Tiny Buddha

Tag: Compassion

  • When Your Mind Feels Like a Prison and You Zone Out to Escape

    When Your Mind Feels Like a Prison and You Zone Out to Escape

    Mental Prison

    “All the suffering, stress, and addiction comes from not realizing you already are what you are looking for.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

    I’m currently obsessed with Orange is the New Black. As a binge TV watcher, I find dramas at least three seasons long and watch them like a prisoner eating a box of contraband donuts. I’m glued to the iPad in every spare moment, while I cook, exercise, or eat.

    Then it’s over. And all I have left are wasted hours and a tidal wave of guilt. I always make the same promise to myself—no more binge watching.

    I punish myself. I cook and eat in silence, avoiding the TV. I put myself into the mental equivalent of solitary confinement, criticizing and shaming myself.

    But always after the punishment, I’m overwhelmed with the most powerful desire to rebel. I inevitably find myself again lost in the beautiful bliss of screen time, obsessed with yet another show.

    I watched the entire 144 episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in a month and a half during one of my worst rebellions.

    Whether it’s TV, alcohol, drugs, or food, most of us use something to escape. We take the edge off, relax, and zone out.

    But at some point, all of this zoning out can start to become hazardous to our mental and physical health.

    I’m addicted to zoning out. Zoning out has trapped me in my own personal mental prison.

    And I want out.

    My Iron Mind

    We get addicted to escaping and zoning out because we create minds worth escaping from. My mental prison is a foggy and grey place.

    The leader of my mind runs a very tight ship, full of strict and unrealistic rules. When I inevitably fail, I punish myself.

    In my former life as a lawyer I remember not letting myself pee until I finished an email, in punishment for surfing the Internet and wasting 0.2 of a billable hour.

    All of this constant punishment and self-criticism then puts me in such a bad place emotionally that the only way out is an escape route. I binge-watch TV, have too many glasses of wine, pot, or an entire German chocolate cake.

    The War on Binge TV

    The war on drugs tried to teach us that the drugs are the problem. We were told that drugs hijack our brain and force addiction.

    But research now proves that it’s actually not the drug’s fault at all. Two different people exposed to the same drug don’t get addicted the same way.

    In other words, your propensity to addiction to anything is directly related to the circumstances you are in—your life.

    When you live in a mental prison full of punishment and internal criticism, for example, you escape to survive. You escape to not go crazy.

    So if you want to stop escaping with food, drugs, alcohol, or OITNB, you must work to make your mind a happier place.

    I must find a way to dissolve my internal prison.

    Your Inner Bubble Wrap

    Now I’m no expert here, obviously. But I have to think that if I created this mental prison, I can let myself out of it.

    First, I have to stop doing what I’m doing—stop this never-ending pattern of punish-rebel-punish-rebel.

    Whatever your pattern is, try this:

    Stop engaging in it. Just accept what has already happened and then cover the whole thing in compassion.

    So when I watch too much TV, for example, engaging with my pattern is to punish myself with a crap ton of guilt and shame, and then escape that criticism by watching more TV.

    Another way to engage with your pattern is to fight with it. Like for me, arguing with my inner critic to plead my case actually gives it more power.

    Inner criticism is particularly mean and tricky. Try too hard to stop criticizing yourself and you will start criticizing yourself for criticizing yourself.

    Instead of fleeing or fighting, just accept what happened and accept yourself in spite of what happened. Like, if you drew a circle around all of the behavior that you accept for yourself, draw a bigger one.

    I like to look right at my inner critic (in my head) and say, “Yea, so what? So what if I watched too much TV?”

    This opens you up to self-compassion. When you accept yourself no matter what you did, you can start to dissolve even the most powerful mental prison-y pattern.

    Next, you need to replace the negative pattern with a positive one. Plant a garden of positive feelings in your mind, like gratitude and joy.

    I like a “grow” analogy because new thoughts and patterns are like little seeds. At first they may seem small, but if we continue to water them and feed them with our attention, they will grow.

    So start finding ways to create a feeling of gratitude and joy.

    Every time you can remember to do it, find something you love about your life and acknowledge it. Most of us think of gratitude as “I’m thankful for mommy and the dog.”

    But gratitude is so much bigger and more powerful than that. Your mission is to cultivate the ability to find gratitude in any given situation.

    Even if the only gratitude you can find is in your breath, find it. Gratitude is about the feeling state that it creates. Gratitude is inextricably tied to joy.

    This process won’t necessarily free you overnight. But it will start to wrap you in mental bubble wrap, protecting you from the guilt, punishment, and shame that lead to your pattern.

    Strive to become the softest place for you to land. Dream of becoming your own most supportive and accepting friend.

    When you can let go of the way you think you must run your mind, you can embrace what is already a perfect system.

    Mental prison image via Shutterstock

  • Help Instead of Judging; They May Be Blinded by Pain

    Help Instead of Judging; They May Be Blinded by Pain

    Compassion

    “We can judge others or we can love others, but we can’t do both at the same time.” ~Unknown

    When I was eighteen, my father took his own life. I was just a baby, really, a mere freshman working on my Bachelors Degree at UMF.

    There are times when I feel lost in the pain of missing him, stuck with this empty hole inside. Hovering in between confusion and anger, where the feelings consume me.

    Losing my father in such a traumatic way has shown me just how deeply I can feel, how hard I can fall, how grief can overcome my entire being at times, how forgiveness can heal—and also how I can help others so they don’t need to suffer as my father did.

    A military man who dealt with severe depression and PTSD, he desperately tried to find his place in this world. He tried to find comfort through his adopted family, he tried to find courage through joining the military, and he tried to find understanding by becoming a father.

    He was a quiet soul who was sociably awkward in a sweet, innocent way. He radiated beams of sadness from his eyes and tried desperately to express his love to his family without actually having to verbalize it.

    Monday, February 19, would become the date that measures time in my book. Time would be measured before this date and after this date.

    I awoke that morning, traveled south to a friend’s home, and fell asleep on her couch after arriving.

    Around 9:00pm, there was a knock on the door. There stood a Maine State Trooper and a priest. As I sat up on the couch, they walked into the living room. My heart pounded so hard I felt as if it were outside of my chest.

    As they sat down, I screamed, “What’s happened? Why are you looking at me like that?”

    The state trooper said, “I’m sorry to tell you this Jessica, but your father has died.”

    The priest quickly intervened, “He died quietly, in his sleep, with his cat next to him. He took his own life, dear, by overdosing on medication, but he’s at peace now…”

    Time stopped. My heart stopped. The pounding noise in my ears stopped. I cannot recall what they said next. I don’t remember what I even did next. I remember faintly hearing questions like, “Did you know he was ill?”, “Maybe this is a good thing considering the circumstances?”, and “Do you want to go see your mom now?”

    It was all a blur. We rushed back to my family home, I ran into my mother’s arms, and suddenly the funeral planning began. Life would never be the same.

    I remember feeling awkward and out of control. I worried about the stigma attached to the way he died, along with the potential judgment, the unknown pain, and the unknown future.

    What looks will I get upon returning to the University? How will people act around me? Am I a statistic? Am I a survivor? My mind raced. My feelings cycled through anger, resentment, betrayal, confusion, and hurt.

    How could he do this to me and our family? Didn’t he want to see me graduate college, get married, and have children? Why leave me with all these questions? This guilt? This pain? Why would he do such a thing, take the easy way out and refuse any help? He was such a great father, a strict Catholic, a military man…why would he do this?

    Then I realized that all of my pain and all of my questions were centered around me, not him. My inner victim was loud and self-pitying. And that’s part of the problem. People who are in such pain from deep depression or mental illness aren’t thinking rationally.

    My dad wasn’t thinking about my wedding in the future or the grandkids he would have or his next vacation; he was in pain. Period. Unbearable pain that he just couldn’t escape. He needed help. But people turned away because it can be uncomfortable to reach out, or perhaps because they thought it wasn’t their problem, or that he was just mean.

    We all have the power to recognize pain in others and offer compassion instead of judgment. In doing so, we can help those in need instead of forming mistaken conclusions about them and writing them off.

    Let go of the assumption that the man talking to himself on the street or the person in the straight jacket are the only ones “crazy” enough to take their own life—and that those people aren’t also worthy of compassion.

    Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. And everyone processes loss and hardship in different ways. How much you can handle will vastly differ than what someone else can handle.

    We’re all hurting in some way, perhaps damaged due to tragedy, and yet in spite of everything, many of us rise out of bed in the morning and put a smile on our face.

    Many people appear composed or happy to give the impression to the outside world that they have it all together, only to return home to feel sad and alone.

    When you encounter someone in distress or look into a stranger’s eyes and see sadness, offer kindness. Don’t wait for others to be kind to you, show them how to be kind. Don’t prejudge or assume something about anyone; allow them to tell their own story—and believe them.

    Listen, be present, and give others the space to be themselves.

    This is what I learned from my father’s loss—that you never know who’s completely blinded by the depth of their pain, and you never know how much you could help by offering kindness and compassion.

    Compassion image via Shutterstock

  • How to Let Go of the Pain of Anger and Blame

    How to Let Go of the Pain of Anger and Blame

    Sad Woman Crying

    “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.” ~Nelson Mandela

    Has anger ever filled you up so completely that you felt you’d explode?

    Two months after I had a baby I suddenly found myself inextricably angry. Yes, I felt the joy and happy stuff that everyone tells you about.

    But having a daughter also triggered a flash flood of buried anger, blame, and resentment. And it was all directed to one person—my mother.

    A therapist told me once that my mother had “verbally abused” me. That launched a fifteen-year process of rehashing and blaming my plethora of emotional issues on my mother.

    But no matter how many therapists or coaches told me that she “didn’t form a proper attachment” or whatever, I always defended her. That is, until I became a mother myself.

    When my own nurturing instinct kicked in, I realized what I’d missed out on as a child. I was overwhelmed by “how coulds.” How could anyone treat a little girl that way?

    The anger overtook me. It was like a well of blame had opened up and I had fallen in. Something had to shift.

    In truth, it happened fast. You might think it would take years to let go of anger and blame so strong it feels like it’s coming out of your eyeballs.

    But once I realized how to let it go, all at once, poof, I was free. Now years later, I’ve never looked back.

    How did I do it? I discovered the profound meaning of two words: perspective and compassion.

    Life is Like a Box of Hair Dye

    My mother grew up in the South in the sixties. I’ve watched enough Mad Men to know that life for women in my mother’s generation was very different.

    Women’s value was heavily dependent on their looks and the look of their houses. Combine that world-view with a heaping helping of stress from an overwhelming job and you get a picture of my mother.

    Think of an uber stressed-out Betty Draper. At thirteen, when my blonde hair started fading to light brown, she started dying it. “Boys won’t like you with brown hair,” she said.

    Yelling was the norm and more I cried the more she yelled. I was an only child, lost in a world where my looks and image were tantamount to survival and nothing I did was enough.

    The Blame-Spin Cycle

    Getting stuck in blame feels like walking through an endless maze, looking for cheese that doesn’t exist. That’s what therapy felt like.

    The more I re-counted the past, the madder I became and the more hopeless I felt. I was spinning in an endless cycle of blame, anger, and resentment.

