Category: Quotes

“I’ve discovered that you can’t change people. They can change themselves.” ~Jim Rohn

We all want to be loved and accepted, just as we are. We want people to honor our interests, value our needs, and respect our choices in life.

So why, then, do we expect other people to sacrifice theirs for us?

Why do we hope people will change their goals, habits, and values to better align with ours when they haven’t given us any indication they’d be happier for doing it?

Sometimes we think we know what’s best for others, but if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll likely realize we want people to change when we simply don’t feel satisfied being in a relationship with them as they are.

I’m not talking about people who are violent, dangerous to themselves and others, or in any way abusive. No one should ever feel bound to an unhealthy situation by the ideas of unconditional love and acceptance.

I’m talking about the boyfriend who isn’t as open-minded as you. Or the girlfriend who doesn’t value fitness like you. Or the husband who isn’t as social as you. Or the wife who doesn’t take risks like you.

I spent most of my twenties dating people who were completely incompatible with me.

I got involved with stoic men hoping they’d become more sentimental. I pursued self-professed bachelors hoping I’d be the one to make them want to commit. I even dated men who said they never wanted kids, hoping they’d change their minds because I did.

And why? Because those were the men who were there, and it felt safer to be with the wrong men than leave and risk not finding the right one.

Relationships are all about compromise, and there’s no such thing as a perfect match.

But we owe it to ourselves to recognize what’s non-negotiable in relationships so we don’t end up resentfully sacrificing our needs while secretly hoping the people we’re with will make it worth our while.

The people we want to change—there are others out there who’d accept and even value them, just as they are. We can appreciate them for all their unique quirks, interests, and preferences. Or we can set them free and create the possibility of finding better matches.

We deserve to be happy in our relationships. That starts with choosing to be with people we’d never want to change.

Photo by mind on fire

“Relationships are like glass.  Sometimes it’s better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together.”  ~Unknown

At the end of my first long-term relationship in college, when it was clear there was nothing left to salvage, I told a mutual friend that I “had to make it work.”

The idea of moving on seemed incomprehensible. I’d invested three years. We’d loved each other, laughed together; hurt each other, grown together. I was young and I made him my everything. How could I possibly let go of us when my own identity was inextricably wrapped in our pairing?

The friend told me I talked as if we were married with kids. I didn’t have to make it work. There was no good reason to stay other than my resistance to the pain of leaving.

How do you ever know when it’s time to walk away from anyone? It always feels so much safer to stay—in a friendship, a romance, and especially a relationship with a family member.

It’s hard to wrap our heads around the idea that love often means letting go. We can still have feelings for someone and recognize that the relationship is irreparable. Sometimes moving on is the best way to love ourselves.

It’s a choice to set two people free instead of continually reliving the same arguments, denying the same incompatibility, and opening the same wounds knowing full well they’ll only heal with time and space.

I’ve written many how-to posts about relationships. I’ve shared my thoughts of kindness, compassion, acceptance, and forgiveness, and I’ve even offered suggestions for letting go.

But the truth is there are no simple step-by-step instructions for knowing when it’s time to move on. Surely there are signs. But the most important is that small knowing voice within that says something isn’t right, and it can’t be fixed.

It may never be easy to admit this. Endings always lead to uncertainty, and that can be terrifying.

But they also beget new beginnings, and new opportunities for relationships that don’t leave us feeling depleted and defeated.

How do we know when it’s time to move on? It’s when we find the courage to be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that staying will do more harm than good.

We’re the only ones who can admit this to ourselves. And we’re the only ones who can change our lives for the better by finding the strength to walk away.

Photo by Paralog

Before I found this Flickr image, I had never read this Irish blessing before. What a beautiful idea!

I remember in college, I spent a semester abroad in the Netherlands. My school owned a castle there—a full-on castle with a moat and towers and everything. The school gave us all three-day weekends and two full weeks off so we could maximize our Eurail passes.

I didn’t bring as much money as other students did—I actually put a lot on my credit card and then worked extra to pay it off when I returned home—so I spent quite a few weekends almost alone in that castle.

It was an absolutely gorgeous space, and I enjoyed reflecting in solitude (and exploring the village), but the memories I cherished the most involved new friends crammed into tiny hostel rooms.

And it wasn’t just the adventure of being in a foreign country that made this so enticing. It was equally exciting to hang out in milk-crate decorated dorm rooms and apartments the following semester. When you’re with good people, it doesn’t matter where you are as long as you’re all together.

