Steve Bivans

Author, Coach, Urban Viking

Tag: overthinking

Beating Anxiety: Overthinking Whirlpools of Piss

My good friend, Meredith Arthur, better known as The Beautiful Voyager, asked me awhile ago to put together a one stop shop on my articles that have to do with overthinking, beating anxiety, and what I call my Waring Blenders of Dog Shit n Crackers, and the Whirlpools of Piss.

Only a few months ago, I had no idea that I was an ‘overthinker,’ apparently a sub-category of people who suffer from anxiety or stress that causes physical symptoms. But thanks to Meredith, and her insightful articles and audio waves on Anchor, I have come to the realization that I am indeed and over-fuckin-thinker.anxiety overthinking

I’ve been writing about my struggle for a couple of years or so now, and since she thinks it might be helpful to put all of those articles in one place, I’m going to do that now.

I may come back and add new ones as I write them, or as I stumble upon old ones that I think have some relevance to the topic.

I will start with my longest series of articles: The Tick Tock series, which began as an examination of my brain-spinning mind. It has always been a natural thing for me to poke fun at my own inanities and idiosyncrasies, and this series does that in spades. So, if you’re easily offended by those who make fun of something of which you suffer, don’t read this shit; it will only piss you off, and stress you out further.

Also, if the word FUCK makes you want to cross yourself and cower in a corner, you might not want to read my stuff. If, however, you were born in a Naval family, or on a dock somewhere and you still maintain some semblance of a sense of humor, forge ahead with abandon. I did. [All of these are also in audio format, so you can listen while you drive, work, or shower]

The Tick Tock Series: Beating Anxiety, Overthinking, Tick Tocking, & Blenders of Dog Shit n Crackers, and Swimming Out of Whirlpools of Piss

  1. Tick Tock, Not Enough Time on the Clock: On the wonders of my overthinking brain: an intro if you will.
  2. Bye Bye Coercion, Hello Mr. Dao: Letting the Seeds of Shireness Grow. And so we dive into Eastern philosophy in search of a cure.
  3. Past n Future, Rats n Roaches. Where I look at the roots of brain-spin and overthinking, in the slippery world of time. This one gets pretty fuckin’ deep.
  4. Slow Down Dog Shit n Crackers! A breakthrough! Thanks to some Zen masters, I managed to at least slow down my overthinking and brainspin.
  5. Seeking Zen for the Unbendy, and the Dao of Dishes. One of my best articles, where I explain what meditation is really about, how it helps with overthinking, and how it’s not about the fuckin’ lotus position or staring at candles while assuming the form of a pretzel.
  6. Darth Vader & the Return of the Balrog Blender. RELAPSE! Damn it, the spin returns, and does it ever! But this time, I STOPPED IT! Another one of my best articles.
  7. Bud-nippin & Dog Shit, Sans Crackers, Sans Blender. How an actual pile of dog shit led to a major, mental and spiritual breakthrough! I stopped the spin before it began! I had to pat myself on the butt for this one.
  8. 215 Yds with a Lady & an Antique Putter: Golf is Life, pt 4. While this is also part of another series I have about the Zen philosophy behind the sport of golf, it’s also about one of my Whirlpools of Piss that happened a long time ago, and how I didn’t stop it, or nip it; I just had to ride it out. Pretty funny story though.
  9. Shining Lights in a Sea of Overthinking. This was a short article about Meredith’s Beautiful Voyager website, and her Lighthouse Map.
  10. Second Breakfast #3: Meredith Arthur, Overcoming Overthinking. This was my hour and 20 minute video chat with Meredith on all things Anxiety, Overthinking, Brain-spinny, Whirlpooley, and some great discussion on how Fear is at the root of it all. If you haven’t watched it, you definitely should!

And that’s IT! For now anyway. Do come back, if you finish all of these, because I probably forgot some others that might be related.

See y’all next time!


Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

#3 Meredith Arthur: Overcoming Overthinking as a Beautiful Voyager

Do you suffer from anxiety, stress, or overthinking?

Do you ever feel like you have to know all the answers? That you must compare yourself to your friends, family, neighbors? Are you worried about the future?

