Zeva and Rachel's Anxiety Cleanse for Trying Times

Before moving to France I worked as a film researcher in NYC. My job was to scour hours of archival images in search of that special slice of recorded history for commercials, news programs, comedy shows and documentary films. 

My team created highlight reels whenever we had extra time. They were like mini works of art—curated streams of the most salient images we could find on a specific, often-requested subject. 

I loved making those reels. My favorites were “Time-Lapse Nature,” “Race to the moon,” “Early New York City” and, of course, “1970s Fashion.” But there was one reel that I made that changed my life forever: the "WWII” reel. 

We had recently received an unusual collection of amateur home movies shot in color in the mid 1930s in Vienna. The movies were taken mostly outdoors and showed the members of the family strolling around town, past storefronts, going to the park, playing in the fields. 

What was remarkable about the collection was that the color was so vivid and sharp, like it had been filmed just yesterday.  

But beyond the mesmerizing quality of the movies was the shocking content in the background.
 

It was the first time in my life that I saw swastikas and Jewish hate graffiti in their original colorful context. I didn't realize how integrated into daily life those warning signs had been. 

The pain of knowing what happened to millions of innocent families, including my own, just several years after these home movies were made was so hard for my heart to process. I think at that moment, I convinced myself that I wouldn't miss such warning signs. That if something catastrophic started to build up in my world, and threaten everything and everyone precious to me, I would notice. I would know what to do. I would know where to go. 

Fast forward to these past few weeks and the horrific unfoldings in Ukraine. My anxiety has been at a feverish high, so much so that my brilliant friend, Rachel, and I decided to do an “anxiety cleanse” during a weekend away.

During the ritual I realized that the beliefs I forged decades ago as a way to protect my deepest survivalist fears have been triggered by the current events. 

I'm sharing the ritual with you below, because it was so helpful for the two of us to move through the squeezing grip of anxious thoughts and into a more productive place—to weep, to connect, to take action. The fear of a looming catastrophe is still there but it’s no longer choking me. I can visualize the thoughts now behind a door with a big "Miserable Hellscape" sign. I know where they come from and where they will lead me. But I feel like I can keep that door closed (for now, at least) so that more constructive thoughts come my way. 

Rachel and Zeva’s Anxiety Cleanse for Trying Times

What you’ll need:

• One hour of uninterrupted time. 

• A trusted companion you can share your inner-most fearful thoughts with. (Someone with a soft heart and a strong back who can handle what you present them with and carry your burdens with you)

• A few sheets of paper that you can tear up into strips. 

• Pens

• Tissues

• Matches

Step 1:

Connect with the anxious feelings in your body, then write each anxious thought down on a separate piece of paper. I started each slip with the cue “I’m anxious about…” and then filled in the rest. Write as many thoughts as you want. There’s no limit. You don’t need to understand them. To justify them. To trace their lineage. Just get them down on paper. By the time you get to step #2 you should feel empty, like there are no more thoughts hiding in the attic of your mind. 

Step 2: 

Once you and your companion each have a nice pile of anxious thoughts in front of you, put 15 minutes on the clock (you can always opt for more time) and choose who will be reading and who will be receiving. 

Step 3:

Start the timer, take a deep breathe, and then read each separate thought out loud. Let any emotions rise to the surface. If you need a moment to pause, to cry, to breathe, take it. Have your companion ask additional questions in a search for patterns. What overall theme is appearing amid the thoughts? If you had to combine them together, label them, give them a title, what would you call them? 

Step 4:

Have your companion ask what life would look like without these thoughts pressing into you? What would that space allow you to feel? What would that space allow you to express? What would that space allow you to do? Share what comes up. Write down anything you need. 

Step 5:

Reverse roles and repeat the same process so that you are now in the receiving/listening/questioning role as your companion shares.

Step 6:

Collect your pieces of paper and find a safe space to burn them. Say a little prayer, or mantra, before you burn the thoughts. This was our prayer: “We choose to release these anxious thoughts, many of which were passed to us by previous generations as a way to protect us. We acknowledge and celebrate their wisdom, but choose to release them in order to make space for new, more hopeful and empowering thoughts to emerge.” 

Step 7:

If you’re feeling inspired, you can take the ritual a step further, and paint or draw a picture for your companion that captures the theme or energy that came up during your beautiful time together.