Author: Paula Stephens

A Buddhist Chaplain Shares How to Cope with the Pandemic

EDITOR’S NOTE: You can find a number of helpful coronavirus resources and all related Tiny Buddha articles here.

When I decided over two years ago to become a Buddhist Chaplain, I could’ve never dreamed that I would be experiencing our current pandemic crisis.

I chose to become a Buddhist Chaplain after I lost my son in 2010. The experience of losing a child forever changed how I related to the world and how I relate to grief, suffering, and compassion.

One of the most profound lessons I learned about grief is that it doesn’t have to follow the loss of a loved one. We grieve anything we feel a connected to that provides our lives with purpose and meaning. By this definition it is no wonder our current situation of isolation is creating an undercurrent of deep grief and loss for what we once deemed our “normal life.”

For two years I studied Buddhist Philosophy at Upaya Zen Center under the instruction of Roshi Joan Halifax and other incredible Buddhist teachers. Currently I’m finishing my 1600 hours of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) to become a board certified chaplain.

After experiencing a life-changing event I wanted to be able to give back and, in a way, keep my son’s memory alive through this work. I imagined coming alongside people as they and their loved one experience the end of life and providing compassionate bereavement support to those who were left to mourn the person they loved and lost.

These experiences, I imagined, involved human connection and touch. Warm hand to warm hand, heart to heart. I knew that my presence wouldn’t heal the whole of it but hoped that it would provide the next brush stroke in the mandala of mean-making for these people along the journey of grief.

But in these most recent days it looks more like this: I call a dad through the safety of a phone call, no heart to heart, to tell him his young son was killed in a motorcycle accident. And when he asks if he could come to the hospital and see him, I say no and explain our COVID guidelines.

Then when he shows up to collect his son’s personal belongings, I stand in the parking lot of our emergency room, with a face mask on, six feet away, hand him the bag, and instruct him not to open the red biohazard bag for three days. It’s a COVID precaution, I tell him.

He holds the bag gently, looks at me with tears welling up in his eyes, and says, “How can we even have a funeral? No one is allowed to come.” And, with that, the tears break past the levy and rush down his cheeks.

We stand in silence until he pleads, “So I really can’t see him?”

I immediately think of how I would’ve felt if someone wouldn’t have let me see my son when he died. My heart tightens, I look away and explain the guidelines again (inside I feel like a failure as a chaplain).

If this were two months ago this interaction would plant the seeds of healing. The emotional closure of seeing his son one last time would prime the pump of healing and integration. But instead, he’s left with a red biohazard bag that he can’t open for three days.

Now that I am working full time in a level one trauma center during the COVID pandemic I can’t imagine doing this work without those years of training as a compassionate caregiver grounded in Buddhist teachings.

As the days have unfolded, and my ‘typical’ chaplain experiences are tarnished by new policies, even when the patient isn’t a COVID patient, I have reflected on what teachings and skills have helped me the most. My hope is by sharing these with you it will give you some tools to come alongside others, warm hand to warm hand, heart to heart.

Allow all the feelings and emotions that arise.

This is a time of unprecedented and volatile changes. It is normal and natural that with these changes a variety of feelings arise. Unfortunately, we live in a culture that embraces toxic positivity. Seeing bumper stickers that read “good vibes only” and being encouraged to manifest the life we want through positive affirmations, we begin to feel guilty or like there is something wrong with us when we have a normal human emotion like grief, anger, or sadness.

Subconsciously withholding permission to experience the full spectrum of human emotions is akin to only allowing a pendulum to swing in one direction.

The end result is that we can only feel the positive emotions to the depth and degree that we allow ourselves to feel deeply into the difficult emotions. Any joy or happiness we experience is blunted and/or limited by our inability to lean into the difficult emotions we have as part of the human experience.

Just like any skill we develop, it takes practice. So, when we spend energy pushing away or ignoring grief, sadness, anger, or depression, we are stealing an opportunity from ourselves to become more skilled at working with this emotion.

This is one reason why many people don’t understand why they aren’t happier in spite of working hard at “good vibes only.” On the other hand, when we get to know the full spectrum of emotions, we become more agile at working with them.

For example, I know that when I’m feeling grief it often shows up in my chest, whereas anger I’m more likely to feel in my throat. I can only discern this because I work to develop a mindfulness and awareness of these.

One of the best ways to begin a relationship with the more difficult emotions that arise is to distinguish between you and the feeling.

Dr. Susan David, in her TED talk on emotional agility, suggested we shift our word choice. For example, instead of saying, “I’m sad,” try saying, “I’m feeling sad.” There are no good/bad feelings, just feelings that need to be acknowledged.

Make friends with impermanence.

Illness, old age, and death are always part of our lives, but now we feel as if they have moved in closer. The latent awareness of these inevitabilities can cause us to feel an increase in anxiety.

