There’s no cow on the ice

Surprised by mindfulness: Learning to breathe through pain and other challenges

Bun in a contemplative pose

There’s an old Swedish saying — There’s no cow on the ice¹ — There’s nothing to worry about. Relax!

Now, a cow on the ice is something to worry about:

Cows, not the daintiest of beasts, nor particularly fleet of foot, will easily fall through the ice. And so, a cow on ice is a worry. If there’s no cow on ice? Well, just enjoy your pickled fish and glögg (mulled wine).

Intellectually, I know that most of my worries do not rise to the Cow On Ice level. Practically, I still need a lot of help. The crush of pain and medical obligations overwhelms me most days and leads me to believe that all the cows are on the ice all the time. All those cows on the ice push me to utter exhaustion. Much like this dog.

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Adventures in conscious breathing

My usual tricks — diet, sleep, exercise — were not enough for me to cope with pain and exhaustion. I knew that mindfulness and conscious breathing might help. Focusing on the precious present through breathing might assist me in clearing away regret about the past and anxiety about the future. Regret and anxiety — twins that tend to exacerbate my pain.

From Thich Nhat Hanh in Peace Is This Moment:

We must make the present moment the most wonderful moment of our life, because it’s the only moment available to us.

I had flirted with meditation and mindful breathing in the past but had not adopted a consistent practice. My “practice” until recently was almost accidental.

In the fall of 2021 — before I knew I had cancer — I visited an ophthalmologist to have a small benign growth removed from my lower eyelid. The procedure required me to keep my eye wide open as the doctor worked. It was not painful. He had numbed the area, and I perceived only some pressure and tugging. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t characterize the episode as easy or enjoyable. I had been practicing short daily meditations at the time and quickly relied on breathing to help me stay still. I praised myself for maintaining composure. Little did I know what was in store for me, how my composure would be tested in the coming months. This episode at the eye doctor was child’s play in comparison.

Several surgeries, 50+ IVs, and hundreds of needle sticks later, I had another breathing epiphany. I was at the wound clinic, prone, getting my wound vac dressing removed. Because new tissue had grown in to the dressing, removing the dressing was exceedingly painful. Medieval, some might say. I had been crying out during these sessions. One day, I decided that crying Ow, or No, or This hurts so much only reinforced how painful it was. I decided to take deep breaths instead. Focusing on my breath worked. I still experienced pain, but I wasn’t frantic and so the pain did not seem as severe.

Training myself to breathe

I have continued conscious breathing whenever I’m facing painful procedures in the wound clinic. Could I breathe through pain at other times as well? I was determined to test the theory and remembered an insightful article by Cristina Moon. In it she emphasizes the value of training and has this to say about the study of Zen:

…our approach could be described as more "body first." We spend a lot of time teaching people how to sit, breathe, and use their bodies. While we do incorporate textual study, it's only later on.

I had an aha moment when I read the post. I saw how my western adult mind preferred learning by reading. I recognized how I often considered my physical self an afterthought. I thought that if I understood the concept in my mind, I didn’t need to bring my physical self along. But learning breathing by reading — without including my body — is absurd! I needed to train and so sought out breathing exercises.

The book Fear by Thich Nhat Hanh came to my rescue with a series of four breathing exercises that focus on the body. I started training with this set of four for a refreshing 10-15 minute interlude.

Exercise 1: Recognizing my in-breath and out-breath

Breathing in, I know this is an in-breath.

Breathing out, I know this is an out-breath.

Deceptively simple, yet powerful, this exercise helps me focus on my breath instead of on the river of thoughts in my head. I don’t need to say all of the words above but instead say this to myself as I breathe:

In-breath | Out-breath

Or

In | Out

Starting with this exercise usually centers me and sets the stage for the next exercise. Sometimes I don’t even move past this one.

Exercise 2: Following my entire breath

Breathing in, I follow my in-breath all the way from the beginning to the end.