If so, then you don’t want to miss this week’s episode of Second Breakfast. My guest this time, is another friend of mine from Anchor: Meredith Arthur, the founder of the Beautiful Voyager blog and website.


Meredith Arthur

Meredith suffers from Overthinking, and has spent the last year–since her diagnosis–exploring what that means, how to manage it, and function with a brain that spins too much. Does that sound familiar, hobbits? Yeah, I’m an overthinker, too, apparently.

Join Meredith and me for a journey into the sea of overthinking, where we’ll find monsters, dragons, lizard and monkey brains, explore the origins of stress, anxiety, overthinking, consumerist capitalism, advertising, psychology, and kick back on the sandy banks of the Dao and Zen, discuss the merits of ‘going with the flow,’ lighthouses and maps, and of course, talk about our favorite breakfasts.

You can find Meredith at the Beautiful Voyager blog, where you can add your name to her wonderful Lighthouse Map of Overthinkers, join her Slack discussion group, and read engaging content about topics relating to the spinning mind.

Take some time, sit down with us, and as always, let me know what you think!

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Shining Lights in a Sea of Overthinking: Part VIII in the Tick Tock Series

I think too much.

I know, big surprise. I do though. I think way too fuckin’ much. Apparently, I’m an OVERthinker. It’s a thing I’m told.

If you’ve been following along on this wild and wooly ride that is the Tick Tock Series, then you know that sometimes my brain goes into overdrive and it keeps me from sleep, gives me headaches, and drives me to drink.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to slow that baby down over the last year, but there are times when  it likes to ramp up again, like this morning, for instance. It’s 1:41am, and I’m not still up, I’m up. That is to say, that I went to bed much earlier–around 9pm–but thanks to the rat shit and rice in my Balrog Blender Brain, I had to get up for a bit. Maybe I’ll go back to bed in a few minutes, if I can put this post together quickly.

I just want to say a few words about a friend of mine, from Anchor, who is also an overthinker, and who runs this amazing little blog about the topic of overthinking, stress, and anxiety, called The Beautiful Voyager. Her name is Meredith Arthur, and she is the guest on this week’s Second Breakfast with Steve Bivans, which goes live tomorrow.

She began her blog recently, because she was looking for ways to manage her brainspin, and wondered how many others were out there struggling through the same issues. What she’s discovered is that there are a shit-ton of us; we are not alone, drifting at sea.

To illustrate this, and bring some light to that fact, she created the following interactive map: her Lighthouse Map for Overthinkers, or as I’m gonna call it, Shining Lights in a Sea of Overthinking.

You can check out the map, below. It’s really fuckin’ cool, and you’ll find yours truly, in St. Paul, MN…the Bag End Lighthouse! Just keep zooming in until you see it.

Are you an overthinker, too?

If so, then go visit Meredith’s site, and fill in the form under the map, and you can get your OWN Lighthouse!

Then make sure to tune in tomorrow, for Second Breakfast, Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 1.53.15 AMto see my interview with Meredith about stress, ovethinking, anxiety, Fear (my favorite topic these days), as well as the social roots of stress, advertising, keeping up with the Joneses, and much more. It really was a great conversation.


Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Darth Vader and the Return of the Balrog Blender: Part VI of the Tick Tock Series

The tick tocking stopped.

I’m not sure exactly when that happened. At some point, in the last year, the Warring Blender of dog shit and crackers, the sucking whirlpool of piss that was my brain, began to slow down, and then, mostly stopped altogether.

[If you’d like to listen to me read this, click below]


That doesn’t mean that I never get negative thoughts, or that they never spin out of control. But now, I am AWARE of the process when it begins, even if I haven’t been able to stop it. But for the first time, ever, one night this January, I was not only aware of the whirlpool, I managed to slow it down, stop it, and then—the most amazing thing—turn it around 180 degrees to create a positive mindset.

And here’s what happened.

I had just had a conversation with Paysh, lying there in bed, about the fact that my brain-spin had really subsided lately, and that I was generally a much happier person.

And then things went South, or North—whichever place really sucks.

