Tiny Buddha

Tag: good

  • You Don’t Have to Believe You’re Not Good Enough

    You Don’t Have to Believe You’re Not Good Enough

    “I don’t know a perfect person. I only know flawed people who are still worth loving.” ~John Green

    “I’m not good enough.”

    I cannot possibly count the number of times this thought has passed through my head over the years. It’s been applicable to nearly every aspect of my life from childhood to my current status as an adult, parent, and business owner.

    Still, both the frequency with which this thought enters my head and the length of time I spend believing it have dropped considerably, so I think my story and the lessons I’ve learned are worth sharing—especially since I know I’m not alone in struggling with this belief.

    One of my earliest memories, if not my very first one, is of teetering on the edge of a nubby brown armchair, putting my head between my father’s downward cast eyes and whatever book it was in which he was so engrossed.

    Alas, my repeated attempts to get his attention did nothing. What could a preschooler assume in this instance? Even now, more than thirty years later, I don’t see how anything other than “not good enough” or “not interesting enough” could have crossed my mind.

    That was certainly not the last time my father’s behavior fed my worries that I was not enough. However, he has since passed from this world and blaming him does absolutely nothing to help me move forward; I am now an adult capable of making my own assessments of my value as a human.

    In other words: I am responsible for allowing myself to feel not good enough.

    But I didn’t know that for a long, long time, and I let others take me down a notch without ever questioning it.

    When a boy in my gym class made a mean comment about the size of my thighs, I never questioned him; instead, I simply believed he was correct and that I should feel badly about my body.

    When a close friend chose another friend over me and then, years later, a boy over me, I took the blame: obviously I was not enough. It never occurred to me that maybe she was the one with the issue.

    When I got paid less than I was worth, when I my writing was rejected, when I couldn’t solve every single one of my clients’ problems, when someone unsubscribed from my mailing list, I took all of this personally. I took it as proof that I was not good enough.

    Yet the years have certainly changed me for the better. In 2008 I learned that I was, in fact, in control of my thoughts. I could choose to believe or not believe the stories I was telling myself.

    I also learned that everyone struggles with feeling good enough, and that I was not alone.

    I learned that I could spend more time feeling good about myself if I chose to. I learned that the people who taught me I wasn’t good enough didn’t do it on purpose; they struggled with their own self-worth.

    Today I am a grownup who is mostly satisfied and happy with herself and confident in her place in the world.

    Yet it still creeps in. There are times, especially when it comes to motherhood and running a business, when I feel ill-equipped. When I feel the world crashing down around me, and the familiar “you’re not good enough” slithers into my thoughts, nearly undetected.

    But when it does happen, I have the means to turn it around. It doesn’t own or control me anymore. Here are the basics of turning “I’m not good enough” into “I’m really okay the way I am.”

    Your thoughts create your world, and you can absolutely take charge of them.

    It’s impossible to overstate the importance of paying attention to what stories you’re telling yourself and learning how to change those stories into ones that best serve you.

    Yes, you can spend your life repeating “I’m not good enough” over and over, but why? You can write a new script. You can also learn to let your negative thoughts float on by, like a feather in the breeze, instead of grabbing hold of them and getting sucked in.

    Try telling your story a new way.

    Building upon the previous point, try this exercise: Think of the most important events in your life, or a particularly trying period of your life. Write your story down the way you normally would tell it.

    Next, pretend you’ve been told to write the same story, but with a humorous slant. Then write it again, this time as though you were attempting to inspire others with your tale of overcoming adversity. And again, as though you were writing about a great adventure.

    The purpose of this exercise is to see how the same set of events, the events that shaped your beliefs, life, and thoughts, can take on many dimensions depending on your perception of them. Just knowing this may help you see yourself in a new light.

    There is plenty of proof out there that you are good enough, you just need to look for it.

    I bet you can think of a million ways you’re not good enough but struggle to list just a couple of ways in which you are. For instance, sometimes I struggle to feel like I’m interesting enough to be heard, and thus have trouble saying what I’m feeling and thinking.

    To counteract that, I must take the time to list the evidence that I am, indeed, enough. I actually write down the proof in a journal, or say it out loud to my husband so that it feels concrete.

    In this case, examples that I am in good enough include:

    • I do my very best to be open, honest, and authentic, which I know gives my words value.
    • I care deeply about others, so when I speak, I am trying my best to be supportive and helpful, which I believe makes me interesting and worthy of being heard.
    • Others have asked me to tell my story, asked for my help, or just wanted to get together to talk, so I must have something worthwhile to contribute.

    To try it yourself, pick one area in which you’re particularly struggling to feel like you’re enough. From there, look for any proof, any scrap of evidence, that you are. Write down every single thing you can think of, and make a regular habit of rereading the list and adding to it.

    Remember that you’re not alone.

    I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t, at one time or another, felt insecure about their worth or value or skills or intelligence. Somehow I find it helpful to know that even the most put-together, successful person out there struggles with the same things I do.

    Reach out to others, even if it’s only in your mind.

    If you have someone in your life that loves and cherishes you, why not ask for a little boost? I have gone to my husband many times when I felt down on myself, and hearing his perspective or just feeling his embrace does wonders to turn things around.

    Or perhaps you’ve got no one nearby, or want to rely on yourself to feel better. In that case, try thinking about yourself from the perspective of your parent, child, best friend, sibling, or spouse.

    Also, depending on your spiritual beliefs, you can try to see yourself through the eyes of your higher power, if you believe in one.

    In either case, write down what they might say and what they see in you for maximum impact and memorability.

    The truth is, I am good enough, and so are you.

    Maybe you’re not a good enough ball player to make it to the big leagues, maybe you’re not a good enough dancer to make a career of it, but as a human, you are just right. And when it comes to what’s most important, just do your best and tell yourself a new tale: I am good enough.

    Smiling woman image via Shutterstock

  • How to Stop Believing You’re Not Good Enough

    How to Stop Believing You’re Not Good Enough

    Insecure

    “All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become.” ~Buddha

    Have you ever heard the phrase “your thoughts create your reality”? Have you ever wondered what this means?

    Go back to your childhood and recall a time when you got into trouble. I am sure you have at least one of these memories. This doesn’t have to be a major event. It can just be a time where you were scolded for knocking over your drink.

    Now remember your parents’ reaction. Were they angry or frustrated? Did they yell or give you an annoyed look? Did they send you to your room?

    How did it make you feel? Most likely you felt like you did something really bad or that you were bad.

    This feeling, multiplied by all your other similar experiences, created a belief within you. Through this belief you probably, without your knowledge, created a reality of being bad or not good enough.

    Now fast forward to the present and watch these memories from a new perspective. Have your friends join in. What are your thoughts now? What reactions do they have?

    Through different eyes, through different perspectives, we see and experience different realities.

    Here is a personal experience of mine. I was maybe six or seven, and my family and I were sitting around the kitchen table frosting cookies. This was an annual event at our house. We had all the colors of the rainbow of sugary, spreadable, delectable frosting.

    I was using the green frosting, spreading it oh so carefully on my cookie. When I was finished with the green I set the knife back into the frosting bowl. The knife, not secure in its vessel, tipped backward, sliding gracefully out of the bowl with a loud and splattering of green onto the linoleum floor.

    I don’t remember exactly what my mother said but I do remember her being upset, and I remember feeling like I really messed up and ruined things for my mother and the rest of my family. 

    This experience, along with other similar childhood situations, created a belief that if I did something wrong I would make someone angry or ruin a situation—essentially, I would be bad.

    So what did I do? Whatever I could to not elicit a reaction, including staying silent.

    Now we are going to fast-forward to the present. I can look back at this situation with new eyes. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t ruin the situation, and my mother wasn’t mad at me or even angry.

    The knife was too heavy and long for the shallow bowl, which caused it to tip. It was beyond my control.

    My mother’s reaction was one of frustration not because of green frosting on her easily moppable floor, but probably because she had a long day taking care of four kids and a house and was stuck in an unhappy marriage.

    Similar scenarios often happen to us as adults. I am a natural introvert. Walls are my friend.

    In a crowd of people I usually remain in the shadows, merely observing the happenings around me. In my observations I will notice groups of people maybe glancing in my direction while continuing to talk.

    My thoughts then go into super sensitive mode and create stories of being talked about. My thoughts go on an imaginative ride of insults and attacks, all on me, by those people across the way.

    Now I feel attacked. I am no longer having fun. I no longer want to be where I am.

    My thoughts created a false reality out of nothing. My thoughts had no basis in fact, yet they created a reality for me, true or not.

    Perspective can change the reality of any situation. Really, what is reality but an experience? And if everyone has a different experience from a different perspective, then doesn’t that mean there isn’t just one reality? That reality results from the arbitrary thoughts of many people?

    If we can acknowledge that each person’s thoughts and memories of a same experience are different, then can’t we admit that our thoughts of our experience are no more valid than the next person’s?

    If we have formed opinions about ourselves through the eyes of our thoughts and we have concluded that thoughts have no basis in truth, then aren’t our opinions of ourselves based solely on our thoughts, not truth?