In part because of our cultural aversion to grief, we often live our lives as if illness, old age, and death are as far away as the moon, needing a telescope to see the details. But the truth is aging is a gift, and every morning we wake we are one day closer to all three of these.

All of our experiences are impermanent… including this one with the COVID virus! The flow of life continues even through the hurt and pain of health problems, lost jobs, and all the other difficulties that are arising in this time.

These experiences are never as far off as the moon, they are always near to us. But, just like only embracing selective emotions, when we ignore the truth of life (and death) we are likely to be caught very unprepared for when things change.

All of life, our possessions, and our relationship are temporary. Making friends with impermanence helps us suffer less, and acknowledging impermanence encourages gratitude for all that is good in this moment.

One of my favorite teachings on impermanence is by the renowned teacher Thich Nhat Hahn. They are called The Five Remembrances.

My first experience with these was in a weekend course with Frank Osteseski, the founder of the Zen Hospice Project, and Metta Institute in San Francisco.

In a very powerful group experience, we had to speak the five remembrances over and over again to one another. There wasn’t a dry eye in the group!

I’ve shared them below and I would encourage you to sit with someone you trust and say them to one another. After each statement sit with what comes up for you and feel into what you’re experiencing, not turning away from any of it.

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

Reduce your stress and increase your joy and compassion with these four Buddhist virtues.

Alleviating suffering is at the core of all Buddhist teachings. More than any other Buddhist teachings, I’ve used these four qualities to regulate the emotional turmoil and difficult times while working in the hospital.

In Buddhism you will often hear these qualities called the “Four Boundless Abodes,” or “Four Brahma Viharas.” They are loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity.

These qualities are the ultimate form of self-care and connect us to the innate goodness within ourselves and others. I believe it is the element of connecting us to others that make these so powerful, especially during these times of social isolation.

Loving kindness, the first quality, encourages us to always make the kindest choice. This means in our own inner narrative about ourselves and in the way we interact with other people.

Practicing loving-kindness to myself could mean being mindful of my own limitations and not beating myself up if I fall short. Another way of saying this is to make sure that we are treating ourselves with the same kindness we would offer someone we love.

As we interact with others it helps to assume everyone is doing the best they can with the skills and resources they have. This doesn’t mean we agree with their actions, but it reduces our suffering by allowing us to let go of what we think should happen and express kindness. Loving-kindness is cultivated in relationship to self and others.

The second quality of the Four Boundless Abodes is compassion. Compassion arises when we stay open to the suffering of another and begin to blur the lines of being separate from others.

Compassion encourages us to not turn away from suffering, but to lean into it. This is another way that practicing with all of our emotions allows us to be fuller, more tenderhearted human beings. Compassion is the nudge we need to take action that might reduce another person’s suffering.

Compassion, like loving-kindness, is rooted in relationship with others. But it’s important to recognize we can be compassionate to another person without taking on their suffering. Sometimes just being seen in our suffering is enough to transform it.

As a chaplain I often say that all I do is listen. People want their story to be heard and their suffering to be acknowledged. In this way, by simply being present, we give the invaluable gift of being seen.

The third quality, I believe, has the most potential to transform our relationship with others and to break down barriers that keep us from suffering alone. Sympathetic joy is the practice of feeling happy for other people’s joys and happiness.

In our culture that is focused on competition and winning at all cost, this can be a very difficult thing to do. Judgment, envy, comparison, greed, and many other things get in the way of experiencing sympathetic joy. However, sympathetic joy encourages us to transform those ugly feelings into the realization that our own happiness often depends on the joy and happiness of many other people.

Gratitude is a close cousin to sympathetic joy. Finding joy in ourselves and others is another way of expressing gratitude for how things are in the current moment. It also raises the awareness of goodness in the moment when sometimes we can’t find anything good about the current situation.

Last month experienced a moment of sympathetic joy when talking to a mental health provider in our emergency room. She told a story of a very difficult bi-polar patient that, in the end, told the nurse how grateful she was for her help. Seeing the joy on the nurse’s face as she told the story cultivated joy in my heart as I thought of how good it feels to be acknowledged for the work we do that is difficult and often unrewarding.

The last quality, equanimity, pulls everything together. It holds the best of all the other qualities

Equanimity is working with our heart-mind to create a calm, unbiased mind that can hold compassion, loving-kindness, and sympathetic joy, without getting swept up in toxic positivity, or not being able to let go when it’s time.

Equanimity grounds us in an open heart that isn’t attached to how things should be, but can accept things for how they are. My teacher Roshi Joan Halifax refers to this as having a firm-back and soft-front. She also says, often jokingly, that the current agenda is subject to reality.

These are hard times, and it’s important to give yourself permission to feel all the emotions freely and fully so that you can widen the swing of the pendulum of emotions.

And with the support of sympathetic joy, joy becomes more fulfilling. With compassion and loving-kindness, we can bring in the reality of impermanence and focus on the things that really matter because we haven’t pushed them off thinking we have more time or it won’t happen to us.