Now that I live in Los Angeles, I see no shortage of amazing houses far grander than my apartment. I walk by them frequently, and sometimes I admire them for their architecture and opulence. But the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen will always be my grandmother’s.

She has a small apartment in the housing projects where she hosted holiday gatherings for years before recently getting sick. Crammed with way too many Italian people all talking on top of each other, decorated with homemade afghans and one too many pictures of awkwardly posed grandchildren, it always feels warm and full of love.

That’s what makes a house of home. It’s not designer décor. It’s not the perfect furniture. It’s not the sprawling living room, backyard, or deck. It’s the sometimes messy, always cozy sense of comfort and welcome. It’s where one more person is always received with a friendly, boisterous, “Heeeeey!” in unison (or maybe that’s just us Italians).

There’s nothing wrong with having nice things, and living in a spacious, comfortable house.

But in the end, it’s not our stuff that we value. What really matters is how much space we create in our hearts—and how comfortable we are opening them to let other people in.

Photo by CarbonNYC

“The journey is the reward.” ~Chinese Proverb

So much of our language about the things we enjoy in life revolves around getting ahead.

We wonder where our relationships are going. We plan to move forward in our careers. We talk about maintaining momentum with new projects.

None of these things are necessarily bad. We naturally crave growth to feel a sense of purpose and progress.

But sometimes we put so much energy into pushing and striving that we miss out on the joy of being where we are.

When we visualize ourselves taking a pause to fully absorb and appreciate our surroundings, it’s often after we’ve arrived. It’s when we’ve climbed the mountain and can finally stand proudly on its peak. It’s when we’ve made the commitment, secured the deal, or finished working on something we love.

From a purely mathematic standpoint, it’s clear we will have far fewer opportunities to enjoy arriving than we will have to enjoy the journey.

The question then becomes: Are we willing to relish in the many uncertain moments when we’re not sure yet where our efforts are leading?

I suspect it boils down to belief and intention.

If we believe we need to create massive change in order to experience joy, we will inevitably feel a sense of restlessness. This moment will feel like something we need to endure to get ahead—something painfully inadequate compared to where we’d rather be.

If we believe that every part of the process can be beautiful and joyful, we will feel a sense of calmness and peace. This moment will feel like something we need to savor while it lasts—something unique and worth celebrating, regardless of where it takes us.

We’re always going to want to spread our wings and fly. We crave freedom, adventure, and possibility, and we don’t want to feel stuck, bored, or limited.

Perhaps happiness is recognizing that we are never stuck. Even if we don’t recognize it, we are always growing and evolving, and the world we know is always changing.

There will never be another opportunity to seize the possibilities of this moment. We can limit ourselves by failing to recognize this, and in doing so, let life pass us by. Or we can realize the greatest adventure is always the one we’re in right now.

Photo by scion_cho

“Whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Have you ever exacerbated difficult feelings by responding to them with resistance?

Although I made peace with my recent burglary shortly after it happened, I started feeling down and anxious at the end of last week. In retrospect, I think there was a connection between that and the painkillers my doctor prescribed when my surgical site started hurting again.

But I suspect I was also feeling the residual effects of everything that’s happened over these past two months. At the time, I didn’t fully understand my feelings. I just knew I wanted them to pass, especially since I was due to get my boyfriend at the airport.

I felt guilty for greeting him under a dark cloud of sadness, frustrated for not feeling as upbeat as I had earlier in the week, and confused because none of it made sense to me.

There were tears, and self-analysis, and self-judgment, until Saturday morning.

I planned to work at a coffee shop I love to create a more positive state of mind. But when I got there, I couldn’t find a parking spot—despite driving around for 20 minutes.

After that, I drove to the activity center in my apartment community where I knew I’d see some friendly faces, only to find my computer wouldn’t connect to the internet. While I repeatedly tried different approaches to fix the issue, I found myself feeling frustrated.

I screamed internally, “Come on! I just want to get online!”

Then I stopped, took a deep breath, and asked myself, “Is it possible I’m not getting what I want, but I’m getting what I need?”

I’d been trying to analyze, overpower, and outrun my feelings when what I really needed to do was stop—stop trying to understand and fix them, and instead accept and surrender to them.

