How to stop running around like a headless chicken

If you’ve ever wondered how to stop running around like a headless chicken, you’re not alone. Most of us know the feeling intimately. I have my own story that proves it.

I started with the laundry.

Specifically, I went to my son’s room to collect a couple of articles of clothing. Simple enough. But there was a half-drunk glass of water on his nightstand, so I took that with me. In the hallway I dropped the clothes in the basket and carried on to the kitchen to deal with the glass. While I was at the dishwasher, I noticed a few dishes in the sink, so I loaded those too. Closing the dishwasher, I kicked a dog toy across the floor, picked it up, walked it to the bin. Noticed a used Kleenex on the table nearby. Huffed a little. Disposed of it. Realized I was thirsty. Poured myself a glass of water. The phone rang. I answered it. After I hung up I had to pee. Walking to the bathroom I passed the laundry basket.

The laundry basket. Where this whole thing started.

If you’re a mom, or really just a human with a house and a life and other people in it, you know this sequence. You’ve lived it. Probably today, more than once.

Here’s what I’ve been thinking about, though. In yoga philosophy, Patanjali — the ancient sage who gave us the Yoga Sutras — named nine obstacles that get in the way of our practice and our peace of mind. He called them the antarayas. One of them is avirati. It’s often translated as sensory craving, or the inability to stay. The pull outward. The mind or body reaching for the next thing before the first thing is done.

And when I think about that afternoon moving through my house like a pinball, I don’t see laziness or failure. I see avirati in action. I see a nervous system that has been trained to respond, to fix, to keep moving. I see a mind that has learned that the next thing is always more urgent than the thing right in front of it.

That’s not a character flaw. It’s a pattern. And patterns can be noticed and broken.

This is actually what the yoga practice teaches us — not to sit perfectly still and think about nothing, but to notice when we’ve drifted and gently come back to the moment at hand. Again and again and again. That returning IS the practice. Not the staying in one place.

So the next time you catch yourself three rooms away from where you started and you can’t quite remember how you got there, try this before you judge yourself for it: Pause. Take one deep breath. Then ask yourself ‘what was I actually trying to do?’ Then go do that one thing.

Give yourself permission to take things one step, one action at a time. And when you do complete it, try doing so mindfully. Notice your body, the action(s), your breath. The laundry will get done. You don’t have to exhaust yourself in the process.

xoM