My husband and I both love a good horror movie, so the weeks leading up to Halloween are always a treat. We pull out the projector, turn off the lights, grab some yummy snacks, and voilà: there follows a marathon of super-spooky cozy evenings. Now, from a Buddhist perspective, engaging in such activities could be viewed as unwise. After all, if the goal is to nurture wholesome qualities, then filling one’s senses with terrifying sounds and images is probably counter-productive. This isn’t something I consider when I indulge in my guilty pastime. Give me ghosts, killer clowns, a scary little demon child . . . all these things terrify me, but in the best possible way. And once the lights go back on and my adrenaline dissipates, I can happily resume everyday life. Yet on the odd occasion, things do not go to plan: I recently woke up bombarded by horrific visions from a particularly realistic and gruesome slasher I had watched the night before. Try as I might, I could not go back to sleep and had to resort to various coping mechanisms to cool my agitation.
Having a daily meditation habit is a lifesaver. The simple act of landing in a dedicated space where I routinely befriend myself feels soothing. While the difficult thoughts that night did not magically disappear, the environment and the way I positioned myself acted as a helpful antidote to my agitation by signaling that everything was ultimately all right. This fertile ground enabled me to openly investigate my state of mind and safely practice letting images and thoughts come and go, without rejecting or clinging to them. I then spent time locating the emotion of fear in my body. Noticing that it was nestled in my central back area, just above the kidneys, released some of the emotion’s hold on me. From there, I was able to become really curious about the specific sensations in my back, including their texture, depth, and width. As I followed their natural flux, I was reminded that everything is impermanent. This knowing enabled me to feel a sense of spaciousness and detachment from the gruesome images that flooded my mind.
While meditation can provide a safe antidote to distress, I am highly aware that sitting still with my thoughts, emotions, and bodily sensations can sometimes make things worse. This is because our bodies are biologically programmed to enter the flight-flight-freeze response when they perceive a threat, whether real or imagined. And expecting my body to sit still while it believed itself to be pursued by a serial killer was a hard ask. When this is the case, I tend to engage in grounding practices that are soothing to the nervous system, including: the Five Senses Exercise, through which I notice five things I can see, four things I can feel, three things I can hear, two things I can smell and one thing I can taste; visual orienting, in which I let my gaze land on especially pleasant objects in my surroundings; or self-touch, which can involve hugging myself or gently tapping various parts of my body. These methods allow my nervous system to take stock of the current situation and regulate itself. There may be images running wild in my mind, but my body recognizes that I am, in fact, safe in the here and now.
When none of the above work, it is time to engage in some playful interruption. One way of doing this is through physicality. It is generally accepted that our posture impacts our mood, and that moving in unexpected ways can challenge the status quo. Instead of withering in bed at the mercy of scary thoughts, it could be helpful to assume a strong yoga stance, go for a brisk walk, rock out to a favorite song, or let out a powerful cry. This allows the body to shake off tension and dislodge pent up energy. It also provides a sense of empowerment and freedom that reverberates physically and emotionally. If spontaneous movement feels too outlandish, there are other ways to actively engage in interruption: dread and fear can be counteracted with humor and silliness, so why not pull a prank on a loved one, watch a comedy, play-wrestle with a furry pet, or call a funny friend? Whatever the situation, there is no need to wallow in distress; it is possible to find comfort amid scary thoughts.
Of course, taking preventative measures and avoiding exposure to situations that are overly triggering is an important part of self-care. Does this mean that I am putting an end to my horror-movie marathons? Absolutely not. But I am willing to compromise and will be staying clear of films that are particularly realistic in nature. Hopefully sticking to fantastical horrors will protect my nervous system while also giving me a healthy kick of adrenaline—my cheeky version of the middle path.
Nina Müller is a mindfulness practitioner who offers online mindfulness coaching sessions. If you would like to find out more, please visit The Mindful Practice to book a complimentary consultation.
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