That might sound like a defeatist choice, since surrendering implies giving it. But I’ve found it’s a lot like those Chinese finger traps: you can’t get out by fighting. The only way to get un-stuck is to relax and release.

It generally works the same with feelings. When we fight them, we give them more power.

It might not always seem like it in the moment, when we’re wading in something uncomfortable and potentially overwhelming, but no feeling lasts forever. Everything fades if we’re willing to let it.

By mid-day Saturday, I felt a lot better. I suspect it was because I stopped feeding into the story of my sadness and instead chose to lean into it.

As ironic as it may seem, sometimes the best way to let go of something difficult is to first choose to embrace it.

Photo by ototadana

“Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

The other day, while I was getting cash from an ATM, I smiled at an adorable toddler standing with her father at the machine next to me.

She had this huge grin on her face, and she actually waved at me from two feet away, so I couldn’t help but smile in return.

Just then, she pulled on her father’s leg and giggled the words, “Why does everyone like me?”

He responded, “Because you’re a beautiful little girl!”

It was a simple, heartwarming moment, because I could tell from her bashful yet proud expression that she internalized and believed this, as I wish all children could.

I wondered if strangers frequently smiled at her because of her cheery cherubic face, leading her to conclude that everyone likes her.

And I hoped she’d hold onto that simple conclusion forever, so she’d never doubt her inner light, and as a consequence, shine it often.

For many kids, confidence and joy come so easily. They have an innocence about them—a sense of possibility and wonder. They don’t dwell on what happened yesterday. They don’t obsess over what’s coming tomorrow and worry that they can’t handle it.

And they haven’t yet learned to question themselves, not like we do as adults.

I wonder what it would look like to recapture that self-belief and joy. Kids make it look so simple.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we could feel that same sense of self-assurance and presence if we stopped burying ourselves under the layers of everything that’s happened, and chose instead to simply be in the moment.

Maybe we could believe in ourselves more fully if we also looked for signs to confirm our worth and beauty; if we chose to recognize people smiling at us, believing in us, confiding in us, depending on us.

Maybe we just need to step in where our parents may or may not have left off, and remind us ourselves as often as possible that we are beautiful—and the best way to show it is to smile.

Photo by antwerpenR

“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” ~Winston Churchill

As someone whose profession requires me to spend a great deal of time alone, I’m always trying to strike a balance between solitude and connection; so yesterday I decided to write from this courtyard outside the activity center in my apartment community.

I ended up sitting next to two men who I overheard discussing something that sounded personal.

I didn’t stay for long, at the risk of being intrusive, but I quickly realized one of the men was coaching the other to be more confident when meeting new people.

He told him to close his eyes and call to mind positive things that made him feel self-assured, happy, and peaceful. Then he asked him to open his eyes and introduce himself, while mentally reinforcing that he wants something for the other person, not from him.

This simple suggestion hit me as quite profound. It begged the question: What’s the difference between approaching someone as if there’s something you need to get and approaching someone as if there’s something you want to give?

If we want something from people, we come to them from a place of lack, unbalance, and maybe even neediness.

If we want something for people, we come to them from a place of wholeness, presence, and maybe even love.

And it’s not just about self-confidence or altruism. It’s also about taking responsibility for creating positive energy around us, which inevitably multiples.

When we give good thoughts, good vibes, and a smile, we generally get it back.

Though I had moved to sit further away from the men, I could still overhear their conversation—and I eventually realized one was actually coaching the other to be a successful salesman.

Turns out he would want something from the people he would meet.

Still, I was grateful this message came to me, because I found it inspiring, and I knew upon hearing it that I wanted to give it to you.

Inevitably we are going to want things from other people. Hopefully we’ll be able to be honest about that and simply ask for what we need.

But when we don’t, perhaps we can share a little light by approaching each other with the intention of giving something good.

We all have so much to give. We just need to consciously choose to access and share it.

Photo by ganesha.isis

“What we must decide is how we are valuable rather than how valuable we are.” ~ Edgar Z. Friedenberg

Just now I saw an ad on the right-hand side of my Facebook page promoting a webcast about purpose. The message reads, “Are you meant for greater things?”

This immediately caught my eye because it essentially appeals to our deep-seated need for significance.

We all want to feel that we’re important—that our lives matter—and that often comes down to feeling that we’re doing something special.

When I was younger, I wrapped my identity around singing and acting, and I hoped I’d one day perform in movies or on Broadway.

