Anxiety, Reality, and Meditation
A few weeks ago I (virtually) attended an interview with well-known rock climber Alex Honnold at a software platform conference (not sure how they’re related, but I didn’t worry about that too much). Alex is a fascinating guy to me. A highly skilled climber, he’s driven his profession forward multiple times by “free soloing” (a.k.a. climbing without a rope) some incredibly difficult mountains, including most famously El Capitan in Yosemite (as captured in the accurately-named film Free Solo).
One of the most interesting aspects of both that film and of Alex himself is his approach to fear, risk, and his own mortality. While thousands of feet up with no rope it would only take one slip of the foot or one loose hold to break for the worst to happen. Yet he doesn’t come off as some careless daredevil. Alex has thought a lot about fear and death, seems to have come to grips with what could happen, and prepares as best he can from there.
Based on his career path one may assume that Alex is fearless. But when the interviewer at this conference asked him if he’s ever feels fear while clinging to the wall, Alex was quick to answer “oh absolutely”, and who wouldn’t? But then he talked about learning to understand and sit with his fear, acknowledging its presence but not letting it control his actions. This sounds an awful lot like what practicing meditation teaches you, albeit to an extreme degree.
Another thing Alex mentioned is that the process of accepting his mortal fear has shown a light on how relatively minor the things we normally fear actually are. Things like that tough conversation you’ll need to have, being shot down & shunned by your peers, or ordering a pizza through the phone instead of an app don’t (usually) involve any sort of mortal danger. Not like when you’re hanging off a cliff face thousands of feet up without a rope.
There’s some interesting threads that we can track from Alex’s realization of the relative vapidness of our everyday fears and Buddhism’s teachings on the illusion of thoughts, along with how he’s learned to accept his fears in a manner similar to what meditation teaches.
The Persistent Illusions
Our minds craft illusions constantly through thinking. Some of these are useful, like abstractions to gain greater understanding of the bigger picture, perceived correlations that allow us to predict & modify the future (ex. beer spilling on my laptop is caused by me knocking my beer over, so if I don’t want beer on the laptop I’ll be careful about where I wave my hands when typing), and visualizations that allow us to predict and act upon potential future results of our next actions. But many illusions are not useful to the wellbeing of ourselves and others. Illusions about our self-worth & how others think about us, purposeless rumination about past or future events, or unfounded beliefs that hide reality from us.
The problem is most of us are really bad about knowing when something’s an illusion vs. reality. We may think we’re good at it, but consider the last time you felt haunted by a seemingly never-ending stream of thoughts & worries that, when reflected on at a later time, seem like not that big of a deal in retrospect.
Meditation is a training tool above-all-else for learning how to discern these illusions from reality. By grounding yourself in the breath, the feeling of sitting, or the sounds around you you’re reconnecting with what’s real, giving you a vantage point from which to observe those illusions as what they really are: just thoughts.
Meditators Think Too
There’s a common misconception (especially in the western world) that meditation is all about completely blanking your mind of all thoughts. While a calmer mind does tend to be a byproduct of practice, typical meditation instruction doesn’t intend for you to force your mind into a non-thinking stupor. For one, this doesn’t work. Consider the “don’t think of a pink elephant” example where, due to a process called ironic process theory you immediately start thinking about a pink elephant by trying not to think about one. By thinking about not thinking you’re actually thinking, trapping yourself in a paradox for all eternity.
By watching your mind for even a few seconds you’ll start to notice that you have no real control over when which thoughts pop into your brain, just like how you can’t control when your nose itches.
Meditation may not teach you to stop all thoughts, but it can teach you how to recognize them as illusions consider their usefulness in the current situation, and either use them to good measure or watch them float on by like a cloud in the sky, not disturbing your equanimity. It takes time, patience, and lots of practice, but from my minor experience it’s a very useful skill to have, especially if you’re generally more anxious than others.
Why Stop at Thoughts?
The same process of observing, accepting, investigating, and allowing (Tara Brach has some great writing on this, acronymed RAIN) can also be applied to emotions. That fear that Alex Honnold feels while thousands of feet up on a cliff wall could, if not seen as a completely mental formulation, cause him to panic and make a poor decision that may lead to his death. But by recognizing and allowing it to be there while simultaneously maintaining control of the actions he takes as a result of it allows Alex to make the best possible move regardless of the situation. Applying this approach to our day-to-day fears cna help us mere mortals move through life a little easier as well.
