Lessons From A Snow Globe: The Practice of Leaving Your Distressed Thinking Alone

I keep a snow globe on my desk to remind me of two things: 1) how my mind works, and 2) what I’m made of (what’s inside me). You might think that a pile of five stacked rocks is an odd protagonist for a snow globe, but it resonates with me in four meaningful ways:​

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1. Balance. Although these rocks are obviously glued together, they create the illusion of balance. When I look at them, I can’t help but think, Deep inside myself and everybody else, a natural state of equilibrium exists. We may not feel it all the time, or hardly ever, but it’s there, and when we slow down and get quiet, we can feel it. 
2. Way-Finders. As a Girl Scout, I was taught to put stones on trails to prevent myself from getting lost; they pointed the way out of the woods. A natural force inside us does this too, an inner GPS, and if you listen closely, you’ll receive guidance about next steps, direction, where you are, where you’re going, and how to find your way home. 
3. Ancestors. In the Jewish faith, when people visit deceased loved ones in a cemetery, they place rocks or stones on the site instead of flowers because flowers die, and stones don’t. Stones are not living things, but they contain minerals that come from the same liquid and gas materials that formed the earth. Crystals (fossilized minerals) are believed to have a wide range of healing properties. When I consider this, I reflect on the fact that each of us have healing powers beyond our comprehension. A part of us is eternal and linked to the intelligence and knowledge of those who have come before us. We carry their wisdom and live in a field of superconscious energy that informs and guides us, even when we’re not aware of it. 
4. Ascension. The stones are ascending. They’re rising. This reminds me that we all have the ability, when things get tough, to rise above our circumstances, or to navigate them gracefully by ascending in consciousness. We have the capacity to pick ourselves up when we fall, to carry on, and to triumph.

But when life gets hard, hectic, and chaotic, as it often does, this happens:

The snow is our thinking. 

It becomes difficult to feel what’s beneath the storm of flurries and connect with our inner GPS. Instead, we become preoccupied with thoughts that are often negative and debilitating. These thoughts look very real, even scary, but they don’t reflect the truth—they reflect our insecure thinking, which is influenced by our judgments, expectations, resistance to what is, or our ability to give ourselves the love and compassion we all deserve. 

In other words, we live inside an illusion, constructed by thought, and we lose sight of who and what we are.

Our thoughts hijack our awareness and our attention. We engage with them as if they are true, but also as if they are solid, and not just specks that will naturally settle, if left alone. 

An agitated mind is crammed with “snow flurries,” thoughts that swirl around each other, disquieted. In this state, it’s impossible to grasp the truth about ourselves, which is that everything we seek resides within. We are whole and complete, and filled with wisdom and love. 

I tell my clients and students to wait out their thought storms. Trying to figure things out, or navigate from a disturbed place, exacerbates and prolongs negative states. And, unfortunately, this is when we most want to try to figure things out—when we’re in distress.
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It can be useful to distract yourself with a book, TV, art, exercise, or some other diversion. These things help you wait out the storm. But it’s liberating to know that the storm will pass all by itself if you leave your distressed thinking alone. 

When you give your perturbed thoughts a little space, they will settle all by themselves, and your equilibrium will be naturally and effortlessly restored. It’s part of our miraculous, human design.