What's Your Anchor?

Everybody needs an anchor, a singular practice to come back to every day.

Think of a boat in open water that's dropped anchor. Storms may come and blow the ship around the circumference of that line, turning the boat different directions, but it's not leaving that spot. The boat may bob up and down over choppy water, but it is moored in place. And when the storms pass, the captain can pull up anchor and sail on, bringing the anchor with it, knowing it can always stop sailing and drop anchor again whenever it needs.

That's what an anchor practice is. No matter what's going on in your life, no matter what storms you're facing, it's the one routine that brings you back to a sense of normalcy, allowing you to connect with yourself, sort out your thoughts, and reenter your day from a calmer perspective.

Just like a boat anchor, this practice isn't something you only use during hard times. If you sail away from the shore on a clear-sky day thinking you don't need the anchor now, so you leave it behind, it won't be on board when a storm comes.

For me, my anchor is my morning pages, a practice from Julia Cameron's seminal work The Artist's Way: three pages of longhand stream-of-consciousness brain drain.

Every day for almost 13 years now, I have shown up at the page and rattled on. To-do lists, previous-day recaps, venting, financial planning, affirmations, gratitude, heartbreak--anything and everything that is real for me in that moment moves from my head down my arm and out of my body. There's just something about the practice that helps me to calm my mind and right (write) my life in ways other practices don't. And lately I've been realizing that it's really only because I am committed to doing it. In 13 years, I have missed exactly one day. ONE out of nearly 4,700.

I have other "docking line" routines that help me maintain a sense of rhythm and routine when I'm settled at home and things are chugging along "normally." Like the ropes used to tie a boat to a dock, these routines keep me from spinning circles, staying oriented and focused. For me, these docking line routines include exercise (weight-lifting, HIIT, barre/dance, yoga, and running are my go-tos), meditation, reading, time in nature, and music.

But when life gets in the way and I find myself uprooted, be it physically by traveling or mentally/emotionally from some unexpected hardship or grief, my docking lines can--and often do--go out the window.

My anchor, though? That one comes with me. No. Matter. What.

It's such a simple thing, and yet, I know I would not be who I am today nor would I have been able to achieve what I have over these last 13 years if it wasn't for my commitment to this practice. It's not only life changing; it's also life saving.

And still, as much as I love this practice, I don't think it should be everyone's anchor.

(Anyone who tells you they have THE practice you HAVE to do is full of shit.)

Because our anchors are unique, just like we are. What is one person's anchor may be a docking line for another. And what works for someone may not resonate at all for someone else.

I do firmly believe, however, that anyone looking to increase their happiness, expand their overall sense of fulfillment, or achieve greater success does need AN anchor, whatever that ends up being for them.

For some people, it's a physical activity like running, cycling, swimming laps, flowing through a yoga sequence. For others, it's a mindfulness practice like meditation, breathwork, or pranayama. For some, it might be sitting down and drinking a cup of coffee slowly while watching the sun rise.

How do you decide on an anchor? Here are some tips I think are useful:

1. Make it something you can do no matter where you are in the world. In other words, it shouldn't require much (if any) extra equipment or a certain climate in order to practice it. Your body + something you can pack in a carry-on bag.

2. In order to stick to it when life gets hard, unpredictable, or otherwise challenging, it has to be something you really enjoy doing. Because even something you love will be hard to do in such moments, but it will be easier and more rewarding to hold yourself to something you know you love.

3. For maximum benefit, 15 minutes is a good minimum and an hour at the absolute max; however, sometimes you may need (or want) to adjust the length of your practice to accommodate your situation/plans/other desires/extra time. I find 30 minutes to be the sweet spot.

I wanna hear from you. What's YOUR anchor?