    Is it possible to re-look at our thoughts and see them as just thoughts formed from different perspectives of memories?

    Are you willing to redefine your opinion that you’re not good enough with re-formed thoughts of being more than enough?

    Can you choose to see your thoughts as the controlling factor of your self-worth?

    If you can acknowledge that they are arbitrary thoughts, then the reality formed by said arbitrary thoughts are no more valid than a stranger’s thoughts about you.

    From here on out choose your thoughts wisely, because in some way they will be your reality.

    Insecure man image via Shutterstock

  • 10 Steps to Access Your Goodness and Change Your Life

    10 Steps to Access Your Goodness and Change Your Life

    Man with Arms Up

    “Goodness is the only investment that never fails.” ~Henry David Thoreau 

    A few years ago I found myself on the floor of my apartment with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, feeling miserable.

    In fact, I had felt that way for a while. My four-year relationship had collapsed, work was losing its meaning, and I felt deeply misunderstood, unloved, and lonely. Money was tight; I was overweight, lethargic, and confused; and my future seemed blurry.

    But then, something changed.

    I decided to shift my perspective and see what my life would be like if I stopped beating myself up over “not being good enough” and accepted who I was.

    I made a decision that I am good and committed to testing this theory out. And it worked!

    Since years of self-rejection didn’t do much for me, I had nothing to lose. My decision to accept my own goodness transformed the way I saw and lived life. People were no longer threatening and challenges became opportunities.

    For example, when I didn’t get into the grad school of my choice, instead of thinking of myself as unworthy, I decided to view it as a sign that I was meant to do something slightly different. (Years later this proved to be true, and I am so glad that things did not pan out as expected.)

    I also moved away from victimization to acceptance. I focused on taking care of myself. Instead of beating myself up over missed deadlines or unachieved goals, I intentionally paid attention to all that I did achieve every day.

    I meditated and gave myself enough sleep, quality food, and exercise. I stopped watching a lot of TV and read more. I also expressed gratitude and shared company with people who enriched my life and reinforced my goodness.

    Since then, my life has transformed and happiness has prevailed. As a result, I have become a better partner, friend, and leader, and a more thoughtful human being.

    I also began wondering what the world would look like if we all had an opportunity to accept, embrace, and live out our own goodness. Can we all get there? The answer is a resounding yes! And here are some steps to do it.

    1. Choose goodness.

    Make a decision that you are fundamentally good, and commit to it. This sounds hard, especially if you spent most of your life feeing the opposite. Start by saying several times out loud “I am good.”

    The voice inside your head may disagree, but remember: the voice you hear is not you; the being that hears the voice is you. So, quiet the voice by asking, “Why not?” Then, play a movie of your life and see if you can find a single example of your goodness.

    Even if your emotions don’t agree, use your intellect and then practice this exercise daily. Your emotions will catch up. Just like with building muscles, it takes time, but this exercise does work.

    2. Understand goodness.

    Being fundamentally good does not mean we won’t make mistakes. I make plenty, all the time. Being good means that we deserve good things in life, and we deserve love. With self-love, anything is possible.

    If you have a hard time with this, think of your younger, innocent self. Does that being deserve love? Or, think about yourself through the lens of someone who loves you. Why would they love you so if you weren’t worthy?

    3. Practice, practice, practice.

    Deciding that you are good is hard, but acting on that awareness is even harder. Commit to practice your goodness every single day. Catch yourself when you think negatively about yourself. Make a plan to get yourself out of unhealthy relationships or break bad habits. Treat yourself well, and demand that others do the same.

    4. Develop rituals.

    Take the time to journal, meditate, read inspirational books, pray, paint, volunteer, recite poetry, or regularly engage in any activity that will remind you and reinforce your goodness.

     5. Set up reminders.

    Soon after I made my decision, I changed my license plates to read “I AM GOOD.” I knew I would see it at least twice a day and be reminded of my newfound truth. Even on those extraordinarily busy days when you miss your rituals, these small reminders will keep you on track.

     6. Talk to people.

    Tell people about the concept of fundamental goodness. They will reaffirm its truth, or you will change their life too. In either case, the right people will support you in your quest for goodness.

     7. Live boldly.

    Give generously, love unconditionally, laugh loudly, and communicate openly. Whatever you do, give it your all. Living in such a way will reinforce your goodness.

    The paradox is that you cannot really live fully unless you believe in your own goodness. If you don’t believe in your fundamental goodness, you will constantly question your decisions, your worthiness, the quality of your contribution, and other people too.

    You are also likely to live with a lot of anxiety, which will consume you from time to time.

    By actually doing more of giving, loving, laughing, communicating, and so on, you will be reinforcing your own goodness and growing your belief in it.

    8. Dream big and dare greatly.

    When we focus on our struggles, we lose sight of the truly important things in life. On the other hand, when we dream big and dare greatly, we have no choice but to trust our goodness as we find ways to achieve our dreams and take risks.

    Now, keep in mind that taking risks and daring greatly does not mean we pursue things that might gain us approval of others; it means we seek out those things that matter the most to us.

    A lot of traditionally successful people are miserable and full of self-loathing. On the other hand, a lot of obscure people are fully content and accomplished. Dreaming big means we dream our own dreams, not those imposed by the society, our family, or someone else.

    9. Stop questioning and get busy.

    I love asking a “why” question. But don’t ask a “why” that is harmful; ask a “why” that is helpful. Don’t ask, “Why would I be good?” Ask, “Why wouldn’t I be?” And if you can’t stop questioning, make a decision and move on. Stop revisiting it.

    We’ve been conditioned to doubt ourselves. Doubt something else, but not your goodness.

     10. Be mindful.

    People often ask “How are you?” without waiting for a reply. Regardless, I love responding: “I am good!” It’s not so much for their benefit as it is for my own. The more I repeat it, the more I believe in it.

    Additionally, how I respond to this question is a good indicator of how I feel that day. My response gives me a chance to catch myself. If I say, “I’m okay” or “Not too bad,” that’s a sign something isn’t quite right and I need to evaluate what’s really happening.

    That said, being fundamentally good and accepting this goodness does not mean that we sometimes won’t feel bad, get annoyed or angry, or even lash out. Just today, I got into an argument with a good friend. We each said some hurtful things and I feel bad about it, but that doesn’t change the fact that we are both good.

    —

    Once upon a time, a Native American elder was telling his grandson a story of two wolves that live in each one of us and wage a daily struggle for dominance in our lives.

    One wolf is filled with love, joy, hope, peace, gratitude, optimism, generosity, understanding, humility, kindness, truth, faith, and compassion. The other is a reflection of bitterness, envy, anger, sorrow, guilt, greed, arrogance, self-pity, inferiority, lies, ego, selfishness, and judgment.

    Their struggle is constant, their determination to win unwavering.

    “So, which wolf wins?” asked the grandson.

    The grandfather responded, “The one you feed.”

    We all have a choice to accept our own goodness and nurture it every day. We can all embrace the best within us and choose happiness over sadness. Which wolf will you feed today?

    Joyous man image via Shutterstock

  • Finding Beauty After Tragedy: Bad Things Can Lead to Good

    Finding Beauty After Tragedy: Bad Things Can Lead to Good

    “Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” ~Oscar Wilde

    Have you ever had one of those moments when something devastating happens in your world and it feels like the rug has been ripped out from under you? I know I certainly did last year.

    I thought my life was moving along wonderfully. I had a well-paying job and was slowly growing my dream business on the side. I was happily married and the mother of an adorably cheeky toddler.

    I was only weeks away from moving into our new family home, which had taken us years of drama and a scary amount of money to build. Despite living so far away from my family, my life felt full of friendship, love, and joy.

    Life was progressing along nicely, and my husband and I were confident that we were on track for reaching the dreams we had envisioned for ourselves and our family. We weren’t living the dream yet, but we thought we could see its promise on the far horizon.

    Then we got the devastating news. My father, the man who had been a hero in both of our lives, was suddenly diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor.

    He was one day a healthy and fit fifty-seven year old man. Then the next day, he was suddenly having seizures and losing his sight, only to then be told that he had an aggressive cancer with an average prognosis of one year of life with treatment.

    This news understandably shook our world, and the ripples were felt long and far by many. We were obviously devastated.

    We couldn’t imagine what our lives would look like without him in our corner. And to be honest, I still haven’t allowed myself to fully lean into this, to feel it, or to process it completely. I know this moment will come eventually and it will be messy.

    One thing that we have noticed since the moment the rug was ripped out from under us is that so much beauty and wonder can appear during tragic times.

    It doesn’t detract from the awfulness. At the end of the day, it is still awful. It still hurts. And it’s still tragic. However, it has also brought about so much goodness.

    It caused my husband and me to stop and reflect on our lives. Were we really living the dream? Or were we playing it safe and residing within our comfort zone? Were our decisions and actions really aligned with our values and how we wanted to feel? What was most important to us?

    Before we knew it, we changed our lives dramatically. I quit the well-paying job to pursue my dream business full time. We sold the brand new so-called dream home. We moved interstate to be by the beach and near our family again. My dad’s terminal illness gave us permission to turn our five-year plan into a now plan.

