Start of Week 3, and Just What I Needed to Read

This article was published on 3/27/20 in Fast Company Magazine online. For us in Marin, this is the beginning of the third week of Stay-in-Place, and many of us are feeling it - especially since the news is out that the order will be extended until May 1. Great article! Thanks FC!

A former Navy SEAL and a neuroscientist share 3 secrets for overcoming coronavirus stress

The stress and confinement of being in a mini-submarine are similar to those induced by the coronavirus pandemic. A neuroscientist and a Navy SEAL explain the simple principles that can help you combat the anxiety of uncertainty and thrive.

By Pat Dossett and Andrew Huberman6 minute Read

Crammed into the back of a mini-submarine with three other large SEALs, weapons, radios, and packs, you have little space to move, much less find comfort. It’s cold, wet, dark, and cramped. You’re never certain how long the trip will take. After an hour or so, seasickness sets in, and the only place to release is in the very mask you breathe from.

After two hours, cramping sets in, but with no room to stretch, you can only absorb the pain and wait for it to pass. After three hours, you start to think you might be going crazy as a glow stick dances around the darkness. After four or five hours, the submarine finally settles on the bottom of the seafloor, a few hundred yards off the coast, and it’s time to get out. The ride to the office is complete, and the real work begins.
In many ways, nothing has changed. The stress of raising nine-month-old twins, starting a company, and now dealing with the backdrop of the coronavirus pandemic, is every bit as uncomfortable as what I felt in the back of the SDV (SEAL Delivery Vehicle). Stress on a worldwide scale without a particular end date in sight is unprecedented for those of us alive today. What happens next week, or the week after, or even two months from now is anyone’s guess. Navigating this challenge is going to require a special mindset.
Navy SEALs have this mindset, but they aren’t born with it. In fact, a largely unknown paradox of SEAL training is that often the biggest, fastest, and strongest candidates are the first to quit. Similarly, it is not physical prowess or natural ability that will get you through this challenge. Rather, it’s a set of principles, leveraged by SEALs and available to all, that will help you not only survive but thrive in the weeks and months, perhaps even years, ahead.
My circumstances have changed, but the principles I use to navigate them have not. None of us want to be in the situation we are in now, but we can all apply these principles to thrive.
They work.
These principles are not just military wisdom; they’re backed by contemporary neuroscience.

1. When you feel overwhelmed, move the finish line

Being overwhelmed is the consequence of trying to juggle too many mental operations at once, which makes it impossible to design or execute a good action plan. By reducing the set of operations, you relieve the load placed upon your frontal cortex (the region of your brain responsible for planning and action) and reduce the corresponding sense of panic. It isn’t about how much you do, but that you do something specific you are certain you can complete. The challenge that once seemed impossible becomes doable by engaging it piece by piece. The smaller the piece, the easier it is to accomplish and the faster your brain gets out of a state of overwhelm, restoring access to the brain circuits responsible for selecting and executing action plans generally.
This is what SEAL candidates do during “Hell Week,” when they are required to stay awake, cold and wet, for days on end. In its entirety, Hell Week is too much to process. However, those who shorten the week into manageable chunks of time find success. Sometimes this means just focusing on making it through the day, getting to the next meal, or even just lasting for five more minutes.
Focus on one thing you know you can accomplish in 10, or even 5, minutes rather than dwell on what you need to accomplish over the entire day. Even the potentially paralyzing situation of kids at home while you need to work, a spouse or parent who is experiencing anxiety, a loss of income, or any of the other difficulties that people are experiencing now, can be broken down. Whatever the case, attending to and crossing off one small challenge sets you up to define and take on the next.

2. When you feel powerless, take action

Powerlessness stems from a lack of perceived control. The molecule dopamine, famous for its role in our sense of pleasure, also enhances our energy levels and sense of possibility. Dopamine is released not just as a reward for a job well done, but also by positive anticipation of rewards and completion of goals. When you freeze, which is your default when you feel a loss of control in a given moment, it impedes dopamine release, which leads to an even greater sense of powerlessness. When you feel powerless, you must, instead, move forward. By taking action, you train your brain to repeatedly release dopamine, enhancing your energy levels and creating an outsized effect on your thinking, mood, and ultimate sense of what you can control.
When SEALs find themselves sensing a loss of control, they default to action, directing their attention toward something within their reach. It can be something little, such as triple-checking equipment before jumping from an aircraft at night or, as Admiral William McRaven (a former head of the Special Operations Command) recently recommended, when you’re stuck in the mud, start singing.
Reading the headlines is reason enough to feel powerless, let alone losing a job, being confined to a small apartment, having to work in what may be an unsafe environment, and the list right now goes on and on. To re-engage your internal reward system and regain your sense of possibility, take actions as simple as reading a book to your kids, making a cup of coffee, texting a friend, doing a load of laundry. Then look for the next action step. By doing so, you shift your mindset from one of powerlessness to one of resolve.

