My “life yet to live” is often a bumpy ride. In pursuing the healthful, joyful life I now live, I have opened many doors inside me that I was too afraid to open during much of my adult life. I now encourage emotional dynamics that began in my childhood and formed the backdrop of my adult life to make themselves known, so I can better alleviate them. On most mornings, I wake up filled with energy and optimism. This story about a recent morning wasn’t exactly filled with energy and optimism. Yet that’s why what happened, the experience that unfolded, was even more special to me.

On this particular morning, I wake up sleepy, feeling a bit grumpy and hassled. The launch of my book and website have added dynamics to my psyche and schedule for several weeks now that have changed my usual “time-rich” everyday life. Rather than try to block these feelings or “figure them out” or criticize myself for feeling this way, I let the feelings happen and connect to their visceral emotional sensations as I start my day. I know from past experience that this kind of mood is usually rooted in “inner” dynamics.  They need time and space to surface and resolve. The busy day ahead fills my inner world with low-level unease and anxiety. I begin my morning routine.

The first part of my morning practice, while still in bed, is a Heart Rate Variability (HRV) reading. Today’s reading is in the low 60s and well-balanced between sympathetic and parasympathetic. (The sympathetic nervous system decreases HRV, while the parasympathetic nervous system increases HRV.) My body and heart are rested and ready. I get up, take a few supplements, and lay down again to do a few minutes of breathing practices This breathing routine relaxes and energizes me at the same time. The anxiety is still there. I’m living with it, but it is uncomfortable.

Next is tea, matcha, or sencha with half a lemon (for detox) and my regular morning movement practice. This essential daily routine takes 15-20 minutes. It consists of gentle stretching and twisting, slow but effortful standing and sitting yoga poses, some deep squats and leg energizers, giant crosses, scorpion and mule kicks, downward and upward dog poses, and whatever else feels like it needs doing to be fully flexible and functional. I refer to this as “warming up the engine.” It is also a regular diagnostic check-in with myself. All this movement usually completely transforms my mood if I wake up grumpy. Today it has some effect, but the anxiety within me persists.

A few minutes later, on my second cup of tea, I noticed the Japanese maple in the small garden at the back of our house. Usually green, it has started to show the first signs of autumn as its leaves turn yellow and red. It is a beautiful sight, and a feeling of joy sinks deeply into me as I look at this favorite tree displaying its fall foliage. Due to my full schedule during the last few weeks, I hadn’t even noticed this change. And this moment delivers the gift that my anxiety has been directing me to acknowledge.

The launch of my book and website, the many tasks I need to complete to accomplish these significant goals, and the busier-than-normal schedule are only part of who I am. Most of me is not defined by all that work. The real wonder of my existence, the 90% of me that I take for granted, is my ability to experience that maple tree, in that moment, in a dance of joy.  The more I experience life this way, the more I want to live as long as possible and be as healthy as possible.

My anxiety helped me realize that in all my busyness I had fallen back on old patterns of worry about “success” in the book launch. I was also experiencing anxiety in confronting childhood patterns of not shining too bright a light on myself. My anxiety helped me see that I had lost connection with the wonder of me – how I got here, what makes me tick, what keeps me going, the sum total of how I now define my health. My experience of life itself mirrored in that tree and its own life force, the wonder of my flesh and blood, is at the heart of who I am, not my resume or accomplishments.

In my “old” life (before I prioritized and actively pursued physical, mental, and spiritual health), I tried to avoid anxiety. I believed it showed weakness and fear. I was supposed to be immune from those feelings or at least the master of them. I couldn’t show vulnerability.

In my “new” life, anxiety, while still uncomfortable, has shown me it is ultimately a friend and guide, leading me to a path that is freer and more genuine. No one ever became a good sailor in calm seas. For me, anxiety is the storm, once weathered, that leads me to more space, freedom, and understanding.

Now that I am older and have more time to contemplate life, I find that uncomfortable feelings can be a doorway that leads to more freedom and inner space. There are many more examples in my book. For me, they usually point to aspects of unresolved childhood dynamics. They have become dynamics as important as any physical health routine in appreciating myself and the wonder of life and health.