    With my dad’s encouragement, I also started writing about my experiences. People connected to what I shared. It helped people. I could hold a light for others in our darkness.

    Family, friends, and strangers came out of the woodwork from every direction to offer support and love—going above and beyond what I could have ever expected from them.

    I learned so many lessons about myself and others, all this in a short three months. I can only imagine what is still to come.

    Throughout this time, I have also heard of others who have experienced tragedy and, despite this, can see so much beauty in the lessons and life events that followed.

    A friend of mine still suffering from the hurt of losing her brother years ago could recall the good things that came out of this tragedy, including the incredible people that stepped up in support of her and her family.

    Another friend who traveled to Cambodia recently told me about the absolute atrocities the people had experienced but how wonderful and giving they were.

    A client of mine spoke of a job she had thoroughly disliked but how much she had gained from it and how it ultimately contributed to her now being able to successfully follow her dream career.

    We can often hear stories on the news that demonstrate beauty in tragedy also.

    Just recently, when two hostages lost their life in a Sydney cafe, people rallied together to support and protect the Muslim community from revenge attacks with the #illridewithyou hashtag.

    Denise and Bruce Morcombe, the parents of Daniel Morcombe, who was abducted and murdered in 2003, have since dedicated their lives to increasing awareness and teaching children how to be safe. There have already been children who have used these skills to protect themselves in dangerous situations.

    After learning that she had cancer, Jane McGrath and her husband Glenn founded the McGrath Foundation to raise money to increase awareness of breast cancer and fund more breast care nurses in rural and regional Australia. This foundation has achieved so much since its establishment in 2002.

    Now of course these events are still tragic. They still hurt like all hell. And there is still seemingly no reason or purpose behind them. It still seems unfair and unjust how bad things happen to good people.

    But I personally take some comfort in the fact that so much goodness can stem from traumatic events like these.

    What lessons did your tough moments teach you about life, yourself, or others? Did any good things come from them? Can you take any comfort in the fact that they gifted you or others with something that may not have eventuated otherwise?

  • Radically Accept What Is Instead of Labeling it “Good” or “Bad”

    Radically Accept What Is Instead of Labeling it “Good” or “Bad”

    Peaceful Woman

    “The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.” ~Tara Brach

    I was in the heart of my Ph.D. program when I received the diagnoses: OCD, depression, and binge eating disorder.

    It explained a lot, of course. All those years of anxiety, self-doubt, and intrusive thoughts were not normal after all. Eating to the point of gaining forty pounds in a few months was foreign to most people.

    I wanted an explanation. Why me?

    I had done everything right: I made a decent living, I was kind to everyone, and I was presenting my scientific research at international conferences. Why was I being punished?

    I turned to my past and looked for an explanation—something I could pin the blame on. Was it my parents? Had years of moving from place to place as a military child scarred me?

    What about my peers? Those uncomfortable years of being teased and bullied for my grades and general good-girl behavior must have led to this.

    Perhaps I was to blame? Had I overachieved my way to a mental health breakdown? Had I failed myself?

    Those first few months of therapy were the most difficult. I was forced to face all these questions and more, digging into my past and present with both fervor and hesitation. What if I didn’t like the person I found underneath all these layers of expectations?

    As I stripped away the beliefs I held about myself, I watched as my worst fears came to life. It appeared that I was to blame after all. I had allowed myself to take on everyone else’s feelings about me and make them my own.

    My self-identity was a conglomeration of things I had been told over the years. I was smart, I was capable, I was good, I was bossy, I was sweet, I was stubborn, and I was so many other adjectives.

    There was nothing inherently wrong with these descriptors, particularly the positive traits, but I didn’t necessarily relate to all of them.

    My family saw me as “a sweet girl,” when I felt more tart than saccharine.

    People told me I was book smart, when I knew that I was a good mix of both academic intelligence and common sense.

    Some who were uncomfortable with women in power called me bossy, when really I was assertive.

    I had brought this breakdown on myself, I thought. How could I have let others define who I would become? Why was I so weak?

    It was around this time that one of my therapists introduced me to the idea of radical acceptance.

    It’s a concept based in Buddhist philosophy that is used by psychologists to help their clients heal and accept challenges in their lives.

    Rather than encouraging us to decide whether something is good or bad, as we often do automatically, radical acceptance encourages us to simply accept that things are.

    We have a tendency to apply labels to things. In my story, I had been labeled as smart, an overachiever, a worrywart, and other things. In turn, I labeled my newfound mental health situation as a misfortune, a major obstacle, a life changer, and other (mostly negative) things.

    Imagine how much more freeing it would be to live a life apart from labels! The key to this mindset, of course, is to realize that your feelings about an event do not change the event itself.

    Let’s say you got into a car accident. You may feel angry, hurt, frustrated, and many other emotions. Those are all valid feelings, and you have a right to experience them.

    But your anger won’t undo the accident. The accident happened. The accident is.

    Let’s take this one step further, however.

    After the accident you become angry that you have become frustrated. How could you allow yourself to get worked up over something that you can no longer control?

    You can also attempt to radically accept your feelings.

    Your emotional reactions are natural, and it’s counterintuitive to get worked up over what you “should” be feeling. What you are feeling is neither a bad nor a good thing, it simply is.

    What situations might you apply radical acceptance to in your daily life?

    • You wake up later than you planned to.
    • Your cat throws up on your new rug.
    • You fail a test that you prepared for extensively.
    • Your partner overdrew the checking account.
    • You didn’t get the raise you were expecting at work.

    Imagine accepting each of these events as something outside your control and training yourself to not get worked up over unexpected circumstances.

    This is not an easy task, and it will take time to incorporate the practice into your daily life. Be gentle to yourself.

    —

    I dropped out of my Ph.D. program after my first year of therapy. My journey into my brain showed me that I was heading down a path that others had set for me, one that I had not bothered to ask myself about.

    This major change in my life was labeled by others. To outsiders, I was a quitter, I couldn’t handle the pressure of academia, and I was not living up to my potential.

    But for me, this was simply a change. It was neither good nor bad, it was merely different.

    Since my mental health breakdown, I’ve experienced a lot of changes, both in my life and in my career. Some of them have been good changes, and some of them have been bad.

    But I don’t allow myself to fall into that black-and-white thinking as easily anymore.

    I have learned to own my story and my circumstances, and I love myself more because of it.

    Change can be good; change can be bad. But, most often, change simply is.

    Peaceful woman image via Shutterstock

  • Don’t Ruin a Good Day

    Don’t Ruin a Good Day

    Dont Ruin a Good Day

    Source: Power of Positivity

  • Doing What’s Good for Us: What We Need Beyond Discipline

    Doing What’s Good for Us: What We Need Beyond Discipline

    Meditation

    “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” ~Annie Dillard

    When I first engaged spiritual practice, I tried to meditate while counting breaths. “I can’t do this!” I lamented, “It’s too hard.” The green satiny cushion filled with buckwheat chaff felt hard and unforgiving.

    My legs ached. I kept checking my watch. My mind ached.

    Tick. Tick. Tick.

    The watch taunted me, and I did not feel the least bit edified by the experience.

    But every few moon phases, I’d try again: half an hour of hellacious discomfort, of shifting in my chair or—if I had gotten really ambitious—on the cushion.

    It was horrible. Didn’t feel life affirming at all.

    In fact, it was nothing but an occasion for self-criticism. I didn’t know how to watch my feelings and thoughts arise and release, as I had been told I was supposed to do. I only knew I had to sit there for half an hour, no matter what.

    But wasn’t it what you’re supposed to do? Wasn’t it good for me? Wouldn’t it change my life?

    As you might imagine, it didn’t take very long for me to abandon a sitting practice. I berated myself for having no discipline, and tried to move on.

    The word “discipline” only conjured suffering: Exercise I hated, housework I loathed, and foods I ate only because they were “good for me.” Besides a very limited concept of “good,” the whole idea of discipline was clearly associated with punishment and pain.

    Eventually, I did learn that “discipline”—like “disciple”—comes from the root, “to follow.” It was not derived, say, from “spare the rod and spoil the child.” Still, I struggled.

    The maxim, “Discipline is remembering what you really want” felt strange, alien. It did not comfort me.

    Sadly, “practice” was even tainted with discipline-ism. Practice makes perfect, after all, and perfection was what I thought I wanted and could never get my arms around.

    I came to dread even life-giving activities I loved because I associated them with “having to” do them because they were “good for me.” Down was up. Good was awful.

    Eventually, though, those two earlier understandings began to sink in: “Discipline is remembering what you really want,” and “discipline’s” root is “to follow.”

    How did this shift happen? How did things turn and move and change?

    In me, it happened because I learned that discipline is nothing without gentleness. Without kindness. Without understanding my own suffering.

    It was gentleness that allowed me to explore forms of spiritual practice that I had not previously considered. Gentleness allowed me to be creative and find what worked for me.

    Singing at my altar. Freewriting. Breathing over my coffee in the morning.