Breathing out, I follow my out-breath all the way from the beginning to the end.

Following my breath this way builds concentration. The ability to concentrate is important as I train my mind to be more aware of the present moment, not caught up in the past or worried about the future.

Hanh writes:

Mindfulness carries within it the energy of concentration, and with concentration, conditions are ripe for insight to manifest at any moment.

When I follow my breath, I enjoy longer, deeper breaths, and say to myself:

In-breath beginning to end | Out-breath beginning to end

Since I started these breathing exercises, I’ve noticed an increased ability to focus longer on other activities, such as reading. I’m less distracted by notifications on my electronic devices. I’m not as drawn to the illusion of multitasking. I don’t always include other forms of stimulation — like podcasts — as I complete household tasks. I am more engaged in conversations with others.

Exercise 3: Becoming aware of my whole body

Breathing in, I’m aware of my whole body.

Breathing out, I’m aware of my whole body.

This exercise is especially interesting to me as I would have thought that I was hyper aware of my body! Upon reflection, I realize that I often ditch my body in my rush to accomplish something or my desire to escape something.

Hanh characterizes the objective of this exercise as a reunification of mind and body:

Perhaps you’ve abandoned and neglected your body for some time. You may not have taken good care of your body in the way you eat or the way you work. So this is a moment when you bring your awareness back to your body and care for and reconcile with your body.

As I’ve practiced breathing and mindfulness, I am also aware of how my thoughts about my body are often negative:

• Why is my wound taking so long to heal?

• Will the pain ever go away?

• When will my colon stop being inflamed?

• Every day is the same; nothing is changing; I will never be well again.

When I take a mindful approach to body awareness, it’s easier for me to look at the painful thought or feeling and soften it so that I love and care for my whole self, even my wound and my colon.

Exercise 4: Becoming aware of and releasing pain and tension

Breathing in, I’m aware of some tension and pain in my body.

Breathing out, I calm and release the tension and pain in my body.

I name the area of pain when I practice this exercise and say something like this to myself:

I am aware of leg pain. | I calm and release my leg pain.

This is the exercise that caught my eye initially as I wanted something to help me deal with physical pain. At first I wanted to skip right to this one exercise. I decided to try the set of four instead and am so glad I did. When I prepare myself with the first three exercises, I’m more likely to experience relief from pain and tension with the fourth exercise.

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Bun chilling out between frozen water bottles.

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Mindful breathing isn’t magic

Mindful, conscious breathing doesn’t magically eliminate pain. In fact, it’s taken me a long time to publish this article, because I wasn’t practicing mindful breathing as much as I’d like. Instead, I have been caught up in a cycle of negative thinking. My judgmental self doubted that mindful breathing could break through the negativity. So I opted for a cookie or another YouTube video instead.

My expectations have also stood in the way. When I set out on this course, I envisioned myself meditating every day on a schedule. Like an aspiring monk, I would sit for hours in a meditative state. I would be happy and grateful at all times. This didn’t pan out.

What has helped me establish (and re-establish) the habit has been sleeplessness. Instead of checking my email or turning on a podcast when I can’t sleep, I sit at the edge of my bed and run through breathing exercises. At first this felt awkward, and then I realized that I could enter the meditation zone after five or ten minutes. Glorious.

Many days I turn to my breath often and easily. Waiting in a doctor’s office used to be frustrating, a time for mindless scrolling on my phone. Now I’m more likely to close my eyes and breathe. If I find myself in the midst of an uncomfortable conversation, I focus on my breath (with my eyes open). If I notice that I am replaying an awkward interaction in my head, mindful breathing can help me to move on.

The opportunities for mindful breathing are endless, reminding me that more often than not there are no cows on the ice.

1. Thanks to Gloria for finding this wonderful resource of idioms, including Not my circus, not my monkeys (not my problem) and Stretch your legs as far as your blanket extends (live within your means, know your limits).