I remember one day in my high school chorus class, we were singing “On My Own” from Les Miserables. This was a song I frequently sang at auditions, and it felt like it was mine.

There was one note that I always held for a prolonged time—so I held it, even though the entire class had stopped singing.

From the piano, the teacher yelled, “This is not a solo!” I realized then that I’d refused to blend. In a very obvious way, I’d reinforced that I needed to stand out from the crowd. I needed to be the star more than I wanted to perform.

Initially, I felt ashamed of this instinct, but over time I’ve learned that wanting to feel special and valued is not inherently bad.

What’s detrimental is not being aware of that desire, and then making choices that don’t fully align with our values and priorities in the pursuit of external validation.

The alternative is to ask ourselves: What is genuinely important to me? What do I enjoy doing for the sake of it? What’s the difference I’d like to make, whether people know I make it or not?

We inevitably feel like our lives matter when we do something about the things that matter to us.

In this way, we become part of something greater than ourselves, instead of focusing all our energy on doing something greater.

I have realized I am special and important—just like everyone else.

We all want to feel worthy. But maybe we don’t need to stand out from the crowd to do it. Maybe the greatest feeling of worth is knowing we’re all connected, and we all have the capacity to do something worthwhile for ourselves and the greater good.

Photo by raichovak

“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Somewhere right now, someone out there feels exactly like you do.

Someone is thinking that things could be better and wondering if they’ll ever arrive. Someone is remembering how things were before and wondering if they’ll ever let go. Someone is missing someone they love and wondering why they had to know loss. Someone is radiating with hope and joy and wondering if it will last.

Somewhere right now, someone is struggling in much the same way as you.

Someone is out of work and cash and wondering what might be next. Someone is waiting for an important call and wondering if it’s best not to know. Someone is walking away from no good and wondering if they can go on.  Someone is walking toward something new and wondering if they should turn back.

Somewhere right now, someone is transforming in much the same way as you.

Someone is stretching into a new role and wondering if it feels right. Someone is reaching for a new goal and wondering who they can become. Someone is trying their hardest to create change and wondering if they’re making strides. Someone is getting ready to take a leap and wondering if they’ll feel more alive.

Despite all our differences, we all deal with the same things, in different times and different ways.

We’re all striving and struggling, learning and growing, and sometimes it can feel like we should be somewhere else–smarter, wiser, further along, or closer to having an answer.

But right now in the middle, in the messiness and uncertainty, this is where we all live.

No one has it all figured out—and maybe that’s the point. When we’re finished, we’re finished. Is that really a choice we’d make?

Somewhere right now, someone is deciding it’s okay to be right where they are.

Take a deep breath, look around, and let that person be you.

Photo by robocdh

“Happiness depends upon ourselves.” ~Aristotle

Yesterday I wrote at Starbucks for the first time since my surgery, after my doctor cleared me to walk.

I felt an immense sense of relief to be outside my home, where I didn’t feel quite so isolated. And I was grateful for every nuance of that day—the fresh air, the feeling of life going around me, and the sense that somehow, I was part of it.

But the walk wasn’t easy. I get winded pretty quickly right now, and I simply don’t have a lot of energy.

I don’t yet feel like myself, mentally or physically—I’m occasionally lethargic, often distracted, and sometimes a little weak.

So yesterday I wondered how I might be able to see this feeling as a gift. What would it look like to embrace my current state instead of bemoaning it?

I decided that every time I needed to take a break—whether it was walking, or writing, or doing anything else—I’d notice and appreciate something beautiful around me.

And I’d vocalize it as often as possible.

While writing this tiny post, I complimented one woman on her colorful shirt, and told another man how lucky we were to get seats, since it was crowded yesterday.

I essentially created a joyful game out of something that could otherwise be frustrating. I may need to do everything more slowly by necessity; but I’m also consciously choosing to benefit from that need.

I admit this might be more challenging to apply to certain situations. It’s not always easy when you’re in pain or feeling despondent to find something good in it.

But maybe that’s something we can explore when we’re not feeling like our best selves: What would it look like to leverage what is to somehow better ourselves?

That might mean focusing on the little things that make a dark day brighter. It might be appreciating that we have people to lean on. Or it could be as simple as feeling grateful because this moment will eventually pass.

There will be times when we feel things that we likely would not choose. But we can always choose to do something good—in spite of our feelings, and maybe even because of them.