    What is the end game? What do I do with the fact that my mother’s behavior may have caused me pain later in life?

    It was a well-meaning friend who finally cracked the code, over wine and panic one afternoon. I had called her over because I felt too emotionally unstable to be alone with my infant daughter.

    “Why don’t you just ask her why she did it?” she asked.

    That had never occurred to me.

    I’d Like Perspective with a Side of Compassion Please

    “It was the only way I knew…” she explained, after I found the courage to ask her why she had treated me so harshly.

    My mother then went on to recount tales of her childhood. You know the beginning of Cinderella, when she spends her hours cleaning endlessly at the whim of a demanding mother?

    That’s the image that came to mind as my mom recounted years of cleaning and re-cleaning my grandmother’s house. The family was not allowed to leave the house to do any activities until the house was spotless.

    And of course, the cleaning always took up the entire day, disappointing my mom and her sister every time. My grandmother, it turned out, had been an even stronger product of her environment.

    Why are people the way they are? If you can ask yourself that question before passing judgment, you can save yourself tremendous mental energy.

    When I started understanding the world for my mother and grandmother, I was flooded with intense compassion. Think of Biff in any Back to the Future movie, when manure was inevitably dumped on his head—that was what happened to me with compassion.

    Suddenly I realized that no one is to blame. If I blame my mother for my problems, then I have to blame my grandmother for my mother’s problems. And then I’d have to blame the Great Depression and society for my grandmother’s problems.

    I just don’t have enough space for all of that anger.

    Getting perspective on a situation and fully understanding the whole story is like pulling back the curtain and finding the little man with the booming voice in The Wizard of Oz. It loses its power over you.

    Could my mother have made different choices? Of course she could have. Did she do the best she could with who she was back then? Yes, I believe she did.

    Setting Yourself Free

    What happened happened. No amount of blame, resentment, or anger at my mother will make it not have happened. It is just what happened.

    We can let what happened control us and we can live in blame and anger, or we can let it go and free ourselves. When you hold on to anger, it’s you who suffers. You’re the one who has to live in your head.

    Forgiveness has nothing to do with the other person. You don’t have to tell him that you forgive him, or even talk to her again if you don’t want to.

    This process is simply about changing the way you see someone so that you can stop wasting valuable emotional energy. If you are holding onto resentment or anger, today is the day to set yourself free.

    Right now, think of one person who isn’t safe to walk down the streets of your mind without being attacked.

    Picture your story about that person. Then try to tell the story again from her perspective.

    What is the back-story? Think about her childhood; when did she get hurt?

    Find some way to see the story that allows you to feel compassion. It may not be easy at first, but there is always an answer.

    The forgiveness journey is worth taking 1,000 times over. I can’t even begin to describe how much this idea shifted my experience in life.

    Letting go of the anger feels like flying. By getting perspective on the story and uncovering compassion, you have the power to set yourself free.

    Sad woman image via Shutterstock

  • “Toxic” People Often Need Compassion the Most

    “Toxic” People Often Need Compassion the Most

    “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” ~Plato

    By all standard definitions, I used to be an energy vampire. I lived in my own self-created drama, prone to rages, complaints, and self-pity. I exhausted the people around me and played games of control, superiority, and victimhood.

    I’ve heard this bundle of behaviors called a “personality type,” and I think that is as obscene as saying that a hungry person has a “Hungry Personality Type.”

    An energy vampire, by definition, is someone who cannot create or sustain their own positive energy, so they take it from others. An energy vampire, by my own experience of that definition, is someone lacking in self-love and trying to pull that love out of others.

    Such a person is simply hungry, not inherently flawed.

    I’ve been there.

    A few years ago, I began hearing voices and feeling suicidal. I had drained the people around me dry and I was all alone. I was trying to drain myself, but I had nothing left to give. I had to choose: change or die.

    When I started to change, I realized just how much I hated myself, how much I judged myself, how many impossible standards I set for my own acceptance. I began to work on accepting and loving myself just as I was.

    Bit by bit, I opened up to the beauty of my face, the beauty of nature, the beauty of the human smile.

    I began to fall deeply in love with everything and everyone. After years of hunger, years of being a love vampire, biting others to get it, I realized that I could feed myself. I didn’t have to hurt myself or anyone else.

    In that awareness, I remembered the people who had accepted me when I was “toxic.” These people became my teachers. Their kindness and love, which was invisible to me in a state of desperate love hunger, suddenly became crystal clear in my newfound self-awareness.

    It hurts me to confess that some of these people never got to see me get better. All they knew was my darkness and they gave as much as they could before they left. And they are still my greatest teachers.

    After I healed my mind and replenished my self-love tank, I began to reach out to others on the same journey.

    I’ve met so many people who have been abandoned by everyone around them, because they’re “energy vampires.” I found these people in my family. I found them in my old circles of friends.

    It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve really tried to give back what was given to me. I’ve tried my best to be loving and supportive to people who only know how to take (at least, right now).

    And it’s been worth it.

    A few years ago, I kept meeting up with one person that everyone around me told me was toxic. I was always exhausted after hanging around her and I knew that, deep down, she resented me. She treated me just like I used to treat people.

    I didn’t “cut ties” or “protect myself” from her as all the articles say. I gave her some of my time—not all of it, but some of it. I took care of myself enough that I could heal from any emotional pain I got in our meetings.

    Eventually, she stopped talking to me. We didn’t speak for close to five months and, the other day, she suddenly called me to ask if we could meet up.

    When I saw her, her eyes were sparkling and her smile shone for miles. She couldn’t stop talking about all the epiphanies she’d had and all the ways she’d healed. She had stumbled across some powerful lessons in a program she enrolled in and it changed her life.

    She kept saying, “Now, I understand.” Everything I would talk about that she eyed suspiciously—now, she understood.

    After a long conversation about her new, joyful life, she paused, looked away, and said, “I hated you, you know. I couldn’t believe anything you said and I just didn’t understand that happiness like this was possible. I thought you were lying. I was such a jerk to you. Why did you keep talking to me?”

    I smiled and said the words that I’d used to defend her behind her back when others would interrogate me with the same question: “You deserve it. I saw myself in you. You weren’t a jerk. You were hungry. I knew you’d wake up one day and, when you did, you’d remember this, remember me. And, one day, you’d be that person for someone else.”

    And, now, she is.

    I’m not saying we should all surround ourselves with people who make us feel bad. I’m not saying that we should spend all our time giving compassion to others at our own demise.

    What I am saying is this: Oftentimes the “toxic” people are the ones that need compassion the most.

    And although you probably won’t get a “Thank You” from them in that moment, being kind, seeing them from a compassionate perspective, and refusing to resort to negative adjectives, that could really change a person’s life.

    Your acts of kindness, though they may not be immediately rewarded, are never wasted. They will sit inside the recipient’s mind, outside the walls of their self-imposed limiting beliefs, awaiting their awakening.

    And, if they do awaken, they will remember you and they will learn from you. And your acts will have contributed to a more loving world with fewer “energy vampires” and more people who love themselves and love others.

  • A Simple Way to Really See Each Other and Be Seen

    A Simple Way to Really See Each Other and Be Seen

    Kids at a Table

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    Growing up, my family ate dinner together nearly every night. It was a given. My mom also created a tradition called “go around the table,” in which everyone in my family would take turns sharing the details of our day.

    I often think back on this memory with awe at the impact this simple yet profound activity has had on my life.

    While I do not yet have a family, I have introduced “go around the table” to friends at dinner parties and colleagues at work events, and have experienced the benefits of this practice in the classroom, support groups, and spiritual groups.

    Sitting around a table with others and sharing is an experience that allows you to see and be seen, and if you have not done it lately, I suspect it could change your life.

    With the guidelines below, you can introduce this activity to your family, colleagues, or any other trusted group that seeks to nurture and improve communication, confidence, leadership skills, and community.

    1. The table is for sharing, not discussing.

    In my family, going around the table meant sharing about the events of our day. Sometimes this meant also sharing how these events made us feel, but we never used this time to plan a family vacation, talk about chores, or discuss “business” of any kind. This is especially important if your table exists in the workplace.

     2. Talk about your day (or week, depending on how often your table meets).

    You will find yourself wanting to pose specific questions or otherwise shape the way your table shares, but it’s important to keep it very simple.

    The focus of the activity is for each person at the table to tell his or her story in this moment in time. Why? Mostly because my mom said so, but also because having an audience to witness our stories as we tell them is extremely validating and empowering. It also gives us the power to own our stories.

    “Go around the table” also begs us to learn the art of storytelling—as a kid, my siblings and I quickly learned how to engage each other as we went around the table.

    When it was my turn to share, I always began, “I woke up,” and everyone would kind of grumble but also smile. I was funny (and a total hack). I was also learning that I like to make people laugh and humor is a good way to get my message across.

    As you share, you will find what type of communication works best for you.

    3. Just listen.

    When it’s not your turn to talk, you don’t talk. Period. When it is your turn to talk, you do not respond to another person’s story; you simply tell your story.

    Once you learn how to not interrupt others with your speech, you can begin to learn how to not interrupt others with your thoughts. When someone else is speaking, try not to plan what you are going to say. Just listen.

    Learning to really listen to what others have to say makes us better family members, friends, employees, managers, and people.

    4. No one is in charge.

    You will need someone to facilitate the sharing, but this does not make them the boss. The facilitator simply calls on someone to share first, and then rejoins the group as you “go around the table.”

    The table is a group of peers offering compassionate listening to each other. Avoid viewing one another through hierarchical dichotomies like teacher/student, counselor/patient, healer/wounded, or even parent/child. These relationships have purpose in other settings, but in this exercise, everyone is equal.

    If people begin to speak out of turn or abuse the sharing time in any way, each member of the group is equally responsible for maintaining decorum.

    When there are very few rules, you may be surprised at how steadfastly your table members adhere to them, even if they are very small children.

    5. Allow yourself to be heard.

    Talking out loud in a group setting is really scary. It is not something that comes easily or naturally to most people, and cultivating this ability to be heard is one of the best ways to live in a more awakened state.

    When you are talking, and people are listening, you are yanked into the present moment.

    When you learn to share in this way, you will have terrifying yet beautiful moments when you notice that everyone is listening to you. Breathe and continue your story in this moment, and eventually you may enjoy it. This is true for introverts and extroverts alike.

    Learning to be heard will grow your confidence and give you power.

    6. Be vulnerable.

    Sometimes you will come to the table carrying a heavy burden. One benefit of this practice is that talking about your fears, anxieties, or challenges will lighten your load.

    Be vulnerable and share and you will find peace as you allow yourself to be supported by the others at your table.

    7. If you don’t want to share, don’t.

    You may come to the table feeling something that can’t be articulated. When it’s your turn to talk, you can always pass.

    Don’t ever feel pressured to talk about something that you don’t feel ready to talk about and don’t make something up just so you have something to say. This activity demands authenticity or it doesn’t work.

    Additionally, the more you put into the exercise, the more you get out, so even if you decide not to share, don’t check out. Be present and listen to what others say.

    8. The table is free.

    There are a lot of groups out there that offer this type of experience to members, and most of them are wonderful, healing places. If you decide to join a new group or meet-up, do your research and trust your intuition.

