Hurricane Harvey left Houston weeks ago ago, but is far from over for those of us here. There is so much to be done. More than we can even wrap our minds around. We see the need, raw and gaping, and we worry and fret; we make lists and rush to help; or we simply throw our hands up and weep. We do what we can in each moment, and we resist the urge to criticize ourselves or others for not doing this whole recovery thing “right.”

Those in Irma’s wake are in the same boat. What we all need to do to survive is to drop anchor, to find a way to tether ourself to that still, quiet part of us that may have gotten lost in the storm. To fuel our desire to help with practices that ground us. This requires asking ourselves what it is we need—and, just as importantly, listening to the answers.

Acknowledging our own needs in times of crisis does not come naturally to most of us. It feels frivolous in the face of such devastation to admit that we need to collect ourselves. To sit and just be. To realign souls that have been disconnected from their source for too long. But reconnect, we must, for if we don’t, all our good deeds and fine intentions will simply add to the frenetic energy of the wounded around us.
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It is this re-centering of our soul that imbues our actions with love rather than fear. This formula holds true not only in natural disasters, but in the traumas—big and small—that make their way into each of our lives. So whether you find yourself struggling in the floodwaters of the Gulf Coast or South Asia; sweltering in the California heat wave; breathing in ash of the wildfires of Montana, Oregon and Idaho; battered by Irma on the East Coast; or just plain stuck between a rock and a hard place, pulling inward before stepping out to help is essential, as counterintuitive as it might feel. Truly, you can only give what you have cultivated within.

In times of crisis, it is hard to create a self-care plan if we don’t already have one. There is not a one-size-fits-all way to re-center, but there are practices that have worked for others, some of which will work for you. In the days since the flood waters receded, I’ve pulled out all my tried and true practices and am sharing them with you.

Please adopt whatever resonates to create your own self-care plan, knowing that at different points in your recovery, you will have more options than at others. If you are currently without water in your home, for example, a bath won’t work, but gentle yoga will. Later, when you’re water returns, you may be able to bathe but still may not be able to venture far enough from home to find a labyrinth. Know that you have choices. There are ways to soothe yourself and regain your equilibrium no matter how limiting your current situation. Note that I have ordered the practices in each section from most to least accessible. Many require nothing more than the body you inhabit.

Committing to your own self care will not only benefit you, but will create peaceful energy that will reverberate outward to all around you. It is important to include all the senses in your approach, so I’m categorizing them by sense—and I added spirit because that is perhaps the most crucial one in this work.

SOUND

Chanting… Don’t worry about picking the “right” mantra. Just make a joyful noise! This could be a traditional chant like “Om,” considered the primordial sound of the universe which—when sung or chanted—can bring us into balance with ourself and our surroundings. It can also be simply articulating an intention you set for yourself. For example, repeating “peace,” “Jesus” or “serenity” out loud as you sit comfortably and receptively. It can even be singing a favorite  hymn.

Healing Music… Gifted singers and songwriters often put to music those things lingering unexpressed in our hearts. My dear friend Shellee Coley wrote a song during the flooding of Hurricane Harvey that does just that. The song’s video can be found here. Listen to music that tells the story you are living. Hearing it articulated in song might help you recognize some of your own deeper feelings about what is happening below the surface.

Singing Bowl… If you have one or can get your hands on one, the vibration you can create and absorb with this simple instrument can be very therapeutic. Originating in Nepal, this bowls are used in meditation and healing because of the fundamental frequency they emit. Playing one is a meditation unto itself. Dana Shamas of Bayou Bliss Yoga, who led a free crystal bowl meditation session this week in Houston’s Rothko Chapel to aid the community’s recovery, describes the trauma experienced by all who live in devastated areas as “ambient chaos.” Whether directly affected or living among those who were, we all feel the communal trauma in our bodies.

SMELL

Essential oils… If you regularly use essential oils, smell each one and diffuse the one that draws you to it. If you are new to essential oils, choose a lavender for relaxation or a citrus (lemon or orange) to lighten your mood and lift the heaviness of trauma. A diffuser (widely available) allows you to enjoy the benefits for hours, but if you can’t get your hands on one or are without electricity, dab a few drops on your wrists or temples and inhale deeply.

SIGHT

Candlelight… The most gentle way to view the world is by candlelight. The primal glow softens the hard edges of everything in our sight and works its way inward. Light a candle and, literally, change the way you see the world. If you are without power, this one has both practical and aesthetic benefits.

TOUCH/KINESTHETIC

Yoga… If you have a home practice, choose some simple grounding poses—mountain pose (tadasana), down dog (adho mukha svanasana), warrior pose (virabhadrasana) and easy seated pose (sukhasasna). Listen to your body, and move through or hold poses in ways that feel nourishing to you. An extended corpse pose (savasana) just might be your whole practice today.

Bath… Slip into a warm bath. For centering trifecta, add a few drops of essential oil and some candles to your bath experience.

Labyrinth… If you live near a labyrinth, go walk it. This ancient meditative movement takes you from the outer to the inner, both physically and spiritually. I always doubt the power of this simple practice when I start, but I inevitably receive an important message or experience a needed release by the time I reach the center. Not sure where to find one? Search this labyrinth locator. I found 30 within a 25 mile radius of me, including the one I walked this morning.

TASTE

Tea… Make tea a morning or evening ritual, choosing a blend with calming properties and preparing it as old school as possible. Avoid microwaving your water and opt for a whistling tea kettle instead. Create an unplugged zone around your tea and sip it slowly. You can read something spiritual and inspiration, but don’t read the newspaper or escape into a novel.

Soup… Are you sensing a theme here? Like tea, soup is warm and grounding and can be sipped and savored. Choose a soup that’s flavorful but not overly spicy. It’s hard to frantically eat soup. Let the slow pace of your spooning seep into the rest of your day.

SPIRIT

Prayer… This is not about saying the right words. It is, in fact, not about words at all. The prayer we need in times of chaos is one of our heart reaching out to something greater than ourselves. In stillness and with a receptively devoid of expectation. Look inside yourself for what needs to be expressed. For what is weighing you down with fear or anxiety. Give what you find to God.

Meditation… If prayer is releasing our hearts to God, meditation is what happens after in the silence. There is no magic formula to meditation. Our only job is to hold the space in stillness. Not waiting for the outcome to legitimize our practice, but knowing that just be showing up we have entered into meditation.

Take a practice or two from this list that speaks to you. Don’t try to do them all at once or you’ll increase your stress level rather than lowering it. Instead, tuck them away and pull them out when you need them. Be gentle with yourself as you build your practice, especially during a time of crisis. If you’re a journaler, make notes on your experiences that will help you build a practice that will anchor you when life’s storms—literal and metaphorical—come your way.