Below I’ve shared a few meditations on each of the four Boundless Abodes to use as you cultivate these qualities in your own life during this difficult time.

Loving-Kindness: May I accept all my emotions with an open my heart, knowing I am not limited by them.
May I be filled with love and kindness equally towards myself and others.

Compassion: May I, and all beings, be free from suffering.
May I realize the truth of impermanence for myself and all beings.

Sympathetic Joy: May I feel your joy as my own and my joy extend to all beings.
May I find peace and well-being so that I may be of service to others.

Equanimity: May I accept all things as they are with an open heart and mind free of judgment.
May I be able to let go of expectations and accept things as they unfold.

May 20, 2020
It’s Not Either/Or: The Power of Opening Your Mind and Seeing Both Sides

“Compassionate listening is to help the other side suffer less.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

In late 2017 my husband and I were both getting ready for work one morning when I casually said, “Hey, I think I’m going to start teaching yoga in the jail.”

Without missing a beat my husband said, “Well, that’s a terrible idea. Why would you do that?”

He gave this comment as a statement, flat and decisive. I had suspected I would get this type of response, so I tried to play it cool, like it didn’t bother me. But it still stung a bit, since I had hoped for his support.

As a long-time yoga teacher, I was excited about the opportunity to serve those who could potentially receive the practice’s mind-body benefits and who also might not have access to or have experienced yoga before.

I knew I wasn’t going to fix them with a single yoga class, but I hoped by connecting with someone who saw them as whole and unbroken, they’d know they don’t have to be defined by their current situation.

My husband, on the other hand, saw it through the eyes of a police detective who specializes in crimes against children. He has seen the worst in human behavior on levels you and I can’t even begin to imagine. Additionally, he had worked in the very jail I was going to. He knew much better than I, with my dialed-up altruism, what could go wrong.

He is an outstanding human being, as is almost every single police officer I’ve met. His misgivings were based in a reality I had never experienced but one he had the first-hand experience of.

I understood his concerns, but my pride and ego were still hurt because he didn’t support the work I wanted to do.

I went ahead and pursued teaching with the support of the Prison Yoga Project and ended up teaching the female inmates at the county jail.

In the early weeks, my husband and I continued our unofficial cold war and didn’t talk much about what I did. But that didn’t affect my enthusiasm.

I love my work at the jail. My students are as diverse as an exclusive studio’s clientele. I’ve had pregnant women, a mother-daughter duo, young, old, and a few who’ve gotten out only to come back a few weeks later.

I never ask what they’re in for, but their tattoos tell more about their lives than I could read in their record—the deep grief for all they’ve lost engraved in black and smeared faded colors on their skin.

The most common tattoos are in memory of people who’ve died. I wonder if there is something temporarily soothing to literally feel the pain of grief being etched into their skin and buried under the surface. I only have to look at the tattoo on my own wrist in memory of my son to know the answer.

In the months that followed that initial conversation, my husband and both began to soften our stance. I found him to be a good resource for some questions I had about legal procedures or other things that came up, and he was curious about the women and their yoga experience.

Then one day a few months back he came home and shared that a long, emotionally difficult case he’d been working on had wrapped up. The woman was sentenced to one year in the jail where I was working.

He admitted he felt a moment anger that she would be able to take yoga classes after what she’d done. But then, he took a breath, sighed, and said that he would rather see her have the chance to come out better than to hurt any other children. We both softened.

Within a week I too had a moment of questioning my decision to work with inmates. In an altercation with a man who was strung out on drugs and unhinged with violence, one of my husband’s co-workers was injured so badly he needed to be hospitalized. The perpetrator was arrested and taken to the jail where I teach.

It was my turn to be angry and imagine that this man (or someone like him) could’ve hurt or killed my husband. Did I really want to support someone who could threaten one of the most valuable things in my life?

I felt so deeply conflicted. Then I wondered if my husband felt betrayed by me because I was teaching at the jail. Did he feel I was either with him or against him? And did I expect him to be with me in my altruism or else he was against me?

Either/Or and Both/And Mindsets

Life is too often defined as either this or that. And, it seems, when we choose our side we must also choose all the things that are aligned with that side. For example, if I’m a woo-woo yoga teacher then I must be against the police. Our culture increasingly demands that we stake our claim, unwaveringly.

When we fall into the trap of an either/or mindset we shut ourselves off from opportunities, connections, and relationships that could alleviate suffering for people on both sides of the issue.

Either/or thinking is divisive at best. It places us firmly in our own silos, cloistering us in an imaginary us versus them utopia, whereas “both/and” thinking creates community and connection. It allows us to begin to build webs of supports that extend beyond our own ability to impact change.

Perhaps you’ve found yourself in the either/or conflict when you discover that your favorite co-worker supports the opposite political party. You feel your stomach tighten and then extrapolate what else they must believe that you find offensive. These mental games likely result in feeling that you’re at war with this person, resulting in your work relationship suffering.