    And it is gentleness that allows yogis just to “get on the mat” and see what happens from there with no expectation or plan.

    It is gentleness that allows us to sit for only a few minutes today instead of the forty-five we’d like to attain or sustain.

    It is gentleness that acknowledges that practice changes us over time, not in a sprint or in a flash of heavy lifting.

    In my experience, gentleness doesn’t keep us from being disciplined. In point of fact, because gentleness helps us respond to our current circumstances, it is indeed a practice of mindfulness.

    Gentleness is a way of being kind. It both doesn’t sprint in this moment and yet it encourages us to get on the mat, to settle into the cushion, to sing for a while, to write a page or two.

    Gentleness is supple. Gentleness does not say that it’s okay to throw in the towel of practice. Gentleness makes practice possible when it feels so difficult.

    Furthermore, gentleness has rescued discipline. Discipline is the getting on the mat that gentleness encourages. Discipline is remembering that a small dose of dailiness is worth more than a single three-hundred-pound lift. Discipline with gentleness allows for dailiness.

    And dailiness is what changes us—what changes me.

    It has taken me close to twenty years to get to a sustainable, nearly daily practice. If I had pushed on with my limited understanding of discipline, my practice would not have grown, deepened, and borne the fruit it has.

    Discipline is necessary. Discipline allows us to follow where the practice leads us. Discipline is in the insistence that I do something for my practice today.

    Gentleness tells me that I needn’t judge the goodness, rightness, or spiritual muscle of my practice. Discipline reminds me that dailiness will change my life. Gentleness allows that dailiness to happen by leaving more than one door open for my practice.

    So I began again, after years of trying long chunks of seated practice.

    I began by creating beauty. I began by setting up altars with candles and objects sacred to me and by spending time with them each day.

    And then I began to write at my altar, and then to sing. I could sing for longer than I could sit, but singing led to sitting and sitting led to yoga and yoga led to swimming.

    I can engage my practice with discipline—make sure to write and sing each day, at least—because gentleness has given me permission to be shaped over time from whatever tiny efforts I could bring to begin with.

    I encourage us all—experienced practitioners and those for whom practice feels a faraway dream—to allow both discipline and gentleness to shape us. To attend to when we need one more than the other, but to keep them close together always.

    How do you keep them separate or together? Which do you need more in your life today, and how can you cultivate it?

    Blessings on your practice and your hopes for compassion, integrity, and wisdom.

    Meditating image via Shutterstock

  • Rethinking Mistakes and Recognizing the Good in “Bad” Choices

    Rethinking Mistakes and Recognizing the Good in “Bad” Choices

    Thinking Woman

    “Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places.” ~Unknown

    For most of my life, I’ve seen the world in black and white, and I’ve felt constricted and pained as a result.

    When I was a young girl, I believed there were good people and bad people, and I believed I was bad.

    When I was an adolescent, I believed there was good food and bad food, and because everything tasty fell into the latter category, I channeled the shame from feeling bad into bulimia.

    And when I grew into adulthood, I believed there were good decisions and bad decisions, which may sound like a healthy belief system, but this created extreme anxiety about the potential to make the “wrong” choice.

    When you see life as a giant chess game, with the possibility of winning or losing, it’s easy to get caught up in your head, analyzing, strategizing, and putting all your energy into coming out victorious.

    Back then, I thought for sure that if I made a misstep, I’d end up unhappy and unfulfilled, not to mention unworthy and unlovable—because there was a right path and a wrong path, and it was disgraceful to not know the difference.

    One pointed toward success and bliss (which I desperately wanted to follow), and one led to certain doom.

    With this in mind, I thought long and hard before moving to Spokane, Washington, at twenty-two. To live with a stranger I’d met on the Internet. And had only known for two months and met in person once.

    Okay, so I didn’t really think long and hard. But I felt in my gut, when we first connected, that this was the right choice for me.

    In fact, I felt certain, something I rarely felt about anything (except my innate bad-ness).

    He told me we were soul mates, which was exactly what I wanted to hear, especially after spending six months bouncing from hospital to hospital, trying find the worth and substance locked somewhere within my cage of bones.

    It made sense to me that, if I had a soul mate, he wouldn’t live right next door.

    Disney may tell us it’s a small world, but it’s not; and I thought for sure there was something big awaiting me 3,000 miles from my hometown near Boston.

    People told me I was making a mistake when I shared the details of my plan.

    Some said I was too fragile to move out of my parents’ house, even if I’d planned to move close to home.

    Some said I was a fool to think this man was my soul mate, or that I had one at all.

    Some said I’d one day regret this choice and that they’d have to say “I told you so.”

    But I felt absolutely confident in my decision—until he came to Massachusetts, two weeks before I was scheduled to move, to meet me for the first time.

    I knew right then it was wrong, somewhere in my gut. I didn’t feel even the slightest spark, but my “soul mate” and I had already planned a new life together. Before we’d even met.

    And I didn’t want to admit I’d made the wrong choice—not to him, who I was sure would be devastated, and not to the others, who I feared would be smug and self-righteous.

    So I moved across the country anyway, thinking that maybe I’d feel differently after getting to know him better.

    If you’ve ever seen a movie, you know exactly how things didn’t pan out. Since life isn’t a romantic comedy, I didn’t eventually realize he was my soul mate and fall madly in love.

    Instead, our individual demons battled with each other, we fought for the better part of six months, and we eventually broke each other’s spirits, broke down, and then broke up.

    You could say, after reading this, that I had made the wrong choice—especially knowing that I knew, the day I met him, that he wasn’t the man for me.

    You could say I’d chosen a bad path, running away from home in a misguided attempt to outrun who I had been.

    These are things I assumed I’d think if I ever decided it was time to leave.

    And yet I didn’t think these things at all. In fact, this was the very first time I broadened my vision to see not just shades of grey, but a whole rainbow of vibrant colors.

    Yes, I’d made an impulsive choice, largely driven by fear and fantasy. Yes, I’d acted against my instincts. And yet I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it had not been the “wrong” choice.

    Because right then, I realized that, despite things not working out as I planned, I’d learned and grown through the experience, and it had served a purpose, even if not the one I originally envisioned.

    Our demons colliding was a blessing, not a curse, because it forced us both to more closely examine how our issues affected our relationships—mine being toxic shame and destructive tendencies, and his being his business, and not for public consumption.

    Moving so far away was valuable, not shameful, because it taught me the difference between running away from what I didn’t want and running toward what I did—a lesson I struggled to apply for many more years, but, nonetheless, now understood.

    And acting against my instinct was a good thing, not a bad thing, because it taught me to listen to my intuition in the future, even if I might disappoint someone else—a lesson I may never have fully embraced without having had this experience.

    That’s the thing about “wrong” choices; they usually teach us things we need to know to make the right choices for ourselves going forward, things we can only learn in this way.

    Notice that I wrote “the right choices for ourselves”—not the “right choices.” Because the thing is, there are no right choices.

    There isn’t one single way that we should live our lives, or else we’ll be unhappy. There isn’t one path that will lead us to success, bliss, and fulfillment.

    There isn’t a straight ladder we’re meant to climb, hitting milestone after milestone until we emerge at the top, victorious, with the view to show for it.

    There’s just a long, winding road of possibilities, each with lessons contained within it—lessons that can help us heal the broken parts of ourselves and find beautiful pieces we never knew existed. Pieces we couldn’t know existed until we made choices and saw how we felt.

    If there’s one thing I’ve learned since that very first move, over a decade ago, it’s that life never offers any guarantees. And it can also be incredibly ironic.

    Sometimes the people who seem to make all the right choices are the least happy with the people they’re being and the lives they’re leading.

    We could spend our whole lives looking for external validation that we’re following a path that’s “good”—living in a narrow, black-and-white world, feeling terrified of making mistakes.

    Or, we could commit to finding something good in every step along the way, knowing that the only real mistake is the choice not to grow.

    I don’t know if this is right for everyone. But I know this is right for me.

    On this Technicolor journey of unknown destination, I am not good nor bad, not right nor wrong, but most importantly, not restricted. In this world of infinite possibility, at all turns, I am free.

    Thinking woman image via Shutterstock

  • Try Not to Become Bitter: There Is More Good Than Bad

    Try Not to Become Bitter: There Is More Good Than Bad

    Man Silhouette

    “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” ~Martin Luther King Jr.

    A few years ago, when my younger son was about ten, the reality of the losses that go with living in this beautiful but flawed world suddenly hit him.

    I’ll never forget the conversation. This was a child born two months before 9/11, and since we live in a New York suburb and my husband worked across the street from the Twin Towers, what was a loss for so many has been my son’s reality his whole life. Both of my sons are in the generation of children who live in a forever-changed United States.

    My sons have also grown up with me as a mother, a person forever changed by two monumental personal losses when I was twenty and twenty-one.

    I am the youngest of five. Above me were two brothers, then my two sisters. Both of my brothers died in the same year when they were just twenty-three and twenty-seven years old. One brother died by his own hand after several years of battling mental illness. My other brother died in a plane crash in Pakistan with fifty-three other people just ten months later.

