The earliest citation of the full phrase ‘be still, my beating heart’ comes from William Mountfort’s Zelmane, 1705: “Ha! hold my Brain; be still my beating Heart.”
This phrase is often used satirically, in the context of romantic attraction. But lately, my own pounding heart has gotten too much of my attention, as it seeks to amplify each and every anxious thought pattern and stressful circumstance. All is well physically, so it’s appropriate for me to apply some meditation techniques to calm the physical uproar. Checkbook off by a lot? Boom, boom, boom. Cat just puked on the rug? Boom, boom, boom. Car stalled out in rush hour traffic? Boom, boom, boom. Hard roads ahead for many of my loved ones? Boom, boom, boom.
Be still, my heart.
A daily reader I subscribe to, compiled by the Tricycle Buddhist Community, recently contained a message just for me. Here’s an excerpt:
“An introduction to the special section [on fear] by Pilar Jennings, Fall 2017:
“All feelings come and go, and are by their nature ephemeral. But if we don’t train our minds to see that, we end up riding life like the old roller coaster at Coney Island that threatened to hurl people from their seats every now and again…Fear can be a paralyzing experience. It robs us of peace of mind and our sense of self-control, and it blocks our ability to achieve the positive things we set out to do. It is a disturbing, negative emotion, especially when caused by confusion about what can actually harm us and what it means to be safe.”
The article goes on to describe specific methods to “create positive, constructive energy feelings in the body…they relax physical tension, soothe the nerves, and calm the mind when we are extremely frightened or worried, or when we begin to panic.”
For the sake of brevity, these methods center on breathing and visualization. For those who have tried meditation, this might sound familiar—noticing the breath and thinking of a positive image or experience. Before undertaking a formal meditation practice, these two recommendations sounded trite and superficial. Now, they are central to my practice.
When I began learning tai chi ch’üan, my teacher introduced her group of students to the lineage, by means of a wonderful book, Looking for the Golden Needle by Gerda Geddes. Ms. Geddes was a tai chi trailblazer; in fact, she was the first person to teach it in the UK after learning it in Hong Kong in the 1950s from renowned masters Choy Hak Pang and his son Choy Kam On.
In Looking for the Golden Needle, Geddes describes the breath and its importance to the practice of tai chi ch’üan. “When one has practiced for a long time, the process of breathing seems to take over and it becomes the most important part of the T’ai-chi Ch’üan. In fact, it feels as if the breath becomes the Master an d it does the T’ai-chi for you.”
In her own practice, Geddes did a set of opening breathing patterns as her only warm-up before the movements. For a long time, I did just the opposite. “I don’t have time to do the opening breaths,” my inner hurry-up self would say. “I’ll do them next time.”
I still don’t always do the whole series of breathings, but over time, I’ve come to recognize how the breath is always my friend and companion, softening my rough edges and bringing symmetry and ease to each movement. It is right there for me, especially in fear and its full range of aspects, from a momentary startle reflex to paralyzing error.
Breath is life. As I thought about how to strengthen my visualization technique, my mind landed on a beloved place. I was last there in the summer of 2020, on a hike to Thunder Lake, a beautiful spot in Rocky Mountain National Park. Sitting at the water’s edge, I panned my camera in a circle, like the traditional concluding gesture of gratitude at the end of a t’ai chi ch’üan session.
Back at home that night, I clicked on the video. Much to my surprise and delight, the audio had a message for me about breath. I could hear the gentle breeze, the waves lapping the shore, and a brief birdsong at the very end. It was a gentle reminder to me that my own heart and lungs, energy and movement carried the innate knowledge of how to respond in a quiet and joyful manner.
Here is the video, “Happy Feet,” and may your heart dance lightly!