A great place to start to transition to both/and thinking is to use the Zen Buddhist tenant of “not knowing.” When we open to the fact we don’t know everything about the situation it softens us.

In the example of your coworker, perhaps they’ve been influenced by different life experiences that have shaped their beliefs and opinions about what’s best for our country and the people in it. And perhaps you even share similar values but hold different perspectives about the best approach to honoring them.

When you consider that people who seem against you may also have good intentions, it’s easier to find common ground and work together instead of against each other.

When my husband and I began to see our situation as both/and not either/or it was much easier to see how each of us could positively impact the individual systems we work in and, even in a small way, create healing for those involved.

Recently in my Buddhist Chaplain studies, we looked at systems using Donella Meadows’ model. In her book, Thinking in Systems, she says, “You think that because you understand ‘one’ that you must, therefore, understand ‘two’ because one and one make two. But you forget that you must also understand ‘and.’”

Seeing that my husband’s work is necessary and my work is necessary, even within the same situation, is a powerful force that creates change.

It would be easy to put me in my woo-woo yogi silo and my husband in the cop silo. Instead, we agreed to focus on both our work and how the overlap can be an opportunity to dissolve the hard lines of either/or thinking and look for the places where “and” exists. Then we lean deeply into those places, because these are the tender places of real change.

We need to learn to make our silos more permeable.

One of the other things I’ve learned in my Buddhist Chaplain program is that when we consider the best way to positively impact how a system is functioning, we can start by focusing close in, then zooming out.

If I am standing in the middle of a river I can feel the power of the flowing water, but when I stand on a mountaintop and look down at the same river it can look calm and peaceful. Both of those perceptions of the river are correct, but I’ve changed my vantage point.

When we feel ourselves being asked to take an either/or position we can take a moment to zoom out and in to find balance in our perspective taking. We need to do both, get wet and get distance!

Another negative outcome of the either/or mindset is that it forces us to find blame. When I assume the either/or mindset in a situation, then by default the person who is opposing me must be incorrect and therefore is also to blame when things go wrong. When we are looking for someone to blame it takes us out of accountability for our own actions and it removes us from being empathetic to another person.

Without empathy, it is very hard to come from a place of compassion. And without compassion, we de-humanize the other person. The result of dehumanization is believing that the other person is less than us and therefore deserving of whatever bad things come their way.

In the case of my husband and the woman he sent to jail, rather than dehumanize her with an either/or mindset, he saw her as both human and deserving of something good, while she took responsibility for her action.

Each time we choose a both/and mindset over an either/or mindset we release ourselves from having to find someone to blame and we stay connected to our human experience without dehumanizing another person.

A both/and mindset doesn’t mean we have to let go of being change-makers in the world. The world needs change-makers now more than ever. But there will never be peace and compassion in the world if we can’t do both—get in the river to feel the power and climb the mountain to see the calm. As one of my teachers at the Upaya Institute said, “A nudge of calm can shift a storm.” Be the nudge, not the storm.

January 1, 2019
Post-Traumatic Growth: How Pain Can Lead to Gain
“When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. When life is bitter, say thank you and grow.” ~Shauna Niequist

It’s been over five years since the unexpected death of my oldest son. The first couple years were fraught with depression, despair, and a sense of hopelessness like I had never felt before. I even kept a notebook in my purse outlining the plan for how I would ultimately end my life.

It wasn’t until this past year that I told my friends about how close I had been to the edge. After outing myself, I found out they knew way more than I gave them credit for in that first year, and were often on suicide watch (despite the fact that I thought I was being so coy).

Recently I was talking to a friend about my “list.” It included the things I wanted to have done before I ended my own life (I’m a bit of a planner). Some items were practical things, like “clean the house” and “have the laundry done,” but it also included emotional things, like “write letters to my family” and “distribute special personal items.”

My friend roared in laughter (not the response I expected) and said, “I’m so glad Brandon (my son who died) kept having you add stuff to your list—you’ll never have all your laundry done!”

I had to agree, there was no doubt that my angel son, Brandon, had been scheming, along with my other friends, to keep my head above water until I could learn to swim on my own.

As horrible as those early months and years were, they also led me to deeper spiritual and emotional growth than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

For me, the loss of my son led me to find my secret super soul powers. For you, it might be a divorce or diagnosis that shook your world to the core and forced you onto the path of what professionals call “post-traumatic growth.” Yes, post-traumatic growth is a real thing!

Learning about this powerful shift that happens when we’re open to seeing the growth behind tragedy allows us to use these events to evolve into a better, more soul-filled version of ourselves.

Post-traumatic growth has an organic, innate quality about it, but we have to know to look for it or we might miss it.

What is Post Traumatic Growth?

