Tiny Buddha

Tag: need

  • How Empaths Can Stop Sacrificing Their Needs for Other People

    How Empaths Can Stop Sacrificing Their Needs for Other People

    “Sometimes you don’t realize you’re actually drowning when you’re trying to be everyone else’s anchor.” ~Unknown

    Have you ever felt trapped?

    No, actually, have you ever felt absolutely paralyzed? Like you’re fearful of making any choices at all? It feels like any step you take could end in utter catastrophe.

    Five years ago, that was me.

    I was living in a small, run-down house in Peru, in a city that I didn’t want to be in, far away from family and friends, and I was in a relationship that wasn’t working.

    At the time I worried that any decision I made would determine not only my fate, but also my ex-partner’s fate, and that of our housemates, who happened to be family members.

    My monkey mind was telling me that if I left, it would mean everyone would have to go back to their respective cities and it would be the end of the house, a business, and the world (they did and it wasn’t).

    As an empath, I lived on the assumption that it was important for me to make sure everyone else was okay. I let myself get trapped in a thick forest of stories about other people’s emotions and well-being.

    It was torture, and ultimately, at the end of the day, I was wrong. There was no way I could know the future. I needed to do what I believed was best for me. My obsessive man-management was not my job to take on. On some level, I was simply trying to be the hero.

    My intentions, for the most part, came from the right place. But I had taken on a role that wasn’t mine in the first place, and truthfully the perceived burden made me frustrated, resentful, and all in all, a less enjoyable person to be around.

    If you are an empath and you’ve found yourself stuck in a situation where you are sacrificing your needs and mental health for other people, then it’s time to stop doing so. When you are free from the weight of trying to save others from potential pain and discomfort you will have the energy to be present for them.

    Here are five ways that you can stop sacrificing your needs for other people.

    1. Recognize that you don’t know what’s going on in their head.

    A lot of the time when we try to help others, we paint detailed images in our mind about the past, present, and future. This may include what they’re thinking, what they once thought, what they’re feeling, how they once felt, how they acted in the past, and how they will act in the future. The problem with all of these mental images is, we can never truly know!

    I thought, for example, that if I left the situation, my roommate was going to be mad at me. When I finally left so did he, and in reality he was very happy to move on. My imaginary story about how he would act was completely off the mark.

    2. See where it’s making you secretly resent people.

    Try and notice when you are starting to resent people because of your obsession with helping them. If you feel agitated, frustrated, or annoyed by the burden of managing their feelings and needs, this is usually a clear indication that you, as an empath, need to take a step back.

    When we build these ideas and storylines about the way things are, they inevitably clash with reality. Why? Because the map is not the territory.

    If we can be mature enough to drop our attachment to stories about ourselves and others, then our frustrations over how a situation is playing out can be seen for what they are—just ideas.

    My feeling of being trapped was entirely self-imposed, but when I was smack bang in the middle of it, the story was that it was everyone else’s fault—as if they were reaching inside my mind and making me prioritize (what I perceived to be) their best interests over my own.

    3. In the case of an emergency, put on your own safety mask first.

    You can’t help anyone if you can’t help yourself. When you notice that your health is starting to suffer as a result of your attempt to help other people, you need to take some guilt-free time for yourself. When your batteries are recharged, then maybe you can try and lend a helping hand again, but until then, focus on self-care. You have a limited amount of energy; use it wisely.

    4. Realize that it’s not your job.

    Empathetic people tend to look around at the difficulties in the world and think, “If I don’t help them, who will?” I know I’ve done this, time and time again.

    We do this because we project our feelings onto someone else’s situation, making it seem worse than it is. We think, “If I were in their shoes, I’d feel…” But they’re not us, and we can’t possibly know what they feel and what they need unless they tell us. And even then, we’re not responsible for managing their feelings or meeting their needs.

    It’s hard to realize, but it’s not your job to save the world, and oftentimes people don’t actually need saving.

    I thought that my leaving the relationship would ruin everyone’s life, but truthfully I was only fearful that it would ruin mine. My ideas about the world made me see everyone else as vulnerable, but they were going to be just fine.

    5. Trust other people to solve their own problems.

    At times throughout my life, I have had an unnecessary need to control situations. When I was in a fearful mind-state, this habit tended to amplify.

    We don’t realize that we can control a lot less than we think, and that’s okay. You can never control what another person does, or thinks, or how their life ends up. To do so will only make you tired, and them frustrated. Give them some space to breathe and let them take the wheel. Trust that they can handle themselves. Things will work themselves out.

    Since I left that situation I’ve learned that it’s not my job to be the hero. Most of my attempts at controlling other people, and trying to make sure they don’t suffer, have stemmed from my fears. People tend to be stronger than we think, and our mental projections about the world are always less reliable than we take them to be.

    Remember, in the case of an emergency, put your own safety mask on first.

    Have you ever felt that as an empath your mental health has suffered?

  • When People Want to Help but Just Make Things Worse

    When People Want to Help but Just Make Things Worse

    When I was fourteen years old, my family spent a week of vacation in the northwoods of Minnesota. We rode horses, sailed on the lake, sang songs around a campfire, and all the other things most teenagers tell their parents is lame. Even if they are having fun.

    After this week of boring, according to me, my family loaded up into our van and began what should have been a five-hour drive home.

    Except it wasn’t five hours.

    Thirty minutes into the drive we were in a head-on car collision. Triaged and transported to different hospitals around the area, it wasn’t until a few hours later—when my question, “What happened to my dad?” was met with silence from nurses, physicians, and my extended family who found me in the ER—that I knew he didn’t make it out. Not alive, at least.

    Two weeks later, I started high school.

    While I would have liked everything that had suddenly made my life “not normal” to fly under the radar, that was easier said than done. I was walking with crutches. I had crunching, paper bandages around my neck from the seat belt, and the whole story had been on the front page of the newspaper.

    What I was going through was my business, and yet I became surrounded by people offering this and bringing me that and giving me hugs when I just wanted to get back to normal.

    A few weeks later, my uncle showed up at our house and wanted to take us apple picking, something my dad had taken us to do at the local orchard every year.

    This time, when my uncle said apple orchard, he meant the Mecca of all apple orchards near Pepin, Wisconsin.

    As instructed by my mom, I pulled open the door to the garage and loaded into the car, suddenly finding myself sitting behind the driver’s seat. The exact same spot I was sitting during our crash. And not only was I sitting in the driver’s seat for the first time since the crash, I was sitting behind someone who, from behind, looked just like my dad, and who was trying to help by taking me to the apple orchard just like my dad.

    My heart was pounding. I focused on the seat back pocket in front of me, tried my best to breathe and sit facing forward while not looking any longer at the driver and his seat in front of me.

    The longer we drove, the angrier I became.

    My uncle was trying to help, but this, this was not helpful.

    I was tense the entire ride, wrought with worry the car might explode in front of me again, and when we returned home a few hours later, I shot out of the car, slammed the door behind me, muttered, “Thank you,” ran to my room, closed the door, and burst into tears.

    Going to the apple orchard with Dad was our business. Not my uncle’s. Driving that car was Dad’s job, not his.

    While he thought he was doing something so helpful to keep my dad’s memory alive, his one time trip to the Mecca of apple orchards, for me, was the opposite of helpful.

