Jeremy Mohler

Writer and meditation teacher

4 steps to emotionally prepare for the coronavirus winter

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The air freezing. Wind gusting. Tumbleweeds rolling down my street. That’s what winter during a pandemic looks like in my mind.

I’ve read all the lists to prepare for a likely second wave of COVID-19. My workout routine is solid. Therapy is going well. I’m thinking about getting a flu shot. (Should I? Aren’t I just going to be alone inside all the time?)

But none of it feels like enough. Part of me is terrified about being even more isolated. Another part of me is in denial, like that meme with the dog saying, “This is fine,” as the house burns around him.

So I’m planning ahead — emotionally.

I know you’re busy with juggling work, family, and paying the bills, all while trying to survive a plague. But a little preparation will pay off come January when it’s 28 degrees and dark at 5:00 p.m.

Here’s how I’m preparing to emotionally weather the storm:

1. First, I’m keeping a list of emotions that come up when I think about winter.

There’s a teaching in Buddhism called “the two wings.” Just as a bird needs two wings to fly, we need insight and compassion to not only survive but thrive. We can’t rely solely on our thoughts or emotions.

Starting with the first wing — insight — I want to think clearly about the emotions.

The strongest feeling is loneliness. I’m already isolated because I’m single, because of COVID-19, because of our capitalist society. What will it be like alone on a Friday night in December? part of me worries.

The thought is terrifying. So, that’s another emotion: fear. I’m afraid of the unknown. So much so that part of me is that dog in the meme.

There’s also a sense of, I need to get this right. I need to prepare so that I never feel afraid or lonely. Part of me expects to be perfect. I’ll call that anxiety.

There’s also anger. I’m pissed at Trump, Mitch McConnell, Nancy Pelosi, and other political leaders for not taking better care of me and my friends. The government’s pandemic response has been socialism for the rich and capitalism for everyone else. That’s unsurprising — but it’s bullshit.

If I’m being honest, there’s also a tiny bit of curiosity. As an introvert, part of me enjoys the thought of extended time to myself. No pressure from social commitments. No unexpected visitors. What can I do with all that alone time?

There’s my list: loneliness, fear, anxiety, anger, and curiosity.

2. Next, I’m trying to accept that I feel these emotions.

This is the second wing: compassion. Psychologist and meditation teacher Tara Brach writes:

“We’re not trying to transcend or vanquish the difficult energies we consider wrong — the fear, shame, jealousy, anger — since this only creates a shadow that fuels our sense of deficiency. Rather, we’re learning to turn around and embrace life in all its realness — broken, messy, vivid, alive. This is the way out of trance: mindfully recognizing and bringing compassion to the parts of our being we have habitually ignored, pushed away, condemned.”

By “trance,” Brach means our tendency to avoid feeling the feelings. We numb ourselves with alcohol, food, masturbation, and other habits. We overwork, overeat, oversleep. We act out by getting aggressive or suppress our emotions by staying quiet.

Who wants to feel lonely, afraid, anxious, or angry? Who wants to feel all of them at the same time?!

So, I feel each one at a time. I feel how loneliness shows up in my body — a tenderness in my chest. What fear does to my vision. What anger tastes like.

I try my best to follow the advice of the 13th century poet and Sufi mystic Rumi:

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!

3. Then, I’m asking myself what each part of me needs to feel okay.

As Rumi says later in that poem, “Be grateful for whatever comes. Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”

What does the part of me that’s lonely need to feel? I ask myself. The answer that comes up: connection. I don’t necessarily need someone beside me all the time. But I regularly need to feel connected to something larger than myself. The lonely part of me needs nature, adventure, new food, art, mystery.

What does the afraid part need to feel? The answer: That it’s okay to be afraid. It just needs be told that everyone’s afraid right now, even if they aren’t showing it.

What about the anxious part?The part of me that wants to get this 100 percent perfect needs to be given some new projects. Particularly, projects where I’m a beginner and so perfection can’t be expected.

And the anger? This part of me needs to be engaged. How can I channel that anger into fighting for political and economic justice?

4. Finally, I’m using all of this to plan ahead.

To nurture my lonely part, I booked a couple weekend getaways to do some hiking. I’m also buying a fire pit for my backyard so I can have friends over when it’s cold.

To calm my fear, I wrote this blog post to see who else is worrying about the winter. If you got this far, you’re probably afraid too.

To soothe my anxiety, I’m buying a steel guitar so I can learn a new instrument. I’m finding new recipes to try. I’m setting some goals for researching my family history.

And to channel my anger, I’m getting involved in the local Democratic Socialists of America and planning to volunteer at food banks in my neighborhood.

It’s almost like there’s a little family inside of me that I have care for. Sure enough, there’s a form of psychotherapy called Internal Family Systems (IFS) that says just that. I’m a huge fan.

I’m trying to remember that the point of all this, as Brach wrote, is to “embrace life in all its realness — broken, messy, vivid, alive.” I’m not going to get it right.

We’re not going to get it right. And that’s okay.

I’m a writer, meditation teacher, and host of the Meditation for the 99% podcast. If you’d like to work with me on your meditation practice or being more mindful, reach out. Get my writing straight to your email inbox here.

Download my free ebook on starting and sticking with a meditation practice here.

It’s okay that you want Trump to die

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It’s okay that you want Trump to die from COVID-19. It’s also okay if you feel bad for him, like you would anyone suffering.