Psychologists Richard G. Tedeschi and Lawrence G. Calhoun originally researched post-traumatic growth (PTG) in the mid 1990’s at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. The researchers found that 90% of individuals who experience a traumatic event exhibit as least one factor identified as PTG.

The five cornerstones of PTG include:
- A desire to be open to new opportunities that weren’t present or didn’t seem like possibilities before
- An increased sense of connection to others, typically exhibited by being more compassionate or empathetic to other’s suffering.
- A greater sense of self-reliance or sense that if you lived through that, you can take on anything
- An increase in gratitude for life in general and an appreciation for things that might have been taken for granted before
- A deepening of a spiritual connection or purpose, and this could include changing or realigning beliefs
Examples of PTG

You may not feel like you’ve changed in all these areas. It’s common to experience your PTG in one or two of them.

For example, I have a friend who became one of the first women to run the length of the Colorado Trail (486 miles), in order to raise awareness for Parkinson’s disease, after her sister was diagnosed with the disease.

This is an example of seeing new opportunities and developing an increased gratitude for life. Although I would guess there was also a connection to spirit during those long days on the trail!

When I speak on this topic I often share the famous icons of PTG—superheroes like Batman and Spiderman, who both were moved to act on their PTG after the loss of a loved one. (Okay, Spiderman had the added benefit of superpowers, but still!)

Or we could talk about the woman, Candy Lightner, who started Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD). The death of her child propelled her to create a drunk driving movement that we’ve all heard of.

One of my most healing shifts came when I began to feel deep compassion for others who were suffering, and also tapped into gratitude for the beautiful life I still had to live and for the blessings that occur daily when I tuned in to them.

I have also felt a shift on focusing on what is really important in life and being able to let go of thoughts that no longer serve me.

Two of my other sons, Brandon’s younger brothers, recently took a year and travelled to Australia. They have both said to me they realize there are no promises in life and want to experience all they can.

How Can You Tap into PTG for Personal Gain?

The simplest place to start is checking in with yourself to see if you are stuck asking yourself why something happened to you. If you continue to struggle with a question that, even if it were answered, would not change your current situation, then you start with shifting from the “why me” to the “how.” How can you make something good come of this?

The next step is starting to practice. All the good stuff we need is labeled practice, not perfect—a meditation practice, yoga practice, gratitude practice. It’s no accident that what we need most we are told to practice, not perfect.

PTG is the blooming lotus flower in the mud. When we can begin practicing looking for the potential instead of being focused on the mud, our minds begin to shift. Our brains are wired to tune in to what we’re looking for. If we’re looking for the bad stuff, the bad stuff is what we see, and vice versa.

Remember PTG has an organic element to it, so to help you begin to practice PTG in your own life, start with the most natural shifts. When you consider the five areas above, which one to you feel most drawn to? Perhaps there is one that comes more natural to you.

For example, have you always felt a connection to spirit? If so, lean into your growth by finding ways to explore your relationship to a higher power.

Is a part of you that has wanted to take a trip somewhere, but it always felt out of reach or not possible? Why not explore how to make it happen this year? Life is precious; find a way to act.

I would also encourage you to begin noticing how others you know have shown PTG. Think of friends or other people who handled a crisis in a way that makes you take notice. What action did they take or how did they change themselves?

PTG has the capacity to take us beyond simply adapting to our current situation. It takes us to new levels of consciousness and being that weren’t available had we not experienced our life event or trauma.

Think of this as not just making lemonade from your lemons, but having what you need to create a decadent, gourmet, and sweetly delicious lemon chiffon cheesecake with a raspberry swirl topping!
August 23, 2016
Why We Don’t Need to Apologize So Often & How to Do It Well When We Do

“The ability to apologize sincerely and express regret for the unskillful things we say or do is an art. A true apology can relieve a great deal of suffering in the other person.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

My life has been full of apologies. I’ve been on both the receiving and giving end of the good, the bad, and the ugly apology.

Just recently a dear friend who I hadn’t connected with in a long time reached out and asked if we could meet for coffee. I sort of backhandedly blew her off and told her I would try to meet her later that same day. I had already made plans to run with another friend, but I chose not to share this.

After my run, I invited my running buddy to coffee and ran into my other friend. It was awkward. We hung out and all had coffee together, but there was an uncomfortable vibe between us the entire time.

Later that day I texted my friend, apologized, and told her I should’ve been honest about my reason for rejecting her invitation. Yes, you read that correctly—I texted my apology! Owning our mistakes is hard, and I’m working on getting better in this area.

On the other hand, I’m learning there’s a difference between apologizing for a mistake and apologizing for being human.

Recently there has been a social media meme outlining the power of shifting our word choice from “I’m sorry” to “thank you.” For example, instead of saying “I’m sorry for being such a mess,” say “Thank you for loving me unconditionally.” This type of apology suggests that our word choice is powerful and that we can choose words that empower rather than degrade.

Apologies are hard.

