Open Sesame
What spins around in your brain at night as you try to fall asleep?
My swirling brain is a giant cesspool of thoughts.
A sludgy, unmoving, and dark pool of messiness. One thread of an idea births another, churning another idea, and another, and suddenly I’m spinning off into an imaginary, anxious world of things that I don’t want.
For instance, I might start out thinking: “Do I have time to get that PowerPoint done before my first call tomorrow?”, and next thing I know, I’m wondering, “How is my son going to find an affordable apartment near the city?” and “What if that tickle in the back of my throat is COVID?”
I sometimes catch myself.
I think, “Stop that. That thought is not helpful. Think something different.”
Sometimes it works. And sometimes it doesn’t.
Rachel Jane Groover, a fabulous coach I know, says a little prayer every night before she goes to bed: “Open the doors that are meant to open, and close the doors that are meant to close, fast.”
Imagine that, announcing to the universe, “I’m ready! Open the doors that are meant to open!”
And then don’t forget to add: “And close the doors that are meant to close fast.”
I love the idea of saying this affirmation before bed at night. It reminds us that we are the switch operator. We decide which train goes down which track. We decide what to couple or uncouple.
What railway cars do you want to uncouple in your own mind? What unhelpful caboose has hitched itself to you, one that you are dragging along?
The mind is a powerful thing, and we sometimes need some help in going where we want with it. Asking the universe for a little assistance can be a good idea.
Open wide those double doors to the rooms I want to spend my life in! Close fast the doors to those places that do not serve me.
This means spending not one second longer than I need to on an idea that doesn’t serve me. Unpair those worries that bring anxiety. Decouple those thoughts or ideas that do not move my life forward.
Imagine directing your mind as to what you want to open, especially before you go to sleep at night. Invite your spiritual guides or your God to visit you. Come see me tonight, Mom and Dad! Come see me, oh, favorite grandmother!
Or spend those last moments of awakeness planting a seed of something you do want.
As human beings, we spend far most of our time envisioning worse-case-scenarios—awfulizing that danger around the corner. It’s a self-protection mechanism. It’s what has kept us alive for thousands of years. But these days, a little door-opening, aspirational thinking can do all of us some good.
What doors are meant to open for you right now?
Or what doors need to gently close?
Our dreams at night are unconscious, involuntary processing of images, thoughts, and ideas. So why not have our last thoughts of the day be something worth blooming?