An idle mind is the devil’s playground.
Ok, so I’m sure that’s a slight exaggeration. I’m pretty sure satan[i] isn’t swinging on swings and sliding down slides in my idle mind… but sometimes, I definitely think he’s on his way there.
It happens when you’ve got some free time – even just an hour or two, and instead of relaxing and enjoying your time, you lend out your brain to stressful situations and stressful people. I swear to god, sometimes my mind feels like a rent-a-storage-space, where the slogan is ‘COME IN AND DROP OFF ALL YOUR USELESS TRINKETS, BAUBLES AND ASSORTED KNICKKNACKS!’
I was driving home the other night, and when I got home I couldn’t remember a) what songs I had just listened to[ii] and b) what route I took. You know what I was busy doing? I was busy trying to calm down satan in my idle mind. I was going over, and over, and over a situation that had already happened. I played the what if this and maybe that game, then switched to wondering about how things would play out in the future, and then decided that maybe if I went over the series of past events ONE MORE TIME, that it would probably lead me to a clear(er) answer. Yeah right. What a fantastic waste of my own energy… what a waste of 20 sweet alone-time minutes during which I could’ve sung my heart out to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road… five times. It’s like once you get on that mind fuck train, it turns into a bloody express that doesn’t make any stops. The train conductor is rude, they don’t serve food or coffee, and the bathroom is in the very last cart. And there’s a line. Everything about it sucks and all you want to know is when/where you can get off. And no, not that kind of ‘get off.’
Here’s the thing: I’m usually pretty good at being present. I know to return to my breath when I start feeling anxious or stressed out. Yoga has taught me well. But man, sometimes when I’m not busy with seven million tasks and I’m not surrounded by chatter and laughter and people, my mind decides to pop in the “Let’s go over this one more time” video and makes me watch it 27 times. Just in case I missed something the last time I watched it. Just in case this time I’m miraculously struck with ingenious insight.
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? The guy who sends you mixed signals. You could go over his actions and words twelve million times a day and still not get it. You’ll spend time thinking about whether the two of you hugged for longer than is normal, which leads you to think about the average length of a platonic hug versus the average length of a more-than-friends hug. Then you wonder whether he was trying to communicate a secret message via his gaze, when your eyes locked for a few seconds earlier on that day.
Or, you’re about to have a conversation with someone you don’t really want to talk to, about something you really don’t want to talk about, and you’d seriously rather give up chocolate for the rest of your life than follow through with the conversation. Your mind imagines all types of fantastical and mystical scenarios (most of which are probably completely improbable and ludicrous), then exaggerates, blows out of proportion and essentially equates the impending confrontation to a torture chamber where you’re forced to wake up at 5AM daily, for the rest of your life. Naturally, you’re left dreading the conversation even more. Satan needs to find a new playground because he’s got lame written all over him.
I know we’ve all been there, so I’m going to impart what a wise friend imparted to me. Four Quadrants. Yes, that’s right – I know it sounds like a book Dr. Phil would give publicity to on his show, but what it is, is a simple way of putting things into perspective when you’re on the Mind Fuck Express, and when you want to kick satan and his snaky friends off your jungle gym.
I like to think of it as a mini mental categories game. It (obviously) consists of four quadrants, aka boxes. Each holds a word: controllable, incontrollable, significant and insignificant. And in my head, it looks like this:
| Controllable | Incontrollable |
| Significant | Insignificant |
Allow me to demonstrate:
Getting coffee, before work, from Starbucks – is insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. The speed at which the car in front of me is traveling at – completely uncontrollable (unfortunately). Hence, the current situation I am in is completely NOT worth stressing over. I can’t do anything differently, nor does it really matter if I manage to stop at Starbucks before work, or not.
Onto bigger things: the dude sending you mixed signals. At this point, the situation is completely insignificant (again, in the grand scheme of things), yet it IS controllable. You can actually do something about it, if you really want to. You could simply ask him straight out. Easy breezy, right? Well, not if you’re me, because if you recall, I avoid awkward conversations like the plague, BUT the point is that you could easily get off the Mind Fuck Express if you simply sucked it up and asked some candid, egoless questions.
Oh, Four Quadrants. Paired with some sweet yoga classes and you’re on your way to a zen state of mind. I’m proud to say that I’ve been FQing it up lately, and I’m getting better at keeping my mind clutter (and satan) free.
I’m almost deserving of a pat on the back (self-administered, of course).[iii]
[i] I don’t believe in satan. Talking serpents, little red men with horns and fiery pits of hell all seem like a bit of a gross fabrication to me.
[ii] This, on its own, is a HUGE red flag. If I had the time (and an endless supply of CDs) to make a new soundtrack for every day of my life, you can bet your sweet bum I would. I’m pretty serious about listening to music in my car – I have no qualms about asking my passenger to please stop talking for just a minute so I don’t miss my favourite song.
[iii] I used to think patting yourself on the back was pretty lame. And I promised myself that if I ever became a teacher I would never utter those words. But upon further consideration, I’ve decided that maybe patting yourself on the back is a big deal. It’s harder giving yourself the credit you deserve, isn’t it? And it never really means as much when someone else compliments you on something – or when someone else “pats you on the back.” Once we finally get to the point, where we can pat ourselves on the back, it’s a sweet, sweet moment of genuine self-appreciation.
Seeing eye to eye 