    That’s the thing about any business that’s important to you.

    Whether it’s someone you’ve lost or something you’ve loved and now lost, when things are special to you and other people see those things causing you hardship, they want to help.

    It’s a natural human reaction to want to help. But when you’re the one who’s receiving the help, there are so many times when something that was meant to be helpful turns out the be… the opposite of helpful.

    The truth is just because someone meant well with their actions that does not mean you have to feel good about their actions.

    In fact, most of the time, if someone does something that does make you feel good, it’s because they’ve taken the time to know you really, really well (like asking you if you prefer a compliment during a team meeting or a thank you card in your mailbox), or it’s just luck.

    And all the times when someone means well but it doesn’t feel well are so very normal.

    That’s okay.

    Instead of feeling bitter and angry about what someone did, whatever their intentions, and instead of becoming disillusioned about whether you can do anything to help someone else, it’s important to know the one thing you can know for certain in any interaction: you. Your thoughts, feelings, intentions, and expectations.

    So the next time someone is trying to help with something that is your business. Try this:

    1. Take a time out.

    We tend to use this as a tool for disciplining kids, but honestly, it works just as well, if not better, on ourselves as adults. And it’s not about giving yourself a time out from something you want to be part of. What you do is notice when you are feeling a growing sense of anger, frustration, overwhelm, and use your words to say something like, “I’m going to need some time to think this through. Let’s pick up this conversation at another time.”

    And then take the time away from the situation.

    2. Remind yourself of the intentions in the room.

    Why are you doing what you are doing?

    Why do you think they are doing what they are doing?

    Most of the time, people are doing something because they think it is a good thing or a helpful thing or something that will make the situation better. So, know that the people who are wanting to help are doing so because they care. There is something in it for them to help you and they want to help you.

    Even if the way they are helping now is the opposite of helpful, you can use this reminder about their intention as a key to making the situation helpful for you again.

    3. Speak out. Ask. Use your words.

    You have a person that wants to help you. So use your words. Tell them what would be helpful (or if you don’t know, tell them what is not helpful, and why).

    Say something like, “When you came to take me to the apple orchard, I felt like you were replacing my dad. I already feel worried that I am going to forget him, and I felt even more scared when we did something that made it feel like we were trying to replace him.”

    Notice the “When _______ happened, I felt ________.”

    This is intentional language.

    When you speak this way, you keep the focus on the goal: helping you to feel better, because you have identified a specific situation when that did not happen.

    Then say, “To make this feel better to me, I would need ________.” And say what you would need.

    Is it any apology? Is it that you want them to talk about things more? Do you not want to talk about it more? Do you want to do something you’ve never done before instead?

    It’s your business. So make it your call. And help them help you by showing why unhelpful things are unhelpful and suggesting what would have made the unhelpful things… well, helpful. Because at the root of every relationship is love.

    So, even during times when things aren’t as good, it’s important to separate the actions other people do to help with the intention that’s behind it all: love for you.

  • How I’m Freeing Myself from the Trap of Stuff I Don’t Need

    How I’m Freeing Myself from the Trap of Stuff I Don’t Need

    “In the marketing society, we seek fulfillment but settle for abundance. Prisoners of plenty, we have the freedom to consume instead of the freedom to find our place in the world.” ~Clive Hamilton, Growth Fetish

    I come from a time where passbook savings accounts were the norm.

    I can recall skipping along to the bank, aged eight, with one pudgy hand enveloped in my dad’s and the other clutching a little booklet.

    I’d wait my turn in line with butterflies in my belly. The teller was always so far away. But once I got to her, it was magical. She’d open a hidden drawer, extract the exact notes, and scribble the remaining balance into my passbook. Et voilà—cash in hand!

    Everything about this performance was concrete and transparent: Whenever I withdrew money, I immediately saw my bank balance decline. And without the risk of it nosediving into overdraft, it’s how I understood money was a finite entity. It’s how my parents taught me to not spend beyond my means, to only buy stuff I needed or had saved up for.

    Having a passbook savings account in my childhood and adolescence protected me from buying stuff carelessly.

    Fast-forward to 2018, now living in Australia—which equates to residing in opulence for those living in developing nations—I’m not only thirty-six years apart from my eight-year-old self, but also thirty-six worlds away. In this world my eight-year-old self would throw a tantrum if she didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted. I blame credit cards for that.

    What also saw me come out on top all those years ago was the absence of the advertising glut that now penetrates an eight-year-old’s sphere.

    In 1982 Fiji, TV did not exist. I played outside. I read Enid Blyton. I didn’t read the newspaper. And I can’t bring to mind any specific billboards of that time, even though I’m sure there were a few in the city, where I did not live.

    Today, at forty-four years of age living in the era of affluenza and having a disposable income, advertisers know my attention is priceless. Yet, they get it on the cheap. This is despite my creating an anti-advertising bubble to cushion me: In 2014, I deleted my Facebook account. In 2017, my Twitter account. While I have Instagram, I do not use it. And I rarely watch commercial TV.

    The ads for stuff don’t just infiltrate this bubble—they gush in. Into my inbox, even when I didn’t sign up for the next celebrity’s latest self-help book because I am something to be fixed. On my phone, when I receive a text promoting a sale of 15% off TVs all day today (and today only!). On trams, trains, buses, buildings, freeways…

    The humble bus shelter does not escape from being turned into a billboard either. When I walk my dogs, I pass one that is currently telling me I can “drive away in a Polo Urban for only $16,990.” (Do I need a new car? After all my current one is nine years old, although it is running smoothly. Hmmm…) The posters on this shelter change weekly. It does not allow me the grace to become immune.

    Even if I could construct an impenetrable bubble, it’d be pointless. The Internet and its cookies would see to that.

    These cookies know—and remember with unfailing memory—what I desire (printed yoga leggings!). And they flaunt my desires by dangling carrots in front of me, whether I’m reading an online article, watching a video on YouTube, or searching on Google.

    And if the Internet tempts with its cookies, then it decidedly seduces with its availability. I can now stare at the blue light on my ever-ready smartphone and make decisions to buy yoga leggings whenever I want.

    The perfect time to do just that is before I flop into bed, after a long day’s hard work, cooking dinner, washing dishes, and watching an episode or two of my favorite show on Netflix. I should feel elated when I hit the buy button, but I find myself getting into bed not only with my husband, but also with guilt and a larger credit card debt.

    The grab for my attention and time under the guise of convenience and a better life is, however, simply the tip of the iceberg. What no one can see is that I am waging a war against myself—with the monkey-mind chatter that jumps from one justifying thought to another, convincing me that something is a need not a want. This is an example of what the Buddhists call suffering.

    About two years ago, my husband and I moved into the new house we built. It’s much bigger than one we’ve ever lived in. And as we prepared to move into it months beforehand, the justifications began:

    We need new furniture to match the modern feel of the house. (Danish style, as we had been subconsciously brainwashed by Instagram with everything that was hip in interior design.) And we need a bigger TV for the bigger living space. A new fridge because our old one won’t neatly slide into its allocated spot of the spacious kitchen. And more paintings, since we now have more walls…

    Not only did we ‘need’ all this stuff, but we also had to choose stuff that was ‘us.’ And it all had to look ‘just so’ when put together. So we researched online. Visited furniture, home, and electrical stores each weekend. Read reviews. Let the cookies take our minds into a rabbit hole of stuff we didn’t realize we needed.

