10 Minute Adventure

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10 Minute Adventure

We find ourselves in the doldrums of a particularly dreary Chicago winter.  There is little refuge, and we are positively exhausted from a year of, well, y’know. It feels like the world has shrunk, and the path back to a semblance of “normal” is yet unclear.  In the next 10 minutes, I want to help you find a moment of respite.  In order to do this, we’ll need to call upon an old friend that you may not have spoken with in a while: your imagination.  And not the part of your imagination that pictures everything that could go wrong, that part gets enough practice.  We want the part of your imagination that hearkens back to your childhood, the fantastical part, the part that used to take you on adventures as you gazed out the window in math class.  

It may seem frivolous or mistuned to the reality around us to start daydreaming, but the reality we are in right now is exactly what makes it crucial to allow our minds to take us elsewhere, if only for a brief time.  If you’re anything like me, you could probably use a healthy dose of hope right about now.  The founder of positive psychology, Martin Seligman, was recently interviewed by the New York Times; he spoke about how daydreaming fosters optimism, resilience, and hope (all of those beautiful, currently depleted qualities).  A recent brain imaging study shows that when we imagine a perceived threat, our brains and bodies respond similarly as they would if the threat were happening in real life.  If we take a bit of a leap, then, it seems reasonable to expect that our brains and bodies respond similarly when we imagine positive experiences, as to when we actually have them.  Hopefully now with a bit of buy-in on your end, I can show you what this feels like, you just have to promise you’ll give it an honest shot.  

Somewhere

If you could be anywhere on earth, where would you be?  Perhaps somewhere you had planned a vacation to that got canceled this year.  Maybe a locale from cherished childhood memories.  Or even somewhere that you completely make up yourself-- a place of impossibly dramatic sweeping mountain views or infinite rolling hills of wildflowers.  Picture this place.  

  1. First, what do you see?  Close your eyes, breathe deeply, and imagine. 

  2. What do you hear?  Maybe there are birds flying above, maybe there’s music playing, or waves crashing or people laughing… Add in these details as you close your eyes and imagine again.

  3. What do you smell? Maybe it’s the scent of fresh-cut grass, or lilac bushes, or freshly baked bread or summer rain on hot pavement.... Add these in…

  4. What do you feel?  Maybe there’s sunshine on your face, or a light breeze through your hair, maybe it’s humid and the air is heavy and hot on your skin.... Add in these details, close your eyes, take deep breaths, and dream.  Sit quietly in your place and observe all of your sensations.  Stay a while.

Someone & Something

If you could be with anyone, doing anything, what would that be?  Perhaps with your partner (real or imagined) enjoying a romantic seafood dinner at a restaurant overlooking a balmy sunset on the Mediterranean.  Or maybe with a big group of your friends and thousands of strangers at a music festival, sweat dripping down your grinning face.  Maybe something as simple as being with your entire family at a backyard BBQ, hugging and laughing and lovingly making fun of each other.  

  1. What do you see? 

  2. What kind of sounds are you hearing? 

  3. What do you smell in the air around you?  Are you tasting anything?

  4. What do you feel?  Take note of the weather.  Notice if you are in contact with anyone.  How does their touch feel on your skin?  

  5. Combine all of these sensations, close your eyes, take deep breaths, and imagine.  Play out the day or the evening in your mind’s eye…

. . . 

Now that you’re back, tune into your body and notice any physical sensations or emotions that your imagination evoked.  Maybe there’s a sense of warmth, lightness, pleasure, or intimacy… there could also be some sadness or frustration that you’re not able to have those things right now.  That’s valid.  We’re not through the tunnel yet, but I can see a glimmer of light.  By allowing ourselves to imagine the joy that awaits at the end of the tunnel, we can buoy ourselves through the months to come.  While it’s not the real thing, your brain is in fact awe-inspiringly capable of conjuring the next best.  Next time you find your attention drifting from you in the middle of the afternoon… give yourself permission to dream again.  It’s time.