    Everyone at your table should feel free to come and go as they please. If someone at your table wants you to offer something that does not feel right to you, whether financially, sexually, emotionally, energetically, or otherwise, walk away and find a new table.

    If you feel scared to leave or do not know how, find someone outside of the group to talk to. You should never be asked to give more than you are willing or able to give, and you should never be made to feel guilty for walking away from the group for any reason. This is true even if the others at your table are your family.

    My mom is a really incredible woman who taught her children compassion from a young age and above all else. Going around the table is an exercise in compassion, and my hope in sharing this practice is that her wisdom will continue to affect positive growth in others.

    Happy kids cartoon via Shutterstock

  • 5 Things to Know Before You Enter a Relationship

    5 Things to Know Before You Enter a Relationship

    Couple

    “Relationships are about two individuals who maintain their own lives and create another one together.” ~Unknown

    I’ve never been one to casually date because I believe in the storybook romance of a whimsical love that withstands all odds.

    I blame this on my parents who met as teenagers and have maintained their marriage through both triumphs and hardships. Because of this, I always believed that my first love was going to be my forever.

    However, about a year ago I had to let go of the love of my life. He was my high-school sweetheart, and as we grew up through college and started taking our own paths after that, the pressure became too great.

    We weren’t living in the same city and he was working full time, while I decided to go back to school and wait tables on the weekends. It became clear that we wanted to take different journeys with our lives.

    Also, I began to realize that I fell in love with the man I wanted him to be rather than the man he was. I’ve carried a lot of guilt about this part of the relationship. He’s truly an amazing man, but I caught myself trying to change things about him.

    It’s not fair to push your partner to be different. People have to change because they want to change, not because they feel forced to change to appease someone else.

    I’ve spent the past year trying to understand and come to terms with my decision. I know I will always carry him in my heart, but I’ve learned that even the greatest of loves shouldn’t come between me and my intuition.

    I’m now single and actively pursuing a career that will open a world of possibilities for me. I’d like to bring to my next relationship the understanding of these five things below.

    Knowing and embracing these things will allow me to have a deeper understanding of myself, which will in turn allow me to maintain a healthy relationship with someone worthy of my love.

    Five Things to Know Before Your Next Relationship

    1. Know your worth.

    Far too often we stay in relationships that are less than gratifying because we don’t value ourselves.

    A fundamental change occurs once you realize what you are worth and what you deserve from a partner. Once you start believing that you deserve something deeply fulfilling, you will never settle for anything less.

    Any effort to try and cheapen your value will be futile. The tide will have changed. Not only will you start respecting yourself, others will recognize this and respect you in return.

    2. Know how to love with an open heart.

    This is particularly difficult for me because I am so protective of my heart. It’s a defense mechanism that served me as a child, but it has hindered my ability to get close to people as an adult.

    Loving with an open heart means embracing vulnerability. It’s essentially opening yourself up to the possibility of pain in order to strive for something beautiful. It’s not easy, but we can take solace in knowing we’re in all in this together.

    We all want to be accepted and loved, and we are all terrified of heartache and pain. Once we understand this, it becomes easier to let our guard down and let others in.

    Loving with an open heart takes extraordinary courage because nothing is more challenging than stepping out of the darkness and letting yourself be seen—but it’s worth it, because nothing is more fulfilling.

    3. Know how to be compassionate.

    The ability to recognize suffering and offer compassion is vital to a mutually supportive relationship.

    We all have our own story of hardship, mistrust, and loss, as well as joy, love, and triumph. By listening with an open heart and mind, we can find commonalities in each other’s stories and foster compassion and love.

    It’s not easy to nurture compassion in an egocentric society that sees emotion as weakness. Many of us focus on our own betterment without acknowledging the people around us, and repress our feelings to avoid judgment. But we need to embrace our own feelings to be able to embrace someone else’s.

    4. Know your strengths and weaknesses.

    Recognizing and understanding our limitations enables us to work on them and find partners who will complement us.

    This can be tricky because our strengths and weaknesses are often one and the same. For example, I can be demanding, in that I am constantly trying to push my partners to be the best they can be. I place the same expectations on myself.

    This is a weakness because I place heavy demands on partners, which can lead to disappointment and resentment. It’s a strength because it has pushed me to continue on my career path and achieve goals I’ve set for myself.

    It’s perfectly okay to have qualities that are both redeeming and sometimes difficult. That’s what makes us unique. When we understand those qualities, we can both work on them and seek partners who will balance them.

    5. Know what it’s like to be alone.

    Too often we focus on romantic relationship because we fear being alone, and because it’s easier to get approval from someone else than it is to validate ourselves.

    As a result, many people jump from one relationship to the next without fully understanding why the previous relationship didn’t work. This also leads incompatible people to get married or stay in relationships that no longer satisfy them.

    Knowing who you are alone is the greatest gift you can give yourself. It pulls you away from the comforts of a relationship and allows you space to understand yourself and what makes you happy.

    We all want to find our “other half,” but the best relationships occur when two whole people unite and allow their love to complement their already enriched lives.

    These components were missing in the last chapter of my life, but I am looking forward to acknowledging them in the ones ahead.

    Happy couple image via Shutterstock

  • Forgiving and Refusing to Let Bad Things Change Us

    Forgiving and Refusing to Let Bad Things Change Us

    Woman watching sunset

    “Humbleness, forgiveness, clarity and love are the dynamics of freedom. They are the foundations of authentic power.” ~Gary Zukav

    It was a little after 9:00 PM when my mother’s next-door neighbor called upset, hysterical even. Within seconds of hearing her voice, I knew something wasn’t right.

    I was getting one of those calls that everyone dreads. Deep breath. She said that my mother had been brutally attacked and had been taken to the hospital.

    Breathe Leslie.

    “What happened?” I asked in my calmest voice, trying hard to listen and not react. “Where is she? What hospital?”

    A family friend had taken advantage of my mother’s kindness. My mother had prepared a special birthday dinner for him, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted more, he wanted money, so he hit her repeatedly over the head with a wooden statue, hoping that she would give in.

    For years, he helped Mom with odd jobs around the house, and now he was her assailant. The amount of blood loss, the tears, the hurt and betrayal—it was the beginning of the longest year of my life.

    Prior to this incident, I was obsessed about living “the dream,” but the truth is I wasn’t happy. I was a control freak who suddenly felt out of control. My desire to marry and have the perfect family no longer seemed important.

    After waiting for hours in the hospital, I entered my mother’s room and broke down at the sight of her ballooned face and shaved head. She was unrecognizable.

    How could he have done this to the sweetest woman on earth? She’s alive, so why am I still angry?

    Many of my friends and family members thought I’d be more equipped to handle an incident of this magnitude, since I’m a licensed social worker who works with non-profit organizations and families. But it was beyond challenging, and there was still so much work and healing to be done.

    Some days later, my mother told us the entire story. She said that when the wooden statue broke, her former handyman grabbed a large crystal vase to continue the beating.

    My mother was fighting back and yelling at him to stop. Then all of the sudden he turned around, gently set the vase on the dining room table, and walked out the front door.

    He had spared her life, and yet I still felt surges of anger flood my body several times throughout the day.

    My mother didn’t start to resemble herself until her second week in physical therapy. Her hair was growing back and she could smile again. I felt relieved because it meant that she had survived.

    As soon as she was able to formulate thoughts and words, she expressed her well wishes toward her attacker. By the time her physical therapy sessions had ended, she had completely forgiven him.

    We knew he had a history of substance abuse, and his defense attorney tried to plead mental illness. He may have been under the influence of drugs when he attacked her, though we can’t be sure.

    Regardless of what compelled him to commit such a horrible act, my mother recognized a hidden blessing in this tragedy: she’d wanted to move closer to her family for some time, and she’d been putting it off until this incident.

    This was the catalyst for something that’s made her genuinely happy, and that helped her let go and forgive.

    A Testament of Love and Forgiveness

    In the book, The Giant Within Us, it reads, “Forgiveness is the miracle of a new beginning. It is to start where we are, not where we wish we were.” I kept hoping to be where my mother was in her process of forgiving, but I wasn’t. This frustrated me.

    When it came to me letting go of the hurt and anger, my approach was vastly different than my mother’s.

    Three practices that worked for me were:

    • Practicing yoga and meditating
    • Expressing gratitude coupled with positive thinking
    • Energy healing

    In the morning, I practiced yoga and meditation, which introduced calm to my day and helped me realize there was so much for which to be grateful.

    When the hurt and anger resurfaced, I brought my attention to my mother’s smile and the sound of her sweet voice until my thoughts faded into nothingness again.

    On the days when I felt extremely low, doing my best in the moment and being positive were equally important. I spent some afternoons walking on my treadmill while watching sci-fi movies. It’s all I had energy for at the time and I told myself that it was okay.

    Months after the attack, a friend suggested that I reach out to an energy healer or practitioner because I was having trouble sleeping. The sessions were relaxing, which greatly decreased my overall stress level.

    The result was that I felt more balanced and clear-headed, and over time the pain and anger disappeared.

    My mother joined a Senior Citizen Center to spend more time outdoors and enjoy life with her peers. She also found peace through engaging in therapy sessions to address her post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

    It’s interesting how my journey of forgiveness involved going inward, whereas my mother focused on external activities. However, we both learned that forgiveness means taking back the power we may have given to someone else for their wrongdoings.

    It’s a personal choice that requires a great deal of commitment, compassion, and patience.

    My mother’s response to the world before and after her attack is to do her part by expressing love, gratitude, and compassion. Her attitude contributed to her steady recovery.

    Mom refused to let the incident change her, and that’s why she’s not only surviving but thriving. Whenever something bad happens, we have a choice: we can get bitter or we can get better. My mom chose the latter. Which will you choose?

    Woman watching sunset image via Shutterstock

  • Create a Kinder World: What to Do Instead of Judging

    Create a Kinder World: What to Do Instead of Judging

    Arms wide open

    “When you judge another, you do not define them. You define yourself.” ~Wayne Dyer

    I’ve always been judgmental. I will judge someone else’s buying habits, looks, grammar, or political beliefs and get some perverse pleasure in it. It’s very painful for me to admit that.

    You see, I strive to be kind and compassionate toward myself and toward others. That’s why I have turned much of my personal development focus this year to letting go of judgments.

    When I first started seeing a therapist, in college, we spent quite a bit of time talking about a particular family member of mine. After describing this person, my therapist said that it sounded like they may have had a superiority complex, and that all superiority complexes are built on top of inferiority complexes.

    Now I look at myself and wonder: Is that what’s going on with me? Do I judge others negatively because I need to feel better about myself? Am I so insecure in my own place in this world that I have to build my own self-esteem on top of other people’s perceived shortcomings?

    I don’t want to be that person.

    It’s weird, because I’ve always felt I was put on the earth to help people. And I don’t feel judgment toward those that I help. I love them. So why is it so easy for me to judge strangers and friends of friends?

    I know I have a long way to go, and I know I have to work on both letting go of my judgments toward others as well as toward myself.

    This past week I tried something, and it made my heart feel light and my face feel happy: I made observations instead of judgments.

    Let me give you an example.

    I was out and about and I saw a woman with a baby. I also have a baby, for the record.

    At first I noticed that I was making judgments about her based on her appearance and the way she spoke. It made me feel sad and, well, icky, inside.

