On International Panic Day

---

Chocolate, Panic, and the Pipes That Don’t Rest
A first-person field note for the tenderly anxious and mythically inclined

Before we get into gods, goat-hooved panic, and sympathetic surges, here’s what I’ve learned: you don’t face an emotional cyclone without provisions. You carry a talisman. Mine? Chocolate burfi.

🍫 Recipe Card for Sanity: Chocolate Burfi with Condensed Milk

Ingredients:

• 1 tin (400g) sweetened condensed milk
• 1½ cups milk powder
• 2 tablespoons cocoa powder (unsweetened)
• 2 tablespoons ghee
• A handful of chopped cashews or almonds (optional)
• A pinch of salt for drama

Method:

1. In a nonstick pan, melt the ghee on low heat.
2. Add condensed milk, then stir in milk powder, cocoa powder, and that tiny pinch of salt.
3. Keep stirring (rhythm is important—it’s therapeutic).
4. When the mix thickens and starts to leave the sides of the pan (about 7–10 minutes), switch off the heat.
5. Toss in the nuts if using, press it all into a greased tray.
6. Let it cool, cut into small squares, and know you’ve summoned comfort in edible form.

Make it ahead. Wrap it in foil. Keep it in your emergency satchel next to tissues, sarcasm, and a backup mantra.

---

Now, about chocolate. The ancients called it Theobroma cacao—“food of the gods.” And they weren’t joking.

It’s rich in magnesium, flavonoids, and something called anandamide, which literally translates to “bliss molecule.” No wonder when Remus Lupin handed Harry a square of chocolate after a Dementor attack, I wanted to reach into the page and hug the man. In my personal survival playbook, “when the going gets tough, the tough eat chocolate.”

---

Pan Day Dedication: From Forests to Forums

Which brings me to today—International Panic Day. No, it isn’t officially sanctioned by any mythological council, but if it were, the patron deity would clearly be Pan.

Pan, Greek god of forests, wild places, sudden frights, and—curiously enough—musicianship. He didn’t just scream; he played the pipes.
But his cries were potent: loud, disorienting, animal. The Greeks coined the term panikon deima—“Pan-induced fear.” That’s where we get the word panic.

I like to imagine Pan not as malicious, but misunderstood. A trickster therapist who shakes our shoulders when we’ve ignored instinct too long. You’re pretending you’re fine? BLEAT says Pan. You’ve bypassed your intuition again? TOOT TOOT goes his flute.

He doesn’t want to scare us. He wants us to wake up.

---

And Then, Biology Joins the Party

Modern panic attacks are less about mythical forest deities and more about over-zealous biological alarm systems.

When the body perceives danger—real or imagined—it flips a big red switch in the brain. That’s the sympathetic nervous system. The heart races. Breath shortens. Muscles tense. It’s fight, flight, or freeze—even if the only threat is your boss typing “can we talk?” without a smiley.

This is homeostasis gone rogue.
Your body, which really just wants to water your organs in peace, is instead prepping to wrestle invisible lions in office attire.

But here’s the miracle: we also have a built-in repair crew—the parasympathetic nervous system. That’s the part that whispers, “Hey… it’s over now. Come back. Breathe.”

---

How I Ride the Flute Storm (a.k.a. Managing Panic)

First, I breathe. Not dramatically. Not yogically. Just deliberately.

• Box Breathing: inhale 4, hold 4, exhale 4, hold 4. Like tracing the edges of a square with your breath.
• 4-7-8 Breathing: longer exhale = calmer brain.

Then: I eat the chocolate. Seriously. Not the whole tray (not always). Just a small piece.
I let it melt. I anchor in the senses.
Because panic lives in the abstract future, and chocolate lives right now.

If I’m still spiraling, I look at something absurd—like a video of a goat in pajamas hopping across a trampoline. Or I attend a mental “Panic Picnic,” where I imagine my irrational fear packed neatly in a tiffin and I show it off like: This? This is my fear of parallel parking. Yours?

Sometimes I imagine Pan himself sitting cross-legged at the edge of my nerves, playing a tune that’s half alarm, half lullaby.

---

So here’s to Pan, to Lupin, to chocolate burfi and breathwork. To the body’s chaos and its quiet wisdom.
To the days that roar louder than necessary—and to the humble toolkit that reminds us we’re still here, still laughing, still reaching for the sweet things.

And if today gets stormy?

I have my burfi. Let the pipes play on. 🐐🎶🍫

---

This post is written for #blogchatterfoodfest at blogchatter.