Cultivating resilience in a changing world

A personal recipe from a Fellowship host

A moment of deep rest in nature / author photo

In our experience of life, we all know that the greater the uncertainty, the greater the possibility of diverse, unexpected outcomes. Our ability to embrace uncertainty and respond easefully to an increasingly VUCA (volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous) world is key to our resilience. Yet, our predominant culture seems to value the ability to control and predict, leaving very little room for the creativity, adaptability, and resilience that comes from embracing uncertainty. 

Many urbanised humans live in a constant state of amygdala overdrive, with bodies clenched in a fight, flight, or freeze mode. The amygdala, also known as the lizard brain, is an ancient part of our brain that does a brilliant job of keeping us alert in the face of physical danger. However, in the predominant absence of natural physical dangers, the modern human mind reacts instead to imaginary psychological dangers, which become exacerbated by the persistent monkey-mind that the amygdala triggers. Without the appropriate tools to overcome amygdala overdrive, we live in prolonged states of stress leading to chronic mental and physical illness, disconnection from nature and ourselves, and an inability to navigate gracefully through uncertainty.

As a student of science in the modern, westernised education system, and eventually as an accomplished academic, I had a good theoretical grasp of the phenomenon of amygdala overdrive. However, I was completely unequipped to overcome my own monkey-mind. Along with my colleagues, I was accustomed to being in an almost constant state of worry—about my reputation, my funding status, my job prospects, and so much more. Without even being aware of it, the self-doubt and fear kept me agitated not only in the mind but also clenching in my body, taking shallow breaths that barely gave me the air I needed. 

Until one day when I took the courageous step of joining a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat. In the depths of silence, the loud chatter of my monkey-mind became deafening. Guided expertly by my teacher S.N. Goenka, I learned about the profound connection between the thoughts in my mind and the sensations in my body, and discovered the simple yet extremely challenging practice of observing my thoughts and sensations instead of reacting to them.

Connecting with an old Neem tree after a Vipassana retreat / author photo

After a few years of consistent meditation practice, I reached a point where the fears remained, but my capacity for accessing my intuition and inner wisdom enabled me to put my fears aside and commit myself to a life of service and surrender. I took a giant leap of faith, left my academic career, and became a self-employed coach and facilitator, dedicating myself to empowering others to live and lead with authenticity, balance and creativity. Simultaneously, I founded an organisation called Dularia, empowering indigenous communities in Eastern India to gain dignified livelihood through regenerative practices. While I kept taking steps in the outer world, my focus remained on cultivating my inner world, with ever-deepening awareness of my breath, body sensations, and thoughts. My work at Dularia brought me close to indigenous practices of working mindfully with natural materials such as mud, bamboo, and cow dung, listening deeply to others, moving slowly with patience and grace, and creating deep bonds in community.

Over the last decade, I've evolved a level of resilience and comfort with uncertainty that I never would have imagined to be possible before I committed to this journey. Life constantly deals me a healthy dose of challenges, and there have been phases when I've struggled with anxiety and self-doubt. Nevertheless, I've gently persevered and evolved a personal recipe for resilience that I'd love to share with you, with the hope that you find it useful and insightful:

• I consistently practice an awareness of my breath, body sensations, and thoughts. If I find myself lost in circles of worrying about the future or agitated about the past, I bring my compassionate awareness to the parts of my body that are tense and clenching, and keep my awareness there as I go through my day. Even though this can be extremely uncomfortable, I've found it to be the most effective way of passing through moments of fear and doubt.

• I spend copious amounts of quiet, uninterrupted time in nature, observing sights, sounds, smells, and seasonal transformations. Even on occasion when I find myself in a busy city, I spend time doing nothing but staring into space, watching the sun as it streaks through the window, or watching people rushing about their day as I wait for a bus to arrive. I call these my periods of empty-time and I guard them preciously.

• I balance the abstract, more intellectual aspects of my work with physical engagement, either through pottery, mud-plastering, wood-carving, gardening, cooking, cleaning, or anything that engages my hands and focuses my mind creatively on the present moment.

  

  Engaging my hands and mind creatively at Dularia / author photo

• I try to only engage in what is authentic to me, be it work, participation in conversations, attending social events, or wearing clothes that feel comfortable. I've found that even the slightest of incoherence invariably brings drama into my life and drains my energy. Discovering what is coherent to me is a constant practice of inquiry, where I keep evolving and fine-tuning through experimentation, instead of trying to arrive at fixed outcomes.

• I build community wherever I go. A large part of my work is dedicated to building community, be it at a micro, local scale, or at an international scale. In the places I live in, I make sure to support my neighbors, buy from local shop-keapers who recognize me, eat produce grown by those who I know, and keep plenty of time to cultivate my deeper friendships. I reach out for support and kindness, and give of myself generously to those I care for.

• I take plenty of care of my physical body, through eating well, physical movement, regular massages, and plenty of rest. Whenever I find myself off-balance, I try to gently steer myself back by responding to the ever-changing nature of my body and its limitations.

• When I face drama or struggle, I slow down, stop taking reactive action, and go back to inquiry. Only when I find answers from the depth of my being do I take my next steps.

What about my recipe resonates with you? How would you articulate your own personal recipe for resilience? I'd love to hear from you, as by learning with each other, we build our collective capacity for gracefully navigating a VUCA world.

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