    But I stopped. I realized this was a perfect time to try doing something different.

    So I took a mental step back and looked at her for the absolutely perfect human she was (and is).

    I observed the way she looked with no attachment to it as right or wrong, good or bad.

    I observed the way she spoke with no disdain or criticisms.

    And I felt love. I felt peace. I felt wonderful.

    This is how I want to live. This is how I want to feel.

    You see, I know rationally that we are all these wonderful, gorgeous creatures of the universe. Sitting here at my desk typing, I am 100% sure of this. Yet, somehow, out in the world, I lose sight of this. I forget.

    And it hurts me. Judging others makes my life worse, not better.

    I am completely committed to shifting all of my thoughts away from judgment and toward kind, gentle, unattached observation. I know it’s going to take practice, but almost everything worth doing takes time and energy.

    If you’d like to make the same shifts in your own life, I have a few suggestions based on my short time entering the No Judgment Zone.

    First, you’ll have to admit that you judge others. It may be painful, as it was for me. It’s okay; acknowledging this is the only way to recover from it.

    Next, decide that you want to actively give up judging others. You may do it more often than you’re even aware, and without a conscious effort, it will be difficult to avoid.

    Now, start paying attention to how judging others feels in your body. If you’re like me, you’ll feel the corners of your mouth pulling down in sadness, and may feel a pit in your stomach. It’s good to know how your body feels so that you can start to identify when you’re judging others without even noticing.

    It’s time now to practice the act of observing instead of judging. The next time you notice yourself judging someone else, do what I did: Stop, take a step back, and describe the situation with no inflection of tone that casts a negative light.

    Instead of “Wow, now that’s an interesting outfit,” try “that woman is wearing leopard print pants with pink sparkly boots and a bedazzled tank top.”

    Take the judgment out of it. Observe it. Find the beauty in the other person or situation.

    Now you just have to practice. Over, and over, and over again. I am still very much in the early stages of becoming aware and observing instead of judging; this is not an overnight change!

    To really make a permanent shift, stay away from places where others are judgmental for fun—websites that attack others for their beliefs or way of living, TV shows that humiliate, and friends on social media that love to make loud proclamations about others are some good places to start.

    Now is a good time to mention that there will certainly be occasions when it is not judgment that I am experiencing, but discernment.

    If I see someone being verbally abused by their partner, or someone harming an animal, or someone stealing, it is not the time to step back and just observe and try to find love and beauty. On those occasions, I hope that my good sense allows me to help in any way possible.

    Above all, it’s about creating peace, both in my own mind, and for others as well.

    I am sorry if I have ever judged you. I am sorry if someone judging you has ever hurt you. Together, let’s create a world where we are kind and compassionate to everyone we encounter.

    Friends pointing and laughing image via Shutterstock

  • 4 Strategies for Practicing Compassion When You Feel Wronged

    4 Strategies for Practicing Compassion When You Feel Wronged

    Woman with Heart

    “Judgments prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances.” ~Wayne Dyer

    When I first took up meditation, sitting with my thoughts didn’t come naturally. At the time, I was going through a divorce and was often anxious and stressed out. It took months, but I kept trying, and after a while I looked forward to my daily sit.

    In my meditation group, I learned a classic method for generating compassion and equanimity. I tried holding images in my mind of a friend, an enemy, and a stranger.

    The idea was to view each one without judgment or preference, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to generate compassion for my enemy—especially when the face I envisioned was my ex-husband’s.

    At last, my divorce was final. Another year passed and I met a great guy. We dated for more than a year before he moved in. Our relationship was going so well that we decided to take a big step together: We adopted a stray kitten.

    The kitten was adorable and cuddly and rambunctious. We loved her immediately and she made herself right at home.

    A week or so after the kitten’s arrival, I sat down to meditate in my sunny meditation room. It was one of those days where everything felt right with the world. I lit my candles and incense, positioned myself comfortably, and set the timer.

    Focusing on the candle’s flame, I breathed in … and out … in and out—but something was terribly wrong. Every breath brought me closer to a distinct reality: I was sitting in cat pee!

    I hopped up and stripped the slipcovers off the pillows. Lugging the fouled material to the laundry closet, I angrily muttered, “If we had not taken in this stray, I’d be tranquil right now! That cat has ruined my entire day!”

    Then I my thoughts turned to blame. “My boyfriend was the one who wanted to adopt this cat! I should have said no, but I wanted to please him. I should have known better!”

    And finally, I took out my frustration on the feline offender: “Some cats just can’t be house trained! If that kitten does this again, she’s going back to the pound!”

    I seethed on and on, piling up blame and resentments, turning my anger and dissatisfaction over and over in my head.

    If ever there was a good time to practice compassion and forgiveness, this was it. But rather than sitting in meditation, I spent the next hour dowsing the slipcovers and cushions with diluted bleach.

    In the days that followed, when I sat down to meditate, I contemplated the kitten’s offense. Then a thought occurred to me that made me laugh. My resentment melted as I realized how ridiculous I was to blame a cat … for being a cat!

    The kitten was not a “bad” cat at all. The kitten didn’t pee on my cushion out of spite or because she hated me. She peed on the cushion because she was marking her territory, which is what cats do. It’s her nature.

    The kitten was, in fact, being a very “good” cat. The kitten wasn’t the problem. The problem was my expectation of the kitten to behave in a manner that was not natural to her.

    Of course, accepting my cat is a cat is one thing. It’s a little more difficult when I try to let go of my expectation of human beings, particularly the one I was previously married to. And yet, how often did I expect people in my life to respond in ways that were not natural to them?

    Turns out my kitten taught me more about generating compassion than the guru at my local meditation center. Here’s what I’ve learned from my most enlightening “sit.”

     1. It’s called human nature for a reason.

    If I can accept that my kitten is just enacting her cat nature, then why can’t I see that my ex-husband (or anyone for that matter) is just following his or her human nature?

    Alexander Pope was right when he said, “To err is human.” Since human nature is distinguished by ego, delusions, fears, and a little thing called mortality, most of us are perfectly imperfect human beings.

    Too often, I judge myself and others through a warped lens of perfectionism. My ex was (and is) just doing his best to avoid suffering and find happiness—just like me. And like me, he responds out of his limited perspective, experience, and fear. My problem with him is not that he’s who he is; my problem is that he’s not who I want him to be.

    2. It’s (not) all about me.

    No matter how long I sit on the meditation cushion and try to “generate compassion” for someone, I will never get far if I am still judging that person by my own limited viewpoint. Taking things personally creates a barrier between me and other people, or between my idea of an outcome and reality.

    I limit my own perspective when I say, “You have done this to me because you are trying to harm me.” If I can take a step back, I may realize that I don’t know everything about the situation. Only then may I be able to discern that there could be a motive beyond one that’s directly related to me.

    3. I’m not okay, you’re not okay.

    When I’m angry and upset about an outcome, I often forget that the person who I feel “let me down” is probably also upset and disappointed. Although I may initially personalize a situation, I can use my feelings to identify with someone else’s perspective.

    For example, when my son brings home a less than stellar grade that’s upsetting to me, I can be fairly certain that he’s bummed about the grade, too. Realizing that he is equally—if not more—disappointed than I am can temper my reaction and might even inspire a more compassionate response.

     4. Consider the parts, not the sum.

    No situation or being arrives full-blown without dependence upon mitigating circumstances. (This is also called dependent origination or dependent co-arising.) For example, the traffic jam did not occur because the Universe is conspiring to make me late for work.

    The more I can accept that I am a part of a bigger experience, the more I can let go of the importance I place on myself or any given event. Then, I can let go of blaming and see that we are all in this traffic jam (called life) together.

    As it turned out, my most dissatisfying meditation session taught me far more about compassion than sitting for hours in tranquility ever could.

    Simply contemplating that everyone wants happiness doesn’t get me very far when I’m stuck in traffic or disputing a finance charge on my credit card with a less-than helpful customer service representative.

    No matter how long I sit on the meditation cushion and try to “generate compassion” for someone, I will never get far if I am still judging that person by my own limited viewpoint.

    Woman with heart image via Shutterstock

  • A 4-Minute Animated Video Course on Training Your Brain for Happiness

    A 4-Minute Animated Video Course on Training Your Brain for Happiness

    If your brain is very unhappy, like Brody, who’s full of fear and self-doubt, take a few minutes to watch this cute little video. Happiness can be quite simple when we learn how to train our brain.

  • Practicing Loving-Kindness Even When (Especially When) You Are Hurting

    Practicing Loving-Kindness Even When (Especially When) You Are Hurting

    Hand Heart

    “Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.” ~Charles Dickens   

    All of us have been hurt or angered by someone’s words at some point. Some words are blatantly cruel, and others are deceptive, appearing to be in our best interest but only ever leading us astray. These are the messages that leave us questioning who we are or how we should be.

    I’ve been labeled timid and stuck-up. Speak up more, but stop interrupting. Be more assertive, but don’t complain. Be more outgoing, but be authentic.

    I’ve been called careless and a lousy role model and then questioned about why I am such a perfectionist. Lighten up. Don’t apologize so much.

    And my all-time favorite: your voice is off-putting and might scare the children.

    These are painful messages, and historically I’ve taken them to heart.

    When we’ve been hurt, we might try to get rid of the feelings by distancing ourselves or fighting back. It can be hard to regard these feelings as reflecting our desire for connection.

    We also try our hand at shapeshifting, becoming who we think we ought to be. This approach to connection can actually backfire. While we could feel more connected in the short term, we’ve also reinforced the message that who we are isn’t enough. Any guesses about what that does to us over time?

    Lashing out, hiding away, or conforming do not bring us any closer to connection nor do they leave us feeling validated or loved.

    For me, this is a big lesson in loving-kindness. Loving-kindness is a sense of benevolent affection, unwavering connection, and compassion for ourselves and others, even the difficult people in our lives.

    This lesson has taken a while and is admittedly still a work in progress, but it is powerful nonetheless.

    Loving-kindness does not leave us immune to negative emotions, but it is most potent when called upon in our less than loving or kind moments. Loving-kindness also does not leave us impervious to hurtful messages, though it can lessen their impact.

    When we are hurting or angry, loving-kindness can be especially challenging. It is therefore empowering to practice loving-kindness not simply in spite of feeling hurt but because we have been hurt.

    Finding loving-kindness relies on three things: our ability to love and be loved, maintaining our composure, and acting with good will.

    Have a heart that never hardens.

    Loving-kindness involves wishing peace, joy, and tenderness for others. It means celebrating successes, easing suffering, and cultivating feelings of friendliness and affection.

    We cannot do this with a hardened heart.

    A hardened heart is closed or blocked off. It may expect the worst or interpret hostile intent. A hardened heart is surrounded by not merely a wall but by a fortress of steal.

    With a heart that never hardens, there is ample room for warmth, forgiveness, patience, and compassion. Having a heart that never hardens also reflects our ability to love and be loved.

    Yes, being loved is actually an ability. Let me be clear. By ability to be loved, I don’t mean lovability or worthiness of love. I mean being able to allow others to love you.

    We make decisions about vulnerability, trust, and love when we’ve been hurt. We protect against vulnerability or we try again, decide that people are or are not to be trusted, and either open ourselves up to or block ourselves off from love.