It’s funny, that just when you think you’ve turned some corner, a Balrog, or demon from the ancient world as it were, is there to meet you. Almost as soon as the words “don’t suffer from brain-spin anymore” left my lips, and I closed my eyes to go to sleep, BAM!, there I was on the Bridge of Kazad-Dum (for you Hobbit-Tolkien geeks), (or for those who aren’t,) the Abyss, all over again.

I was asleep for about an hour, when I decided to turn over, toward Paysh. That’s when I slipped into the chasm, and it started with a hissing sound. That would be the hose on my cpap machine, or as I call it…

My Darth Vader Maskdarth vader mask

I suffer from sleep apnea, a condition that—without the machine, which forces air down my throat to keep it from closing off—would kill me, one way or another. I’d either drive my car over a real chasm, bridge, or into the path of a speeding Balrog in the form of a semi-truck after falling asleep at an inappropriate moment, or, I’d blow my own brains out from the lack of real sleep. I came close to that 8 years ago right before I was officially diagnosed with the condition.

Anyway, I rolled over in the bed and the air hose on my Vader mask slid off of the mask housing-tube-thingy. This was the source of the hissing sound.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother me that much, except for the fact that it’s been doing it a lot lately. So much so that I had begun taping the hose to the mask using black electrical tape, which really didn’t work worth a fuck. Hence, the hissing that night.

So, I pulled my mask off, pushed the off button on the machine, uttered several incantations that sounded more like the banter on a pirate ship, “Fuck, #$%^&*()!,” which woke up Paysh, to inquire of my sanity and well-being. To which I uttered more curses and incantations, not so much at her, but because she had been woken up at all.

That’s when the whirlpool began to spin…

At this point, I probably could have stepped in to minimize the spin, and maybe reverse it, which is in and of itself, an amazing feat. But that night, I was unable to stop it. My frustration and anger was only just beginning.

I got out of bed, naked, with the mask in hand, and proceeded to dodge Bubble (our lab-chow mix)—who has taken to sleeping at my side on the floor, so that I have to employ my Spiderman eyesight when I step out of bed in the morning dark, in order not to step on her, which would lead to even more spinning because then she would want to go O.U.T. to pee and poop—and it’s January, in Minnesota, nuff said. That’s Duke’s job, and he can fuckin’ have it. That doesn’t mean I never do it, just that I avoid it like the Bubonic Plague, much like my brain-spin.

I miraculously managed not to step on Bubble, stumbled and swayed to the door, managed to get it open without pulling the antique door handle off of our side (something I failed to do the preceding morning). That would have ensured a whole string of F-bombs, curses, and the sucking, ammonia-smelling, spinning, mass of bodily fluid. But the handle stood firm, this time.

The door squeaked, but I knew that was gonna happen, though it did elicit a short, whispered ‘bomb’ of the F variety.

I then quietly made the three steps across the tiny upstairs hallway to the bathroom. I turned on the light, which in itself pissed me off.

Things were going really badly.

I could feel the centripetal force of the spin, as I looked at the mask, and the tightly wound electrical tape which was supposed to have secured the hose. The tape looked just fine, except there was no hose attached. That, of course, was the fuckin’ problem. So I began to try to unravel the rubbery substance from the hose-housing that protrudes from the nose-area of the mask.

As you may know, if you’ve ever employed electrical tape, it isn’t the stickiest of tapes, but once the ‘free’ end has been slicked down, it’s nearly impossible to find that end to unravel it, and that morning, in my spinning mental chaos, it wasn’t happenin’. I could not find the end of the tape, to get it off.

Then, the alarm went off…

Nope, not my alarm clock; I don’t own one. Who the fuck needs an alarm clock when you have dog shit and crackers spinning around in your brain every night? No, the alarm was outside, somewhere. Actually, I knew exactly where it was. There are some neighbors, around the corner, who must revel in ‘accidentally’ setting off their fucking car alarm, all, the fuckin’, TIME! Actually, this hadn’t happened for possibly months, until that night. I’m so lucky.