    Just thinking about all the time, money, and energy we invested to get it ‘right’ sets my heart aflutter and raises a sweat. It was gruelling—the number of choices, the number of decisions (Did you know that an eight-year-old now has hundreds of different Barbie dolls to choose from?). Luckily my husband and I have similar tastes; otherwise, I’m afraid, adding a number of arguments into the mix might have broken us entirely.

    The evidence continues to pile up in favor of stuff even after the purchases have been made. After decking out our new house, I soon learned that not only did I possess things, but they also possessed me.

    I worried about scuffing the freshly painted walls, staining the white kitchen benchtop with turmeric while making a curry, and my nephews scratching the wooden dining table by racing their toy cars on it. (What’s that saying? Is it “Stuff is meant to be used and people loved”?)

    If I didn’t feel the compulsion to fill in the space, to make everything perfect, simply because the world presents me with the choices and pressures to do so, what would—what could—I do with all that extra time and energy, not to mention money? Read, write, hang out with my mum? See another part of the world? And, more importantly, who would I be? A happier, more relaxed person? The irony.

    So, with the odds stacked completely against me, how do I even stand a chance of coming out on top of all this stuff? (How does anyone?)

    I don’t believe the answer is to cut up my credit cards and get a passbook savings account, or to become a Luddite. The answer lies in cultivating awareness. By becoming aware of my thoughts and feelings, I can regain my power. Asking questions is paramount:

    Will it give my life meaning? Make my life easier, better? Why do I really want it? Is it only because I am chasing a feeling? Or because I want to squelch one? What would happen if I didn’t buy it?

    Failing this, I can always remind myself that almost everything material is optional.

  • How to Ask for What You Want and Need (No, It’s Not Selfish)

    How to Ask for What You Want and Need (No, It’s Not Selfish)

    “It’s not selfish to put yourself first—it’s self-full.” ~Iyanla Vanzant

    I’ve always thought of myself as individualistic. When I was a teenager, I often felt the desire to go against the grain, dressing alternatively and shunning bands my peers liked because I felt they were too popular. So it came as a huge surprise to me when my therapist called me a people pleaser the other day.

    I recently started cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia, and during the first session my therapist identified that I put other people’s needs and wants ahead of my own.

    He’d asked me to give an example of a situation that is currently making me anxious (since anxiety is both a cause and symptom of insomnia), and I told him a landscaper made a mistake in my yard and I was feeling bad asking him to fix it.

    I’d hired the landscaper to build a fence and incorporate a parking pad into my backyard space. While the fence turned out awesome, the landscaper brought too much loam and turned the parking pad area into a hill that sloped down from the fence to the garage. When I asked him to level it, he got angry and said he had already spent man-hours on the project and would be losing money.

    I started to feel bad. Was his business doing okay? Did he have kids?

    “The job you agreed upon was for him to level it,” my therapist said. “It has to be level.”

    “But what if he is losing money?”

    “That’s none of your business. You wanted it level. It has to be level.”

    It took him repeating that sentence to me a few more times before the concept clicked, and I knew he was right. I was putting someone else’s wants and needs above my own. I do it all the time.

    “Why don’t I put myself first?” I asked him. “It’s like I think I don’t deserve to be treated as well as other people.”

    I expected my therapist to say I have low self-esteem and needed to work on that, but instead he said, “Because you’re framing it wrong.”

    Then he asked, “What’s your favorite ice cream?”

    Thrown off by the change in topic, I stammered something about Maple Walnut.

    “And is there an ice cream flavor you dislike?”

    “Tiger.”

    “So when you go to an ice cream store, do you ask yourself whether you deserve Maple Walnut or if you should just accept Tiger?”

    “Of course not.”

    “There you go. It isn’t about whether you deserve to have something, it’s that you want it. Plain and simple.”

    It was simple. Suddenly I felt like I’d been let in on the secret all the confident, take-no-crap, boundary-setting people in my life have known forever. If they want something, they go for it. They don’t stand around questioning whether or not they deserve to have it.

    In my case, I wanted the parking pad incorporated into my yard so that I could enjoy the added space. Therefore, the backyard has to be level.

    “Now that you know your position, the next step is to communicate it correctly,” my therapist continued. “Do not ask, ‘Can you please make this level?’ Simply say, ‘We agreed it would be level, so it has to be level.’”

    We ran through hypothetical life situations where I could apply this technique, and each time I made the mistake of asking the other person to “please” grant my wishes instead of communicating my wants and needs. Every time I smiled sheepishly at the mistake, it hammered home how I unconsciously present myself to other people.

    While trying to be polite and accommodate everyone else, I might actually be telling people I’m a doormat. Of course people are going to walk all over me because I haven’t given them guidance on where they can and cannot step!

    At the end of the appointment, I resolved to start setting boundaries and ask for what I want in life, and I saw results immediately. When I told the landscaper the yard had to be level, he fixed it. By no longer questioning whether or not I “deserved” the same treatment as everyone else and simply asking for it, I gained self-confidence.

    Granted, not all situations in life are as clear-cut as standing up for yourself with a landscaper. There are times to stand your ground and times to compromise, and the trick is to learn to tell the difference.

    Sometimes our wants and needs can directly affect other people, or their wants and needs can be in conflict with our own. In this case, it’s important to remember to balance healthy self-assertion with consideration and respect for others.

    For someone who habitually puts other people’s wants and needs ahead of her own, putting myself first simply means treating myself the same way I treat them—not trampling on everyone else!

    The ice cream story has changed my perception on putting myself first. It’s not selfish—it’s self-full. Sometimes I slip back into old habits and wonder if I deserve something, but then I remind myself I wouldn’t accept Tiger when I want Maple Walnut.

    Here are a few simple steps to setting boundaries and asking for what you want and need in life:

    1. Know your position.

    The most important step in setting boundaries is to know your position—what you want—and to stick with it. That way when someone comes back at you trying to change your mind, you can simply go back to your position.

    Imagine you’re at a dealership and you tell the salespeople that your budget is 10K. If they respond, “We have a newer model with leather seats and a sunroof for 13K,” your response should be, “My budget is 10K.” If they tell you only rust buckets go for 10K, tell them your budget is 10K and then walk away.

    Don’t forget what you want or need. It’s easier not to be bullied or walked on when you are confident in your position.

    2. Communicate your position.

    Communicate your position properly is just as important. When you ask someone to honor your wishes or approve of your position, you’re asking them to make you happy. But when you tell them what you want or need, you’re making yourself happy.

    If a friend asks you to go to a party with them but you don’t want a late night, you can choose to say no or agree to go on your own terms. Rather than asking if it’s okay if you leave early, tell them that you will go with them for a bit but you want to get a good sleep.

    If a friend is having an elaborate and expensive birthday and you can’t afford to attend multiple events, tell them. You do not have to apologize. Simply communicate what you can and cannot do.