3. When you feel alone, support someone else

Feeling alone stems from the brain spending too much energy taking stock of our inner landscape. Supporting others rebalances the weight of attention we pay to our inner self to the outer world. It also activates hardwired, ancient brain circuits that release feel-good brain chemicals such as oxytocin and serotonin and prevents the release of chemicals that impair immunity and promote fear.
The more stressful the environment, the more SEALs focus on the needs of their team and teammates. Whether they’re cramming into a mini-submarine, carrying a telephone-pole-sized log, or dealing with the death of a teammate, they focus on meeting the needs of others to make the group more effective and reduce the perceived sense of stress any single teammate feels.
Between those who live alone and those who feel alone while social distancing is in effect, we face a time of extreme isolation. From a neurological perspective reaching out to someone in need, whether by phone, text, old-fashioned written mail, or even baking cookies and leaving them at a neighbor’s door, has the same effect as pulling up a flagging teammate. Helping others doesn’t just forge psychological bonds; it forges chemical ones as well. Those chemicals positively change our brain’s assessment of self and our place in the world.
The reality is that this situation is going to get harder before it gets easier. The principles you lean on now and in the period of time to come can make a tremendous difference in how you experience and emerge from all this. Know that you already have everything you need to be successful. In fact, you’re designed to handle moments such as this, no supplements or expensive gadgets required.
Our advice: Move the finish line, take action, and serve others. This is how you will come through this time a better, more resilient you and bring about a better, more resilient world in the process.

---

Andrew Huberman is a professor of neurobiology at Stanford University School of Medicine, and Pat Dossett is a former Navy SEAL and cofounder and CEO of Madefor.

Featured Video

Housebound and Yosemite Redux

Tunnel View - still spectacular! Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

This is day seven of shelter-in-place for us Californians. Plenty of time to reflect and remember, in between the times we emerge from our hovels blinking at the light. I'm recalling a recent trip to Yosemite my daughter organized - and the new realities of global warming. The park is now closed to visitors, by the way. We drove down to the southern entrance, Oakhurst; a first, since I've always come from the north end before. The fields in the valley were white with almond blossoms under an iron-gray sky. The drive from Sacramento was easy and brief (I can't say the same for an episode of minor food poisoning at an unnamed diner along the way).

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

Ah, Yosemite in mid-February - we expected snow (the south entrance is closer to Badger Pass, the ski area) with the appropriate bundling and booting; what we got was dry and warm - an average of 60 degrees. Snow was actually being brought in to nearly-deserted Badger Pass. We found one trail with a little rapidly melting snow on it and took a short hike the first day.

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

We had hoped to take the Mariposa Grove trail to see the redwoods, but the parking lot and trails were closed. Nikki booked us a couple of nights at a place called the Narrow Gauge Inn, right next to a little steam train attraction called the Sugar Pine Railroad in Fish Camp (18 miles north of Oakhurst, and a good hour south of Yosemite Valley). The railroad was closed, of course, until May, as was the restaurant and bar at the Inn. In fact, many of the roads surrounding Yosemite and other attractions were closed until May, including the Wawona Hotel, her first choice. Nearby Tenaya Lodge was open at the time, however.

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

Nik's favorite chair at the Ahwanee

On the way north to the park, we stopped in at the tiny Fish Camp General Store on the west side of Hwy. 41, hoping to score some lunch; tt looked to be built out of an old railroad car. The charming young man who ran the place was not expecting a lot of business, judging from the sparse shelves and dust on some of the packaging.
The park itself was open, and crowded as usual, but dry as a bone. We had dinner at the cafe in the Ahwanee. The hotel is as grand and historic as ever, overpriced and not terribly crowded. As we took in the sights, there was some water coming over the falls; we drove on the circle road, taking in most of what we've seen on our last trip several years ago, and returning to the Inn at night.

