an anecdote on embodiment.

In Wanderlust: A History of Walking, Rebecca Solnit quotes Lacy Lippard:

“An Eskimo custom offers an angry person release by walking the emotion out of his or her system in a straight line across the landscape, the point at which the anger is conquered is marked with a stick, bearing witness to the strength or length of the rage.”

Think about that. In this custom, an angry person is granted the opportunity to somatically moving their rage through them instead of either exploding on another person or shoving it down to compound for an eventual explosion. And they’re not just diluting the situation, they are giving voice to the situation by honoring and witnessing how far the anger that resulted from that situation took them.

Indigenous peoples have used these kinds of modalities for thousands of years. They understood the power of the emotional and physical connection in a way that our Western world doesn’t usually acknowledge.

I briefly talked about embodiment (which literally means “in the body”) in my “find your flow” post. In it, I talked about how many of us are taught from a very young age to repress emotions and are reprimanded for crying, fidgeting, expressing anger, etc. We are taught to put on a smile and be “good boys and girls.” What that really means is that many of us live in our heads—trying to rationalize and suppress—instead of letting things flow somatically through our bodies, as they were primally designed.

Bridging the mind and body connection is one of the best ways to integrate experiences. Why have we lost this very important awareness? Why didn’t we uphold the customs that allowed us to truly move on because they ensured we fully honored and felt big emotions?

I saw this so clearly in my life a few weeks ago.

I filled my car with our recycling from the last couple of weeks and decided to head to the recycling center when I was done with work. It was a beautiful day, which meant I could enjoy having my windows down, music on. Given the post-work time, I expected a bit of traffic. I didn’t mind—this was my time to unwind.

There’s one spot on the road to the recycling center where it merges from two lanes into one. It’s an evident merge, with lots of signs and dramatic identifiers on the road. Basically, you can’t miss the fact that the two lanes are merging. I was in the right lane, so I put on my blinker and had an obvious spot to merge in between the car in front of me and the car behind me. Or so I thought.

The guy behind me either didn’t want to acknowledge the merge or just simply didn’t want me to be an extra obstacle in his path to wherever he was going (which wasn’t far considering the ten cars ahead of me) because he pounded on his horn, flipped me off, and motioned angrily at me as my car slipped in front of his. He sped up so much that I’m surprised he didn’t just rear-end me for show. I immediately felt myself get worked up—defensive, angry, worried, on edge. My narrative started spiraling. “I WAS OBVIOUSLY IN THE RIGHT! Where did this guy learn how to drive?! What’s up his ass?! I didn’t do anything wrong! Is he going to fight me? Effing angry, entitled, country male.”

As my thoughts circled, heart pounded, and sweat dripped, I could have “resolved” this in the way that Courtney two years ago would have—identifying my response as irrational. “It wasn’t even that big of a deal, what am I so worked up for!?” I would have been mad at myself for letting him get me so worked up. I probably would have gone home and grabbed the bottle of Tito’s out of habit or started a fight with my partner because I was left in a perpetual bad mood from not feeling what I was feeling and staying in my sympathetic nervous system (fight-or-flight). I would have just let it pass unconsciously through my body and somehow internalized that I was the problem.

Instead, I chose to observe what was happening. My nervous system had switched into my sympathetic—hence the increased heart-rate, shaking, and sweat. I was physically ready to fight back or flee. My hands were shaking and clenching the wheel and I felt my shoulders riding up. My primal body was letting me know that it had perceived a threat and was ready to protect me.

Once I noticed and acknowledged this, I was able to question why I was having this big, visceral reaction to someone honking at me and flipping me off. I was projecting that he probably thought I was an asshole or bad driver, which meant that he didn’t like me, and I’ve been operating off the belief—since childhood—that I’m only safe if people like me. So, my body felt unsafe in this situation because I was negatively impacting his day and thus, he didn’t like me.

I could then address what was happening somatically. I turned into the recycling parking lot and closed my eyes. I put my hands on my heart and did a few rounds of box breathing (in your nose for four counts, hold for four, out for four, hold for four, and repeat). I reminded myself that other people’s big reactions have more to do with them than with me. Whatever happened in his day was causing him to show this anger—not me. And I also reminded myself that it’s okay if everyone doesn’t like me.

I felt my heart-rate and body temperature decrease. My breathing leveled out. My hands stopped shaking. They say emotions are supposed to pass through you in ninety seconds. Part of embodiment is returning to that healthy state where you flow through the various levels of your nervous system. In the past, I would have let that man rob me of a beautiful day. By choosing to turn to my body as a resource for regulation, I was able to enjoy a dance party on the way home and a peaceful evening instead of staying in fight-or-flight.

This is SUCH a small example, but I think it’s a good anecdote about how powerful it is to notice your body, your thoughts, your emotions. Having the ability to reflect on what you are experiencing on a day-to-day basis is how you form presence to fully move through your life with intentionality. If you’re not taking the time to question yourself and to get curious about the things you’re experiencing, you’re missing out on the opportunity to know yourself better and to live as an embodied human.

And honestly, I’d rather take two minutes to do box breathing than let someone who can’t control their own anger ruin my entire afternoon.