    People don’t necessarily aim to walk on you, but if you don’t communicate what you want and expect, there is a greater chance it will happen. Have you ever felt taken advantage of but didn’t communicate your feelings, and the frustration built up inside of you until you finally snapped? Or worse: snapped at the wrong person? I’ve definitely been guilty of that.

    If you set boundaries and communicate them, everyone will know where they stand, and it will prevent future blowups.

    3. Stop asking if you “deserve” what you want.

    In my opinion, this is the most important principle. Do not question whether or not you deserve things in life. Simply know what you want and go for it.

    People who don’t set boundaries often don’t feel they “deserve” to set boundaries, and they feel that way because they’re used to always putting other people first. Their low self-esteem has been reinforced by their own inability to state what they want. It’s a vicious cycle.

    We can’t always get what we want in life, but we definitely won’t get it if we don’t ask. By focusing on what you want or need in life, rather than questioning whether you’re worthy to receive, you will help guide your own success and self-confidence will follow!

  • Why Letting Go of What We Want Enables Us to Get What We Need

    Why Letting Go of What We Want Enables Us to Get What We Need

    Seated woman

    “The most exquisite paradox: as soon as you give it all up, you can have it all. As long as you want power, you can’t have it. The minute you don’t want power, you’ll have more than you ever dreamed possible.” ~Ram Dass

    The first time I felt this paradox was in the middle of savasana after a challenging yoga class. I always say that yoga is a metaphor for life, and this is exactly why.

    Savasana is the final resting pose in which you lay flat on your back, close your eyes, and do nothing. A super yummy savasana is just so due after your work throughout the class.

    The more you are challenged throughout the yoga flow, the more likely you are to be pushed to a place of brokenness. You gave your all, and now you are spent. Dizzy and exhausted, you settle into savasana and release your entire body into the earth.

    Lying on the cold, hard ground never felt so good. You lie in silence, let your thoughts and breath go, and completely release. You feel deliciously blissful. And you might actually be feeling emotions for the first time all day, or maybe even all week.

    A slight smile spreads across your face as the sweat beads drip from your forehead. Or tears quietly stream from your eyes as you feel absolute joy and gratefulness. By the end of that savasana, you feel incredible. You feel like yourself again. You know you are whole.

    And it’s a good thing they have you do savasana at end of class, because you need the build up of tension during your yoga flow in order to allow yourself to really let go and just be.

    Could you imagine doing savasana at the beginning of class? Mind buzzing from a long, stressful day, thoughts racing. It’s possible, but much harder to do.

    This was how I came to understand the paradox of letting go in order to become whole. And trust me, it took many years of therapy, meditation, reading, seeking, and savasana to get there.

    We often cling to our desires and fight for them because we think we’ll be happy if we get what we want. But when we let go and accept what is, what shows up for us are often the things we need.

    These things tend to be the ones that really count, creating true happiness and meaning in our lives.

    But let’s face it, letting go on some issues is easier said than done. When it comes to deeper issues and matters of the heart, letting go can feel downright impossible. And on some issues, letting go may never happen. Some burdens may be too important not to bear. That is okay.

    However, even on the more difficult issues you may be facing, there still may be places in which you can soften your grip.

    I have had a strained relationship with my father since birth. From about four years old, I knew that he did not love me.

    All throughout my childhood, my father was both physically and emotionally abusive. My mother was loving, but also put in a position of trying to appease her husband, while at the same time protecting my siblings and me. This inevitably led to a lot of confusion and chaos in the household.

    Things finally came to a head when I was about ten. I was severely depressed, expressing passive thoughts of suicide, and displaying classic behaviors and symptoms of trauma.

    After a couple years of therapy and attempting to repair things in the home, my mother decided to divorce my father.

    Due to the history with my father, the court granted my siblings and me the opportunity to decide for ourselves whether or not we would like to visit him. Perfect timing too; my twelfth birthday was right around the corner as the divorce was being finalized.

    So, it was at the age of twelve when I decided to no longer participate in weekly visitation with my father. I would still see him occasionally for family events and holidays, but I kept my distance and he kept his.

    In my mid-twenties, I had little to no contact with my father, only seeing him about once a year for the holidays. However, I confronted him via email, defending my younger sister on an issue she was dealing with.

    She was only sixteen at the time, and was devastated when my father packed up all her belongings from his home and dropped them off on my mother’s doorstep without any warning. Apparently, she was no longer welcome in his home, and their relationship, too, was ending.

    In my father’s correspondence to me, he verbally confirmed what I had know all along, and stated outright that he did not love me and did not need me in his life.

    I was devastated and inconsolable. Although I had known and felt this since I was a small child, I had not actually heard these words before. Something about those words broke me wide open.

    I spun out of control and began a turbulent phase in my life in which I became severely depressed and anxious.

    I immediately began doing work in therapy, finally addressing the years of trauma that I had experienced, coming to terms with my broken relationship with my father. It was here that I began the long process of healing.

    Ten years later, I am significantly stronger. However, trauma is stored in our bodies, in our tissues, and in our brain chemistry, reminding me at times that it’s still there, but a mere shadow of what it used to be. Like an onion, the layers of trauma must be pulled back one at time.

    Looking back on my recovery process, the most challenging part for me had to do with my clinging to questions of what happened.

    I couldn’t understand why this had happened to me. I couldn’t let go of the fact that I was unloved by my father. I needed to have answers. I had been wrestling with these questions my entire life, and was bruised and broken time and time again, with no end in sight. This deep need and clinging only lead to more pain and hurt.

    Through therapy and yoga, I have come to let go of this ideal. I now know that I may never have the answers to my questions. I likely will never fully understand why this happened, why I had to experience this, or why my father behaved in this way.

    Now, instead of wrestling, I stand beside my questions, I cradle them in my arms, I offer them support, and I show them kindness. The questions, the injustice, the memories of hurt can be there, and I lovingly accept them into my life.

    More than this, I know that I am loved, that I am deserving, that I am kind, that I am a survivor, and I am whole. I always have been.

    In order to find acceptance and wholeness in my life, I had to release my death grip on my ideal relationship with my father.

    Whatever ideal outcome you’re clinging to, could you be open to the possibility of releasing it so that you can breathe, yield, and expand into something that is bigger? Could you give yourself time and create space so that you can become concise and clear about your being?

    If you can do these things, you will get what you need.

    Not unlike that challenging yoga flow I spoke of earlier, the real work comes when your body, mind, and spirit has been fully broken, your heart has been ripped wide open, and there is nothing left to do.

    And, no this is not easy. It will be hard.

    Letting go will make you question your identity, leaving you wondering if you give this one thing up, who will you be? What will you stand for? Will all your stress, worry, pain, hurt, sadness, be in vain? If you let go, who will believe your story? What will others think of you? What else will you have to let go of? What will you do next?”

    And here is where the paradox begins!

    “What will I do next?” is a tough question that can be scary to even consider. But it is here that change happens, and you do have a choice. Wholeness is knocking at your door, and you know what they say, “When one door closes, another door opens.”

    All that is required is to let go of the past and step boldly and bravely into your true self, your beautiful, loving, compassionate, deserving self. It is from this place of being that you may know wholeness.

