The Safety Filter Is Two-Way

It’s the most basic instinct we have: be on guard in a new situation, with new people, or on the cusp of transition and change. It’s what allowed our ancestors to survive and reproduce to get our genes this far. It’s an effective strategy to stay alive.

There are varying levels of this guardedness. Some of us are so guarded that we avoid social situations altogether, or we stay in the same job for years despite having had a desire to leave it for a while. On the other extreme, some of us seem to have no guardedness at all. Perhaps we’re very comfortable in new situations, maybe even seeking them out for the thrill of it.

This neurobiological directive - to keep ourselves relatively safe - is like a veil or a filter. Some part of our nonconscious thinking is always measuring, calculating, and interpreting the sights and sounds coming in to help us minimize risk. As shown in the diagram below, the filter assesses everything we sense from "out there"; then, without us even noticing it most of the time, the filter passes along an approved version of reality that helps ensure our safety.

And the filter is two-way: it also measures, calculates, and considers any impulse or desire we feel from within to put something out there. Something we might say or do, if it puts us in too much risk, also gets filtered out before we can express it. That's where this feeling of wanting to say something or wanting to do something gets blocked and we find ourselves playing it safe in new situations, with new people, or in times of transition or change.

Minimizing risk is a good strategy. But it also gets in our way. Can you think of times when you would’ve rather spoken up or taken an action than play it too safe?

Mostly, we don’t need to play it as safe as we do. The risk isn’t nearly as risky as our instincts will have us believe. In fact, the rewards of acting in spite of our guardedness - connection, authentic expression, and love - are often worth the risk.

Here are two ways to break through the risk-limiting thoughts, judgments, and beliefs that are also typically self-limiting:

Do something different. Our “allowed options” that make it through our filter are really just habitual responses that we’ve formulated over the years of responding in the same way. Take a different action. Do something different.

Notice and shift the shape of your body. I don’t mean think about what you look like from the outside. I mean feel into your body. How we hold ourselves, set our posture, breathe, and so on - this is also part of our habitual response to the world outside. Notice the shape of your body, and then shift it to align more with how you want it shaped. Or just simply shift it. Stand in a different way, hold your head at a different tilt. Breaking physiological habits can open new avenues for being and acting.

We are creatures designed to survive, and minimizing risk is a really good survival strategy. However, most of our perceived risks are no where near as risky as we think they are. If you’re called to do it, break through your habitual responses to express yourself more authentically.

Thanks so much for reading. ❤️

Sources for images: figures, sunglasses, eye, filter.

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By the way, my workshop for adolescents and my workshop for adults are both beginning next week! Consider joining me and sharing with someone who may be interested! In each workshop, we'll develop a deeper understanding of our how we see the ourselves and the world so we can unlock authentic self-expression no matter the circumstances.

Trusting Our Inner Genius

Years ago I had a student who sat in his chair thinking and thinking about the next step in his design project. Everyone else in class was at work on their projects, but this student was stuck. So I told him to get up, go outside, and try not to think about the project. Just look around at the buildings and at nature, try to notice their detail, and something will come to him.

I then learned about the difference between focused and diffuse thinking (this site gives a great overview of the two modes):

• Focused thinking is the engaged, intentional type of thinking. When we’re actively trying to remember someone’s name, or trying to solve a challenging problem, or studying a textbook for class.

• Diffuse thinking, on the other hand, is mostly below our awareness. Diffuse thinking runs in the background. When answers or ideas spontaneously come to mind, like in the shower or while going for a run, that’s diffuse thinking at work.

Both types of thinking work together to help us develop understanding. Most of us, however, don’t use diffuse thinking nearly as much as we could. We either don’t know about it, don’t trust it, or we have become too practiced in valuing focused thinking over diffuse thinking.

This post is not about how we think. It’s about trust. Whether we’re studying for an exam or trying to make a decision, a major part of our thinking occurs when we stop intentionally thinking about the object of our focus.