Photo by Nomadic Lass

“The human spirit is stronger than anything that could happen to it.” ~C. C. Scott

During these past couple of weeks, while I’ve been recovering from my surgery, I’ve been watching a show called I Shouldn’t Be Alive, which has an entire season on Netflix.

Each episode chronicles the experiences of a person or people who came close to death in an adventure gone wrong.

One episode features two teenage boys who survived in a tiny boat, without food or water, for several days lost at sea. Another tells the story of an endurance athlete who survived two freezing nights in a canyon near Moab, Utah after falling 60 feet and shattering her pelvis.

The title itself pulled me in—this idea of somehow cheating death. But it’s not just the physical survival that’s so compelling; it’s also the emotional and mental fortitude that helped each of these people stay alive, despite knowing their odds of rescue.

Though in each case, they were obviously fortunate to be saved, many lived far longer than one might expect their bodies could endure—and it was often because they found a compelling reason to hold on.

They thought about the people they loved, and all the life they’d yet to live, and in doing so found a strong motivation to push through their pain and keep going.

Through sheer will, raw instincts, and determination, these people overcame seemingly insurmountable obstacles, and in doing so, created their own miracles.

Most of us will never need to combat starvation, subfreezing temperatures, or killer sharks, but we’ll each have our own battles. Many will push us, stretch us, and compel us to question just how much we can take.

We may find ourselves feeling hopeless or resigned, and we may wonder if there will ever be a light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s when we need to realize the brightest light is within us.

We are the ones who can save us. We are our own rescue mission.

We may not have all the answers. And we may need help and support along the way. But ultimately, when we’re feeling stuck, we’re the ones that need to hold on, push through, and make our way to the other side.

We’ll inevitably face challenges in life. The best defense is believing that we are strong, we will survive, and we will be better for it.

Photo by soham_pablo

“Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance.” ~Unknown

Yesterday I felt frustrated.

The night before, I’d overheard my boyfriend telling a friend he’d thought I’d be in less pain at that point, a week after my surgery. Suddenly I felt disappointed in myself—that I should be healing more quickly, or somehow doing more.

Of course I know he didn’t intend for me to feel that way, especially since it was a conversation that didn’t involve me, but I created that meaning in my head, probably because I’d also expected that I’d feel better sooner.

I had a bad headache yesterday, and I was somewhat dehydrated, so I ended doing very little beyond listening to a healing meditation, watching TV, and sleeping—translation: I crossed nothing off my to-do list. And it’s getting pretty long.

So I started mining my situation for lessons, and here’s what I remembered:

We are more than we produce. Even if we feel we have a lot to do, sometimes doing nothing is the healthiest choice of all.

We owe it to ourselves to be patient with ourselves. Even if we feel we should be doing more, we’re doing the best we can.

We deserve to be kind to ourselves. Even if we accomplish great things in life, they won’t provide us with satisfaction if we don’t already have our own love and compassion.

We need to remember we have time. Even if we’re using this moment to recharge, we can trust that things will get done—when we’re in a better place to do them.

We have a choice to make in this moment. Even if we feel frustrated, or scared, or confused, we can choose to make peace with the present instead of fighting and resisting it.

We might not feel productive, or engaged, or purposeful, or connected. But this moment is a chance to be present in our experience and embrace the lessons and possibilities of the here and now.

We can only grow from right where we stand, but first we have to accept it.

Photo by Wonderlane

“In chaos, there is fertility.” ~Anais Nin

I am someone who strives to maintain some sense of control amid chaos. One way I do that is by obsessively organizing my space.

For example, there can only be four pairs of shoes left by the downstairs door, in a place where exactly four fit—and they need to be lined up neatly to look like tiny foot soldiers, standing at attention.

During my third day recovering from surgery last week, while I lowered myself in a squat to pick up a fifth pair that didn’t belong, my mother reminded me how I can be obsessively neat and suggested I let things go.

At first this seemed as impossible as asking me to walk backwards on my hands. Letting things be felt completely unnatural.

Then something happened. The other day I looked down at my coffee table, with Starburst wrappers, magazines, and take-out containers scattered across the surface, and suddenly I felt relaxed.

My space felt far more lived in; and I felt far more comfortable when I consciously chose not to be distracted by the imperfections. Instead of being things that didn’t belong, they were things that belonged for now.

It wasn’t about consenting to be a messier person; it was about learning to relax into the messiness for a while, and knowing eventually, when the time was right, it would be clean.

