The Caged Lion
When I was a kid, I took a trip to the Chicago Zoo. This was before the concept of “habitats” when zoo animals lived in steel cages with a little dirt thrown in. Long before I could see the lion, I heard it roar. The sheer volume and power of the sound were awesome. I got excited, rushing forward to see the beast capable of such an intimidating sound.
As we got closer, I noticed the roar came at a very regular interval. I began to wonder if it was a recording. When we finally arrived at the cage, the reality was much worse.
The lion was huge, a beautiful animal with flowing muscles. But he was trapped in a loop. He walked from the right rear of its cage to the left front, circled back, and walked from the left rear to the front right. At the center he paused to let out that powerful roar. Then, he did it again. Every step, every head toss, every pause was precisely the same. That great wild beast had settled into a monotonous habit, carving a figure-eight into the floor of his cage. Without a "pattern interrupt," he would repeat that loop forever. Biologists call this "stereotypy" or "zoochosis"—a repetitive behavior caused by confinement.
I realized recently that my mind does the exact same thing.
I may not be a lion, but I know my mind is a powerful instrument capable of incredible feats of logic and creativity. Yet, I often fall into patterns. I get caught in thought loops that I travel over and over again—worrying about the same future scenarios, replaying the same past conversations.
This isn't just a metaphor; it’s biology. In neuroscience, there is a principle known as Hebb’s Law: "Neurons that fire together, wire together." Like the lion wearing a physical path in the floor of its cage, we physically alter our brains through repetition. Over time, we make the connections we travel repeatedly faster and more efficient. The more we worry, the better our physical brain gets at worrying. We traverse these trails so frequently that eventually, we can’t help but follow the path.
This is where meditation comes in. The lion in Chicago may have been literally trapped in a steel cage, but our mental loops are self-imposed. Meditation is an opportunity to recognize that there is no cage and there is no literal trail.
When I sit to meditate, I am refusing to walk the loop. The desire to go down the habit-trail arises—the urge to plan, to worry, to fantasize—but I just let it go and stay where I am. I imagine that well-worn trail getting overgrown with fresh foliage.
By sitting still, I am quieting what scientists call the Default Mode Network—the brain's "autopilot" that keeps us trapped in the past or future. I can almost feel the neurons resetting. The circuits that have been firing repeatedly finally get a break, giving the brain a chance to prune away the old habits and consider new connections.
When I finish meditating, I feel like my thoughts are fresh. They are true to the here and now, rather than reactions to the time-worn trails of the past.
Your mind is powerful. Don’t let it settle into a pathetic loop of reworking the same memories. Take the time to let the trail fade so you can find new paths to follow.
If you are tired of walking the same loops and are ready to stop surviving your performance and start dictating the outcome, let's talk. Whether you are an athlete, a dancer, or a high-performing professional, The First Victory System™ is designed to help you install the mental infrastructure required to find a new path.
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