Your internal world isn’t social media. There’s no “right” or “woke” feeling. You’re probably not an elected representative or a corporate CEO. You don’t need to release a statement one way or the other.

There’s room inside of you for all your thoughts and feelings. Infinite space for resentment, sadness, anger, disbelief, apathy.

We forget this spaciousness when an emotion hijacks our nervous system — and these are particularly emotional times. A pandemic. Wildfires. Hurricanes. Unemployment. Evictions. Isolation. Massive change, yet lingering restlessness.

That restlessness woke me up last Friday at two in the morning. A friend had texted, “Trump has covid.” I anxiously (and excitedly) checked Twitter and Facebook.

When eventually my eyes closed, my mind churned. Part of me wanted Trump to die a slow, painful death for the pain he’s caused. But another part thought that was bad, wrong, immoral. Another part was anxious about losing sleep.

Yet fortunately, underneath all the thoughts, I didn’t feel the need to choose one over another. Instead, I felt the spaciousness. I felt compassionate acceptance. Everything I was feeling was okay.

Maybe it was the meditation I’d done before bed. Maybe it was the therapy session earlier in the week. Maybe it was luck. Who knows? The point is, conflicted feelings aren’t a problem.

It’s like that Japanese Zen Buddhist story about two monks watching a flag flapping in the wind. One says, “The flag is moving.” The other says, “The wind is moving.” Another monk overhears them and says, “Not the flag, not the wind; mind is moving.”

What difference does it make how we feel about the president’s health? It only changes how we feel inside. How we carry ourselves throughout the day. How we treat family, neighbors, coworkers, and friends. The stuff where we can make a difference.

That resentment you feel towards Trump (and capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy, etc.) is totally okay.

“If you’re feeling gleeful, making jokes about Trump,” wrote immigrant organizer Aly Wane. “Well, feel that. Anger at an oppressor/abuser is not only valid, it is healthy. It is a tool of survival.”

That love you also feel for all humans, that longing for all living things to be happy and free is totally okay too.

The more you allow thoughts and feelings to come and go without judging yourself or picking one over the others, the more focused and grounded you’ll be in the struggle for a better, safer, and fairer world — which will continue regardless of what happens to Trump.

I’m a writer, meditation teacher, and host of the Meditation for the 99% podcast. If you’d like to work with me on your meditation practice or being more mindful, reach out. Get my writing straight to your email inbox here.

Download my free ebook on starting and sticking with a meditation practice here.

How to cope with the emotional dumpster fire that is 2020

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I’ve been a broken record recently playing all the Pema Chödrön hits. But, get this:

[When] you wake up in the middle of the night with an anxiety attack and when you can fully experience the taste and smell of it, you are sharing the anxiety and fear of all humanity. People’s stories are different, their situations are different, but the experience is the same.

This pandemic just won’t end, will it? Wildfires. Hurricanes. Record unemployment. Winter around the corner. Two old men fumbling through an election, one of them a flat out racist, the other unwilling to stand for anything that would actually change people’s lives.

Everyone I know is suffering on multiple fronts. We repeat, mantra-like, “There’s just so much going on in the world.” Even pets are acting needier than usual.

But what Pema is getting at is: At least we’re not alone. We might be physically isolated. We might be tired of interacting through little boxes on screens. But we’re all feeling more or less the same emotions: anxiety, impatience, fear, anger, loneliness.

The trick is to just admit that they’re there. Don’t hide from them. Don’t beat yourself up for feeling them. Don’t take them as evidence that something’s wrong with you. Because your best friend, your neighbor, your postal worker feels them too.

My default move is hiding from uncomfortable feelings, stuffing them down and pretending everything’s fine.

But not the other day. During a group therapy session, someone teased me in a way that embarrassed me. Just like that I was 14 again, worried about what the girls in class think. My stomach squeezed up in that familiar way. I felt a million miles from the little boxes on the screen.

But because the group therapist had created such a safe space, another part of me felt secure, solid, stable. Instead of hiding, I was able to notice how curious I was. Wow, look how scared part of me is, I thought. I wonder what it was that triggered me. What if I just allow this discomfort to be here?

That’s what we have to try to bring to our inner world, that curiosity. That unconditional positive regard, as the psychologist Carl Rogers called it.

“People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be,” Rogers once wrote. “When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, ‘Soften the orange a bit on the right-hand corner.’ I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.”

Once I got curious and “fully experienced the taste and smell” of the embarrassment, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. I even was able to tell the group that I felt a little scared. They, of course, accepted me. I was less alone—less like a 14-year-old in gym class. Less like I’m the only person who’s afraid in the whole wide world.

Rogers, again: “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.”

Start small. You don’t have to work with your feelings about the pandemic, about Trump, about climate change, all at once.

Just try to stay by the fire a little longer when you feel that familiar tightness. When you’re feeling lonely on a Friday night. When your partner falls asleep without saying they love you. When your boss wants you to work late again.

Pema with the mic drop:

We can close our hearts to life to try to protect ourselves against difficult circumstances. Or we can let difficulties soften us and make us kinder and more open to what scares us. We always have this choice.

I’m a writer, meditation teacher, and host of the Meditation for the 99% podcast. If you’d like to work with me on your meditation practice or being more mindful in your life, reach out. Get my writing straight to your email inbox here.

Download my free ebook on starting and sticking with a meditation practice here.