The Invisible Pendulum

By Caroline Giroux, MD

Winter, spring. Contraction, expulsion. New moon, full moon. Clinging onto, letting go. Anger, elation.

Looking at each one of these words, paired based on their antipodal, polarized nature, it is impossible to deny their ineluctable existence. We have all gone through some form of each one of these states. In fact, most — if not all — of the life phenomena, inside our bodies, our minds, and outside our beings, all around us, including human consciousness, can be viewed under the framework of contraction and expansion, the pace of which is dictated by some form of omnipotent, invisible pendulum.

Sadness, gratitude. Fear, hope. Exhale, inhale. Hoarding, purging. Constriction, dilatation. Ice, water. Irritation, awe.

Some of the phenomena can be viewed as neutral and complementary, one pole not being superior to the other, such as the contraction and relaxation of the heart muscle, since both actions taking place fully are necessary for optimal circulation of the blood and maintenance of life. A great illustration of a complication due to the heart’s inability to fully perform its role by properly oscillating between two extremes is pulmonary embolism from heart dysrhythmia called atrial fibrillation. The auricula beating too fast, the heart doesn’t have the chance to fully contract nor expand. Therefore, both polarities are essential for its healthy function.

It doesn’t feel as obvious in regard to certain emotional states though, such as sadness, irritation, or fear. In fact, these universal emotions have such a bad reputation that even to this day we aim to develop and take remedies to make us avoid them at all costs, only wanting the joy, the peace of mind, the euphoria. It is as if we wanted our heart to relax but never contract. Because this is what these unpleasant emotions are: they are dense, they are contracting our energies. But resisting this is bound to fail and create imbalances in our whole being.

Who wants to have an A-fib of the soul ?

For a harmonious flow and unfolding of life, we must oscillate, like a pendulum, between the two polarities. One is not more negative than the other, nor should one be avoided more than the other. What matters is to not stay stuck in either one. That’s when anti-depressant therapies are useful, when a melancholic state is so prolonged its grounding function doesn’t help propel the person’s energy.

To make matters even more complicated, the opposite, seemingly more appealing poles — such as joy and overflowing gratitude — are not to be inhabited constantly, either. People who suffer from a mood disorder called bipolar disorder or a severe psychotic illness might be prone to be stuck in the expanded state (taking the form of a manic, or grandiose delusional episode), which is also preventing them to come back to reality in order to function in our tangible world. Again, it is not the manic or psychotic state that is unideal (in fact, we have a lot to learn from people who have such expansive emotional states, as they can be teaching us about the interconnectedness of all beings, for instance), but rather staying stuck in it from an inability to oscillate harmoniously. It can even be damaging for the person — think about a person in a manic phase squandering all their assets out of generosity or compassion. To be functional and sustainable in our own life, we need to direct compassion to ourselves as well, which means saving money and resources for our own needs.

Losing perspective either during a major depression episode (seeing all of life under a very dark lens) or lacking practical judgment when making decisions without thinking about the consequences is not constructive. The insights that emerge through a perceptual shift should be utilized to enrich humanity’s life, and to do so there needs to be a more contracted state of the mind — grounding — and access to discernment that allows one to express ideas in a coherent manner.

Everything is cyclical, rhythmical, like ocean waves. Can you think of any phenomenon that doesn’t obey this contraction-expansion paradigm?

Storing, circulating. Flexion, extension. Envy, admiration. Resentment, peace.

How can we move more fluidly between those states, like the spring lying dormant in the soil of each winter, only to dissipate again?

Being self-observant is the foundation. Notice when you have a contracted state, in order to learn from it rather than to avoid or stay stuck in it. Use what grounds you as the foundation for the spring (or Slinky) that will expand your life energy. Being bedridden during an illness is forced grounding but can be counterbalanced by adding meditation practices or expressive outlets such as daydreaming, painting, writing poetry, or singing. And conversely, when we are too much in our heads, too stimulated to the point of lacking focus, we need to ground ourselves by coming back to our bodies to the present moment.

Anything that involves nature, movement, deep breathing and body awareness is potentially helpful. Our breathing is our anchor and is always available. It reminds us that we don’t need to force or oppose any of those states, they occur naturally, just like taking and exhaling a breath. Focused breathing brings us back into our bodies, while walking feels more grounding than sitting because most of us spend too much time being sedentary. As we walk, the movement becomes a noticeable change and brings us back as we put one foot on the ground after the other.

Using the four elements, as I discussed in a previous article, such as enjoying a fire or the motion of a river, is also an excellent form of grounding because the elements are a beautiful hyphen to the natural world and bring us back to earth.

As a psychiatrist, I am realizing the need to reconceptualize mental disorders as attempts to heal, or to rebalance the dysrhythmia of the soul. I had an epiphany recently upon hearing a patient describing her obsessive-compulsive tendencies. When she talked about the ritual of touching something a certain number of times, I associated it with the very common, luck-inducing behavior of knocking on wood. What if the closed fist touching wood, or an element, symbolized grounding the way the Earth absorbs a lightning bolt? By extension, what if every OCD-associated ritual (whether it’s counting, retracing one’s steps, repetitive handwashing, verifying multiple times) is the grounding energy equivalent to energy-draining obsessive thoughts?

Generally, none of the common behaviors reported by people suffering from such disorders is bad, per se. It is the excessive number of times the action is performed that becomes a hindrance to a harmonious and thriving life. To say it differently, it is when the polar extremes become dysregulated that it is considered a disorder, an imbalance, and must be attended to and recalibrated through interventions (either initiated by the person who is self-aware enough or with the assistance of a health professional).

Writing, for me, can be either grounding or expanding. Landing words on the page during blogging is generally grounding for me because it invites me to connect with the here-and-now, the felt experience of a recent meal or artistic project.

If the activity is more sensory than intellectual (paying attention to calligraphy, enjoying the sensation of a good pen on the soft page), then it is grounding, and I know it feels good if I have been stuck in my head that day. But writing about something that leads us in a direction we had not anticipated (especially if I type, which allows me to ‘’write’’ faster) or makes us more self-reflective, it feels also expanding, like writing this column.

Reading generally feels expansive if the content is elevating. If I am bored or if the content is procedural and requires that I redirect myself to focus, then it is grounding. I still haven’t figured out the best writing:reading ratio but I am working on it.

Self-observation and improved awareness allow me to enact the polarities with more discernment. I know when my head has reached a point of saturation and it is time to either go on a walk or write a stanza about my dilemma. If I go too long without writing (the walking of my pen), I feel out-of-balance, almost pre-sick... If I go too long without connecting with a good, eye-opening book, I feel like my universe (not to mention my cognitive capacity) is becoming more constricted. In sum, I need both, just like our soul needs the pulsation of the lower and higher vibrational states to feel fully alive!

Oh, and something else that can be grounding or make us feel really alive when there are some sanity emergencies: swearing! And the sharper the consonants, the better! There are even studies showing that swearing is good to cope with physical pain. I am lucky to have grown up in a culture with some creative combinations of such words. I discovered the liberating feeling from judicious use of the names of church objects later in adulthood. Quite grounding, indeed!