In 2018, Deb Dana, LCSW published the book, The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy. It was in this book that she described two phenomena: triggers and glimmers. The concept of triggers has long been part of our common vocabulary, along with “trigger warnings” to alert viewers or readers to sensitive material.
But the other concept, glimmers or glimmering, hasn’t caught on. One potential reason for this is our inherent “negativity bias.” Our negativity bias leads us to focus much more on bad experiences than we do for good ones.
Evolutionarily, this might have been great. It would have helped us pay attention to dangerous places, foods, and animals in ways that kept us alive. And today it still serves some purpose, no doubt. One careless fender-bender or near-miss accident might forever instill in us a greater vigilance when we’re driving. From my own experience as a terrible teen driver, it took some time for me to understand the danger of poor driving, but eventually I did become cautious.
But our negative experiences can easily become traumatic instead. Sometimes a near-miss in a car leads to a lifetime fear of driving. Losing a loved one can lead to excessive fear of death and an unwillingness to get close to others, and so on. When this happens, therapy can often be very helpful for better understanding the “triggering” incident and developing tools to move forward in life with less fear.
The polyvagal theory that Deb Dana wrote about helps us to understand how our nervous system internalizes experiences and shows how we can help alter the way we interact with the world.
Glimmers: the Other Side of the Coin
But what about moments of the opposite, moments when we feel a state of calm and connectedness, able to focus easily in a place of safety and joy?
Glimmers can come about from any number of sources. We can notice the sun shining on fresh snow in our yard – something I’m doing right now in April in Missoula, Montana. We might take an extra moment to savor the smell or flavor of a well-made pasta sauce.
As Dansua says in the video above, however, we are deeply wired to be connected to other people. So many of our greatest glimmer are going to be in connection with other people. That might come from simply sitting with others as they share a story or from a long hug. It can even come from social media, though a lot has been written about how social media tends to accentuate triggering more than glimmering.
Mindfully Finding Glimmers
As a mindfulness practitioner and teacher, all of these experiences seem to have one thing in common: a sense of presence or being in the moment. I would make the case that the best source of glimmers is meditation practice. It’s not the easiest, but I think it is still powerful and worth exploring.
That is because of all of the opportunities for a glimmering experience, mindfulness relies on something most in your control: your breath. If you have to rely on sunshine for the experience, you’ll be quite disappointed for much of the year in a place like western Montana. Relying on glimmers from other people can put us too much at the whim and will of those around us.
But the breath is always there. And with some training it can be a constant source of groundedness, joy, and even a sense of belonging. As we breathe in, we can think about that four to six liters of air entering our lungs. Where has that air been? Where did it come from? In a well-built house, much of it will have been moving around inside for some time. Our family has breathed some of it in and out. Perhaps we’re sharing the air with pets as well. And our houseplants, gently taking in our unneeded CO2 and offering us increased oxygen.
Beyond the Breath
Our mindfulness of breathing forms a habit we can (and hopefully will) use in other aspects of life. It is sometimes painstakingly hard to focus on the breath, especially as we are just beginning our practice. But the harder we work at it, the stronger our “muscles” of attention will be. And then we can direct that attention toward other potential glimmers in our life.
As we glance outside, we can learn to automatically take a nice deep breath in, and out. And as we do so we can allow the scene to fill our senses. No need to think about it, to worry about anything out there or jump to making plans. Just take it in. Notice the snow or grass, trees or shrubs, the buildings in sight. If we’re lucky a bird, squirrel, or other wild creature might pass by.
As we eat our next meal, we can learn to take an extra moment to fully notice it. Did we make it? Can we notice many of the ingredients just by looking at it? We can take in the aroma with one or two deep breaths through the nose. This kind of mindful eating and slow savoring of food has been found to increase people’s enjoyment of food. And, if this is a goal for you, it can help with portion control and weight loss.
As we sit with a loved one, we can lean to be deeply present with them. How are they doing? How is this crazy world we live in affecting them today? As they speak, we can listen to the words and tone and truly connect. We can know that we don’t have to have the right words, or any words for that matter. Just being there connecting can be exactly what they need. And in this process we, too, find joy, connectedness, and purpose.
Justin Whitaker, Ph.D., holds a doctorate in Buddhist ethics from the University of London. He has given lectures, and taught Buddhist studies and Philosophy at Oxford University, the University of Hong Kong, the University of Montana, and at Antioch University’s intensive study-abroad program in India. A certified meditation teacher, he is a regular contributor to Patheos.com, and Senior Correspondent for Buddhistdoor Global. He lives in Missoula with his family.