Trust your capacity to solve big problems. Trust insight to show itself. Trust that you’ve got an inner wisdom, an inner GPS, that is always operating in the background. Relying more on that background, diffuse, nonconscious thinking is not only an effective strategy, it also feels good.

And trust that your students, friends, and family have this inner guidance too. An inner genius. An inner sage. An inner GPS.

Stillness is an access to insight. So after you’ve done all the focused, conscious thinking that you think needs to be done, take a walk, breathe deep, notice some detail in nature, and let your inner genius with its diffuse thinking handle the rest.

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By the way, my workshop for adolescents and my workshop for adults are both beginning next week! Consider joining me and sharing with someone who may be interested! In each workshop, we'll develop a deeper understanding of our internal GPS so that thoughts and feelings become the valuable, pleasurable, and miraculous assets they're meant to be.

Driving Straight into Lake Scranton

There’s an episode of The Office television show where two characters, Michael and Dwight, are following Michael’s GPS to get to a client, and the GPS tells them to turn right. Michael interprets the GPS as saying they need to turn immediately, whereas Dwight interprets the GPS as saying they need to turn in a short distance. Michael turns the car immediately, following what he thinks the GPS is telling him, and they end up driving straight into Lake Scranton.

We tend to listen to our feelings and thinking like they’re a GPS guidance system that points us in the correct direction to head. When we’re feeling anxious, we question ourselves or others. When we’re feeling angry, we get louder, more intense, and self-righteous. When we’re feeling ashamed, we cover up and hide. And so on.

When we or our kids are in actual danger, following the GPS system without question is definitely the right thing to do. It’s what gets us yelling to our kids to get out of the street, throwing our arms out to catch ourselves when we fall, and sending anger at someone to tell them something isn’t okay with us.

Mostly, though, just like Michael, we’re misinterpreting our GPS. Here are the two critical instructions regarding our internal GPS that we likely never received:

1. Our feelings almost always point to our thinking. When I’m frustrated with a colleague, it’s actually my thinking that’s causing the feeling of frustration, not my colleague. When I’m angry with my kids, it’s my thinking that’s causing the feeling of anger, not my kids. When I’m feeling anxious or afraid, it’s my thinking that’s causing the feeling of anxiety and fear, not the object of my fear itself.

So often we drive into our own Lake Scranton because we misinterpret our frustration, anger, fear, or other feelings as instructing us to act in a particular way, such as to gossip, yell, or cower. Yet those feelings are only indicator lights pointing us to our thinking itself and not to an external reality that we need to respond to with any particular action.

2. There’s nothing special about any particular thought. We are always thinking. We’ve even got thoughts about our thoughts. We’ve got thoughts that we can see and hear in our minds, and we’ve got thoughts that are so subtle they just seem like part of external reality itself. These two kinds of thinking are called conscious and nonconscious thinking.

But some thoughts seem sooooo real. She really is conniving and mean! He really doesn’t care about the extra work that makes for me! I'm a phony, and I'm clearly not ready for this!

Much of our thinking we so easily grab onto as fact, and some of our thinking we hang onto for dear life as if even questioning its validity would have us die.

No matter which thought it is, however, thought is usually an automatic interpretation. Each thought is a burst of electrochemical activity in our brain that looks interesting enough for us to hang on to for a bit. And so we stare at our thinking like Michael stared at his GPS screen, and like Michael, we miss what's actually happening.

Get thought as the automatic interpretation that it is, and it becomes less compelling. Get feelings as indicators on the GPS, and they become less compelling. In either case, try to relax and pay attention to what's actually happening before you react. After all, it's often more preferable to avoid the mess in the first place than it is to have to clean up after it happens.

What's the Lake Scranton you've driven into recently?

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By the way, my workshop for adolescents and my workshop for adults are both beginning in less than two weeks! Consider joining me and sharing with someone who may be interested! In each workshop, we'll develop a deeper understanding of our internal GPS so that thoughts and feelings become the valuable, pleasurable, and miraculous assets they're meant to be.