Isn’t that how it so often works in life? We need to get messy in our creative processes before eventually sculpting something polished. We need to get messy in exploring problems in relationships or at work to eventually find solutions.

And we need to feel comfortable in that messiness, or else we’ll be tempted to try to control the chaos—the contain it, simplify it, or maybe even run from it.

But the chaos is often where we make our greatest discoveries. It’s where we really come alive, if we’re willing to lean into it.

This week I’m doing far less than usual, but I suspect on some levels, I’m actually doing more. I’m learning to relax, focus, and create without needing a rigid control over everything around me.

Life is chaos. Our job isn’t to create perfect order. It’s to explore, create, expand, and evolve within the inevitable disorder.

Photo by h.koppdelaney

“The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction, not a destination.” ~Carl Rogers

Have you ever felt a sense of internal conflict about enjoying the present moment while also working toward your dreams?

This is something I revisit over and over, because I know life happens now, and in order to fully live it, I need to accept what’s in front of me and experience it with complete awareness.

Yet I also want to expand, spread my wings, and see just how far I can soar.

A big part of that is visualizing what the future might look like—and then making and following a plan to get there.

This is where it gets tricky: what’s the difference between planning for tomorrow and living for it? What’s the difference between attaching to a possibility in a way that causes us pain, and believing in a possibility in a way that causes us joy?

Obviously, we can’t be happy and present if we’re focused on attracting something bigger and better, and worrying at each step of the process.

Yet we need to feel we’re on a purpose-driven path, growing a little every day—and the best way to measure growth is to set a specific goal and work toward it.

Maybe the key to enjoying the present while enabling the future is to know we’re creating something different without reinforcing to ourselves that it’s also something better.

Obviously, some goals will involve major improvements, like finding a more suitable living situation or finding work that better allows us to take care of ourselves.

But once we’ve secured enough to take care of our needs, and we’re working toward our various wants, perhaps it would serve us well to continually remind ourselves that today doesn’t have to pale in comparison to our potential tomorrow.

Tomorrow might bring a world of exciting new possibilities, but today, wherever we stand on our journey, can be an adventure in itself.

Today we have abundant opportunities to utilize our strengths and passions, do things we enjoy, and connect with people we love—even if we’re simultaneously crossing things off our to-do lists.

We need to have a sense of direction in life, but we can choose not to create stress around arriving. Today is a worthy part of our adventure.  If we’re following our purpose, right now, we’re living the dream.

Photo by h.koppdelaney

“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.” ~Emily Kimbrough

I just finished my second family visit for the year, and I have three more planned.

For years after I first moved away a decade ago, I only came home around the holidays.

I’d caused and dealt with so much drama that it felt easiest to hide with my pain and shame where I couldn’t hurt people or be hurt by them. I felt safest seeing my family in small doses, because there would be less time for me to mess things up—and fewer opportunities for them to reject me.

During one of my trips last year, I noticed that things felt different. Since I was visiting more frequently, it no longer felt like we were all on our best behavior for each other.

There was some friction, and minor annoyances, and even some major frustrations—all things I’d completely avoided for years.

At first I thought this was a sign I shouldn’t have been opening myself up. Everything felt predictably cordial when I visited infrequently, contained my true feelings, and engaged with people on a mostly superficial level.

Then I realized I was grateful for the change.

The intermittent tension, occasional irritations, and general sense of vulnerability were all signs that I was actually relating to people, not merely sharing space with them.

It may seem crazy to suggest conflict can be a good thing, but I’ve learned that even healthy, loving relationships inevitably involve a little friction.

If we’re showing our true selves, stumbling and learning a little every day, and spending time with other people who are doing the same, we will inevitably clash every now and then.

We will disagree. We will get irritated. We will feel disappointed. And we may do or say things we later come to regret. So long as we’re not in abusive relationships, none of these things have to indicate there’s something wrong.

Every time we don’t see eye to eye, we have a chance to practice expressing ourselves without judging each other. Every time we get on each other’s nerves, we have a chance to practice calming ourselves instead of blaming each other.

Real relationships are messy, and it can feel instinctive to resist that—but what a mistake that would be. It’s only when we stop learning together that we start to grow apart.

Photo by KittyKaht

“Would you rather be right or free?” ~Byron Katie

Several months back, I saw a live taping of Oprah’s Life Class, which she hosted with Iyanla Vanzant, author of Peace from Broken Pieces and other self-help books.