The next day, we decided to go south from the Inn, into the Sierra National Forest toward Oakhurst. We had a hankering to wander around a cute little gold rush town; alas, we drove around Oakhurst in vain; it's a commercial center. We drove up to the village of Ahwanee, expecting, perhaps, a little more history. But there was no there there. What we did find was The Hitching Post (Hwy. 49, Ahwannee - on the west side of the road, you can't miss it), a funky restaurant with incredible food and equally incredible prices. I had the fish and chips (risky ordering fish inland, no kidding - living dangerously) for $14, and it was the BEST, hands down, that I've had in a couple years. Real fish, really breaded there, really made there, and huge portions. My daughter had a sandwich that was equally amazing. This is the sort of place that only locals know; when I complimented the woman behind the cash register (it definitely seemed family owned), she seemed surprised and said, "y'all come back!". I would airlift this place to Marin if I could.

On the way back from Oakhurst, we drove out Rtes. 222 and 224 to Bass Lake. Many of the people who settled around the west end of the lake had some bucks. We saw a fairly ordinary-looking property that turned out to be a 3-bedroom with a boat berth for over $1.5 million (reduced!). It might have been worth it at some point, but the lake was so low all the wooden walkways to the boat berths were sitting on dirt. No snow = no water in the lake. Bass Lake is a man-made reservoir; we drove up to the dam and took a walk on the gravel path. There were a few shops and a fancy restaurant (Ducey's) in the strip of buildings that made up the town, but most places were deserted on this sunny, dry day.

Edge of Bass Lake. Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

On the way back, we stopped at a place recommended by the Inn: Corlieu Falls, about two miles south of the Inn, 16 or so miles north of Oakhurst. It's a short, steep hike rewarded with a series of full, beautiful waterfalls; a reminder that there are plenty of places outside Yosemite that are worthwhile. If we had known about the Scenic Byway (Skyranch Road off Hwy. 41, to St. Rte. 7 to Rte. 81, then Road 225 to 274 past Bass Lake) at the time, we might have taken it, especially since it passed Nelder Grove, another stand of giant sequoias. It's a three-hour drive at least, so a real time commitment (mostly in the car).

Corlieu Falls. Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

On the way home, we both concluded that we've seen enough of Yosemite. It's become nature's Disneyland. The sad part is, since our last visit in 2015, the weather has warmed up even more. Very little snow then, but it at least was cold(er). Since the Sierras supply most of California's water, this is very bad news indeed.

Image courtesy of Adriayn Smith-Lee

Say What? - Fun with Phrase Origins

The look says it all--taken in Jaipur, during my India trip

Most of my posts are about places, but many of you know that I also write fiction, and travel fuels my fiction.  I'll occasionally drop in a few writing/reading tidbits for fun. I did a lot of word origin research for my novel "Shaketown", set in the early 1900s. Here are a few items of note:

These phrase origins came off the Internet, so take them with a grain of salt ...If these aren't authentic, there are some very creative liars out there (but you knew that). Please forgive the lack of paragraphs and use of emoticons instead of space - blogspot went wonky on me today.                                                                                  They used to use urine to tan animal skins [and set dye], so families had to all pee in a pot. Once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery. This is still happening in India, as I found out firsthand; see above for the look that says it all and on earlier posts of this blog from India. If you had to do this to survive, you were ‘piss poor.’ But worse than that were the really poor folks who couldn’t  even afford to buy a pot. They ‘didn’t have a pot to piss in’ and were considered the lowest of the low.  💓 Most people got married in June because they took baths once a month or less; if bath day happened to be in May, they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell, brides carried  a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom of carrying a bouquet when getting married.  💧Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of nice clean water to bathe in, followed by the other males, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, ‘Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water!' (I sincerely doubt this one, since the phrase means "don't throw out the good with the bad").  🏠 Houses had thatched roofs with thick straw-piled high and no wood underneath [obviously erroneous]. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained, it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, ‘It’s raining cats and dogs.’ 🐀There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence. [I am not so sure about this one, since canopies and curtained beds were necessary for warmth well before the middle ages].  🚪The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the term, ‘dirt poor.’ The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence, ‘a thresh hold.’  🍴In those days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day, they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, ‘Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.’ Not to be confused with peeing in the pot, above. 🐷 Sometimes they could obtain pork.  It was a sign of wealth that a man could ‘bring home the bacon.’ They would cut off a little to share with guests, and all would sit around and ‘chew the fat.'💀Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous. 🍞Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the ‘upper crust.' 🍺Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a ‘wake.’” 👻In old, small villages, local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. 😱When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside [!!!!--I don't THINK so], and they realized they had been burying people alive [whoops]. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell.Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (‘the graveyard shift’) to listen for the bell. Thus, someone could be ‘saved by the bell,’ or was considered a ‘dead ringer.’