Simple Routines

“Days are where we live. Their rhythm shapes our lives. Your life takes the form of each new day that is given you.” John O’Donohue

Several years ago, my dog and I had a nasty encounter with two dogs who got away from their owner and confronted us on the street. The attack happened very quickly: one moment we were walking along happily, the next these two large dogs were charging at us, barking and snarling, entangling us in a scramble of leashes. I tried to kick them away from my small, outsized dog, but they were relentless and very strong. After what seemed to be forever the owner appeared and eventually pulled the dogs away.

Shaken, we hurried home. Once there, I shifted into action. After checking him over, my dog was found to be in good shape except for two small, superficial puncture wounds. My husband went to confront the dogs’ owner while I stayed behind to call the vet. I talked to a neighbor who walked her dog in that area to see if she had any similar encounters. She had used a dog repelling horn that seemed to work. I immediately ordered one. Although the attack lasted only moments, I was shaken for hours after the encounter, doing lots of busy work to strengthen my defenses against any future encounters. At one point, I noticed my dog on the couch, on his back, paws up in the air with a big doggie smile, totally blissed out. He had forgotten all about the attack. Looking at him I was envious. How was he able to turn off that experience so easily?

In 1994, Stanford biologist Robert Sapolsky wrote Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, which described why stress is so harmful to human health. He explained that the stress response in animals operates like an “on/off” switch. Zebras, he noted, hang out on the savannah in a relaxed state until they smell, hear, or otherwise sense danger. When they detect danger, they run. When the threat is gone, they go back to hanging out. Humans also react to stress with a flight, fight, and freeze response, but ours is a much more complicated path. Danger faced by zebras is acute—the threat is either sensed or it is not. Our big human brains obscure danger signals: we get caught up in thoughts which muddle our senses and make it harder for us to evaluate the environment. Consequently, the human stress response tends to linger as we pine away with what ifs and future dangers. Our stress response operates more like a dimmer switch than one which flips up or down. My dog’s stress response was switched off; no longer sensing a threat, he relaxed on the couch while I fretted away with thoughts about a danger that was no longer present.

We frequently think of health or wellness as a state of balance, one in which we go through life with a minimum of pain, disability, or serious disease. But this view of health does not reflect the dynamism inherent in all life. Things in nature are in constant flux, continuously moving between inertia, growth, maturation, and eventually death. Essentially, the energy of life is never static and is always evolving. The sun rises and sets, seasons change, things grow and eventually die. What we see as balance or perfection is temporary as things are always evolving to another state. We see this fluctuating energy in our bodies; there are times when we feel full of vitality, others when we are agitated, and times when we feel heavy and fatigued. Even our thoughts reflect this ebb and flow, shifting from a state of calm to excitement and then agitation, or downshifting to quiet or even dullness. We want to have good health, right up until the moment of our death. We crave predictability and control over our well-being. That is not the way of life. Health is not a permanent state that is free of discomfort; rather, it is reflected in our capacity to adapt, recover, and grow in response to the everchanging fluctuations of life.

A Zebra’s home in the treeless grasslands and savannah woodlands is uncomplicated, not nearly as hard to navigate as the environment engineered by humans. Ours is a world in which threats are sometimes acute, such as a dog chasing you, and other times chronic, such as worrying about encountering that dog in the future. And whereas most Zebras will run upon sensing a predator, we respond to threats that are both real and imagined; what is stressful for one person may be just an annoying interruption for another. Much of the stress we experience in life depends on our capacity to tap into our senses, to connect with our visceral reactions rather than getting swept away by our narratives.

The human body is attuned to our internal and external environments, continuously adjusting by shifting our energy as it works to keep everything operating efficiently. For the most part we are largely unaware of these changes as they happen outside of our awareness. Unless we intentionally tune into sensory information, we are largely unaware of the cues that trigger shifts in our energy. We sometimes experience them in vague ways—the so-called “gut feeling”, racing heart, clenched jaw. And we frequently misinterpret sensory cues, such as confusing boredom with hunger or fatigue with depression. Whereas animals are attuned to these shifts, our busy minds are more likely to blunt our awareness, interfering with our capacity to respond appropriately to changing conditions. Adding to this confusion is the complicated nature of the human environment, which demands a much higher level of decision making. To get through life skillfully, we are required to make a host of decisions, from the mundane (What’s for dinner?) to the complicated (What gives my life meaning?).

Studies have shown that stress levels rise in proportion to the number of decisions we are faced with every day. Routines are a way of pruning the daily decision-making process and establishing a sense of rhythm and predictability to our days. They free up our energy and conserve our resources for more important decisions. Nourishing and supportive routines are those that are in sync with our body’s needs and the demands of our family, work, and social environments. Healthy routines balance the demands of one’s life with the needs of the body.

Most of us follow some sort of routine, but not all are necessarily nourishing or even healthy. We frequently follow our daily routines on autopilot, unaware of how our choices impact our energy, creating small, recoverable imbalances, or shifting us into crisis. It’s the small choices, the things we do minute to minute, that add up to keep us healthy, from the foods we eat, the media we are exposed to, the time we spend in nature, the people in our inner circle, and so on. Even the time of day and the seasons can influence our well-being.

If this seems like a lot to keep track of, we need not worry, as we have two tools at our disposal that can help. They are the same tools used by the Zebras hanging out on the savannah and my blissed-out dog—somatic awareness and the breath. Somatic awareness sounds complicated, but it is the simple act of taking a pause and scanning the body. By combining this practice with breath awareness, we tune into which direction our energy is moving. Not sure if your morning routine is nourishing or depleting? Check in with your body and your breath, notice the rhythm and depth of the inhale and exhale, the beating of the heart, the sensations in the body. Shallow, rapid breaths and an elevated heart rate signal that the body needs to release energy. This type of agitation or tension may be a sign that your morning routine is depleting. Conversely, a sense of heaviness in the breath—a sigh perhaps--can signal sadness, pain, discomfort, or a dull ache. The body calls for restoration, rest, and healing.

No routine is perfect. Keep in mind that becoming too rigid with a routine can also create disruption. The key is to listen to the body and the breath, letting them guide us to what we need to create a sense of ease in life. Recognize that we all must live within the confines of our responsibilities and capabilities; our routines should help us address our needs skillfully so that we can stay as close to our center as possible, adapting to changing circumstances when needed and reestablishing a position close to our center when we are thrown off course.

What is your body telling you? Listen carefully as the senses have their own language. You’ll need to stay firm in your awareness so that your thoughts don’t drown out their message. And if it is hard to decode somatic signals, rely on the breath. The inhale and exhale are sure to offer clear and accurate information. Ours is a world that is oriented toward thoughts--theories, explanations, analysis--so connecting to the body takes practice; it is a process we are born with but then typically unlearn. But your efforts will be rewarded as you begin to build a supportive scaffolding of routines that help you flourish with greater well-being and joy. Do your routines support or deplete you? Let’s search for practices that nourish and support, rather than constrict and restrain. Who would you be if your life was filled with ease?