Phuro!

You’re sitting on the couch, watching television.

Nothing special. Just another evening. You’re home, you’re safe, and if someone asked you, you’d probably say you were relaxing.

Except you’re not.

You’re not even really watching what’s happening on the screen anymore.

Something you heard earlier that day pops into your mind. A conversation. A problem at work. Something someone said. Something you said. Something that might happen tomorrow.

And you start thinking.

Why did he say that?

You replay the conversation.

Maybe he meant…

You answer him in your head. This time with the perfect response you didn’t think of earlier.

Then you imagine what he might say next.

And you answer that too.

Before you know it, you’re having an entire argument with someone who isn’t even in the room.

Your thoughts speed up. One thought triggers another. Possibilities become problems and problems become disasters that haven’t even happened.

And your body?

Your body has been listening to the whole conversation.

Your jaw tightens. Your shoulders tense. Your heart beats a little faster. You feel restless. Maybe you’re getting warm. You start to sweat.

You’re still sitting on the same couch.

Nothing has actually happened.

But your body doesn’t feel as if you’re peacefully watching television anymore.

What did you just tell yourself that made your body react this way?

Maybe it wasn’t what happened that caused the strongest reaction, but everything you told yourself about what happened — or what might happen next.

What if I was wrong?
What if they don’t understand me?
What if I lose this?
What if I fail?
What if…?

And suddenly fear has entered the conversation.

And fear is loud!

It repeats itself. It demands answers. It creates scenarios. It wants certainty about things that haven’t happened yet. It wants us to fix, control, prepare and protect ourselves.

And the more we listen to it, the louder it becomes.

So maybe this is not the moment to find an answer.

Maybe this is the moment to become quiet.

Turn off the television. Put down your phone. Take a walk. Close your eyes. Breathe. Feel where your body is holding tension and allow it to soften.

You don’t have to solve anything right now.

You don’t even have to make the fear disappear.

Just stop feeding it.

And when the noise begins to settle, perhaps you can start another conversation.

I am safe.

I am at peace.

I am loved.

I am guided.

Not as magic words meant to convince yourself that nothing bad can ever happen. Not as a way of denying what you feel.

But as a reminder that fear is not the only voice within you.

And then ask.

What do I need to know?

What am I not seeing?

What would I choose if I wasn’t afraid?

And listen.

Don’t force an answer. Don’t start another mental debate. Don’t decide beforehand what the answer should sound like.

Just listen.

Sometimes an answer may come as a thought. Sometimes as a feeling. Sometimes it may come much later, while you’re walking, driving, creating, or doing something completely unrelated.

And sometimes there may be no answer at all.

Only peace.

And for now, that can be more than enough.