    The key to having a heart that never hardens is to remember that your heart is strengthened, not scarred, by heartache. When words sting, know that this pain reveals an open heart.

    Trust in yourself to be able to handle it if and when you are hurt. Treat yourself with compassion in life’s painful moments, and take a healthy risk on vulnerability even when you’ve been hurt in the past. Allow yourself to be at peace when you are hurting or angry, and cultivate benevolence and goodwill rather than stewing in bitterness or breeding ill-will.

    Have a temper that never tires.

    Composure is another major component of loving-kindness. We all vary in our natural ability to keep a level head in the face of pain or anger.

    Anger is normal and natural, and it is even helpful when understood. Anger lets us know when something is amiss. It alerts us to threat or injustice.

    In truth, you will probably get ruffled from time to time. That’s just part of being human. However, this does not mean that you need to lose your temper.

    When we lose our tempers, we say and do things that we don’t mean. We can lash out, blame, and deny. This usually leads us to do anything but communicate.

    Acting without thinking often makes a bad situation worse. Not only do we still have the triggering event to contend with, but we now have the fallout from whatever we said or did when we lost our temper. It can become difficult to resolve the situation, and rather than cultivating peace, we create a crisis.

    Losing our temper doesn’t just harm those around us but also ourselves. We can experience regret and shame after losing our temper, and we ruminate about it later and work ourselves up further.

    Loving-kindness allows us to recognize our anger and breathe warmth and peace into it. It gives us a bit of extra reaction time and reminds us of our connection to this person pushing our buttons.

    To have a temper that never tires, know your triggers. Common triggers for anger are feeling threatened or vulnerable, having our goals blocked, and feeling mistreated.

    Also pay attention to the times when you are more susceptible to losing your temper. It may be when you are feeling overworked, overtired, and underfed, or you may be under the pressure of high expectations or demands.

    To keep your temper, knowledge is power, and knowledge plus acceptance is even more powerful. Acceptance doesn’t mean agreement, simply acknowledgement. Acceptance that it is what it is can go a long way toward defusing your anger and redirecting that energy toward positive action or loving-kindness.

    Have a touch that never hurts.

    Acting with tenderness and good will is the third component of loving-kindness. You can’t have a touch that never hurts if you have a hardened heart or a quick temper.

    A harmful touch can have two main functions: getting rid of pain and inflicting pain.

    Quite often, anger is secondary to pain. Somehow it seems easier to be angry than to be hurting. When we’re angry, we can place blame on someone other than ourselves and act out accordingly.

    When we are hurting, we can also turn our anger inward. We can inflict pain on ourselves in a variety of ways and for a variety of reasons.

    In contrast to this, loving-kindness is benevolent and gentle. It is approaching others with sympathy and care and using your touch to heal and comfort yourself and others.

    Having a touch that never hurts refers to both physical and emotional harm. Certainly, our hands can be used as weapons, but so can our words and our actions.

    When you are hurting, resist the temptation to hurt someone back through name-calling, gossip, or blame. Put revenge aside and focus on moving forward.

    Use your touch for healing, not hurting. Reach out to hold the hand of someone you care about. Scratch their back, give a massage, or high five. Extend a loving gesture toward yourself by putting your hands over your heart and simply breathing.

    Using your hands to build or create can also help you cultivate loving-kindness. Try writing a caring note to a friend, pitching in through volunteering, or simply creating something for your own enjoyment.

    Hand heart image via Shutterstock

  • Transforming Shame Into Love, One Good Deed At A Time

    Transforming Shame Into Love, One Good Deed At A Time

    Friends Laughing

    “No one is useless in the world who lightens the burdens of another.” ~Charles Dickens

    A few years back, I saw a sticker that read, “Be the change you wish to see in the world. –Gandhi.”

    My knee-jerk reaction was annoyance because the sticker was affixed to the bumper of a car that turned left in front of me. I was in the middle of a long stretch of bad days, so pretty much anything would have set me off.

    My search for happiness during that bleak period seemed fruitless, most likely because I didn’t know that happiness is not a destination where, upon arrival, we get to unpack our bags and stay forever. Happiness is just one of many “rest stops” on the highway of life.

    Just as rest stops are meant to come and go, so is happiness. We recognize a feeling in our conscious field, stretch into that feeling for as long as needed, and eventually, get back in the car and “drive” until the next one comes along. 

    Of course, there are other stops along the highway as well: loneliness, excitement, hope, anger, longing, etc.

    Eight months after ending a toxic relationship, I was spending an inordinate amount of time at the rest stop of shame.

    Not only had I allowed myself to stay in a relationship with someone who treated me poorly, I felt like a failure when the relationship ended. Seems I had special talent for beating myself up, both coming and going.

    Each one of our feelings speaks to us in its own unique voice. For me, shame sounded like, “You’re a loser!” or “You’re boring!” or, my personal favorite, “No one will ever love you!” The voices of our feelings can tell us things that feel true but, in fact, are not true. 

    When I heard the voice of shame, it took everything in my power to fight the urge to isolate from a world I was convinced I didn’t deserve to be part of.

    The world seemed pretty dark at the time and I worried I would never find the light again. (This is what hopelessness sounds like, by the way.)

    It was at precisely this time that Gandhi’s words came along, disguised as an obstacle in my path. Seeing those words reminded me that we cannot control how we feel; we can only control what we do with how we feel.  

    While I could not control shame, I could control how small I allowed it to make my world.

    I had no idea how to “make” myself happy, but I was desperate to try anything. I decided to conduct a little social experiment to test Gandhi’s words. Because I wanted to transform shame into happiness, despair into love, it was up to me to sprinkle happiness and love into the world.

    I called the experiment “The Mizvah Project” and challenged myself to perform at least one good deed per week. The good deed could be any action, small or large, as long as the net result would put more positive energy into the world.

    I wasn’t feeling too positively energetic at the time, so a week seemed plenty of time to do at least one small thing. (After all, starting from ground zero, there was nowhere to go but upward.)

    Once the goal was set, I noticed a slight positive shift in perspective. I was no longer wondering what in the world could make the pain stop, I was asking myself what I could do to bring more love into the world.

    The experiment began.

    If I appreciated something about someone, I went out of my way to tell them.

    If I knew someone who was struggling and needed a sympathetic ear, I called and listened.

    If I saw a piece of trash on the sidewalk, I picked it up.

    A friend needed help redesigning her office, so I did it.

    If my son was having a bad day, I surprised him at school with takeout from his favorite restaurant.

    Momentum didn’t take long to build, so I quickly bumped the target up to three mitzvahs per week. Augmenting the goal brought with it another noticeable shift in my worldview: a significant uptick in the compassion.  This was encouraging.

    If a car turned left in front of me, I told myself the driver was probably lost and needed help; if someone was rude at the grocery store, I assumed they were having a bad day and needed extra patience; if I screwed something up, I spoke nicely and encouragingly to myself.

    I began to believe—I mean in-my-core believe—that all human beings, even those who hurt us, are deserving of love and compassion.

    It’s been almost two years since The Mitzvah Project started. I am happy to report the shame that once felt like a constant companion has given way to greater connectedness with the people around me (whether they are trusted friends or complete strangers) and with myself. Overall, thankfully, I spend less time in despair and more time in contentment.

    It hasn’t been all wine and roses since I started the project—shame still shows up on the highway from time to time. The difference is, where I once would have addressed the voice of shame with harshness and criticism, I now speak to it in a kinder, gentler voice; as if I were a child in pain.

    Approaching our shame with loving curiosity eventually reduces shame’s need to manifest itself in ways that don’t serve us.

    Inside each of us is a deep well of love, patiently awaiting our own recognition. Mindful acts of kindness and compassion, however large or small, are the portals to this love. 

    If you have been spending more than your fair share of time at the rest stops of shame and despair, I urge you to consider asking yourself how you can bring to the world the change you wish to see.

    The voice of shame may try to convince you that you cannot do it. Shame lies; don’t believe it.

    It is easy to overlook the gifts we can offer the world, just by showing up and giving of ourselves.

    Perhaps there is someone in your life who could benefit from a pair of good ears and strong shoulders; a park in your neighborhood that could use a little clean sweep; an overdue birthday card that needs a stamp.  Start small and, if you feel inspired, work your way up from there.

    Shame can be stubborn and may stick around for a while, and that is okay. It is when we are visiting the rest stop of shame that we are most worthy of our own loving support. 

    When you feel the darkness, gently remind yourself that this is where you are right now; it is not who you are for always.

    Feelings are temporary—the next one will come along eventually. In the meantime, remind yourself that you are doing everything in your power to put loving energy into the world; this is enough.

    Healing can be found in unexpected places when we embody the change we hope to see.

    Acting in service of bringing love and light into the world helps us find the love and light within ourselves. One good deed at a time, today’s despair slowly transforms itself into tomorrow’s hope.

    Friends laughing image via Shutterstock

  • Giving the Benefit of the Doubt to Rude or Annoying People

    Giving the Benefit of the Doubt to Rude or Annoying People

    “Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” ~Henry James

    Some lessons you learn once, and they last a lifetime.

    I loved to bake as a child, and one day I put a bowl of batter in the microwave with the metal whisk I was using to stir it. A minute later, I pulled the bowl out of the microwave and grabbed the hot metal whisk with my bare hand.

    When I think about it, I can still feel the burn from the metal that took several weeks to heal.

    Some lessons last a lifetime.

    And some don’t.

    When I was a little girl, we had a housekeeper for about a month. We came home one day to find that she had stolen several things from our home.

    “Mom! Can you believe Lupe stole these things?! How could she?!”

    My mom barely reacted to this news. “She must have needed them more than we did.”

    I was outraged. “How can you say that? What she did was wrong!”

    My mom calmly replied, “Melanie, you never know what someone else is going through.”

    I wish I’d remembered that lesson many years later when I was the unit coordinator of an emergency room.

    Patients, medical staff, family members, paramedics, and the intercom created a cacophony of voices. People were shouting and running, beeps and buzzers were going off, and the phones were ringing constantly.

    There was a separate phone used for patient calls. Its distinctive ring was as welcome as a hammer to my skull on this frenetic day. Just my luck, I was at the desk next to the room of a patient who called every five minutes.

    BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

    First, she called for ice chips. She needed her bed raised; she needed her bed lowered. She needed the phone, and then she needed the phone hung up.

    Every request she had was heralded by that awful BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

    I could have handled it if she asked for what she needed in a normal voice. Instead, she whined each request, as if she was at death’s door, which I’m sure she was not.

    “Ooh,” she whined, “I need the TV remote.”

    Anyone whose biggest problem is not being able to reach the TV remote has it good in the emergency room, wouldn’t you say?

    I mean, we were in a major trauma center. There were people getting CPR, coming in with gunshot wounds, or rushing to surgery as soon as they came through the door, at the same time this woman was whining about not being able to reach the TV remote.

    I thought this was my chance to help her get a new perspective and realize that really, she had it good. It kind of felt like my duty. Like I’d be doing her a favor.

    So I said, “Well, at least it’s just an issue with your TV remote. There are plenty of people here who won’t survive the night, so you’re doing well to be concerned about watching TV.”