At one point during the episode, Iyanla discussed an exchange she’d had the week prior with a viewer who’d Skyped in. The young woman had called her family crazy, referencing Iyanla’s oft-quoted advice, “If you see crazy coming, cross the street.”

But in this instance, Iyanla had scolded the woman for disrespecting her parents, regardless of how dysfunctional they may have been, because, according to Iyanla, that woman’s “soul chose them before she was even born.”

Although I’d felt inspired up until then, I remember this moment creating a deep disconnect for me, because I don’t share that spiritual belief. And I think respect has to be earned—even by a parent.

Suddenly, instead of focusing on the many helpful insights that emerged throughout the night, I found myself clinging to my disagreement. Even though it served no useful purpose, I kept mentally rehashing all the reasons I felt Iyanla was wrong.

Right then it occurred to me that I was doing wrong to myself. I was shutting myself down from the present moment because I felt justified in being righteous.

So I stopped and asked myself, “What might the lesson be here?” After all, I was part of a life class.

I realized it was this: If we label someone’s belief as wrong and cling to that, we limit our ability to learn, from them and the moment.

I’ve read and grown through some of Iyanla’s books, and even if we have different understandings of spirituality, I know her intention is to help people. That’s why most of us share our beliefs: we think they will provide others with the same comfort they bring to us.

Obviously, we shouldn’t turn our heads if someone is causing harm. But we can choose not to cause ourselves harm by speaking our minds when it’s appropriate, and otherwise letting it go. Oftentimes, what we really want isn’t to be right; it’s to feel a sense of peace. We can give that to ourselves.

Of course, that’s just what I believe: that the best way to provide ourselves with comfort is to recognize when to let go.

Photo by Vincent van der Pas

“Renew yourself. Release that attachment. Today is a new day!” ~Steve Mariboli

While preparing today’s reader-submitted post about Spring-cleaning, I started to think about my collection of old journals, which I wrote from age twelve through twenty-one.

Many of these are depressing. They paint a picture of a sad, lost little girl who struggled with self-esteem and chose a number of self-destructive habits to cope with overwhelming pain.

On many occasions, I’ve considered burning these to symbolize transformation, but a part of me always resists.

On some level, I see these as badges of honor. They’re reminders of who I used to be and how much I’ve overcome and grown.

But I wonder sometimes if it would serve me better to acknowledge my current strength without needing to compare it to former weakness.

For years, whenever I met someone new, I told them my whole life story, as if to say, “When you judge me, as I know you will, keep in mind how far I’ve come!”

Perhaps I keep these journals because on some level, I say the same thing to myself.

That stack of old books on my shelf may seem insignificant—and it may seem unnecessary to analyze why I’ve chosen to keep them—but I believe the things we hold onto speak volumes about where we may be subconsciously stuck.

And the attachments we form can give us insight into how we can set ourselves free—if, that is, we’re willing to peel back the layers of our motivations.

Sometimes we hold onto things simply because we want to appreciate, enjoy, or honor those memories. But other times, they tether us to the past and serve as physical representations of the limiting stories we tell ourselves.

It’s not the stuff that carries an emotional charge; it’s the meaning we give it.

It’s not holding onto stuff that weighs us down; it’s how we think about it.

That box of old letters from an ex can be a trove of happy memories, or it can be a reminder of what you fear you may never have again. The difference is literally all in our heads.

I haven’t committed to getting rid of those journals, but I have started exploring my purpose in keeping them to ensure it empowers me instead of limiting me.

What stuff and stories are you holding onto—and why?

Photo by AlicePopkorn

“There is a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz 

The other day I received a comment on an old blog post that started with, “You’re full of crap,” and ended with, “I don’t know, and idiots like you don’t help us figure it out.”

Shortly after, I received an email from a new blogger who recently contributed to the site. She mentioned she’d received her first harsh comment, and she wanted to know if this is normal, and how she should deal with it.

I told her she will likely engage in far more constructive, uplifting conversations than negative, hurtful ones.

But this kind of thing is to be expected when you write about emotionally charged topics, especially since we often search for self-help articles when we’re looking for answers—or we’re looking to forget the answer we already know: that pain is unavoidable, and sometimes we simply need to go through it.

With this in mind, I responded privately to my reader, “I get the impression you’re really hurting right now. Is there some way I can help?”

