HABIT: Minding the G.A.P.
Full confession: They had me at hello.
You know those books? Choose Your Own Adventure, they were called.
My memory of them is visceral. The feel of the creased paperback cover in my eager hands as I flipped from one section to the next.
You could pick the ending to each plot twist, based on your own whim.
The magic of those stories speaks to the way our habits set the stage for our own plot twists.
Think about it. When it comes to the way we show up in life, habit is often the very reason we forget to show up at all.
I got curious about the word habit the other day. You know what I discovered?
Like any good word that’s worth defining, it has the meaning you’d guess, according to Oxford. It’s “a settled tendency or practice.”
And then it has the OTHER definition. The one that maybe we’re meant to find all along.
Are you ready for this one?
It’s a verb. Habit means “to clothe.”
That’s right. It’s all about your wardrobe.
In case you haven’t read Marie Tando’s Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, then allow me to loan you this:
When faced with an overstuffed closet, she recommends picking up every piece of clothing.
Getting quiet. Asking yourself, How do I feel when I put on this shirt? Constricted? Relaxed? Ready to take on the world?
Then, she says, discard the ones that no longer serve you. It’ll make more space in your closet for the clothes that suit you best.
What if we have the choice to clothe ourselves with habits that bring us back to life?
And what if, like in the books, we really can choose our own endings?
Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist Dr. Viktor Frankl had something to say about this.
After internment in a World War II concentration camp, he published a book called Man’s Search for Meaning.
Here’s one of his sentiments:
“Between stimulus and response there is a space.
In that space is our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
If you’ve ever been to London, chances are you’ve taken a ride on the London Underground. Signs are posted throughout the station to “Mind the Gap.” They alert passengers to watch their step while crossing from the platform onto the train.
It makes you wonder how different things might look if we minded our own gaps before reacting out of habit to life’s triggers.
So go ahead. Purge that overstuffed closet full of old habits.
When you find the space to choose your response to whatever life brings, you step into the power, freedom, and growth awaiting your discovery.
Here’s to choosing your own adventure.
Minding the G.A.P.
1. Give yourself permission to take a deep breath.
As it turns out, your body has a reset button, much like that obscure switch on the back of your old computer for when it crashes.
This reset button is activated by your breath, compliments of the body’s nervous system.
Every time you deepen and slow your breath, you get the help you need to calm yourself.
Your freshly oxygenated blood clears your thinking.
You’re granted a little bit of space in the racing pace of the day.
2. Ask yourself how this moment is landing for you.
It’s so simple; it’s astonishing.
Stopping long enough to check in with yourself rarely occurs to you when you’re cranking through life on autopilot.
You can get curious about how you’re actually doing at any given moment.
And after you’ve asked, you might just pause and really listen to whatever arises.
3. Practice Presence.
Why practice? Because making space between what’s triggering you and how you’ll respond takes practice.
We’ve got enough brain scans on deck to know that this kind of habit work actually rewires the neural circuitry in our brains.
As Hebb’s Rule reminds us, “Neurons that fire together wire together.”
Your brain is a sponge for the new learning that comes through repetition.
And once you’ve practiced breathing and checking in with yourself, you get present.
Present to the sound of the breeze stirring the tree branches. To the bursting flavor of a peach. To the sight of creased cheek lines in an unabashed smile.
Most of all, you practice presence to serve the fleeting moments of this beautiful life.
An edited version of this article was first published by POST Rochester Magazine. Reprinted by permission.