Tricking My Resistance Under The Winter Moon

Winter Moon

Lately, I have been engaging in my winter practice of going outside and gazing up at the winter moon, asking myself: “What is the truest essence of myself that I am dreaming in my winter dream?” The cold heightens the moon’s luminosity; stars seem to crackle through the night sky.
 
Sometimes things are clearer in the cold. And out of this clarity can come a greater capacity to discern what is true—and what is resistance.

Tricking My Resistance

When I have the “I don’t feel like doing this right now!” phenomenon, like “Oh, it would be good to go skiing and get some exercise,” or “Oh, I really need to get this newsletter written,” I summon a practice called Tricking My Resistance.

Employ Witness Consciousness

Acknowledging that I’m having resistance is the first step in Tricking the Resistance. That seems obvious, however, in the labyrinthian circles of inner dialogue, I can easily forget I have the opportunity to step back, pause and observe, and then name what is so in the moment.
 
 Do the Next Right Thing

I can then employ a mind hack such as: “I only need to put my ski boots on right now.” And further, “I’ll just ski over the Trestle Bridge and back.” Or, “Let me just open the Google Doc for my writing practice.” In other words, I give myself permission to do a small action that leads towards the next form of movement.

I don’t have to ski for an hour, I don’t have to get my whole newsletter written today. I don’t have to do everything all at once! For me at least (and we all have our own sequences), feeling overwhelmed is a surefire way to NOT take an action. So, allowing myself to take one simple, discrete action is a way to trick my resistance.

Building the Muscle of Choice.

Inevitably, once I get out on the Rail Trail, or into a writing practice, or if I delay a form of self-soothing that is potentially destructive, I end up skiing longer than I thought, or actually getting more writing done. I am building the muscle of choice.

If I think I have to do it all, then I do nothing. Instead—and this is key—I allow that it’s really OK with me if I only ski across the Trestle Bridge. If I dwell on the fact that I really give myself permission to take a small action, resistance shifts from stasis to movement.
 
Where does resistance show up in your life?