    What my son really wanted to know that day was “Why?” Why do we live in a world like this, where people we love die? What is the reasoning behind human life including such extraordinary pain? Why?

    The why of loss is the ultimate question, isn’t it? I can tell you that after twenty-five years of living with the loss of my brothers, the two people I was closest to in the world, I have no answers. Yet, that is the answer.

    We don’t know why these things happen. We can’t possibly fathom why terrible things have happened in human history, over and over, both in big ways and in small.

    How could our limited human brains possibly come up with a justification for the most horrific losses, the greatest pains? They can’t. It is beyond mere human understanding. It is a waste of precious time while we who are still here try to go on with our lives.

    So what do we do? How do we go on when we are faced with excruciating loss?

    I was a senior in college when my first brother died, and a professor (who was also a minister) gave me a crucial bit of advice that I took to heart. He simply said, “Try not to become bitter.”

    It is so easy to go the route of anger, resentment, self-pity, and the should-have mentality. It is worth fighting against, because it will eat you alive. Nothing is gained. The loss happened.

    I was so sad for years, and I still cry sometimes about them, but there is no undoing my brothers’ deaths. Trust me, I often thought time-travel would be the perfect answer to bring my brothers back because it would allow me to do something different to save them. It’s ridiculous and yet the brain will go there.

    The biggest load off my shoulders, and it took years, was complete acceptance that they were gone.

    Then, my college professor’s sage advice kicked in. Don’t become bitter. It happened, so now what? I’m still here. My brothers loved me so much; the last thing they would want is for me to not live my life to the fullest. I can hear them now: Live. Love. Be here now. Marvel at life. See the good in everything. It is there.

    So that is what I said to my son. They weren’t just words; it is how I live my life now. Life is good. There is beauty all around us. There is devastation and pain and people who hurt others, but who knows why?

    We can help others deal with pain, we can comfort others; we should do this: we are all in this crazy, beautiful world together.

    Just always remember: ‘bad’ things will happen, but there is more good than bad. There is more happiness than sorrow. There’s more life than death. It is all around us, as long as we are open to it.

    The why of loss does not have an answer. The why of life has an infinity of answers. I am not bitter. I am a believer that life is a mystery, but it’s amazing. I am here, so I will enjoy every precious moment. It’s what my brothers would want. I accept life, and I am in awe of it.

    Man silhouette via Shutterstock

  • When You Think You Need to Know More to Be Good Enough

    When You Think You Need to Know More to Be Good Enough

    Deep Thought

    “All the wonders you seek are within yourself.” ~Sir Thomas Browne

    I’m constantly looking for answers—in books, in yoga classes, in meditation. Everywhere I go I meet people, new and old, and I’m constantly asking questions. I thrive on learning new opinions, spiritualities, lessons, and facts. Relentlessly, I’m always searching for more.

    Aren’t we all looking for the answers?

    How am I going to leave the position that I’ve held for most of my life and start a new job, in a new company? Raise our first child (or puppy!)? Take care of our aging parents? Start teaching yoga classes after just finishing a six-month yoga teacher training course?

    How do we become happy with where we are today?

    These are questions that run through my head, and I’m 99% sure that a form of these questions have run through your head recently, if not today.

    Where do we find the answers? In the latest self-help book on finding happiness in three easy steps? Well, that may work for today. Most, if not all, of the self help books I’ve read have helped me in some form or another, although I still find myself searching for more answers, more knowledge.

    Maybe you and I will be searching for the rest of our lives for the answers that we need to live a happy, healthy, joyful, stress-free life and maybe that is okay.

    I just finished reading Dani Shapiro’s book Devotion. At the end of the book, she is speaking with Sylvia Boorstein, (a meditation teacher she met along her journey) about an upcoming TV appearance that she was nervous about.

    Sylvia reminds her, “This is what you know now.” Dani reflects on this and continues, “I can only know what I know now. That’s all any of us can know. Hopefully, we’ll know more an hour from now. And tonight. And tomorrow. And next year.”

    As did Dani, I reflected on this statement, “This is what you know now.”

    I’ve been struggling with where to put my time and effort. I work full time in the corporate world, just received my certification to teach yoga, and belong to an amazing support group dealing with the loss of my father. I also have my home life, to which I’d like to to continually devote a good portion of my time.

    Ultimately, I want to help others. I want to share yoga/meditation and what I’ve learned from grief. I want to continue to write. But I’m far from an expert in these things.

    There are times during a yoga class when I wonder if I will ever be able to teach a class as well as the teacher because of all the knowledge they have—quoting Buddha word for word off the top of their head, speaking Sanskrit words that I have never heard and bending fully into a forward fold while I’m still struggling to touch my toes.

    Questions start running through my head, and I wonder if I will ever be good enough to teach a class and be able to share what I know and what I’ve learned through my yoga journey and grief. Will anyone give me a chance?

    I’m learning, and all I can do is continue to listen and be okay with what I know right now, which is a lot more than I knew two and half years ago stepping onto my yoga mat for the first time.

    So for now, this is my answer to myself: “This is what I know now.” I can’t speak in Sanskrit yet, I can’t touch my head to my knees yet, and I certainly have no clue how to raise a baby yet. But I will learn, and in meantime, I will continue writing to help heal, and practice yoga/meditate the best that I can right now.

    I hope you, too, can find solace in these words, to understand that we do not need to have all the answers and all the knowledge right now.

    I hope these words come up the next time you are searching for answers or starting something in new life. All you can know is what you know right now, in this moment, and that’s good enough.

    Photo by John Aslund

  • Why Life Is More Joyful When We Let Go of “Good” and “Bad”

    Why Life Is More Joyful When We Let Go of “Good” and “Bad”

    Happy

    “Love is the absence of judgment.” ~Dalai Lama

    If judgment is the act of labeling something as good or bad, then it seems we humans do it thousands of times a day. Those of us on a spiritual path even label judgment as a bad thing. We know that pain comes from judgment, but it’s such a part of our culture that there seems to be no way around it.

    The Dalai Lama says, “Love is the absence of judgment.” And if that’s true, how do we get there?

    From the time I wake up and ask myself if I slept too late to my nightly inquiry hoping that I made the best use of my day, I am in constant analysis of my choices. Did I eat enough, did I say the right thing, did I steer my client in the right direction?

    It would seem that this constant judgment is the opposite of living in the moment—and I’m a pretty Zen person!

    One of the problems of judgment is how it’s hidden in our society and labeled as responsibility. We are supposed to use metrics to track our progress, income, and effectiveness. We are supposed to learn new strategies and always be striving to be better.

    When we judge ourselves as being “not there yet” or as a work in progress, then we’re missing the joy and perfection that exists in the moment. 

    I think that’s what the Dalai Lama had in mind with his statement that I referenced above.

    I often catch myself doing the opposite of that in shower. I’ll notice that my shoulders are up to my ears and then ask myself, what is causing this? The answer always turns out to be a judgment. When I take a conscious breath and release the thoughts I have already projected on to the day, I naturally relax.

    When I started noticing how insidious this natural reaction to judge is, and how it is linked to being responsible, I started asking some serious questions about what it means to let this go.

    Would I be a bad person if I started planning my days from a feeling of curiosity and excitement instead of right and wrong? Why do I always think I know what the best answer is anyway?

    I knew that I would be more effective, have more energy, and be a happier person if I let go of all this labeling. How would I do it, you ask? Simple.

    The pain came from labeling something as good or bad. To rectify my anxiety producing ways, I just pulled into the neutral lane.

    I stopped analyzing whether what I was experiencing was good or bad. I just let whatever came into my life exist.

    I dealt with circumstances as they arose, and even if slow traffic or an unexpected bill threw me off, I did my best to observe and not to label. Who is to say that the person slowing me down wasn’t doing me a favor anyway?

    After several weeks of conscious no-judgment, I was actually feeling more creative. I had a lot more mental energy to use in fun and productive ways. I could even see a difference in the way my friends and clients interacted with me.

    Getting through my to-do list was easier, too. Instead of dreading certain tasks, I breezed through most of my list in the morning without much hesitation. I realized how unfairly I had treated certain things like returning emails and phone calls. Taking the emotion and labels off of these tasks actually made them go smoother and get better results.

    Looking back on my experiment in non-judgment, I can wholeheartedly say that it was worth the effort.  Besides, all I did was:

    1. Notice where I was making a judgment. (What was I labeling as either good or bad?)

    2. Stay neutral instead of applying one of those two labels. 

    And it may seem that this only benefited things that I had previously labeled as bad. That’s not entirely the case. I actually ended up receiving more “good” when I stopped judging.

    For example, if I signed up two new clients in one week I may have stopped my marketing for the entire month. Now, I just keep going, as I’m inspired to do so. I also willingly accept more praise and affection.

    It’s silly to think about how much we deny ourselves because we feel we’ve had “enough.” Letting life happen truly does reveal more love.

    There are some moments in life when we are thrown to our limits. You have to decide for yourself how far to take this in the case of death, illness, layoff, or other life changing events. Some people find their brightest clarity when faced with the worst circumstances, but it’s truly a personal thing.