Right then I thought about all the times I lashed out at people when I was suffering in the past. And I thought about how justified I felt in hurting others, especially when they’d hurt me first, or failed to really help.

These are not things I am proud to admit, and they’re not things I’d recommend or condone. We all have a responsibility to learn healthy ways to cope.

But I suspect if we’re honest with ourselves, most of us can identify moments when we acted thoughtlessly, from a place of sorrow or anger.

Most of us have felt pain burning like a hot coal in our hands and felt desperate to unload it, somehow, somewhere.

I don’t appreciate being called an idiot, and I know I don’t deserve it, just like none of us deserve misdirected rage from a family member, coworker, or stranger.

We have a right to set boundaries and communicate when something is not okay. But the world is a better place when we choose to do that from a place of love and compassion instead of righteousness and judgment.

We all act thoughtlessly at times. Most often we don’t mean to hurt each other. We just don’t recognize or remember how to stop hurting ourselves.

Photo by Yim Hafiz

“Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don’t unravel.” ~Unknown

The other night I flew home to Massachusetts, after visiting just a couple months back to spend time with my sick grandmother.

Since she was released from the hospital in February, she’s been staying with my parents, which means I’ll have plenty of opportunities to simply be with her during this trip—not for lunch or a specific activity, but simply to share space.

Though I enjoy seeing her because I love her, I also appreciate how being in her company reminds me of what matters in life.

As I write this, she’s sitting in a reclining chair in the living room, exuding a calming sense of ease. She’s long-widowed and slowly recovering from her recent virus. But she’s well-loved, frequently visited by children and grandchildren who respect and admire her, and despite the challenges of aging, she seems content and at peace.

This is the image I’ve decided to carry with me through my days, whether I’m 30 feet, 300 blocks, or 3,000 miles from that chair: my 82-year old grandmother, who likely no longer remembers petty worries from when she was my age. Who simply appreciates this moment, her health, and time with the people she loves.

So often in life we lose perspective, and get bogged down by all the little challenges that can seem huge and overwhelming when we’re knee-deep in them.

We hold onto gripes that we’d be better off releasing. We get outraged over annoyances that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If we’re not careful, we can turn life into a never-ending chain of problems to be solved—ever-fixating on external causes, looking for someone and something to blame.

It’s easy to get caught up in this cycle. We live in an imperfect world, and things aren’t always just. If we’re looking for them, we will always find things to complain and stress about.

But regardless of how much we worry in this moment, we will all age. We will all experience loss. And we will all come to understand more fully how valuable one moment can be when we choose to embrace and appreciate it.

It needn’t be at the end of our lives. At any time, we can sit back, take a deep breath, and bathe ourselves in silent appreciation. We are here, and we are loved.

Photo by Paulo Fassina

“Follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be.” ~Joseph Campbell

Recently I’ve been feeling this need to grow and expand. I’ve been doing the same thing here for about three years now, and I’ve identified a long list of things I know I don’t want to do—but aside from writing my next book, I haven’t felt a strong pull in any other direction.

Then this weekend I had an idea for a new creative project—something that has absolutely nothing to do with Tiny Buddha. In fact, it’s geared toward young girls, and it’s more silly than spiritual.

Although I love this site, and I’m going to continue writing here, this new idea ignited a different type of passion and enthusiasm in me. It was a reminder that I am more than any one role I play. I am more than any one project.

Suddenly I realized: I’ve been focusing like a laser on what else I might be able to do for and through Tiny Buddha, when it would have been far less limiting to ask myself what energizes me in general.

Essentially, I assumed progress needed to happen in one specific way, instead of opening myself up to new possibilities based on what makes me feel passionate and excited.

Can you relate to this feeling? Have you ever felt confident you should be doing one thing, and in the process closed yourself off to what you could be doing?

Have you ever felt so attached to possibilities in one venture that you closed yourself off to something else that might be even more fulfilling?

I suspect we’re more tempted to do this after we’ve put a lot of time and effort into something.

If you’ve spent years building a business or working toward a degree, focusing your energy on something else might feel like derailing yourself or starting over.

But when we’re willing to let go of how we thought things had to be, we’re often better able to create how we really want them to be.

It may look nothing like we first visualized; or we may follow our instincts and find they lead us right back where we started. The important thing is that we stay open to them.

Happiness isn’t a destination, but we’re best able to experience it when we follow where it leads.

Photo by John_Brennan