By definition an apology is an acknowledgement of an offense, failure, or disappointment. Anytime we are faced with having to apologize we either must acknowledge our own offense or step into holding space for another person’s disappointment. In our culture, we aren’t taught to do either of those very well.

On the other hand, apologies can be incredibly powerful healing tool connecting us to our own human experience, as well as other people.

An apology gives us the opportunity to practice humility and step into vulnerability and out of shame. So, the question becomes: How can we master the art of the apology in an effort to heal ourselves, our relationships, and the global community? Below I offer simple, actionable ways we can embrace this art.

The “It’s Not Me, It’s You” Apology

No one wants to feel like they’ve been a schmuck, and as a result, we often try to turn the fault or blame back on to someone else so that we don’t feel the shame often associated with owning our mistake.

Mistakes and subsequent apologies are hallowed ground for so much learning, grace, and humility. When we shy away from these places, we stay stuck in our own pain and shame.

Recently I had an exchange with a friend after we had awkward conversation between us. My friend seemed upset and distant, but I didn’t know what had happened. After asking her what was up, she replied that yes, she was upset. She went on to explain what had happened to upset her and apologized for her bad behavior.

After hearing this I felt genuinely saddened about what she was feeling and began to understand why she had taken such a caustic tone with me.

Unfortunately, as quickly as she apologized she tossed it back onto me and said that it was my fault she had acted that way, and if it weren’t for me she wouldn’t have been so mean.

She used the “I’m sorry, but you…” apology style. Rather than create a space of mutual understanding and an opportunity for healing, she continued with the same caustic tone and pushed the responsibility for the situation back on to me. Naturally, I felt awful that, in her view, I was 100% responsible for her angst.

This posturing left very little room for any reconciliation without getting into a back and forth exchange of grievances. Not liking the options of taking full responsibility or continuing to engage in a ping-pong of blame, I thanked her for letting me know how she felt and moved on.

We are not required to engage in or accept a blame-based apology. We can simply, and in love, move on. On the other hand, if you find yourself using the “But, you… apology,” realize that you could be damaging a relationship by staying stuck in your own ego’s need to be blameless.

When an apology is followed by a “but” and an explanation it negates the apology and doesn’t feel genuine or as if the individual is invested in seeing the opportunity to resolve, Rather, it seems they’re trying to shun any responsibility they have in the situation.

Eliminate the Explanation

The “explanation apology” is similar to the “it’s you, not me apology,” but rather than shifting the blame to another person, we offer excuses or try to explain all the reasons our apology is good enough. It often comes from a place of feeling ashamed of our humanness.

For example, I think most of us can relate to saying things we don’t mean when we’ve been drinking. Many years ago, when my husband and I were just dating, we got into a booze-infused argument, and I called him a nasty name I typically reserve for my ex-husband. Even in my tipsy state I could see the hurt in his eyes. I felt so ashamed, but at the moment couldn’t bring myself to apologize.

The next day I apologized and let him know that’s not how I felt about him. It would have been easy to explain why I had said something hurtful by blaming the booze or a variety of other things that would take the spotlight off my own careless words. I decided instead to own my bad behavior, and it was humbling, but owning it planted the seed for a healthy relationship to grow.

Mistakes are part of the human condition. Noticing when we are defaulting to feelings of shame for our humanness by either excusing or avoiding saying sorry can help us grow into more compassionate people. It can become a beautiful opportunity to reclaim our right to be human and make slipups.

If you do feel compelled to add something to your apology, perhaps a statement that affirms the other person would be a kinder choice.

When It’s Not Necessary to Say Sorry

Earlier I mentioned the popular social media meme going around suggesting we trade our “sorry’s” for “thank you’s.” This enables us to shift from guilt to gratitude in situations where we’ve done nothing wrong.

I have been a yoga teacher for many years, and it’s industry practice to reach out to another teacher and ask them to sub your class. One time a fellow teacher called to ask if I could sub for her. Unfortunately, I wasn’t available, so I apologized and began listing off all the reasons I couldn’t help. I felt guilty and thought I needed to defend my answer.

In retrospect, I realize I could have simply said, “Thank you for thinking of me. I’m flattered! Unfortunately, I won’t be able to teach for you this time, but hopefully I’ll be able to next time!”

Noticing what you’re apologizing for and when is a beautiful way to bring mindfulness to our everyday conversations. It also helps us keep apologies for the things we do that genuinely require regret.

At the same time, it gives us permission to give ourselves a break. It can be easy to get in the habit of beating yourself up and apologizing for everything. Intentionally setting the tone of a situation to be one of grace and kindness can elevate the consciousness of the individuals and allow both parties a breath of relief in acknowledging the imperfect perfection of any moment.

I was having this discussion with the female inmates I teach yoga to once a week, and they recognized how empowering it felt not to own things that result in them immediately feeling dis-empowered, the victim, or bad person of a situation. They could see how insignificant apologies were keeping them oppressed.