  • What We All Really Need When We’re Struggling

    What We All Really Need When We’re Struggling

    Sad Man

    “There are two ways of spreading light: be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” ~Edith Wharton

    I tucked my boarding pass safely into my coat pocket, donned my eyeglasses, and searched for the overhead signs that would lead me to the correct gate. Thanksgiving would be here soon and the Orlando airport was bursting at the seams with travelers.

    I turned the corner and jerked to a stop. Hundreds of people stood before me, bunched together in a space the size of a ballroom. I’d have to maneuver my way through them, I thought, to get to the security gate off in the distance. And then I quickly realized that’s exactly where all those other people were headed, too.

    I resigned myself to a long wait. What a waste of time, I thought to myself. I just want to get home.

    A symphony of sounds surrounded me: babies crying, kids fussing, some folks complaining, some laughing, loudspeakers blaring, cell phones ringing, along with the buzz of constant chatter.

    This being Orlando, a family wearing mouse ears huddled directly in front of me. I rose up on tiptoes to peek above their heads and catch a glimpse of the security area. Still far away. With no roped lanes to guide us, some newcomers gently nudged by me in an effort to gain a little bit of extra distance. Funny how you can be pressed up against others in a large crowd and at the same time be invisible to them.

    The swarm of people slowly funneled their way into one of two security lanes, and at last it was my turn. I handed my identification to the agent and was ushered into a long line of people waiting to go through the scanners. At least now it was an obvious line. No more folks jockeying for position.

    The woman behind me sighed. A few seconds later she sighed again. Not a sigh of frustration, more like a sigh of grim resignation. A TSA agent passed by and she flagged him down.

    “This is taking so long,” she said. “Will I be able to make my flight on time?” Her tone was one of despair.

    “I don’t know,” the agent replied.

    “Do you think they will hold the plane a few extra minutes for me?” she asked.

    I didn’t hear his response. I imagined he simply shook his head no. “Oh, dear,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, dear.”

    At the pace the line was moving I figured it would be another ten minutes at least before we would pass through the x-ray scanners. Then it was anyone’s guess how far you had to walk to arrive at the proper gate.

    Out of the corner of my eye I watched the woman behind me lower her head, forlorn and clearly troubled by her situation. I turned to her.

    “I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said. “Please switch places with me. Every little bit helps.” She gratefully accepted my offer. We both understood that my act saved her perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds of time. Hardly enough time to make a meaningful difference.

    But that which is most meaningful may not always be what you think.

    Instantly, as if by magic, her demeanor changed from being tense and downcast to cheery and hopeful. She exhaled another sigh, but this time it was a sigh of relief.

    “Isn’t this crazy!” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Next time I will plan better. Have you ever seen so many people?”

    She stood next to me, not in front of me or behind me, but side-by-side.

    We spent the next several minutes chatting happily about ordinary things—where we were headed, how wearisome travel can be, how a cup of strong coffee would taste so good right about now. But her smile never left her. And I was smiling, too. As much as I helped her to feel uplifted, I was now uplifted. My thoughts of a long day of travel ahead of me vanished.

    I grew deaf to the noises and chatter all about me. I didn’t see anyone else—no kids in strollers, no adults with mouse ears. This time I wasn’t invisible but everybody else was. It was just the two of us cracking jokes and making small talk. Side-by-side.

    Suddenly it was our turn for the x-ray scanner. She thanked me one last time and we parted ways. Within a minute I lost sight of her.

    What just happened? I asked myself. And then I realized something important. What this woman wanted was reassurance she would make her flight on time. But what she needed was to know that somebody cared.

    And isn’t that what we all need most of the time? When we feel worried or hurt or simply frustrated by life’s burdens; when the “givens” of life (sickness, loss, disappointment, heartbreak) overwhelm us; when we struggle to make our way through another day; a warm embrace, thoughtful gesture, or a hand on our shoulder can be all we need to feel a little more hopeful and, perhaps, a lot more cared about.

    I don’t know if that woman got to her plane on time. When you help others along the road you may never know the outcome of their journey. But it may not have been your purpose to know. Your purpose may have been to simply meet them on the path and in some way be a source of light so they can see things from a clearer perspective—and in so doing discovering that they may have been a source of light for you.

    As for me, I no longer see long lines as a waste of time but as opportunities to make a difference, however small, in someone’s life.

    Never underestimate your power to make a difference in the life of others by even a small act of kindness or a few comforting words. Opportunities abound every day. Seek them out. And we all know this to be true: it is in the giving that we receive.

    Lost hope image via Shutterstock

  • The Key to Creating More Joy in Your Work

    The Key to Creating More Joy in Your Work

    Love My Job

    “Life engenders life. Energy creates energy. It is by spending oneself that one becomes rich.” ~Sarah Bernhardt                      

    Ten years ago, when I first moved to China, I came as an English teacher at a university. I hadn’t the faintest clue as to how I would teach and I only had one year of experience as a teaching assistant in graduate school.

    At the beginning, I was completely out of my element. In fact, I woke up the following morning after arrival in my new apartment only to realize that I had no food, couldn’t say anything in Chinese, and had no idea where to get something to eat.

    For me, everything was uncharted territory, especially my new career.

    After settling in, I tried to do a good job of teaching, and I truly did care for my students. However, having hundreds of different students and seeing each group for less than an hour per week, I did not see how I could make much difference.

    Because of this, I lost my motivation and never really gave it my all. I could find no reason to excel at what I was doing because I couldn’t see how I could have any impact.

    I became apathetic about what could have been a wonderful occupation. I dreaded waking up in the morning and dragging myself to class. When making a lesson plan, I would just throw something together that I thought might be sufficient.

    In class, I just wanted to get it over with and move on with my day. I rarely stuck around to converse with my students and I often complained about my work.

    I did what was necessary just to get by. I gave very little of myself and got very little in return. My profession became a job to trudge through.

    You Get What You Give

    Years later I began to work on improving myself. Naturally, this included my own job and I began to search for a way to transform my work into something better, something more meaningful. And I found the answer.

    Fast-forward a few years, and everything changed. When preparing classes, I would construct course plans with meticulous care and would repeatedly practice how best to deliver them.

    I would wake up each morning at 5:00am to make sure that I was physically and mentally wide awake and ready to give it my all, every single day. Before each class, I would talk to myself and whip myself up into a state of excitement, determined to make every class a masterpiece.

    I started to feel genuinely excited on my way to class and felt great joy upon entering the classroom. I would stay afterward and speak with students, who were always full of questions for me.

    Increasingly, I was able to see through the eyes of the learner. And, by being able to put myself in their shoes, I knew what needed to be done and how to execute it.

    I improved as a person as well. I became more confident, learned how to hold the attention of a crowd, gained a much clearer understanding of the process of learning, and felt much more joy. I learned how to lead and to provoke curiosity.

    I was getting significant, measurable results and I realized how huge of an impact I could have on my students’ lives.

    It was true that I was devoting more time to my work, but what I soon learned was that I received much more in return. I could feel and see such love from my students. They were more cooperative than before, I gained their trust, and they showered me with kindness and friendship.

    I was greeted each morning with enthusiastic smiles, and at the end of the school year thoughtful gifts poured in that brought tears of joy to my eyes.

    I had completely transformed, and so too had the experience of my students. And it was all because of a shift that I chose to make.