    If you are used to using judgment at work or to make important decisions in your life, you may find it easier to start your experiment slowly. It can feel irresponsible to jump into this way of looking at things, and this isn’t about knocking you off balance.

    To do that, simply bring awareness to where you are placing labels. Then decide if you’d like to keep doing so. There is no wrong way to go about this.

    Just remember, when you’re not labeling something as good or bad, there simply “is.” Life is filled with truly awesome moments that we can enjoy when we’re using our energy to observe instead of analyze.

    Photo by Vladimir Yaitskiy

  • You Are Good Enough and You Have Nothing to Prove

    You Are Good Enough and You Have Nothing to Prove

    Boy Sunset

    “You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anyone.” ~Maya Angelou

    I sat on a big, cold stone on the beach next to Lake Ontario and watched as the waves lapped upon the shore.

    To my right, there were swans and ducks floating on the water. The swans were graceful and beautiful as they glided along the shoreline, and the ducks were being their usual kooky selves.

    It always made me laugh to watch them dive underwater, kick their webbed feet in the air, and wag their feathered bums back and forth. They were so natural, so unaware of my presence, so carefree.

    I admired them for their untroubled lives and yearned for what they had—the complete and total lack of care for what I thought of them.

    To my left in the distance, I saw the CN tower and the surrounding high rises of Toronto. I was in college studying acting for film and television, which had always been my dream.

    But now, sitting next to the vast open water under the clear skies and watching as the waves slowly rolled up and receded, breathing in the fresh air, I realized this was the most content and peaceful I’d felt in weeks.

    All of my life, I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to see my face on the big screen, my name credited in large, bold letters; to be a guest on talk shows and able to meet all of the successful actors I admired.

    I wanted to be someone who was noticed, praised, respected, and looked up to. I wanted to be special.

    I also loved the craft of acting itself and thought that connecting with other people was so beautiful. But since coming to college four months ago, all I’d really felt was judged.

    Rosalind Russell said, “Acting is standing up naked and turning around very slowly.” That’s exactly how I felt in my program, every day.

    Day after day, I would pour my heart and soul into a performance for my professor and my classmates. I’d receive some small praise but buckets and buckets of criticism on top of that—what I could have done better and what was wrong with what I did or how I looked.

    Deep inside, I knew that that was how I’d learn, grow, and become better, but the constant flow of negative feedback was really taking its toll on me. Most days I would go back to my small residence room and cry about how terrible I was.

    I never felt good enough. I hadn’t yet realized that I was so afraid of judgment from other people because I was constantly judging myself.

    Flash forward to exam week and I was sitting on the beach. To my left was the city. The hustle and bustle, the crowds, the competition, and the never ending flow of judgment and criticism.

    To my right was the gentle blue waves, the soft stones and pebbles strewn along the sand, the ducks in all their carefree and content splendor, the swans with their heads held high, floating peacefully along the shoreline.

    I knew in that moment that I would have to make a choice.

    I either had to dedicate myself wholeheartedly to this profession, with all its criticism, or walk away and find something new. Both choices were equally daunting.

    I always loved nature, and being immersed in it made me feel so calm. Life became simple and easy in those moments and it was okay to be me.

    But I also loved performing—the sound of applause and the times when the light shone on me and I was approved. The brief moments when what I did was good enough.

    The ducks didn’t need anyone to tell them that they were good enough. They didn’t have to memorize a script, work on it for hours, find the perfect costume, and perform their guts out to earn a single head nod.

    The ducks were simply themselves. They didn’t care that there was someone on the beach. They didn’t instantly attempt to straighten their feathers or worry about whether or not I liked how they were swimming. They were completely at ease. Free.

    I knew that if I continued down the path an actor takes, judgment was going to be with me every step of the way. It would be there for every performance, every agent I met, and every audition room I entered. What everyone else thought would always matter.

    I decided that I would much rather be a duck with ruffled feathers and happy with myself than someone constantly striving and working toward validation from others, which was how I felt as an actress.

    I had also started to hide behind the characters I was playing as a way to avoid being myself. That day, I resolved to find a different path, one I could walk down as me.

    I gathered up my courage and withdrew from my program, which was terrifying. Dropping out meant letting go of the image I had of myself, and the image everyone else had of Stacey, the actor.

    I had to let go of the idea of me, the idea I loved, the idea of who I wanted to be, in order to accept who I really was as a person.

    Just as I was judged when acting, I knew I could also be judged for leaving it behind. But that simply didn’t matter anymore. 

    The best and most fulfilling realization came to me that day on the beach. I didn’t have to earn the right to be deemed good enough. I didn’t have to work for it. I didn’t have to do a song and dance to prove I was worthy.

    The truth is there will always be judgment in life. There will always be someone to tell you that you aren’t smart enough, thin enough, or successful enough. You can’t change what people think. The good news is you don’t have to. If you believe in yourself, nothing else matters.

    Sitting on that rock alone, appreciating the breeze in my hair and smiling at the ducks, I finally embraced the truth. I was already good enough. And it was in that moment of acceptance that I was truly free.

    You can’t change people but you can change how you respond to them, which is what I did. Now, I acknowledge the criticism when it comes and immediately let it go. When someone offers support, encouragement, and love, I bring it in and allow it to raise me up higher.

    The wonderful part of self-love is that once you know you are good enough already, there’s no way to go but up. The negativity fades and the positivity grows. Embrace the security, contentment, and inner peace that come with accepting yourself.

    How can you accept yourself today? My best advice is in three small words: be a duck!

    Let the judgment and criticism from others slide off your beak like water, swim how you want to swim, look goofy with your bum in the air, make silly sounds, do whatever makes you happy without caring what anyone else thinks, knowing you are wonderful exactly as you are right now.

    Shout it from the rooftops and let the whole world know.

    “I am good enough!”

    Because you really are. So, give yourself permission to be you. Accept, believe in, and love yourself knowing you are already enough and you don’t need anyone else to tell you that. It is only once you accept yourself that you’ll be free to live the life you’ve imagined.

    “Be who you want to be, not what others want to see.”

    I learned that lesson from the ducks. And for that, I’ll be forever grateful.

    Photo by ikon

  • Stop Aiming for Perfection: Can You Let Good Enough Be Good Enough?

    Stop Aiming for Perfection: Can You Let Good Enough Be Good Enough?

    Ready to Receive

    “Good enough is the new perfect.” ~Becky Beaupre Gillespie

    The music started. Pachelbel’s Canon in D on harp and flute. I was supposed to enter the room near the end of the piece.

    I knew there were fourteen sets of four measures each, but in my nervous state I quickly lost track. I picked a random moment in the music that I thought might be near the end (surely I’d been waiting forever already), opened the door, and walked in.

    Then: BAM!

    The door startled me by suddenly slamming shut behind me. Oops… That was not supposed to happen.

    Thus started my recent wedding, with the bride oh-so inelegantly slamming a door.

    Then, uh-oh, I heard my dad stumble over a note on his flute. And when I got to my designated spot by my groom and our officiants, I realized—oops—I had entered way too early. We all had to stand there awkwardly while the piece played on for what seemed like ages.

    Twenty years ago, at my first wedding, this stuttering start probably would have horrified me. This time, thank goodness, things were different.

    Instead of being horrified that my perfect day was being ruined, I just beamed. My heart swelled that my parents, who get so nervous playing for a rapt audience, were the ones sharing their music with us. I giggled as my groom and I mimed flirting with each other while the music played, and everyone else laughed along.

    All the “mistakes” were part of the fun and specialness of the day.

    Twenty years before, when I got married the first time, I was a card-holding Perfectionist with a capital P. I sought out the best string quartet, the best photographer, the best caterer, the best florist, the best makeup artist.

    When my custom-made gown (made by the best seamstress) didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted (read: perfect), I feared the world might end.

    Oh, yes, I was one of those brides. I admit it. The sad fact is that I was a perfectionist about the wedding because some desperate, scared, insecure part of me unconsciously believed that if the wedding were perfect, maybe it would somehow fix my flawed relationship and make it okay.

    If the wedding were perfect, maybe my life would be good enough.

    As you may already have gleaned, from the fact that there was a second wedding, this isn’t how things worked out.

    That first wedding was perfect. Or, at least, darn near close to it. And this, not surprisingly, did nothing to save what was ultimately a doomed marriage.

    Yet for years I still hid behind a perfectionist mask, believing that if I only showed my shiny highlight reel with the world, and never revealed the messy, broken, confused, imperfect self underneath, somehow my life would be good.

    It was the continuation of a lifetime of perfectionism.

    When I was in school, happiness seemed to depend on getting straight A’s.

    As a newlywed, happiness seemed to depend on the perfect, beautiful home.

    Then, as I started exploring the world of art and calligraphy, and gradually grew a small business from my creative work, happiness still seemed to depend on keeping up a shiny, perfect front.

    I did my best to hide my flaws and mistakes. And as my marriage disintegrated, I focused even more intently on achieving perfection in my work.