Keep It Simple – I’m Sorry. Period.

When we find ourselves in the position where an apology is the best choice, there is no replacement for the two simple words: I’m sorry.

Stopping at these two simple words prevents us from coming from a place of pride and ego, and it gives the other person permission to simply feel whatever it is they are feeling without us trying to soothe it or fix it.

Instead of being shamed by apologies or letting your ego get in the way of an opportunity for growth, I encourage you to see these as sacred opportunities to embrace the human condition and help heal yourself and others.

July 2, 2016
How to Move On: What It Really Means to Let Go

“Don’t let the darkness from your past block the light of joy in your present. What happened is done. Stop giving time to things which no longer exist, when there is so much joy to be found here and now.” ~Karen Salmansohn

If you are lucky enough to spend time in mindful communities you will hear the phrase “letting go” used frequently. The practice of letting go is used to support our acceptance of the way things are, and I believe it’s a cornerstone of creating a happy, full life.

But what happens when you’re being asked to let go of something that is deeply emotionally charged or something that directly relates to how you identify yourself?

When we have a deep emotional attachment to an event or circumstance in our life and we’re being asked to let it go, it can often feel like we’re being asked to move on and forget about the past, person, or event that we’re deeply connected to.

In 2010 my oldest son passed away unexpectedly. At that time I had been a practicing yogi for almost ten years and had navigated what I thought were significant opportunities for practicing detachment and letting go.

For example, during my divorce from my son’s father I let go of my long held dream of having a happy marriage, white picket fence, kids, and a dog (though I did get the kids and the dog).

Following my divorce, when my middle son, at the young age of fourteen, had to be sent away to a drug treatment facility, I let go of the typical teenage dreams of homecomings, proms, varsity sports, and so on; after all, I wasn’t sure he would live to see those years. Not only did Daniel live through those years, he has since become a vibrant soul, who never needed all those typical experiences to thrive.

So when my oldest son passed away while home on leave from the army I felt I had a head start in the letting go department, and therefore, I would find my way to healing more quickly. Not true.

Some attachments are so deeply woven into the fiber of our beings they seem almost impossible to let go.

Fortunately (but not really), we live in a culture that allows 365 days to ‘let go’ of the death of a loved one.

After Brandon died everyone was patient, loving, kind, and willing to support me going through the first year. However, on day 366 our culture seems to think it’s time to get over it, let go, and move on.

Even with my prior experience of letting go, it took me almost three years to really figure out what it means to let go when what you’re letting go of is an essential piece of your heart, soul, and identity.

Below I have identified three action steps you can take to use your practice of letting go to deepen your personal growth and attract joy and happiness in your life.

1. Future thinking—believing you can’t be happy or you’ll be happy when…

As a bereaved parent I struggled for a long time with believing that I had ‘the right’ to be happy. I struggled with reconciling happy moments in my life (with friends or my other children) with the deep grief I felt for losing Brandon.

Once I learned that life isn’t making a choice between the two emotions, but rather learning to balance and integrate them both into each situation, I was able to let go of my belief that I couldn’t be happy and begin to hold both feelings.

Another way we set ourselves up for struggling with letting go is defining our happiness in terms of if-then.

If I get the raise at work, lose ten pounds, meet my soul mate, then I’ll be happy. Those events may change certain qualities about your life, but the achievement alone doesn’t bring happiness.

When you find yourself if-then thinking, bring your focus back to the present and appreciate what is already wonderful in your world.

2. Past thinking—attachment to how things should be

As we grow up we often become attached to how we think our life should be, and we create beliefs about universal truths.

Perhaps you believed you should get a college degree, get married, have two kids, and live in the burbs. But instead you are struggling to make ends meet, don’t have a significant other, and live in your parents’ basement.

Staying fixated on how you think your life should be focuses your attention of lack rather than abundance, and on wishful thinking instead of reality.

Recognizing should-be thinking is a powerful way to shift our thoughts toward appreciation for what we do have, enabling us to come from a place of gratitude. Gratitude is a key element to joyful living.

It’s harder to let go of should-be thinking when our thoughts involve universal truths. I believed, and it’s a commonly accepted truth, that children will outlive their parents. But no one ever guaranteed me that Brandon would outlive me. The universe did not break a sacred promise with me when Brandon died.

The reality is, and I know it’s hard to hear and harder to accept, how things should be are exactly how they are right now. (I know, I don’t always like it either)

3. Definitive thinking—believing there are some wounds you can never heal from

Do you remember how you felt when you were twelve and your first boy/girlfriend broke your heart? It felt like a wound that would never heal! But it did, and you learned so much about love, life, and your own capacity to be resilient.

Unfortunately, we often experience other events in our lives that feel much bigger than that and leave us with a void that feels insurmountable. Perhaps it’s abuse, or the abandonment by a parent. These types of events leave us with wounds that are carved deep into our souls and can be much more challenging to overcome than your seventh grade love.