    The Key to Creating Joy in Your Work

    What had happened? What did I do to create this incredibly positive change?

    I made a simple decision: I was going to give more than anyone else expected of me.

    This decision happened in an instant.

    Back when I was still trudging through my work, one afternoon, I was walking through the halls of the school. I was struck by the fact that every classroom was full of silent, bored student who were playing on their phones or sleeping. At the front of every single classroom was a teacher speaking monotonously or reading from a slide on the overhead.

    I felt pity for my students and was angry at the laziness that I saw. The system was a total sham and nobody was receiving anything of value. And in that moment I had a revelation: I was part of it.

    I too had become lazy and was contributing to this horrible state of affairs. I felt a conviction rise within me: I would no longer be a part of the sham anymore.

    Upon returning home, I did something that forever changed how I work: I thought very carefully about what my students needed.

    I was struck by inspiration and spent hours putting together a new lesson plan. When I delivered the plan, everyone in the classroom, including myself, was shocked. The students were completely inspired and the entire atmosphere of the room changed.

    Afterward, numerous students told me how much they had enjoyed the class. They requested more like it. Overwhelmed with excitement, I set to work constructing more lesson plans that would truly have an impact.

    From there, it blossomed into a virtuous circle: the more I gave to my students, the more joy I received in return. And this made me want to give even more. Happiness flowed to me in avalanches of joy.

    I never imagined the beautiful changes that would take place. My classrooms were utterly transformed.

    Watching the enormous impact I was having on hundreds of lives, I realized something: all of this happened because of a single decision that I had made.

    I created this change. And so can you.

    And it starts with a decision: to give more of yourself.

    How to Give More

    The giving of service is the master key that will unlock joy and success in any profession. So, if you are not a teacher like me, how can you apply this to your own work?

    What, for example, would it look like for someone with clients or customers? If you are a waiter or waitress, a secretary, a nurse or doctor, in sales, or customer service you would want to be attentive to your customers above all else.

    Listen for and focus in on understanding what they need and find a way to deliver it to them. There is no better way to ensure repeat business.

    If you are a cashier, be the cashier who everyone remembers. Make every person feel important by looking them in the eyes and greeting them with a smile. This will bring more joy to both of you than if you mindlessly wished you were somewhere else.

    If you are a laborer, cleaner, or prepare food and may not interact with many people, focus on excelling at your task. Know who you are serving, what they need, and do it in the best way you know how.

    And even if nobody appreciates or recognizes your work or you don’t get the results you expect, you will go to bed with much greater satisfaction and contentment knowing that you gave it your all.

    If you dislike your work, the key to making it more enjoyable is to give more of yourself. When you focus on giving, you stop thinking about yourself and what you don’t like.

    It is as simple as it is profound. In the end, the person this will help the most is you.

    If ever you are uncertain as to how you can excel at your work, you only need to find the answer to these four questions:

    1. Who am I serving?
    2. What do they need?
    3. How can I give them what they need?
    4. What can I do to exceed their expectations?

    Once you have the answers, you have developed a plan to excel at your work. And, by doing so, you have created the master key to making your job a labor of love and a source of joy for yourself and for those around you.

    Love my job image via Shutterstock

  • You Don’t Need Anyone’s Permission to Do What You Want to Do

    You Don’t Need Anyone’s Permission to Do What You Want to Do

    “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.” ~Steve Jobs

    Two weeks ago, I pulled a muscle in my back. It was really scary in the moment, and initially I thought I was much more badly hurt—though it ended up healing miraculously quickly, after a couple days of intense pain and a couple more of moderate pain.

    The morning that it happened, I sobbed on the bed as I laid motionless, telling my husband I couldn’t believe I’d hurt myself and that I maybe had a herniated disk or whatever it is people talk about, and I’d probably need surgery or at the very least, weeks of physical therapy, and how the hell was I supposed to drive to work that day, and then oh my God, the medical bills?!

    After a little while, I calmed down after I realized I could move a little, as long as I didn’t move or rotate my spine, and my husband said it sounded like a pulled muscle rather than something skeletal.

    After a little while, I drove in to work, in a lot of pain, and apologized to my co-workers in advance about the whining.

    That night, sleeping on it made the pain even worse, and the next morning I bemoaned, “I can’t belieeeeeve I’m going to work. I’m in so much pain, how am I supposed to be present with a client? But I have to go.”

    Normally, I’d have stayed home without too much of a fuss, but we were flying out to Texas that night to visit my family, and I hated the thought of missing an extra day when I was going on vacation for the next three workdays.

    It also meant that I might not get to say goodbye to one of my clients who was discharging, which I felt sad and guilty about.

    My husband has learned better than to tell me what to do, so he encouraged me to do what I thought I needed to. What I was subconsciously thinking in that moment was that I wanted him to give me permission to stay home, dammit, so I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it!

    I started driving into work and then called one of my colleagues (my Work Wife) and told her what was going on.

    She thought of another solution where I may still be able to see the discharging client, and told me in no uncertain terms that I should stay home. I immediately turned around and drove home.

    She had given me permission. I was relieved.

    When I got home and my husband seemed surprised to see me, I got angry. He went about his regular day (as a teacher, he’s home for the summer) while I fumed on the couch, silent and in pain.

    Finally, I broke the silence: “I’m upset because I wanted you to give me permission to stay home, and you didn’t, and then when I came home you looked surprised, which makes me feel like you think I should be at work even though I’m in a lot of pain, and it makes me think you don’t think it’s that painful, and IT IS!”

    Of course, he did the patient husband thing where he says no, that’s not what he was thinking, and of course I’m in a lot of pain but he doesn’t want to tell me what to do.

    So I continued to sit, slowly cooling down (it so helps me to articulate the story in my head like that) reflecting on this issue of “permission.”

    It happened again today on a conference call with a couple peers in my industry, when I told them about a training I thought I needed to do to.

    In talking it out with them, it became clear to me that I was just dealing with classic Imposter Syndrome, and was looking at an expensive and unnecessary training to try to alleviate that by making me “more legitimate.”

    They gave me permission.

    I was able to acknowledge that’s what I had been looking for, even though I hadn’t consciously realized it at first, and we laughed about it on the call.

    One of the other women—further along in her business than me, with a booming, successful practice—shared that even with where she is in her business, she still struggles with this stuff, too, and still wants permission until she eventually circles around and realizes that it needs to come from herself.

    I never would have thought of permission as something I struggle with, because I don’t hesitate for a moment to give myself permission for dessert or a new shirt or book. But it shows up in other ways—subtly, quietly, and then all the sudden I look up and it’s waving its arms going, “You’d better pay attention to me!”

    The biggest is the permission to let myself slow down. To not be “productive” all the time. (And, news flash, this actually ends up working against me, because it turns out when you try to work on fifteen things at once, not much gets done!)

    I am grateful for the people in my life who have given me permission when I was not in a place to give it to myself, and to other people who remind me that giving it to myself is possible, too.

    If you’re like me, sometimes you need life to put an issue right smack in the middle of your path a few times before you really take notice.

    The signs I got, courtesy of my injury and obsessing over feeling “legitimate,” helped me to see that I was struggling with an issue I didn’t even think I struggled with!