So, there I was, trying to get tape off of the Vader mask, cursing to high heaven and all the demons of the ancient world, when the alarm started honking into the winter night. Sound really fuckin carries in January, in Minnesota. And that’s when things really started to suck, downward. I couldn’t get the fuckin’ tape off. So, I reached in the cabinet and pulled out the scissors. Cussing up a storm now, I fairly quickly snipped the tape off, car horn honking through the dark, frigid air, me swearing.

Then it stopped.

Not the whirlpool of piss. Hell no. The car alarm shut off, finally. And I tossed the mask on top of the toilet paper/fine literature basket. It’s not really that fine, the literature. Mostly it’s just a couple of Southern Living Magazines that my mom gives to Paysh every Christmas—which she enjoys, thank you mom—and two volumes of the Sabine and Griffin series of books, which I’ve never read (I have a penis, and testosterone to go with it). But for the moment, they served as a resting place—if not final—for my Darth Vader mask, while I steamed, fumed, and uttered more curses, and tried to figure out how to remedy the situation so I could go back to sleep. It was only about 11:30. Too early even for ME to be up for good.

I stood there, naked, in my bathroom, breathing smoke, if not fire. The Balrog had nearly taken over at this point. So I rode the smoke back into the bedroom, yanked the hose off the back of the machine, fumbled around in the bedside table drawer for the tape, and fumed back into the bathroom to ‘fix’ the damned thing. I was feeling reeeeaaally Un-Zen at that moment, to be sure.

There was also, no Mr. Dao present, either, I assure you. Those two calm, composed gentlemen had ‘left the building.’ All that was left was a smokin’, cussin’, Balrog Blender, whirlpool of urine. Boy, this felt really familiar, and not in a good way.

So, I re-taped the hose, attached it to the housing, which then decided to pop loose from the mask altogether.

That was awesome. Really fuckin’ awesome. Do you live in outer Mongolia? Did you hear a really loud sucking sound, one night this Janurary, at about whatevertimeitisinfuckinouterMongoliawhenit’s11:30pminStPaul? Yep. That was my brain. Sorry if I woke up your horse, cattle, goats, and upset the equilibrium in your yurt. I owe you a skull full of fermented, horse-milk next time I’m visiting.

So, I’m standing there, naked still, remember. Sorry if that’s a disturbing thought. And if you’ve ever seen me naked—and I realize that’s a small percentage of you—then you know just HOW disturbing that can be. There I stood, smoke pouring out of my ears, nostrils, and other orifices, holding the hose and housing in my left hand, and the Vader mask in the other, because they decided to part ways, just as I thought I had mended the breech.

I almost opened the bathroom window at this point, and launched it all out onto the driveway. I’m sure, that if I had, it would have bounced across into Bubble’s Bathroom—which resides on the other side—and landed on top of a frozen pile of ACTUAL dog shit, sans crackers. But, I did not open the window and toss.

I not-so-calmly, managed to pop the housing back into the mask, under a slew of further curses.

That’s, when Paysh woke up.

Great! I was really happy then. Now I’ve managed to wake her up, and Bubble is soon to follow. She carefully crept up to the outside of the door—it’s best to be careful when approaching Balrogs and demons—and whispered,

“Bebe, are you okay?”

To which I responded, “Fuck no! I’m trying to fix this damned, #$%^&*()__)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*()(*&^%$# mask!”

At this point, I had mostly accomplished it, but was so pissed off that sleep wasn’t going to happen. The Balrog Blender was officially on liquify.

I opened the door, apologized, gruffly for waking her up, and then stomped back into the bedroom, reattached the mask, while slinging dark, voodooian curses in the direction of the engineer who designed my mask.

I’m pretty sure he lives on a Death Star somewhere in a galaxy far, far, away.hqdefault

Not the first Death Star, because Luke destroyed that one by flying down the trench, after having figured out how to bring down the force-field, OR the second one, which was also destroyed by Luke by flying down a trench, after Han and Leia figured out how to bring down the shields, OR the third Death Planet (totally different thing) which some Luke-like dudes destroyed, by flying down a trench, and lobbing lazer thingys down a hatch, after Han, what’shername, and the escaped, reformed, Stormtrooper, brought down the shields and Han died, facing his son/Vader/Balrog, and was tossed into the abyss of KazadDum, or where ever it was.