    Her eyes grew wide with shock. Her voice softened with the awe of someone who had just been given great wisdom.

    “Wow. You’re so right. I should be thankful I’m here and doing okay.”

    I sauntered out of her room, feeling great about myself. I really did a good thing. I was like a divine messenger.

    When I got back to the nurses’ station, I decided for kicks to look and see why the woman was in the emergency room in the first place. Probably a stubbed toe or something lame like that. I looked at her chart. Heart transplant recipient, renal failure, blood transfusions.

    She was only thirty-five years old.

    I felt like I’d been hit with a brick.

    And there she was, thanking me for helping her see that her situation wasn’t that bad. That just made it worse.

    I wanted to walk in there and say, “You know what? Your situation is bad! You want some more ice chips?”

    I may not have a physical scar to show, but the shock and shame I felt after reading that woman’s chart went far deeper than the burn from the metal whisk.

    Some lessons last a lifetime.

    I still judge people. Who doesn’t? It’s like my brain receives information and immediately makes a decision about it.

    But I know enough now to remind myself that I’m only seeing part of the picture. Maybe the woman in the hospital called me into her room because she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe she was scared. I don’t know.

    And that’s the point. We never know what someone else is going through, whether it’s a housekeeper stealing from her employer, a woman in the hospital incessantly using her call button, or someone who cuts you off on the highway.

    We never know what someone else is going through.

    What we can do is give other people the benefit of the doubt and choose to show them kindness and compassion.

    I know it’s hard sometimes to feel compassion for someone who is really rude or annoying. That’s when I create a story to explain their behavior.

    The guy who was rude to me at the grocery store—did you know he just got diagnosed with gonorrhea? From his mistress? And his wife is pregnant with another man’s baby?

    No wonder he’s in such a bad mood.

    Making up silly stories helps me lighten up. It helps me remember that I’m only seeing one snippet of this person’s life. They could be longing for a breath of kindness, a modicum of compassion.

    And that’s something I can give.

  • From Conflict to Compassion: Put Love Above Winning

    From Conflict to Compassion: Put Love Above Winning

    Angry Couple

    “Let go of your attachment to being right and suddenly your mind is more open.” ~Ralph Marston

    When we face a conflict we face an opportunity to learn from pain. It’s like putting your hand against a hot burner on the stove. The burn warns that you have to do something differently.

    You pull your hand back reflexively and you don’t touch the stove again. You’ve learned. As with the hot stove, if we get the lesson that is in front of us, we don’t need to keep repeating that particular pain.

    Inconveniently, our natural inclination when we feel the sting of conflict is to outsource the blame, making it impossible to get the lesson and move on.

    This is such a strong tendency that many of us live in a constant or re-occurring experience with conflict. We have conflicts with our co-workers, our boss, our neighbors, the guy in front of us in line at the coffee shop, our partners, children, and parents.

    It’s the same story running over and over. In its most basic form, the story is:

    I have been wronged by someone who does not see my value. They are self-centered and are not considering my point of view

    Oddly enough, that is also the story we are acting out. We are refusing to see the others’ point of view; maybe because it puts our own sense of self at risk.

    Who am I if I let go of my passionate perspective and wholly understand the others’ point of view? Will the world walk all over me if I don’t stand up for my rights?

    Fundamentally, this fear is about a loss of ego. My outrage at my neighbor because he continually lets his dog out at 5:30AM to bark is rooted in a desire to be right: to have my experience in the world validated.

    Of course, the pre-dawn barking disturbs my sleep. I don’t want to discount that impact. But if this were an event that I chose or knew I couldn’t control, I would accept it.

    For example, if I opted to live somewhere beautiful knowing that there would be a 5:30 siren every day, I would manage that in my life with earplugs or a different sleep pattern and not feel indignant about it. But when I feel disregarded by the neighbor, I experience the pain of conflict.

    When I am upset with my partner because he doesn’t do enough housework, it’s not because I’m in pain from doing too much housework. I’m in pain because I’m afraid he won’t see my value; that he will take me for granted and not recognize my worth. That is a fear of losing ego.

    What can we do with this need to win in order to be seen? This very need is central to our primary drivers and yet runs contrary to our best interests.

    As Leo Tolstoy wrote to Gandhi in 1908 in A Letter to a Hindu:

    “On the one side there is the consciousness of the beneficence of the law of love, and on the other the existing order of life which has for centuries occasioned an empty, anxious, restless, and troubled mode of life, conflicting as it does with the law of love and built on the use of violence. This contradiction must be faced.”

    It seems as though our very civilization is built on this tension between winning and loving.

    Tolstoy, optimistic about the resolution of this tension, believed love would rule eventually, if humans just got to the business of recognizing it and putting it at the forefront.

    I’m certainly not going to disagree with that lovely thought, but working with people in interpersonal conflict for many years has taught me that this is no small request.

    It’s all well and good to point a finger at terrorists or fundamentalists or the target du jour. It’s easy to see they need to lay down their arms and love one another.

    But when it comes to the feud with the neighbor, the lack of recognition from the boss, the unjust lawsuit, the cheating spouse, or any of the other truly personal forms of conflict in our day-to-day lives, we take umbrage.

    For those matters, it seems critical that we receive acknowledgement of our unique experience.

    I’m learning that transcending this desire for rightness requires that we build a pathway out and that we cultivate that pathway, tend it, and keep it free of stumbling blocks.

    Here are four not-so-simple steps to tend that path:

    Grow compassion.

    Let go of your perspective long enough to feel another person’s pain. Practice this every day with small matters like the person cutting in front of you in line, and increase to your miserable neighbor or needy mother. When you are annoyed by the screaming child on the plane, imagine what that parent must be feeling.

    Release the need to be right.

    Consider the notion that there is no right in this situation, just two perspectives. We tend to think that our perspective is the truth, but recognizing that our “rightness” is tied to our biased perspective helps get us past our ego.

    Take responsibility for yourself.

    Keep an eye out for what you bring to the situation that adds to the chaos. Overextending or having unclear expectations or boundaries can be as damaging as blaming or digging in your heals.

    Accept what is.

    When you’re in conflict with a person whose behaviors are unacceptable to you, you need to take care of yourself and let go of the desire for the other person to be different. You can’t change that person, but you can change your relationship. Staying engaged and wanting them to be better is like putting a hand back on the stove and wanting it to be cool.

    The opportunity to grow in conflict comes when we accept the other person’s limitations and take care of ourselves without feeling indignant, bitter, or self-righteous. If we can do that, we can broaden that path through the pain toward compassion.

    This post has been updated since it was first published. Angry couple image via Shutterstock

  • Why Walking Away Is Sometimes the Most Compassionate Choice

    Why Walking Away Is Sometimes the Most Compassionate Choice

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    In May 2012, I was appointed guardian and conservator of my father, and my brother was appointed co-guardian. Our father was declared mentally incompetent by the county court.

    My father was, and is, an alcoholic. When I was growing up, he was an abusive alcoholic. He gave out wounds like gifts. He used words to cut us open, and then he threatened us with salt.

    I lived in hypervigilance, and I learned that being alone, quiet, and invisible was the safest state of being. I was like a bottle—filled up with the wounds my father gave me as his bottles emptied.  

    And then I spilled.

    In therapy, I learned how to heal. I learned how to give myself gifts that were actually gifts, how to love, how to grow, and how to move on.

    Then, my father deteriorated. He was over sixty-five, and had been an alcoholic most of his life. He threatened to kill me, my brother, and my boyfriend.

    He was having flashbacks from Vietnam. He was being abused by strangers who gave him alcohol and drugs and took his money.

    He was hospitalized several times. He threatened to shoot himself. He started answering his door with a loaded gun. He left half-eaten roast beef sandwiches on my brother’s doorstep.

    We exhausted our avenues before petitioning the court to declare him incompetent. Deciding to petition to become the legal guardian of a man who mistreated me, in order to protect him, was the hardest decision I’ve ever made.

    I was trying to practice compassion, to treat him the opposite of how he treated me. I felt sorry for him.

    He was an unhappy man, and instead of going to therapy or AA or changing, he drank. He threw his unhappiness at others. He built walls and imprisoned himself behind them. And he lost everything, even his mind.

    It was hard not to feel sorry for a man who lost so much. In order to save what was left of his life, I went to court with my brother. Out of compassion. And out of hope that maybe something was left, and he could find, if not happiness, then peace.

    If I could do this, I thought, if I could protect him and guard him from harm, then I am showing compassion.

    I was wrong.

    When we were in court, my aunt, my father’s sister, publicly denounced me and used my childhood abuse against me to prove that I was mentally unstable and unfit to care for my father. She lied about my relationship with my father, about my intentions to provide care, and about my student debt.

    A woman who I had not seen in almost ten years, and who was never a close member of my family, proceeded to tell the court about child abuse that she never bothered to stop, in order to claim that I was irreparably damaged from it.

    It was my nightmare made real.

    I spent the next two years struggling to wake up. My father, whose brain was atrophied from drinking, became abusive again.

    As he recovered rudimentary levels of functioning, he also lost his ability to “save face,” and in addition to abusing my brother and myself, he abused the staff at his nursing home and his fellow retirees.

    He was threatened with expulsion on more than one occasion. Under the constant stress and constant abuse, I withered. I tried to stick with it, even though I felt my patience, my calm, my self-confidence, and my happiness eroding.

    I wanted to try to help my father because he was my father. Because it was sad. Because he was sad. Because he was an addict. Because he made such terrible choices. Because I was trying to show compassion. But I had stopped showing compassion to myself.

    When my mother was hospitalized with a brain aneurysm three weeks after having surgery for pancreatic cancer, I was petrified. I spent a month with her in the ICU while she was mostly unconscious, and at some point during that month, I began to realize that I couldn’t take care of everyone.

    I watched her monitor beep and squiggle, and there was nothing that anyone, not me, not the nurses, not the neurosurgeons, could do but wait until they could operate.

    As each day gathered together, I collected them into a gradual epiphany: I couldn’t take care of everyone. I most certainly couldn’t take care of anyone if I wasn’t already taking care of myself. And taking care of myself meant giving myself compassion.

    When I volunteered to become my father’s guardian and conservator, I wanted to prove that I was healed enough to offer him compassion. I had wanted to stop being a person who was wounded, and who received help, and instead become a person who was healed and helping others.

    But these two roles are not distinct. And sometimes they can be filled by the same person. It is possible to be both wounded and healing and healer and giver and receiver, all at the same time.

    Compassion to the detriment of oneself is not compassionate. Compassion needs to begin with yourself. Compassion doesn’t prove anything, or judge anyone, or lift anyone.

    Compassion is loving-kindness, a recognition that we are all the same, that we are beings trying to be, however we are. And that includes yourself.

    I decided to be compassionate to myself, and I quit being my father’s guardian and conservator. My brother quit as well. My father now has a professional guardian tending to his needs, providing for his well-being, and handling his assets. And now I can tend to my own needs, and well-being, and assets.

    Sometimes, despite our best intentions, our compassion toward others falls flat. In an unhealthy relationship, we may need to walk away and extend our kindheartedness, our helping, and most importantly, our compassion, to ourselves.

