I first experienced a fog machine during a college performance of Camelot. This special effect apparatus sits in the wings and blows a chemical mist onto stage at the actors’ feet. Despite its artistic appeal, I can still feel the dry throat and smell the chemical odor of theatre fog.  A different kind of F.O.G.—Fear, Obligation, and Guilt—clouds our joy of living in much the same way. These feelings blow in during personal dramas that trigger our inner F.O.G. machine.

All the World’s a Stage

We’re all familiar with daily life triggers. A co-worker criticizes our performance on the team, a loved one disapproves of a choice we make, a social media comment questions our values. And, bam! Before we know it the machine has kicked in.

All our hours of yoga, meditation, or self-care go out the window. As if on cue, the mechanism powers up, sending clouds of fear, obligation, or guilt into our former sunny consciousness.

Personally, I’m well versed in the drama queen art form. As a kid, my mother used to tell me that I’d have to learn not to be so upset by my grandfather’s or my brother’s taunts. If you don’t react, she’d say, they’ll stop teasing you.  She was probably right, but hey at six years old, I had no skills to stop spontaneous tears.

The F.O.G. Machine Exercise

As an adult, though, I have several tools to release F.O.G. once I’ve been triggered. One technique is the creative use of visualization.  For example, the fog machine image came to me while navigating a fearful challenge. So, I decided to use the metaphor as a launch point for an inner creative exercise.

I sat down, closed my eyes, and calmed my heartbeat. As I entered the worlds of my imagination, I saw myself in the wings of a large performance space. Just ahead, a tall, emaciated man with wide eyes pushed hard and fast on a machine’s lever, spewing F.O.G. everywhere. I walked over and asked him what he was doing. His eyes filled with panic. This is my job, he said. I have to keep doing my job! It was as if his boss would torture him if the fog stopped flowing.

I wanted to stop the fog. But to do so meant letting go of the outcome, and choosing to be a compassionate presence for the machine’s operator.

After a time, I asked if he’d like some water. As if in a flash of awakening, he suddenly seemed to consider that maybe he, of himself, was not a machine. Silently and gradually, he slowed his pace. Eventually, he returned my gaze and nodded.

We walked to a nearby table set up with water, fresh fruit, and other snacks.  He took the smallest portions, but he did eat. As we talked, he revived a little, gaining some color in his cheeks.  I told him he no longer needed to run the machine, that I was the boss now, and I happily set him free.

Have you ever experienced how a scenario within your imagination can impact your breathing, blood pressure, muscle tension, and frame of mind? My body relaxed deeply as I came out of this exercise. I felt a sense of peace. I saw my problem in a completely new light, and I saw a simple solution.

Dismantle the Machine

What would your image be for the mechanical nature behind fear, obligation, or guilt? What if you used this to your advantage? Maybe you could slow the revved up engine, shift into a lower gear, or take over as computer programmer of your mind.

When we decide how much F.O.G. were willing to tolerate, we’re also free to clear out the rest. Fear, obligation, and guilt need not pollute our inner atmosphere. We can choose a different kind of mist to artfully beautify a dramatic moment. Or, we can compassionately dismantle the machine.

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Photo from miriamruthross.wordpress.com; Cirque du Soleil: Worlds Away