Sorry, I digress. That was my micro-critique of the new sans-Lucas sequel. Not sure how we got there, oh yeah, the Vader Mask…

So, Paysh went back to bed. I grabbed a robe, so as not to frighten everyone in the neighborhood, and stormtroopered myself downstairs, to try to regain control of the sucking whirlpool of piss.

Sucking Whirlpool Self Awareness

As usual, I wasn’t having much luck. The piss kept swirling, and my temperature was rising. The only difference, this time, for some reason, was that a tiny part of me—a very fucking microscopic part of me, to be sure—was aware that this was just a whirlpool of the piss variety. And that, was all the difference needed.

I slumped down in my favorite chair, in my home office; threw my right leg over the arm, and sat there, fuming. I was soooo fuckin’ pissed off at this point. But that tiny part of me—a part that has never really existed until recently—was whispering,

“This is just a sucking whirlpool of pisssss; it’s not real; it’s just dog shit and crackerssss.”

And then, slowly, my conscious mind began to listen, and respond.

“Yeah, this is only a bunch of negative bullshit! This isn’t real.”

That was just enough conscious thought to slow the downward spiral to the land of sewage. And once it began to slow down, it was easier to stop. Within a few minutes, the sucking spiral of urine had stopped.

Don’t get me wrong, or take that too far, mind ya. I was still in a really shitty mindset, somewhere at the bottom of the toilet bowl, you know, in that narrow tunnel at the bottom, where all the crap sticks to the sides and always seems just too tight for some, special loads to pass, kind of like the Bridge of Kazhad Dum, in the Land of Plumberoom, or something. Well, that’s where I was, sitting, slumped in my overstuffed chair, sprawled out, all but naked in my robe, steam coming off of my head. But at least the downward pull had stopped.

The question was what to do next.

“How can I pull myself up out of this toilet bowl?” I thought. “What will work, that has never worked, or not been tried?”

Then I remembered my lessons from the Happier App. And for that, you’ll have to wait for Part 2 of this article, which is like part twenty, or something of the Tick Tock series.

[This was day 12 of my Year Long, Daily Blog experiment]

Read Pt VII, Bud-Nippin & Dog Shit, Sans Crackers, Sans Blender


Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Seeking Zen for the Unbendy & The Dao of Dishes: Part V of the Tick Tock Series

Day 8 of the Year Long Blog

[If you want to listen to this article, click below]

Meditation has always been a challenge for me.

Okay, I suck at it. This is mostly because I’m very unbendy, meaning that I don’t bend, at all. I’m like an I-beam with legs, walkin’ through life. Or like Treebeard from the Lord of the Rings, who slept standing up. That’s me; I’m fuckin’ I-beam-Treebeard.

Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but only just. I’ve never really been able to sit in the traditional lotus position, like you see the big, fat buddhas do.

Hell no! Not Steve Bivans. I don’t think I could do that shit even when I was 2 years old! I’m pretty sure I never sucked on my toes, for instance, which is pretty fuckin’ disgusting anyway, and not a childhood memory I really want to dredge up, even if it happened, especially if it did. If you’ve ever seen my toes, you’d know why.

And that brings me to another question, “How do those old fat guys get into that position to begin with?” I mean, I’m fat, and old! Maybe it’s just my genetic makeup, I reckon. Doomed by DNA to a life of Unbendy-ness.

No, I don’t bend. But I’m still seeking Zen for the Unbendy.

zen for the unbendy, dao of dishes

Want this shirt? Go to T-shirts: Bivansian Badassery!

And I think I’ve found it!

Not that I’m all enlightened, and Zen. I’m no fuckin’ Zen Master, that’s for sure. Is there such a thing as a Zen NOVICE? Like the yellow belt in Karate Kid? Maybe that’s what I am: a yellow belt, Zen Novice. Wax on, Wax the fuck off. No, I’m not the master, not yet anyway, but I have found the path to the sound of one hand clapping, I hope.

