Johnny Mathis Singing Me to Peace

I live with a lot of anxiety. Sometimes it’s about specific things like making a request to someone that I’m afraid will reject me. Other times, it’s more general—part of growing up steeped in the fear of a vengeful god who could inexplicably and cruelly mete out punishment or snatch away loved ones.

I recently discovered an unusual but extremely effective way of soothing my pretty-much-daily anxiety: Johnny Mathis.

Let me explain…

Recently I have been reading Stephen Porges’ book The Pocket Guide to the Polyvagal Theory (because apparently I like reading about the nervous system in my down time)…no, but seriously, his polyvagal theory has been mentioned in so many places, from grad school to herbal conferences, that I felt the need to buy something directly from the source to learn more about the “science of feeling safe” as he terms it. He just happened to release a new book around the time that I was looking for something by him to read (yay synchronicity!!).

In the book, he talks about the way that tone, inflection, and quality of a voice can send neuroceptive (referring to the unconscious perception of the nervous system) messages, cuing us for either feeling safe or threatened.

I’m sure we can all think of a time when someone said something but their voice belied the content of what they said–the quintessential “I’m fine” with an edge that subsequently put us on edge. That’s an example of the neuroception of prosody, e.g. picking up on a “threat” in someone’s voice.

Well, it also works the other way around. We can pick up on cues that someone is “safe” by their vocals, which in turn can help us feel comfortable and relaxed.

Somewhat in passing as he was describing this neuroceptive ability, Porges mentioned that Johnny Mathis’ voice has the qualities that tend to make people feel safe.

So…what do I do? I trot off to look up this singer that I had never heard before…and I fell in love. I literally can’t get enough of listening to him; he makes me feel so calm!

A quick perusal of discussions and comments regarding Polyvagal Theory reveals that I’m not the only one who finds Mathis fascinatingly effective. I wouldn’t be surprised if a movement of “Johnny Mathis therapy” began thanks to Porges’ plug.

Of course, Mathis is not the only one whose voice can cue a sense of calm and safety. It’s not that he has a magical voice; it’s about how he uses his voice.

I hear similar qualities in other crooners like Nat King Cole as well as in the voices of people like Kristen Chenoweth and Karen Carpenter. I hope to be able to make a whole “anxiety soothing” playlist that I can turn on whenever I feel on edge.

It’s such an unusual but simple, inexpensive, and accessible method of soothing my hyper-vigilant nervous system. And now that I know what I’m looking for (having heard and felt it), I can look for ways to literally set myself up for feeling safe.

Curious? Listen to one of my favorites below!

Shifting in the Darkness: From Fear to Hope

There’s a beautiful magic that happens shortly after Halloween ends. I’m always a little sad to see November begin, knowing that the spider webs and skeletons will come down, the costumes will be put into storage, and the jack’o’lanterns tossed into the compost.

But then I see the first lit trees in my local park…and I feel a visceral shift in my body. My psyche, satiated on darkness, suddenly craves light and the magic of hope.

The world is still steeped in its own darkness. The days will continue to get shorter for a while. But this is the darkness that beckons for comforting things like blankets and books, hot chocolate, and toasty fires. I’m ready for stories replete with impossibly happy endings.

Soon I’ll be changing my death altar to a winter one, and I know that my ability to revel in the solstice season stems from having allowed myself to step into the darkness of the previous one.  And it reminds me of how intimately connected hope is to darkness.

I’ve mentioned before that hope is one of the funny little positive emotions that doesn’t show up generally when things are going well. It shows up when things are hard–dark, and it’s the positive emotion that helps us pull through the dark times, working towards an uncertain future.

I become ridiculously…childlike, I guess, during the solstice season. I write letters to Santa, leave cookies and milk out, watch all the feel-good movies, freak out over the excitement of wrapped gifts, and desperately hope that there’s at least one toy in my stocking. I love the snow, the lights, and the bustle of the season. I adore the carols and songs.

Yet I know that it’s partly because of how dark I allow myself to get in October that I can really delve into fostering the child-like wonder and belief in December…er, November (let’s face it, Thanksgiving is a toss-away holiday on the way to the next). In my mind, the sugar-sweet hope is only as good as the awareness of how it could be absent.

Otherwise, it’s just denial.

Darkness can be a symbol of grief, death, and fear—all of what I just immersed myself in—but it’s also a symbol of nurturing, gestation, and rest. So in the coming weeks, I will release the finished energy of the summer and look to what I will begin to birth in the spring.

But first, it’s time to snuggle in and get cozy.