Often, what gets me into trouble is thinking. I depend on my ability to think. I make my living thinking, and I write to think (as many extroverts do when no one else is around). But thinking can be a liability as well as a gift. If we are too dependent on thinking, our selves are big heads and atrophied bodies and spirits. So my tools for today have to do with my body and spirit.

The first tool is a mantra. Mantras are words (Peace), sounds (Ohmmmmm), or phrases that, when repeated over and over, have the effect of focusing our busy minds away from thinking. A mantra provides a no thinking zone for overthinkers like me. My mantra is a rather long one, but one you’ve probably heard before: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. This is the serenity prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous and the prayer of many overthinkers. When I say this mantra/prayer over and over, I internalize three words, accept, courage, and change. I don’t necessarily think about these words, but together they change the feelings in my body somehow. I am calmer, less caught up in my own thinking, and better able to focus on what will move me to a happier, more productive place.

The second tool is related to the first. It is meditation. Mediation requires sitting or lying down in a place that is quiet, closing your eyes and concentrating on one thing. There is walking meditation, of course, and this requires a soft eye focus (you don’t want to get run over by an approaching bus), and concentration on the rhythm of your steps. Some meditation practices depend on a mantra. Some ask simply that the meditater observe her breathing and let all thoughts go by without attaching to them. This, of course, is easier said than done. When I meditate, if I can let even one thought go by, it is a small victory. I have even used a meditation teacher. She was gentle and persistent with me. The results of my meditating were instantly recognizable. I had less fear in me and about everything outside of me. I meditated for months, and then I stopped. Why, you might ask? I feel sheepish telling you that it was because I didn’t have enough time. But I have time to worry, you might say. Yes, and I am determined to reinstitute my meditation practice if only for five minutes a day. Ask me about this and hold me to it, please.

The last tool is making art. This can be knitting, cabinet making, scrapbooking, gardening, or painting. You don’t have to be an artist, you just have to love doing whatever it is you love doing with your hands, and you have to love it enough to get lost in it. So what if you won’t be asked to hang the finished product in the Metropolitan. So what if you drop a stitch and your scarf looks more like a cobweb made by a drunken spider than an article of fashion. If I can get lost in the rhythm of the insertion of knitting needles into the growing mass of my creation, if I can feel the softness of the shawl emerging in my lap, if I can look into the depth of the colors I’ve chosen, I stop thinking for a blessed while and my body and spirit grow to equal the size of my overused mind. I am integrated, peaceful, and refreshed.