When I was a kid laying in bed at night, waiting to fall asleep, I would often become aware of my heartbeat. This reminder of mortality always frightened me and so I’d often go find my mom and ask her to feel my heartbeat and reassure me that I was safe and healthy. She would, but then I’d want to feel hers and was always alarmed that hers was slower than mine. Each time she’d explain that it’s normal for kids and grownups to have different heart rates, but I was certain that either she or I wouldn’t make it through the night because either mine was too fast or hers was too slow.
I guess I stopped noticing my heartbeat at some point. But last night as I lay awake unable to fall asleep and trying to quiet my mind, I noticed it again. I thought back to my fearful feelings as a kid and I thought again of mortality. This time I didn’t worry about my own death, I thought of Benjamin: the worst loss of all.
Last week I was contemplating imagination. I read an interesting snippet about why humans have imagination and how it contributes to our survival. The writer suggested that imagination is what allowed early humans to, for example, pass a cave and imagine it filled with the warm glow of a campfire and kin. Now, that memory is tucked away for when shelter is needed come winter. Next, the passerby might imagine discovering a bear deep inside the cave. Now the person is better prepared to take preventative measures when seeking shelter or evasive maneuvers if in danger.
Last night, for the first time, I followed my heartbeat thoughts without letting them turn to fear. I imagined how I would survive if I found myself suddenly alone in our currently tumultuous season of life. I considered where I would find support and help and how I would move through everything that’s coming up these next few months. With each turn of thought I checked in to see if I was getting anxious and needed to abandon my thought process. But consistently, I kept finding comfort in envisioning survival, resiliency, and my supportive community, and so I followed the thoughts until I could fully envision a path forward and then I fell asleep.
My imagination often takes me to dark and scary places. But I’m learning how to turn those thoughts around and use my imagination to nurture resilience instead of fear.