth to the stereotype of the enlightened yogi.

And there I was, sweating through vinyasas and triangle poses when it struck me: it’s all good.

Nothing to fear.

Chill out.

I’d foreshadowed this moment with the intention I’d set for the class at the outset. My prayer for the practice was “peace,” because I’d been stressed out about money and time and incomplete projects.

And now as I stretched my body, I stretched my mind further in the direction of calm.

It suddenly dawned on me that I’d been slipping back to scarcity as worldview. Falling for fear. I was losing the faith and the mindset of abundance that I’d built up during a strangely fulfilling adventure with cancer.

***

My year of cancer treatments–and the immense generosity of my family and friends–had allowed me to take off the lenses that had me seeing dollar signs above the heads of everyone I talked to. Had helped me trust in the unfolding of life. Had all but cured me of panic attacks and lower-grade anxiety–mostly around earning enough and making a big enough difference.

But over the past month or so, I had begun to worry about my income. About whether people would register for the men’s retreat I’m co-hosting in Sardinia. About why most of the 17 people who signed up for a follow-up conversion during my recent conference session on “The Tough Guy Show” haven’t, in fact, booked time with me.

I’d started stressing about satisfying my editorial clients. Had I overpromised deliverables to them? Might I lose my most consistent sources of money?

I wasn’t just perseverating about fortune. I was doing the same about fame.

Hadn’t I tamed my ego during a year of deeper wisdom about being good enough, about being a whole human with a divine, perfect soul?

Apparently not. Or not entirely.

***

My ego had escaped and was running wild. I found myself comparing myself with other speakers at the recent conference. At first I felt good about being in a flow during my talk on masculinity matters at the SHRM annual event earlier this month. I felt good about the 100-125 people who showed up.

Then I heard from another speaker, who had packed her room–with probably four times as many people as I attracted. Then my attendee reviews came in. Not all excellent ratings.

Oof. Right in the solar plexus of self-regard.

Those blows could be why in recent days, I obsessed over how many “likes” my posts on LinkedIn were getting. Found myself sending dozens of connection requests to people who’d reacted to content that mentioned me.

I was trying to win the popularity contest that LinkedIn can be. That professional life as a public speaker can be.

I felt a related disquiet about speaking more loudly on political and cultural matters. I had been excited earlier this month to publish a piece in The Contrarian about fatherhood in the age of Trump. I have long idolized the co-founder of the lefty publication, former Washington Post columnist Jennifer Rubin.

But the milestone of having a piece appear in this prominent outlet seemed to set off old self-doubts. Agitation that I wasn’t having as big an impact as I should in these perilous times of potential authoritarianism. There also was the shadow side of the desire to contribute to a better world: dismay that I wasn’t as big a deal as I could be.

***

These truths washed over me in yoga.

As sweat ran down my face, I realized I could shed the dread. Let go of the baggage around bucks and big-deal-ness. Stop being so hot and bothered.

Thank God. Or maybe thank Ganesh, the Hindu elephant god we sang of to begin the class.

Ganesh is known to remove obstacles in our way. Now, it was as if he demolished the gilded bank building in my mind that didn’t have enough money. Stomped on the glittering stage in my consciousness that didn’t attract enough fans and followers.

I have enough. Of both money and esteem. A lack of riches and renown aren’t going to do me in.

But stress might. It’s already given me one heart attack, back in 2021. Do I really want tension to trigger another?

***

Another realization hit me amid downward dogs: I needed to go in two directions at the same time. I had to get more practical AND more big-picture.

I needed to face the financial situation head-on, and figure out a realistic plan to make ends meet. My wife Rowena had been asking me to create a budget in recent weeks. I’d been putting it off, I think because I was afraid our income-expenses situation would look bad.

Right there in yoga, I got brave on the business front. I did a rough calculation on our costs and expected revenue–and it worked out pretty well!

A more careful assessment later in the day confirmed the good news. We’re in decent shape for the rest of the year. I don’t need to fret about our finances.

At the same time, I remembered the three priorities I set post-cancer. Health. Book. Service.

And even though I had come to a serene place–or perhaps because I’d done so–I suddenly felt some urgency to get more fit. I also realized I was putting off work on the masculinity memoir I’ve promised to write.

It became clear that I needed to step up my efforts on these fronts. That the third, “Service” priority, which includes earning money as well as voluntary efforts, had crowded out my wellbeing and personal writing.

***

This is all understandable. Since recovering from my surgery in January, I had been treating my schedule in an “organic” way–-going with the flow and letting things grow as they would.

But it’s as if I’ve now got an overgrown garden. It’s time for pruning and weeding. For shifting from organic to organized.

So today, I set up a plan for exercising six days a week. Yoga four times each week. Swimming and weights Tuesdays and Thursdays.

My calendar already had dedicated times to write my book. I’m just going to stop blowing those off, blowing up the book time with other meetings and tasks.

The tranquility touched off by the yoga class extended to my client work. Nervousness about not serving them well enough morphed into confidence. My attention recentered on the noble, promising projects I’m supporting. Robert’s book on “leadership malpractice”; Cathy’s book on providing Vets with PTSD the effective treatment they deserve.

***

I am not a naive yogi. I know my enlightenment isn’t permanent, something I can take for granted from now on.

I know I will slide back toward anxiety and fear again. Greed and vanity will likely nip at my heels for the rest of my life.

I don’t think I’m alone in those enduring struggles. We’ve set up a society grounded in financial fear, constant competition and celebrity worship. I believe we’ve tolerated a hyper-masculine culture that prizes domination, individualism and the suppression of difficult emotions like fear and sadness.

It’s crazy not to feel crazy. It’s not surprising that more than 3 in 10 Americans experience an anxiety disorder at some point in their lives. Or that burnout levels at work are at all time highs, driven in part by fears of layoffs.

How can we not sweat whether we’ll earn enough, perform well enough, be popular enough?

For me, it took sweating on my yoga mat. Maybe that’s what it takes for you as well to calm the anxious mind, to relax the agitated ego. Or maybe it’s something different. Maybe prayer. Meditation. Long walks. Journaling.

In any event, let us be not afraid. Let us be at peace. Let’s not let the worries of the moment throw us off. Make us lose our cool.

Note to self, note to all of us: chill.