As you may know, if you’ve been reading along on this series of Tick Tocking, I’ve struggled with meditation for many years. I know I should do it, but I really suck at it, or sucked, I should say. Now, I’m beginning to ‘get it’ if that’s possible.

Enter Alan Watts and Eckhart Tolle.

I talked a bit, last time, about Watts and his use of Daoism and Zen to interpret Western science, religion and philosophy, and how that helped to slow down my Waring blender of dog shit n crackers. Now it’s more like cat shit n crumbs, or maybe even rat shit n rice. How’s THAT for some alliteration to put in yer coffee?

Watts also helped to demystify meditation for me, as well. He often mentions in his lectures, which you can find on YouTube, that people would come to him to ask him ‘how to meditate.’

He would promptly ask them,

“Why do you want to meditate?”

“Because I want to attain enlightenment!”

“Who is this ‘I’ that you speak of?”

And you can guess where THAT went.

Watts often said that he would never tell a student or follower how to meditate, because they’d go off and start a ‘school’ of that particular form of meditation and call it the Watts method, or something absurd like that. He was fond of quoting another Zen master who said something to the effect, that “If you can’t meditate while standing on a busy, city street corner, then you don’t understand meditation.”
This resonated with me, somewhat, but it was while listening to Eckhart Tolle, one day, that I realized exactly what this meant.

Mini Meditations and the Master of Dao: Mr. Now, Eckhart Tolle.

Eckart Tolle employs meditation all the time, and like Watts, has no problem with the traditional styles of meditation: i.e., human pretzel, kama sutra, spine-snapping, lotus position stuff. You know, Zen for the Bendy.

But Tolle’s philosophy is that you can and should turn everything into a meditation, or at least, be able to meditate on anything, or on any action at any time, what he calls, mini meditations. It was Tolle’s explanation of meditation that has resonated the most with me, because it isn’t about not thinking or eliminating thought or staring at a fucking candle flame for 20 minutes in a position unfit for the human anatomy.

It’s simply about being present in the moment, not letting the mind wander to the Past, or into the Future. Meditation is simply about being in The Now. Experiencing the present moment. That’s it.

How fuckin’ simple is that?

Dirty Hands, Soapy Water: the Path to Zen?

Tolle’s favorite example of mini meditation is washing your hands. Feel the water and the soap. Focus on that moment, even for just a few seconds. And then do this as often as possible during the day, in as many other actions as you can.

Focus on your feet as you walk around the block, on the feel of your toothbrush, the sounds of the house, without labeling them. Listen to those sounds as if they were a symphony, music.

This is the coolest way to meditate, ever! Because you don’t have to sit still. You don’t have to stare at a fuckin’ candle! And you don’t have to wrap your legs behind your ears and throw out your fuckin’ spine and spend millions of dollars at the chiropractor to straighten that shit out later!

The Dao of Dishes

dao of dishes

Steve Bivans, Zen Novice

One of my favorite, Tolle-esque, mini meditations, is what I call the Dao of Dishes.

This one is simple. I turn on my mega boom, bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, bring up Spotify on the computer, find my ‘China: Land of the Dao’ mix—a collection of Chinese traditional folk music—and push the play button.

Then I do the fuckin’ dishes.

Now, trust me, I really don’t like to do the dishes, but now I’ve turned it into a meditation! The music is very calming and brings my attention, my cat-shit-n-crumbs brain into the present moment. I then get into this really cool flow of doing the dishes.

I focus on the feel of the water, of my hand holding the plate, or my steps from the dishwasher to the pot rack. But instead of calculating my every, future move—like I used to do when I was tick tocking all the time—I’m just enjoying the motion, in the present. I don’t even have to think very much. It’s very Dao-y, very flowy, like a river moving through a valley. There’s no coercion, no resistance.

It’s fuckin Zen for the Unbendy; it’s the Dao of Dishes man. Dig it.
So, next time you’re thinking you can’t meditate: think again! Or better yet, stop thinking, stop wrapping your ankles around your head, and do the Dao of Dishes. Try some mini meditations. If it works for Steve Bivans, it will work for anyone.

Read Pt VI, Darth Vader & the Return of the Balrog Blender



Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

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