    But of course, true perfection is not possible, so all of this seeking of happiness through perfection only left me miserable.

    I became too scared of imperfection to try anything. My creative flow dried up.

    Who can create anything when only “perfect” is considered good enough?

    I suspect the ultimate collapse of my marriage played a big part in getting me on the road to recovering perfectionism. A divorce makes it very hard to pretend to the world that everything is perfect.

    And once you acknowledge that you aren’t perfect, that your life isn’t perfect after all, you no longer have to keep up the charade. Suddenly, it becomes acceptable to simply be you, in all your glorious imperfection.

    Letting go of a lifetime of perfectionism is not easy. Like recovering from alcoholism, I see it as an ongoing pursuit, and I consider myself a recovering perfectionist.

    Now, though, instead of aiming for perfection, I intentionally embrace imperfection. I proudly call myself an Imperfectionist with a capital I!

    I’ve learned the hard way that when I wait until something is perfect before I can try it or share it with the world, I stay permanently stuck in perfectionist paralysis.

    Whether building a website, learning to sing, asking someone out on a date, broaching that difficult conversation, putting a new product on the market, or anything else, the only way to move forward in life is to allow yourself to be imperfect.

    Plus, embracing imperfection is just a kinder, gentler way to live. I haven’t given up on my quest for excellence, but I’m a strong believer that going for “good enough” leads to a lot more happiness than going for “perfect.”

    This was certainly true when, twenty years after my first wedding, fifteen years after that “perfect” marriage ended in divorce, I said “I do” a second time.

    This time around, instead of seeking out a passel of the best wedding vendors, we aimed for “good enough.”

    I knew that the marriage was the truly important thing, while the wedding was merely a small entertainment we were doing because it gave us pleasure, and because it gave our families pleasure, which in turn gave us pleasure.

    Freed from my perfectionist paralysis, I even wrote a song to sing at the ceremony, as a surprise for my new husband. I’d started writing it a few years before, but had never managed to finish. Perhaps I’d been trying to make it perfect?

    Now, though, I had a new goal: not a perfect song, but simply a complete song—a good enough song.

    I also had a deadline, and deadlines are magical things, especially when combined with imperfectionism.

    I did complete my “good enough” song and I surprised my groom with it, right before our officiant officially declared us married. Like my dad on the flute, I was a bit nervous. My voice wasn’t the absolute best it’s ever been, and I messed up one of the chords.

    And you know what? It was perfect.

    Where can you let go of “perfect” in your life, and replace it with “good enough”?

    Photo by AJ Leon

  • 25 Ways to Be Good for Someone Else

    25 Ways to Be Good for Someone Else

    “Don’t wait for people to be friendly. Show them how.” ~Unknown

    When I was a teenager, right around the time I knew everything, my mother used to tell me I only remembered the bad things.

    When I told stories about my family, they didn’t revolve around family beach trips, barbecues, and vacations; they focused on painful memories and all the ways I felt my childhood had damaged me.

    The same applied to friends and milestones in my life. I chronically remembered and rehashed the worst experiences.

    In fact, straight through college I followed up every introductory handshake with a dramatic retelling of my life story, focusing on a laundry list of grievances about people who had done me wrong.

    It was as if I was competing for most royally screwed over in life, like there was some kind of prize for being the most tragic and victimized. (Full disclosure: I hoped that prize was compassion and unconditional love. It was more like discomfort and avoidance).

    Not everyone is as negative or needy as woe-is-me-younger Lori was, but I’ve noticed that many of us have something in common with my misguided past self: We focus on how we’ve been hurt far more than how we’ve been helped.

    Psychologists suggest that to some degree we complain because we’re looking to connect with people who can relate to the universal struggles we all face (though in some cases, complaining is a constructive way to find solutions to problems as opposed to a chronic need to vent negativity). I think there’s more to it, though.

    When we complain about everything that’s gone wrong or everyone who has done us wrong, we’re drowning in our self-involvement. (more…)

  • Keep the Cycle Going

    Keep the Cycle Going

    Keep the Cycle Going

    Source: Notsalmon.com

  • Something Good in Every Day

    Something Good in Every Day

    Something Good in Every Day

    Source: Chibird

  • The Good Life

    The Good Life

    An inspring animated video by New York Times bestselling author Mark Albion, based on his book More Than Money. Maybe the good life is closer than you think…

  • When You’re Hard on Yourself: Replace Guilt with Self-Compassion

    When You’re Hard on Yourself: Replace Guilt with Self-Compassion

    “Be gentle with yourself if you wish to be gentle with others.” ~Lama Yeshe

    “Guilty,” admits an offender. “Guilty,” proclaims a jury. Things are pretty black and white in trial verdicts and courtroom pleas (although there are still plea bargains and hung juries, mitigating circumstances and appeals).

    Life is rarely as cut-and-dried as the criminal justice system.

    I’ve experienced guilt in different shades of grey—in rational and many irrational ways that bear no real relation to the “crime” at hand, or to any crime at all.

    I’ve experienced guilt simply for how I think, how I feel, not for anything I’ve actually done or failed to do. Shame, really.

    And I’ve suffered guilt like a chronic disease, believing that I could never be “good enough” unless I somehow felt guilty, because of course I could always do/be better. (You see the strange logic, don’t you?)

    I’ve been far from gentle with myself.

    Guilt is a signal that you are striving to be better, and unless you’re doing that, you’re not good enough, or at least not acknowledging all the ways you aren’t perfect. Apparently! There’s always room for improvement, and guilt is the electric prod to remind you, lest you ever get self-satisfied.

    I’ve been unpacking, or should I say undressing, the anatomy of guilt lately. In true Irish Catholic tradition, I feel guilty for that!

    This ingrained religious belief came down my family line, passed on subconsciously most of the time, at other times with sharp criticism.

    I reckon the whole confession tradition encourages you to look for all the things you’ve done wrong rather than celebrate what you’ve done right. The doctrine reinforces all the ways you are fallible and unworthy rather than focusing on how you are simply human and born “good enough.”

    I was good at school, but that, in itself, didn’t make me good (which is just fine). Sure, I was praised for my grades, but I had a sense that it was never enough, even though my parents didn’t pressure me to achieve and correctly taught me that grades aren’t everything.

    Yet somehow there was almost too much pride in any kind of achievement, too much selfishness in any kind of ambition—guilt even made being good feel bad!

    It wasn’t so much about being a do-gooder, as only being allowed a very small quota of acceptable selfishness before guilt kicked in. As it should (or so I thought)!

    I heard the “love they neighbor” bit loudly, but forgot to listen to the “as you would love yourself”—the irony being that you can only love your neighbor based on how much you love yourself.

    Guilt can be fuel to change, to make amends, and that’s fine. Sometimes we need a guilty conscience to remind us that our thoughtless actions can have negative impacts, even if unintended. Remorse must surely come after criminal acts, or there is no room for rehabilitation.

    But when I find myself feeling guilty for feeling (not acting) selfish, I’m stuck in that shame spin cycle, going round and round.

    This was how I felt during our long struggle for children—infertile, guilty as charged. How irrational is that?

    I realize that I suffered a guilt complex along with the depression that descended in the mire of many cycles of IVF.

    Now as a parent of two beautiful adopted children, I’m trying not to pass on the guilt gene.

    And I have some tips on reframing guilt in your life.

    1. Only allow guilt as insight.

    This is the only positive version of remorse. If you’ve genuinely done something wrong, focus on the lesson and the alternative ways you’d act in the future as your “contrition” and motivator to change.

    2. Apologize, and then let it go.

    If you’ve done something that has hurt someone, apologize if you can and then let it go. Accept the gift of forgiveness graciously rather than beating yourself up. And if someone won’t forgive you, accept that your genuine expression of sorrow and regret is enough.

    3. Apply the logic test.

    Most guilt is illogical but it still feels the same way as “useful” guilt. Guilt does not equate to wrongdoing any more than joy equates to a new possession. If it doesn’t make sense (apply the objective test of a judge), then the verdict is “not guilty.”

    4. See guilt as a symptom of fear, more than a sign of caring.

    Often feeling guilty is a symptom of our fear of change—especially when we put off doing something for ourselves.

    You can make excuses that you’d feel bad (guilty) taking time out from looking after others to pursue a passion, when in fact you’re simply scared of chasing your dream. Of course, it’s good to care for others; just don’t use guilt as an excuse to care for yourself.

    5. Be compassionate.

    Start with being gentle with yourself and you’ll learn to be gentle to others. Be gentle with others and you’ll learn to be gentle to yourself.

    Being compassionate means you are “being good,” which should leave you with few (logical) reasons to feel guilty. Being self-compassionate means you’ll find fewer (logical) reasons to hold onto any remaining guilt.

    Guilt isn’t real; it’s only an emotional response, and often an irrational one.

    Compassion, on the other hand, is tangible and felt by others, played out in thoughtful actions, spoken in kind words, expressed in good deeds and in forgiveness.

    Guilt can’t exist where there is compassion, because compassion is understanding and non-judgmental.

    Guilt may have its place in courtrooms, but my verdict is the real answer lies in compassion and gentleness—starting with yourself.