  • Create New Opportunities by Challenging Your Judgments and Reactions

    Create New Opportunities by Challenging Your Judgments and Reactions

    New Day

    “Taking responsibility for your beliefs and judgments gives you the power to change them.” ~Byron Katie

    “Alright, it’s time to break into groups,” said the professor.

    Immediately, I thought, “I hate group work. I can’t trust other students.” Before even meeting the other members of the group, I was sabotaging the opportunity with negativity.

    How often do you do this?

    The six of us waited, looking at each other with blank faces.

    “Okay, now it’s time to pick a group leader,” said the professor. “Each group will be assigned a psychologist to present his or her major contributions to psychology. You all have ten minutes to present, no more. AND NO READING OFF POWERPOINT OR NOTECARDS,” he screamed. “We present in four weeks. Be prepared.”

    Without even realizing it, I let out a huge sigh and dug my face into my hands. “Finals, papers, work, and now this?” The moment I realized what I was doing, I was embarrassed, because what kind of body language was I signaling? How automatic was that?

    I took a breath. I thought, “Is this how you want to lead by example? How ridiculous are you acting right now? Look back on your principles and follow them.” And so I did: one of my principles in life is learning how to flip negative situations into positive.

    Adversity is really a challenge in disguise. And challenges build character, facilitate growth, and teach us important lessons in life.

    My professor also said something that motivated me: “Out of all my years of teaching, I have never given a group a 100.”

    Challenge accepted.

    Be Mindful Of Your Default Setting

    David Foster Wallace talked about our “default settings” in his “This Is Water” Kenyon Commencement speech.

    Our default setting is how we react to the events in our lives. When we’re bored, we find solace in our phones. When someone cuts us off on the road, we drive up next to their window to see what they look like. And for me, when told that there is group work, I let out huge sighs and roll my eyes.

    This is, however, something we ought to overcome; we decide what has meaning in our lives or what doesn’t.

    I went home really thinking about this assignment—is this really about getting an A, or is it something more meaningful, like practicing organization, leadership, communication, teamwork, and, most of all, public speaking?

    Throughout our lives we will meet people that we don’t like right away or may be in a situation where we feel uncomfortable

    Instead of reveling in this negativity, it would be infinitely more rewarding to take a step back and realize what we’re telling ourselves about this particular situation or person. Is this how we really want to look at it or perhaps is there another way?

    1. Pause and focus on being mindful.

    Take a breath. What are you telling yourself? What do you feel? Getting to the bottom of your feelings, becoming self-aware, is step one; making the conscious decision to change your mind will be tough but necessary.

    Once you become aware of what you’re telling yourself, only then can you start changing the inner dialogue.

    2. Let go.

    Okay, so there was no way of getting out of this presentation, not unless I was okay with failing the class. So now I accept what I cannot change. What can I do to make this moment better? Keep dancing in my discomfort and insecurities or step up and lead?

    Our default setting is to complain and whine, but we’ve all done this so many times in our lives that it’s obvious it doesn’t lead to anything fruitful. Probably best to do the more difficult task instead.

    Negative Judgment Into Compassion & Humility

    We all, to an extent, judge people automatically. We look at their clothing, body language, skin color, and age. This isn’t necessarily bad; this is just how our minds work. We process and organize information in categories to save mental energy, process new information, avoid danger, or approach new friends.

    But this automatic prejudging could be self-defeating at times. I automatically judged one of my group members to be the least active because of her demanding medical job and being a mother of two.

    And I was dead wrong. They were passionate, organized, and although tired after a long day of work, attentive and committed. I was humbled.

    1. Give chances.

    This is where empathy plays a big role: How would you want to be treated? Would you want strangers to give you a chance or not? From a leadership standpoint, I had no choice but to remove my negative judgments and exercise compassion and humility.

    You will have expectations, sure, but don’t let it cloud your judgment so deeply that you forget you’re working with human beings.

    2. Teamwork is also about compassion and humility.

    Depending on the way you are, working with others is difficult because your ideas get challenged. People may not agree with you, and the very feeling of friction against what you contribute is enough to put you on the defensive.

    The idiosyncratic and often deluded belief that we are the most important and knowledgeable person is something we have to let go. Once I truly embraced the suggestions and feedback from my group members, the presentation evolved in ways I couldn’t have previously imagined.

    Choose What Has Meaning

    After many weeks of rehearsal, I’ve never felt more confident in my group. I reflected on how I was thinking, feeling, and behaving just weeks ago, and I realized how foolish I acted and how I nearly sabotaged a great opportunity to exercise important, fundamental skills in life.

    I learned how to work with other people, how to listen, how to give and take feedback, and how to turn strangers into friends.

    We were the last group to present. One by one groups would go up and follow very similar routines, read off their notecards, and hide behind the podium.

    “Is this what you were so afraid of?” I thought to myself. My group, during our rehearsal, was the complete opposite: strong eye contact, no words on the PowerPoint, barely any notecards, and lots of engagement. How? A lot of practice.

    When it was our turn to present, of course, the fear crept right in; I even saw it in the eyes of my group members. Before we all walked up, I looked at each of them. We didn’t even have to say anything. We all gave each other a little nod, smiled, and walked up to the front of the room.

    One by one, each of us presented our section, and by the end the class roared with applause, even a few murmurs like, “That was the best one.”

    At the end of the class the professor walked up to us and said, “I have a problem with your presentation. You didn’t read off notecards, you didn’t read off the PowerPoint slide, and you didn’t have blocks of text on it either. I’m going to have to give you all a 100.”

    My group jumped with joy, hugging one another and congratulating each other. As I was soaking in the moment I thought, “See? What were you afraid of? Why those negative judgments? Look at what was accomplished and how it was done. Now apply this in other areas of your life.”

    To me, this wasn’t so much about the grade, although I originally believed it to be. No, the real joy was the experience of overcoming my fear of public speaking, turning strangers into friends, exercising teamwork, leadership, humility, and compassion.

    The challenge, of course, is applying this same mindset to new and upcoming endeavors. It’s easy to fall back on our default setting without being aware of it, but the more we practice mindfulness, the more likely it will become our new default setting.

    Just imagine if I stuck to my default setting? Imagine if I let negativity overwhelm me and guide my actions? This experience, this story, would have ceased to exist. So would the lessons that I’ve shared.

    Photo by Alejandra Mavroski

  • Life Lessons on What Really Matters from a Dying Man

    Life Lessons on What Really Matters from a Dying Man

    All We Need Is Love

    “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” ~Mahatma Gandhi

    You know how you can remember exactly when you found out that Michael Jackson died? I think it’s called flashbulb memory. It’s when something traumatic happens and because of that, you remember everything else that was occurring at the time. I was on a bus in Santorini after watching an amazing sunset in Oia.

    The day I found out my boyfriend was dying was just like that, but worse. I remember everything.

    Let me digress.

    We spent the week leading up to the surgery that was his last chance at life at Vancouver General Hospital, where we passed the days planning our casual beach wedding in Tulum.

    We pictured it down to the last very last detail. I would walk down the aisle (barefoot of course) to Bob Marley’s “Turn Your Lights Down Low” and a mariachi band would serenade us at dinner. It gave him hope and something positive to think about when the pangs of hunger threatened his usually calm demeanor.

    They made him fast for days as we waited for a surgery room to finally open.

    According to the doctors, the likelihood of him surviving the surgery was only 50%. We savored each moment as best we could, enjoying each other’s company and focusing on love.

    When the nurse came to tell us it was time, I was taking a very rare moment in the hospital cafeteria, as I didn’t want to eat in front of him. I rushed up the elevator and made just in time to accompany him downstairs.

    It was one of the only times I cried in front of him. I didn’t know if I should say goodbye, just in case.

    I looked into his brave eyes. I told him I loved him. I held his hand until I was no longer allowed. The doctor told me not to cry.

    I made my way to the family room where my best friend and our families waited. I felt loved. And scared to death. I remember thinking that this is what it means when they say “blood curdling fear.” I got it and I thought it was fascinating.

    The surgery was supposed to take about five hours, so my best friend took me to my dad’s hotel so I could take shower and a break. I lasted about fifteen minutes before I needed to go back.

    That’s the way it was in those days. Every cell in my entire being simply needed to be there. When I returned, I noticed a bridal magazine in waiting room. I flipped through and found my most beautiful dream dress. I hoped it was a good omen.

    Two hours later, the doctor came in. He looked defeated. I could barely stand up.

    He sat down and with a tremendous amount of compassion (and tears in his eyes), he told me that they had found Benito’s liver completely covered in tumors and therefore a resection or transplant was not possible.

    I remember the moment when courage and fear collided. I asked, “Is he gonna die?”

    And, I remember the doctor’s answer, “We’ve done a bit to make him more comfortable, but there is nothing else we can do.”

    I curled up into a tiny ball on the hospital chair with my head between my legs and sobbed.

    The doctor assigned me the task of telling Benito. He said it would be better coming from me.

    I remember sitting in the corridor holding his mom’s hand. Waiting. Doctors rushed passed with patients on stretchers. I thought of my mom. At the time, she was MIA in Costa Rica. She didn’t even know he was sick. I didn’t even know she was alive. I wanted her to hold me.

    When I saw him, lying there like a helpless child covered in tubes, my breath escaped me for a moment. But I told myself to stay calm. This next part was about him. It was all about him.

    He was groggy from the anesthesia, but he looked at me. With jolt of last minute courage, I put my hand on his boney shoulder and I told him everything. He was too high to really get it.

    He went in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke up, he asked in almost a joking way, “Am I dying? Am I really dying?” I retold the story, barely holding it together. He told jokes. One time, much to the nurse’s amusement, he even belted out an AC/DC tune while attempting a feeble air guitar. He was awesome.

    But two things he said that day, while moving in and out of drug-induced sleep, have shaped my life forever. The first was, “If I only I had ten more years, just think of all the good I could do.” And the second was, “I feel sorry for you.”

    I was shocked, so I asked him why. He said, “Because your boyfriend is dying. We were supposed to get married and adopt babies from Peru” followed by a joke of course, just to cheer me up.

    He said, “Now don’t go dating any of my friends while I’m gone. You’re hot and I know them. They’re gonna try.” Like I said, awesome.

    I think of these two things often in my life—that compassion for others and that strong drive to make a difference in the world.

    Turns out, when a thirty-one-year old party-boy finds out he’s dying, compassion for others and making a difference is the driving force. And, making the entire recovery room laugh of course.

    This is a lesson I’ll never forget. I got my ten more years. And perhaps you will too.

    What can you do today that will make a difference?

    How can you have more compassion for others?

    How can you bring in laughter?

    Perhaps this is what it’s all about.

    Photo by Bethauthau

  • One Simple Thing Anyone Can Do to Have a Better Day

    One Simple Thing Anyone Can Do to Have a Better Day

    excited-woman

    “You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

    Today as I walked down a trendy suburban street heading to an appointment, my phone rang. I was not having the best of days.

    I was walking past chic cafes and designer shops displaying tempting wares. However, having been laid off for the second time in two years, with a mortgage to pay and months without an income, these trivial symbols of indulgence were almost too much to bear.

    Over the past two years, I have felt down, sad, depressed, lonely, and inadequate on more occasions than I have felt joyous, happy, thrilled, loved, or valued.

