Calm from chaos

I am a strong believer in the importance of travel, for many reasons. I think that it is possible to learn a whole lot in very little time while traveling. I also just really love to travel which makes me lean into the wisdom that can be cultivated in this space a bit more. This trip to Guatemala is no different than the other trips I have taken. It is shifting the foundation of the earth I stand on, in the best of ways.

Recently, the friend that I have been traveling with for the past two weeks, returned home. I am back in solo travel mode, one I know well these days. As I was standing waiting for a shuttle to pick me up to head to the beach, I began to notice how my body was feeling. To my utter surprise, I felt calm…Something I never thought I would feel while traveling alone in a foreign country.

I may often exude calmness in my day to day life but to be fully transparent, calm is not a way I would have described my inner world in the past. I used to be incredibly good at masking the messy and chaotic feelings I contained with a calm exterior. I would go as far to say this was a gift of mine, to stay calm no matter what I was actually experiencing.

This talent served me well at times and very often served others, but it was always energetically exhausting. It takes a lot to appear calm during moments of chaos. Imagine the effort to keep a ship from rocking while in the middle of a storm. I’m learning that I find value in my ability to stay calm which has impacted my perception of chaos. I lived a large portion of my life thinking messiness was unacceptable and the only proper way to be was calm and collected at all times.

I know I am not alone in this belief. Our culture loves put together people. In many ways, we are all striving to look and appear perfect, at all times. I have deconstructed this belief many times over the past few years but it still rattles me. I get caught in this old way of thinking far too often.

While traveling, this shows up in an interesting way for me. Transitions are tricky for me. Going from the security of having another person with you to being alone is tough. Especially when this is combined with a transition to a location that is new to me. I used to work myself up quite a bit in moments like this. I wouldn’t sleep well the night before, my daily poop would be missing (which if you know me, you know a daily poop is practically a sacred act!) and my head would be anxiously spiraling through all the possible scenarios that may pop up in the future. While all this was happening, of course I was still making the effort to appear cool and calm.

My mind would name all of these bodily sensations as chaos, an unacceptable thing according to that same mind. I’m a seasoned traveler, I should be able to stay calm in situations like this. What is wrong with me? Why does my body always respond in this drastic of a manner? All these questions and accusations would create an odd sense of shame around these reactions. Reactions, that I know now, are actually incredibly normal during transitions.

As I am becoming a better listener to my body, I am gaining so much insight to what travel does to our physical form. Every part of our being loves the familiar. A consistent sensory experience equates to a calm world within our mind and body. Newness of travel, as fun as it can feel, is also an intense sensory experience. Every part of our sensing body is heightened when we are in a novel environment. This is innately how our nervous system works. It wants to learn and understand where we are at all times to make sure we are safe. Newness is always perceived as a threat. This kicks us up to our fight or flight response.

That sounds drastic, especially to those of us who thrive in novel and exciting environments, but hear me out. At first I came to the conclusion that it is impossible to have a regulated nervous system while long term traveling. I thought, because our body will always be heightened in new environments, sending us towards a state of fight or flight, that regulation must not be possible during transitions and traveling. I decided that long term travelers might simply have a heightened baseline. They may believe that it is normal to live in a constant state of fight or flight. It feels good to their bodies to have an intense sensory environment and calm feels unfamiliar.

But as I was standing on the street corner, in the middle of a transition that should have pushed me into my fight or flight response, feeling more calm than ever, I changed my mind. I was reminded that a regulated nervous system is not always calm. A regulated nervous system, in part, requires a mind that allows rather than judges. A mind that understands that there are moments that upregulation is necessary, normal and beneficial. That every state is natural and a part of our bodies response for a reason.

I used to hold the belief that if I felt the messiness of a fight or flight response, I was doing something wrong. I used to think that I should hide my internal experience behind one that appeared calmer. This attempt to deny my bodies experience led to further conflict and discomfort. When our body is denied communication, it figures out a way to be heard.

What happens if someone whispers to you while you’re in a noisy environment? You won’t be able to hear them. It is only when they shout that you will begin to understand. This is how our nervous system operates. If subtle doesn’t work, direct and loud usually does.

This moment, of feeling a true sense of calm, where I used to pretend calm but actually feel chaos, taught me a lot. It reminded me that the most important thing we can do most of the time is to listen. Our body does not want to shout, it wants to whisper. When we can listen to the whispers and acknowledge the sensory experience of our body, we can return to calm quicker. When our body does not have to resort to shouting, it is significantly happier.

It also reminded me that a resilient nervous system is the goal, not a calm one. But, when we cultivate resilience, we find calm more often. I have had constant reminders of the importance of discomfort and dysregulation recently. That these are not things to be labeled as bad or wrong. They are simply lessons to improve communication. When we learn to tune into the whispers and meet ourselves in that space, it reassures our mind and body that we are going to listen. Listening almost always leads us towards calm as confusing as that can feel.

It was a humble reminder that I have grown and changed a lot and that means my opinions can change and grow too. Chaos isn’t bad and calmness isn’t good. They both are experiences we will have. When we allow our body to express and communicate both, we cultivate a level of trust that is unparalleled. Masking or hiding our internal world, as helpful as it seems at times, is nearly always a disservice to myself and the world at large.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately how one of the best things we can do for our nervous system is to cultivate trust within ourselves. This was another experience that reminded me of its importance. When I work to allow my external and internal worlds to match, the volume of everything decreases. When I stop hiding the messiness of life, somehow life gets a little less messy. It doesn’t make sense, but it absolutely does.

My body is still having to adjust to a new environment, it is still heightened as I transition to a new space as a solo traveler. But because I am learning to let my body guide the experience of my mind without judgement, everything has softened. Honestly, it is breaking my brain a bit in the best of ways. I used to work so hard to use my mind to control the experience of my body, I didn’t know an alternate reality existed.

It does. Not just for me, but for anyone. Bottom line is, calmness is created from allowing chaos to come, and then to go. Without control. Only trust.