  • Believing in Our Goodness: Do You Have Faith in Humanity?

    Believing in Our Goodness: Do You Have Faith in Humanity?

    Holding Hands

    “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

    When we hear someone speak about faith, we usually expect to hear about some kind of subjective encounter with supernatural forces. In our skeptical age, we tend to look at faith as “believing in something you know not to be true,” as Mark Twain expressed.

    Before we dismiss any talk of faith, however, we should remember that there are many ways to understand the word. You can have faith in a benevolent, loving deity guiding your every move. But you can also have faith that you’ll wake up in the morning. Or that the dollar in your pocket today will be worth as much tomorrow.

    For me, a “revelation” of faith came while sitting around a table with a group people determined to respond to violence with love.

    I didn’t realize it at the time, but this experience reaffirmed my faith that human beings are fundamentally loving and good, and will help and care for each other when given the chance.

    I think that faith really is the right word here, because holding onto this viewpoint in light of so much evidence to the contrary does indeed requires a “leap,” to borrow Kierkegaard’s famous line.

    This understanding emerged at a visioning process for the “Dawson Peace Center.” To its great credit, the Dawson College community has chosen to respond to the 2006 shooting not by putting bigger locks on the doors and stockpiling weapons, but by spearheading meaningful initiatives designed to cultivate peace.

    For my part, at this meeting, I spoke about the contributions that meditation might make in addressing the roots of destructive behavior, and how we might be able to integrate it into the college’s culture.

    During the meeting, I didn’t really feel like anything was out of the ordinary. Sure, I was inspired by many of the ideas that the other 20 people in the room put forth, but toward the end, my attitude began to shift as I realized that what was happening here was truly extraordinary.

    Here, we had a group of committed people seeking, however imperfectly, to affirm that the power of love is stronger than fear.

    Here, at least a few people understand that responding to violence in kind makes us no different than the perpetrator. Here, a group has resisted the temptation to let the violent imagination of a disturbed individual hijack our own.

    It takes strength and courage to stand up and say, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that human beings are fundamentally decent, kind, and caring, and that we have the responsibility to nurture these attributes.

    This audacious belief in basic goodness takes guts. It takes faith. And that’s what I saw around that table.

    We’ve all seen how human imagination has the power to create scenes of terror and violence (just open up the newspaper). But it also has the possibility to respond to those who unleash the demons with compassion and understanding, which to me seems the greater power (and usually gets far less media attention).

    This is the truth that every saint and sage has communicated: hatred never ceases through hatred. Only love has the power to heal. This is not really a “spiritual” or “religious” truth; even a jaded, secular humanist can see this at work.

    It’s up to each and every person to develop the understanding that no matter how far removed someone might seem from this basic goodness, no one is beyond redemption.

    Buddha and Jesus hung out with murderers, prostitutes, lepers, and other types of people who society had “thrown away” and given up on. What these marginalized people needed was compassion and understanding, not ostracization and judgment.

    And when a teacher who had discovered his own “enlightened nature” spoke to them, they were able to discover that within themselves.

    These people who had lead lives of violence and impropriety often went on to become exemplary disciples; the mistakes they had made in their lives were not sufficient to corrupt their essence and potential.

    In the eastern traditions, this is expressed through the image of a gem covered with mud, or a lamp coated in dust. These images affirm that the treasure/light is always there, and has only temporarily become obscured.

    But in order to sustain the commitment and diligence to undertake the “polishing” process, you must first have an inkling that there is something valuable waiting for you underneath.

    Meeting an enlightened teacher can certainly arouse this faith, but coming into contact with the enlightenment that flows through us all when we seek to act with love and compassion is also a catalyst.

    It’s by no means certain that we will uncover this treasure in ourselves, much less be able to help others discover it in themselves. But as I felt very deeply around that table, there is intrinsic value in the effort itself.

    Everyone’s face communicated the determination to love, despite everything. We understand that the alternative of powerlessness and despair is not really an alternative at all.

    Whatever we think about the world becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, so if we really want to create a world of peace, then we truly have to believe that it’s possible. Even very optimistic people like myself occasionally need boosters of faith to maintain this truly revolutionary attitude.

    Photo by kris krug

  • Make a Tough Situation Good: One Question That Changes Everything

    Make a Tough Situation Good: One Question That Changes Everything

    Thinking Man

    “The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.” ~Viktor E. Frankl

    For my livelihood, I lead workshops on how to let go of stress and experience deeper happiness. My occupation makes my occasional meltdowns all the more embarrassing. Fortunately, a meltdown I had last year led me to a question that completely changed how I view difficult situations in my life.

    As I was checking in at the airport a few months ago, I was told I did not have a ticket for my cross-country flight. Fortunately, I had my confirmation number with me—which I promptly gave to the agent.

    “I’m sorry,” she said. “Although you have a confirmation number, you’re not in our system. You can’t board this flight.”

    A wave of self-pity, anger, and anxiety seared through my body. Fifty people were expecting me in New York City the next morning to talk about how to be happier. Yet, here I was fully stressed out and making this situation mean I’m an unlucky hypocrite.

    I asked the ticket agent if there were any more tickets available.

    “Yes,” she said enthusiastically as she typed away on her keyboard.

    “Okay,” I thought. “Maybe it’s not going to be such a bad day after all. I’ve been saved.”

    She continued, “But if you buy the same ticket you had before, instead of $600 round trip, it will cost you $3200.”

    “I was right the first time,” I thought. “This means I’ve been totally screwed.”

    I needed to get to New York ASAP, so I reluctantly, angrily, and self-righteously bought the stupid ticket.

    The irony of the situation did not escape me. Here I was feeling self-pity and totally stressed out while buying a ticket to lead a workshop on happiness. The universe definitely has a sense of humor.

    For a long time I’ve known I can choose my attitude and the meaning I give the events in my life. Yet, there is a difference between knowing something intellectually and knowing it when the crap hits the fan.

    Fortunately, the “ticket fiasco” I went through that day led me to create a simple question I can ask myself that has greatly impacted my daily life.

    To make a long story short, I got to New York on time and led the workshop the next morning. That night I talked to the folks at United Air Lines and they confessed that my not “being in the system” was totally their fault.

    In fact, they decided to refund the $3200 fare I had paid that day plus what I had previously paid for my ticket.

    I actually ended up making $600. Now I was feeling like life is a bowl of cherries and everything works out for the best. It seemed like I had gone through a lot of bad feelings for nothing.

    Then it hit me. I realized I often get “worked up” about things that frequently end up working out for the best. I wondered if there was a way to short-circuit this process so I didn’t spend so much time being unnecessarily stressed. 

    As I pondered this situation, I wondered, “What question could I ask myself that would help me when faced with difficult situations?” I saw that when things occur that I don’t like, I’m basically asking myself “What could be bad about this?”

    Since I ask that question, my brain feels obliged to give me many reasons why something sucks.

    So I wondered what it would be like to ask myself, “What could (potentially) be good about this?” when facing challenging situations.

    In retrospect, I realized that had I asked this question when finding out I had no ticket, I might have come up with a couple of good answers.

    I might have guessed it would ultimately lead to a good story, or a new technique—or even a refund beyond what I had paid. Of course, that’s what ended up happening, but it would have saved me a lot of grief had I imagined that outcome while in the ticket line.

    Of course, no one knows what the future holds. Yet, it seems we habitually make the challenging events of our life mean things that lead to bad feelings.

    If you’re going to make up things about the future, you may as well come up with a meaning that empowers you—rather than stresses you out.

    For better or worse, over the next few weeks I had plenty of opportunities to practice this simple method. For example, when my tax bill was unexpectedly high, I asked, “What could be good about this?”

    That answer was easy. It could mean I’m making more money than ever before; it could mean I get to help contribute to the government so they can provide services to people less fortunate than I.

    When I got sick, I asked, “What could potentially be good about this?”

    Begrudgingly I answered, “It’s a helpful wake up reminder that I need to take my vitamins and not work too many hours.” Though still sick, I immediately felt better now that I had attached an empowering meaning to my illness.

    The ability to quickly create a positive meaning to the events in our life is a great aid to being happy. Yet, this is the exact opposite of what our mind normally does. We normally create negative, disempowering meanings whenever things seemingly “go wrong.”

    The question, “What could (potentially) be good about this?” is a simple way to change how we interpret each situation in our life. So when you get in an argument with your partner, you can see that disagreement as a doorway to deeper intimacy—rather than a doorway to depression.

    When the argument is over, you don’t really know what the future holds. You may as well create a meaning that empowers you. Through such empowerment, you’ll feel better and you’ll be more likely to act in a helpful manner.

    Nowadays, I frequently ask myself, “What could be good about this?” I always come up with at least two answers, even if I don’t believe them. I find that it immediately makes me feel better—and more empowered.

    Instead of life feeling like a battle I need to put up with, it feels like I’m being given useful challenges that will eventually lead to a happy ending. It’s a much better way to live than being the victim of a mind that always delivers bad news.

    Photo by wesleynitsckie