    I have had more bad days than good, but I was on a path upward. I was reading self-help books and taking up the advice that helped me. I was writing and painting, two pursuits that I had all but abandoned in the quest for corporate stardom.

    Slowly, I was building myself back up again but small issues still had the power to knock me out.

    I was still gut wrenchingly lonely, but I had a couple of trips booked, and I was going to move back into the family fold overseas.

    I was going to return amongst the people who mattered the most and to whom I mattered. I was taking steps toward my own wellness. I had realized that only I can transform my life. I believed that I had the power and strength to rise beyond my challenges and be a better person for having experienced them.

    But back to the phone call. As I answered the call, I realized that it was a promotional call from a reputed global charitable organization that I had supported over the last few years while I was employed.

    I expected it to be a request for donations. It irritated me that this man would call me and ask for money when I was, myself, counting every cent to make ends meet in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

    On a deeper level, my feelings of inadequacy were reinforced because I would have to deny his request. My mood began to darken.

    As the young man with his attractive Irish accent chatted on about an initiative to supply drinking water to millions around the world, I was tempted to hang up the phone and cut the line. I was nearly at my appointment and I would not be able to chat for long anyway. How did it matter if I hung up? I was about to pull the phone away from my ear and hit the red button.

    But then something made me pause.

    I reminded myself that the world does not revolve around me. My caller doesn’t know my circumstances. He is simply doing his job. If I am rude to him, I am spreading ill will and negativity. He did not deserve that. This was my chance, albeit a small one, to make a better decision.

    So I stayed on the line and listened to what he was saying. At the first opportunity, I let him know that I only had a few minutes free and I would have to end the call soon. He may have thought I was just making excuses, but he gamely continued on at a faster pace that was somehow very endearing. It made me smile.

    As I approached my destination, I apologized and excused myself from the conversation. My caller thanked me for my time and promised to call back some other time when I was not occupied.

    This small incident barely took up five minutes but it was a significant director of my day. I was happier for being respectful and polite to a stranger for a couple of minutes. I would like to think that I did not hurt someone else’s feelings, even if he was a stranger.

    Had I chosen to end the call abruptly, I would have carried that negativity for the rest of the day. Instead, an eager Irish chap brightened up my day a little with his enthusiasm.

    I have realized recently that every small thought, every decision, every step we take has a huge impact on us, and the world around us.

    The old me, with my sense of superiority and entitlement, would have hung up the phone without a second thought. The old me would have considered my time too worthwhile to waste on such a phone call, good cause though it may be.

    I have also realized that every interaction is the opportunity to do good and receive good, whether it is a phone call, a shopping trip, or even considering your fellow travelers when playing music on the train.

    Today I also recognized that I have, almost without realizing it, become a slightly better person. I feel like I am more mindful of the world around me, more humble about my place in it. That makes me feel happy and fulfilled.

    And all it took was one phone call.

    So make the effort to make your every interaction a positive one. To face the world with a smile and a kind word. If you throw kindness out in the world, it will bounce right back, only multiplied several times over.

    Photo by Jonas Foyn Therkelsen

  • Release Your Anger by Choosing to Lose

    Release Your Anger by Choosing to Lose

    Surrender

    “Genuine forgiveness does not deny anger but faces it head-on.” ~Alice Miller

    I was quietly watching a documentary with my wife when the phone rang. An icy voice informed me that I was supposed to be at work at 6:00; it was already 7:00 PM. It was my boss.

    Great, that’s all I needed—an unexpected night shift with a resented supervisor.

    In my worst mood, I jumped in my pants at quantum speed and then ran toward the train station on the other side of the street.

    Although the road seemed clear, a car was approaching and the driver didn’t see me. Blame it on the text-and-drive trend. Things went in slow motion, the car wasn’t going to stop, and I was right in front of it. I heard a screeching noise.

    The driver, a guy in his thirties, had managed to stop just in time. His face was livid with shock, and he apologized as much as a man’s pride can decently allow it. But adrenaline had gotten me too furious to listen, and there I was, cursing the hell out of a dude I didn’t even know, very close to starting a fight.

    Sometimes you wonder where so many years of meditation have gone…

    Fortunately, I woke up to my senses. My rational brain got back in control; what was I going to do anyway? The poor guy had apologized, I didn’t get hurt, and no real harm had been done. I decided to give up and let him go.

    Now I was alone in the street. Alone, late for work, and still mad. And I only had thirty minutes to blow off steam before starting my shift. It was time to recall what I had learned about stress reduction. 

    I’d like to share the mindfulness tricks that I used that day to recover from this short burst of insanity. I hope they inspire those among you who unleash the dogs of anger a little too quickly, like me.

    Ground yourself.

    When angry, stop whatever you’re doing and fully open up to your sensations. Give yourself a minute to experience the physical buzz of anger—shaking hands, cold sweat, racing heart. Breathe deeply and bring your awareness down to each part of your body.

    Don’t worry too much if you experience confusion; meeting face to face with the brutality of anger is confusing. The first seconds of doing this exercise will be awkward, yet you’ll regain balance faster than usual.

    Learning to reconnect mind and body is the simplest way to pacify yourself. If you train that skill often enough, it becomes a sane instinct that brings you back to normal quickly.

    Watch the mental firework.

    Anger is a red comet leaving a trail of resentful thoughts. It often stirs up your own habitual rumination, and it’s easy to let it carry you away. Just remember that mental agitation is totally harmless as long as you don’t follow it.

    Let thoughts go, don’t engage in the “How could he be so…?” or “I should have told him…” type of thoughts. The chatter can happen without you, in freewheeling mode.

    Inner peace is not so much a matter of keeping your mind quiet; it’s about how comfortable you become with your own thoughts, regardless of how inappropriate they sound.

    Witness the show anger is giving and let it vanish slowly. Once again, it can’t harm you if you don’t take part in it.

    Offer a little compassion.

    The Buddha said that compassion is the best antidote against anger, but ideally you want to verify that claim for yourself. Your own experience will speak louder than a teaching given centuries ago.

    When you’re upset, practicing compassion means having the curiosity to watch your pain and the pain of those who made you angry.

    In my case, it was easy to relate to the distress of someone who almost ran over a pedestrian, even if I was the pedestrian.

    To put it simply: slip your feet in the other person’s shoes and imagine how it feels to be in their position. It’s probably the best way to dissolve hard feelings.

    Win by losing.

    While we’re often advised to be “stronger than that,” the macho approach doesn’t work too well with anger.

    Actually, anger intensifies when you try to dominate it. Your attempts at fighting aversion will strengthen it, so let it be.

    And when I say let it be, I mean decide to lose the battle, surrender. It sounds obvious, but the key to serenity is to stop the struggle—including the struggle to feel peaceful.

    I guess I should have started with that last piece of advice when scolding a car driver, on a nasty day. I’ll try to remember my own advice next time.

    Photo by Minoru Nitta

  • How to Respond to Negative People Without Being Negative

    How to Respond to Negative People Without Being Negative

    “Don’t let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.” ~Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

    A former coworker seemed to talk non-stop and loudly, interrupt incessantly, gossip about whomever wasn’t in the room, constantly complain, and live quite happily in martyrdom.

    It seemed nothing and no one escaped her negative spin. She was good at it. She could twist the happiest moment of someone’s life into a horrendous mistake. She seemed to enjoy it, too.

    At first, my judgmental mind thought her behavior was quite inappropriate. I simply didn’t approve of it. But after weeks of working with her, the thought of spending even one more moment in her presence sent me into, well, her world.

    Her negativity was infectious. More and more, I found myself thinking about her negativity, talking with others about her negativity, and complaining about her constant negativity.

    For a while, though, I listened to her whenever she followed me into the lunchroom or the ladies’ room. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or even think. I was held captive.

    I’d excuse myself from the one-sided chit-chat as soon as possible, wanting to someday be honest enough to kindly tell her that I choose not to listen to gossip. Instead, I chose avoidance. I avoided eye contact, and any and all contact. Whenever I saw her coming, I’d get going and make for a quick getaway. I worked hard at it, too.

    And it was exhausting because whether I listened to her or not, or even managed to momentarily escape her altogether, I was still held captive by her negativity.

    I interacted with her only a handful of times a month, but her negative presence lingered in my life. And I didn’t like it. But what I didn’t like didn’t really matter—I wanted to look inside myself to come up with a way to escape, not just avoid, a way to just let go of the hold this negativity had on me.

    When I did look within, I saw that I was the one exaggerating the negative.

    I chose to keep negativity within me even when she wasn’t around. This negativity was mine. So, as with most unpleasant things in life, I decided to own up and step up, to take responsibility for my own negativity.

    Instead of blaming, avoiding, and resisting the truth, I would accept it. And, somehow, I would ease up on exaggerating the negative.

    I welcomed the situation as it was, opening up to the possibilities for change within me and around her.

    I knew all about the current emotional fitness trends telling us to surround ourselves with only happy, positive people and to avoid negative people—the us versus them strategy for better emotional health. I saw this as disconnecting, though.

    We all have times when we accentuate the positive and moments when we exaggerate the negative. We are all connected in this.

    Instead of continuing to disconnect, to avoid being with negativity while denying my own, I wanted to reconnect, with compassion and kindness toward both of us.

    She and I shared in this negativity together. And once I made the connection and saw our connection, a few simple and maybe a little more mindful thoughts began to enter my mind and my heart. This reconnection would be made possible through love.

    And these simple little, love-induced thoughts spoke up something like this:

    • Patience can sit with negativity without becoming negative, rushing off to escape, or desiring to disconnect from those who choose negativity. Patience calms me.
    • While I’m calm, I can change the way I see the situation. I can see the truth. Instead of focusing on what I don’t like, I can see positive solutions. I can deal with it.
    • I can try to see the situation from the other person’s perspective. Why might this woman choose or maybe need to speak with such negativity? I can be compassionate.
    • Why does what this woman chooses or needs to say cause me to feel irritated, angry, or resentful? I have allowed her words to push my negativity buttons. I can’t blame her.
    • She doesn’t even know my buttons exist. She’s only concerned with her own needs. I’ve never even told her how much her negativity bothers me. I see what truly is.
    • I see that we are both unhappy with our shared negativity. People who complain and gossip and sacrifice themselves for others aren’t happy. I can help to free us both.
    • I will only help. I will do no harm. I have compassion for us both. I will show kindness toward both of us. I will cultivate love for us, too. I choose to reconnect.
    • I will start with me and then share love with others. May I be well and happy. May our family be well and happy. May she be well and happy. I choose love.

    And whenever I saw her, I greeted her with a kind smile. I sometimes listened to her stories, excusing myself whenever her words became unkind, much the same as I had done before. But I noticed the negativity no longer lingered within me. It disappeared as soon as I began choosing love again. I was freed. And I was happier. Compassion, kindness, and love had made me so.

    My desire was not to speak my mind in an attempt to change hers, to change her apparent need to choose negative words. I did hope she might free herself from negativity and liberate herself by choosing positivity instead. Our reconnection was complete, quite unlimited, too, and it gave me hope that happiness could be ours, shared through our connection.

    I continue to cultivate this loving connection, being compassionate and kind whenever people, myself included, choose to speak negative words, for we all do from time to time. We are positively connected in this negativity thing, and everything else. And compassion, kindness, and love happily connect us all.