The human spirit has the capacity to overcome almost anything. When we let go of the thought that we can’t heal from something that has deeply wounded us, we open ourselves up to the growth potential this event holds.

It might take a lot of time, help from professionals, and deep soulful work on our part. But healing from these types of wounds can be the most transformative and powerful things we do in our lives.

What Letting Go Is Not

Letting go of an ideal, thought, or experience is not some laisse-faire, woo-woo thing.

Letting go often takes work on our part and requires us to do some introspection about what’s true and what we’re actually attached to. Neither is letting go the same as moving on without doing the work or simply forgetting about an important life-changing event or experience.

Another important aspect to recognize about letting go is that it’s not the same as forgiving someone who has wronged you. Forgiveness is an important aspect of wholehearted living, and it’s separate from letting go of attachments that keep you from becoming the incredible individual the world needs you to be.

Letting Go Is a Work in Progress

Begin the practice of letting by noticing the small ways in which you let attachment create unhappiness in your life. For example, what do you do when you’re really looking forward to your morning cup of joe and realize you’re out of coffee? Or when a friend cancels a date that you’ve been looking forward to?

Learning to let go of the things that are not serving you will free up energy and resources and you will begin to reap the benefits of a grateful, joyful life.

Woman walking on the beach image via Shutterstock

February 16, 2016
The Stage of Grief You’ve Never Heard of But May Be Stuck In

“Life is a process of becoming. A combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.” ~Anais Nin

Since I was a little girl I have believed in the power of wishes. I’ve never missed a first star, a dandelion plume, or load of hay (load of hay, load of hay, make a wish and turn away) to express to the universe my deepest desires.

When I was fifteen and my dad was at the end stages of cancer, I would wish on the first star, not to save him, but to plead a peaceful end. Since my oldest son passed away very unexpectedly in October of 2010, I have made hundreds of wishes to remember every detail I can about the boy who was the other half of my heart.

In the three years since Brandon’s death, I believe my wish to keep his memory alive have been answered by learning to turn my “whys” into “hows.”

Asking “why” isn’t one of the official stages of grief, but maybe it should be. Anger and denial get all the attention, while getting stuck in the “why” freezes you in your tracks and prevents any opportunity for growth or movement toward healing.

Not being able to let go of needing to know “why” forces you to focus on the rear view mirror. It keeps you in the past and prevents you from living in a way that honors the person or thing you have lost.

It’s in my nature to ask why. “Why” can be a powerful question that leads to clarity and progress. It can also be a roadblock in the one-way traffic of life.

Life doesn’t come with reverse, only neutral and various speeds of forward progress. “Why” firmly plants us in neutral, and that’s where I was in the months after Brandon’s death.

I obsessed over the “why.” My brain whirled at sonic speed looking for it. I assumed if I found the “why,” I would find comfort and would be able to pick up the pieces and move on. I came up with elaborate theories of why Brandon died.

Brandon was home on leave from the Army when he passed away, but was scheduled to be deployed within the next few months. I spun that into my favorite “why theory,” that dying at home saved him some horrible combat death in Afghanistan.

It made me feel better, briefly, but I was still left with the bigger question that would never be answered—why did it have to happen at all?

“What’s your why?” has become a motivational catch phrase. I remember seeing an inspirational quote on Pinterest after Brandon died, with a picture of a scantily clad, fit chick with “What’s your why?” typed beneath her sculpted abs. I shouted at her in the quiet of my room to eff-off—my “why” died!

“What’s your why?” sounds absurd to the grieving person, and it’s not comforting!

Not only had my “why” died, I also found myself pleading with the universe for the explanation to “why this happened. “Why” is a question with no answer when it comes to loss. “Why” offers more questions than comfort.

Another word that isn’t included in the official grief process, but again, I think it should be, is “how.” “How” explores possibilities. “How” shines a light into the future. Exploring “how” to live a life that honors the memory of my son made my wishes come true.

After realizing being stuck in “why” would never ease the pain of losing him, I began to realize that how I live the rest of my life is the outward manifestation of my son’s spirit.

It is the only way anyone will ever get to know my son, and the only way I can keep his memory alive. If I continued to live in the “why,” I would diminish his memory, but by living in the “how” I magnify his memory by my actions.

It doesn’t make the grief go away; rather, it ignites my grief as a powerful vessel for change.

My “how” is manifested in cultivating a life of adventure and using radical self-care to ensure that I have the energy to embrace a life that reflects Brandon’s best qualities.

It is a labor of love for my son that I embrace life, take risks, be courageous, pay it forward, and act in a way that makes people ask what I’ve been smoking. My actions are how I keep the memory of my son alive; it is how my wish has been granted.

If you or a loved one is stuck in the “why,” let it go—it simply doesn’t exist. It’s time to live in the “how.”

June 25, 2014