    So if anything in my story resonated with you, consider this your sign: Whatever that thing is that you feel pulled to do, try, quit, or let go of, you don’t have to wait for permission from someone else.

  • What You Think You Want Might Not Be What You Need

    What You Think You Want Might Not Be What You Need

    Woman Daydreaming

    “The more you love your decisions, the less you need others to love them.” ~Unknown

    I got on that twelve-hour flight thinking I was ready. Yet during the travel from my house to the airport to Belgium, my feelings were suspiciously neutral.

    I neither hated where I was nor felt strong emotional attachment. Less than two weeks later, those emotions came out, full force. Ten days into graduate school in Belgium, I realized that this wasn’t what I wanted.

    Everyone told me to stay, to tough it out. I didn’t realize then that their advice was for them—that my peers wanted to stay in school, and my friends wanted to have a life in some exotic land like Europe.

    That’s when I realized that everyone comes from a different place—everyone has different values and desires—and their opinions should not dictate how we feel about our choices.

    When I decided to quit school, everyone was against it. One peer clutched my arm tightly, as if I’d just told her that today was the end of the world. Some even got angry.

    At first I was affected by the overflow of emotions, until I realized that what I did had no permanent effect on their lives, regardless of how they reacted.

    Wants vs. Needs

    I was an overstrung, high achiever in both high school and college. I played by the rules and did what I was told. And I was addicted to status.

    Advisors and teachers told me that I should apply for the Fulbright scholarship, that I should join Peacecorps—it’d be wonderful, it’d be life-changing. I did what others deemed best for me, and it made me reliant on them and ignorant of my own instincts and desires.

    After graduating from college I needed a rest from it all, but used to going full-steam ahead, I kept pushing. I hoped I could start graduate school in Germany or France, leaving myself only a two-month break after years of schooling.

    But every school I applied to rejected me. Though I cried after received those long-awaited letters, I now realize this was a blessing in disguise.

    That year, I went “nowhere.” I felt unhappy, stuck, and lost. But I kept applying, hoping for an adventure for the following year.

    During that time, I decided to distract myself. I wrote more. I exercised more. I tried to laugh a little bit more. I fell in love with krav maga and found a community of people who I rejoiced in seeing almost every day.

    Then I was accepted into a masters program in Belgium for the following year.

    Life was going to be okay because I finally got what I wanted; I was going to Belgium in six months!

    During the countdown, though, as I trained more and had more time to myself, I began wavering.

    Gone were the moments of nervousness, fear, and apprehension that were so constant post-graduation. I found myself living in the moment more often. My skin was clearing up I was shedding stress-induced weight; I was going out more. I stopped dreaming about being away.

    After a particularly grueling session in class, my krav maga instructor came over to me with a smile and said, “Once you’ve traveled the world and seen everything you want, come back here, where you belong.”

    I laughed at first and said, “Sure,” thinking in my head that I’d probably be gone forever.

    Guess who was right in the end?

    Fear vs. Lack of Desire

    People always told me to “try it,” and “just do it,” and that seemed like a good life motto. Never let fear hold you back. But what I was experiencing before leaving for Belgium wasn’t fear; it was a lack of desire.

    My first time studying abroad in Taiwan was nerve wracking but brimming with anticipation. I cried over late documents and panicked over lost plane tickets, but no matter what, the final destination was Taiwan.

    I broke off a long-term relationship, I studied hard into the night, but I knew that it was well worth it.

    The night before I left, I began wondering if I was doing the right thing, if I could leave home for the first time for a whole year. That thought passed as quickly as it had appeared. I departed, and am glad I did, because I knew that it was the right thing for me to do. How did I know? I felt passionate.

    Fast-forward three years later: going to Belgium wasn’t what I wanted. I just couldn’t admit that. I didn’t print my plane ticket until twelve hours before my flight. I didn’t pack until a day before I left. I just didn’t care to go to Belgium anymore.

    Apathy is said to be worse than love or hate. I was entirely apathetic about my “next adventure.”

    I’ve learned that fear is different than a lack of desire, and even if we don’t listen to our instincts right away, we can always tune in and honor what we hear. Accept what happened, accept that your desires have changed, and listen more closely to what you really want and need.

    Our instincts not only keep us safe but can help guide us through life.

    Woman daydreaming image via Shutterstock

  • We Are All People Who Need People

    We Are All People Who Need People

    Man Behind Curtain

    “But first be a person who needs people. People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” ~Bob Merrill, lyricist, Barbra Streisand, artist

    Act 1: Babs and Me

    Barbra Streisand and I could be twins.

    For starters, we were born on the same day.

    Sure, she got here a couple of decades earlier, but except the part where she’s a rich, famous, writer-director-actress married to James Brolin, and oh, that singing thing, we could have been separated at birth.

    We both have blue eyes and chemically enhanced blonde hair. We speak the same language; in Brooklyn or Philly, you say, tuh-may-duh, I say tuh-may-duh.

    Our cultural heritages are similarly steeped in neuroses and commandments, thus our identical self-confidence issues. A small sampling of the insecurities we share:

    • We are overly concerned with our appearances (but complain about getting dressed and combing our hair.)
    • We have stage fright and always will.
    • We suffer from PTCSD (post-traumatic-childhood self-worth disorder).
    • We only remember our bad reviews.
    • We photograph better from the left, we believe.
    • We want people to like us, mostly so they don’t hate us.
    • We prefer dark rooms filled with people we don’t know to small rooms of people we are supposed to.
    • We worry about money, me a little more than she.
    • We are people who need people.

    “People” was Babs’s first Top 10 hit. When my mom sang along with the “Funny Girl” in the sixties, I thought “People” was a love song. You too?

    Lyricist Bob Merrill’s original hook was “one very special person,” because “Funny Girl” is the story of how singer Fanny Brice found the half that made her whole in gambler Nick Arnestein.

    Lucky her.

    Except, there are two kinds of luck, as Nick learns, and Fanny ends up hungry and thirsty again.

    So Merrill put the kibosh on only lovers being very special in favor of, first, an emotional connection with people. Plural. The new focus reflected a key plotline in the movie: the need for people to be vulnerable enough to ask for help and have more than one person to ask.

    Barbra gave us a glimpse of Fanny’s vulnerability when she sang “People.”

    The audience connected to Fanny when she performed because they saw a real person with self-doubt and sorrows, despite her success. Fanny needed the audience to give her the confidence to come back after she lost everything.

    At the time, Barbra told reporters she too connected with the audience by being authentic. Thus, putting on a show made her vulnerable, to her emotions and to criticism, the worst of which came from herself. Her constant internal refrain was:

    “What if they don’t like me?”

    That’s it, isn’t it? The real feeling deep in our souls? What if they don’t like you?

    And we aren’t acting more like children than children.

    We crave inclusion so much that admitting we want a connection with another person—not even a lover, a fellow human—is as frightening as a death threat. Grown-up pride can’t hide the need to belong.

    So we hid, Babs and me. From the world, for years, for the same reasons, on fraternal twin timelines.

    I went underground a little later than Barbra. At thirty-three, I walked away from public office after seven successful years because I couldn’t live in the spotlight. Despite building playgrounds and guarding the treasury to the acclaim of voters and editorial cartoonists, I drew the curtains on 10,000 constituents.

    Fast-forward to forty and still single, my remaining confidence was shredded like a New York Times review. “One of these things is not like the others, one of these things does not belong” was my hit song. The words are forever imprinted in my brain.

    Stage fright seized Barbra’s confidence at twenty-five, when she forgot the words to a song, in front of 135,000 “voters,” under a literal death threat. Spotlight size is relative, though, so it was essentially the same situation as mine, and so Babs walked away from public performance too.

    What’s more, by her early forties, the great and powerful Ms. Streisand shared my Sadie envy. We had similar spinsterly reactions: we blamed ourselves and then spent years and thousands trying to fix ourselves.

    Working from home aided and abetted my self-imposed isolation for seven years. Barbra tightly controlled, well, everything, for twenty-seven years.

    Lucky her.

    While hiding from paying customers, Barbra used her talent to make the world a better place in performances for protecting the environment and civil rights. I try to make the world a better place by protecting animals and writing about single life. I hope I’m talented.

    We were happy during that time, B & me. Fear was barely an impediment. Life was a Greta Garbo bio-pic. We were content cocooning. Searching deep in our souls, we discovered we were already whole.

    Then we remembered we need people.

    Act 2: Babs and Me, Reprise.

    And people needed us.

    Were we ready for our comebacks? Seems so.

    Barbra hit the trail partly because her calendar was open: two films were serendipitously postponed. She also wanted to secure her financial future. Lucky her, she required only two performances to be set for life.

    A secure financial future is on my trail too, though right now I need two jobs to be set for the year. That said, I’m just about the age when Babs went public again. Give me another twenty years to achieve international fame and fortune.

    Time and money are powerful incentives, but as Barbra declared, “Opening your heart is the goal of the quest.” Ultimately, what brought us both back was the need for connection, with people.

    Despite stage fright and a black hole of confidence, we needed to belong, where we belong.

    So what did we do?

    Like twins, we did the same thing. Babs went back on tour. I went back East.

    While I moved home to Philadelphia, Barbra brought her home to the stage. The set for her first comeback concert looked like a living room, albeit Louis XIV’s living room.

    On her seven-month tour, Barbra had family on hand. On my return, I stayed with my sister for seven months. Needing people and living with them entail completely different kinds of vulnerability. And restraint.

    Barbra managed any word-related worries with Teleprompters. I prompted myself to exchange kind words with neighbors and to meet new friends—no worries.

    Babs had something to do with her hands, and visual aids. Me too—a puppy.

    She told stories, which is my real talent. Amusing anecdotes are mood-stabilizers for me.

    Speaking of drugs, we are both honest about it. Barbra and I benefitted from advances in psychopharmacology. A beta blocker here, an SSRI there, and we can face our mutual under-abundance of confidence.

    Medicine aside, maturity helped. By fifty, we understood that some losses are forever; some things cannot be changed. We realized we are each, first, a person who needs people, and that’s okay.

    Gambling with our vulnerability continues to pay confidence dividends.

    Barbra is able to do public shows whenever she wishes. She re-connects with her audience; she belongs on stage. Going solo in a duo society gives me the confidence to connect with people and to show up, for myself and my friends. This is where I belong.

    Barbra still retreats, hiding in Malibu, with James Brolin. I still hide at home, in Philadelphia, with yet another puppy.

    What’s really funny, girls and boys, is how many of us think hiding behind the curtain or in our bedrooms is riskier than opening night or opening a door. We might feel safe but we won’t ever feel secure without emotional connections. Poets, playwrights, and psychiatrists agree: people really do need people to survive.

    Maybe you have stage fright, and all the world is a stage. Maybe you are shy, or ‘new around here.’ Maybe you made a bad bet at work or love and lost your confidence.

    Take it from Fanny, Babs, and me, be vulnerable. Maybe for the first time, let yourself be a person who needs people and your luck will change.

    Are you ready for your Act 2?

    Man behind curtain image via Shutterstock

  • When Nothing Feels Like Enough: Filling the Void of Spiritual Need

    When Nothing Feels Like Enough: Filling the Void of Spiritual Need

    Spirituality

    “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive—to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” ~Marcus Aurelius

    I recently met a woman at a friend’s dinner party. She was tall and attractive, yet had a glowing, inviting energy about her. I liked her nearly immediately even though I had no concrete reason to. In my myopic mind, attractive and genuinely inviting energy do not combine, and I was naturally drawn to her for this combination.

    Just as the Universe would have it, the woman and I were seated next to each other for the duration of the evening. With a warm smile, she introduced herself and we engaged in courteous, commonplace “what do you do for work?” and “where did you grow up?” dialogue.

    Quickly, because we are the unique kind of soul-breed that we are (and perhaps due to many glasses of wine), we began divulging stories about our pasts, laughing together, and identifying with similarities. She manifested the three S’s I strive to embody; she was smart, sassy, and successful.

    The conversation eventually made its way to spirituality, as they always seem to do in my case. I sensed we had a deep knowing that we were both cut from the same cloth in terms of our spiritual energy.

    She began sharing with me about her spiritual healer and the work that they do together. Since I am a spiritual person and curious to learn from others’ experiences, I inquired more about it and came to find that she works with the same spiritual healer as Madonna.

    As in Madonna Madonna. Eighties. Multi-Grammy Award winner. Sold over 300 million records worldwide.

    That one.

    Instantaneously, I was struck with great surprise upon hearing that this prolific performer, the most successful woman in the music industry to date, has a spiritual healer, which indicates that she must need spiritual healing.

    Why in the world would the woman who has everything need that? What could she possibly be lacking?!

    I looked at my new friend and said, “Pardon if this question comes across as uncouth, but why would a woman who has everything have a healer?”

    She smiled.

    “When you have everything you could possibly want, and have accomplished everything you’ve ever dreamed, and it’s not enough to fulfill you, you realize you need something else developed deeper inside of yourself.”

    I was caught in my judgment. It makes sense in my mind once I focus on it, but my automatic assumption, my internal belief, is that people with money and celebrity don’t suffer or experience true hardship. I don’t have significant wealth or fame; therefore, I am an appropriate candidate for spiritual work. I am the one who needs it because I have nothing else to hold onto. Woe is me.

    This is a scapegoat for my ego. As long as I try to find wholeness and happiness outside of myself, I am off of the hook and don’t have the responsibility of working for it.

    How often I get caught in the belief that fulfillment is out there instead of within me.

    As real as my spiritual practice is, perspective proves to be a real challenge. My humanity is often at war with my divinity.

    I wish I could say I am evolved or enlightened enough not to worry. Worry about what other people think, worry about wearing the right fashion for the present season of the year, worry about my level of attraction, appearance of financial income, and career importance. But I am not.

    As quickly as one click on a photo on social media, with one passing of the magazine section at the grocery store, with a few minutes of window-shopping, or with one drive through a wealthy neighborhood, I find myself riddled with fantasy and victimization.

    I separate myself from what I perceive to be the Good, Rich, and Beautiful Life, putting things out there on a pedestal.

    Despite my “successes” in over three decades of life—traveling the globe, teaching in developing countries, earning two Masters degrees, being published, praised for beauty and brains—I still have to work on my spiritual landscape.

    I have to address that chasm deep in my chest that cannot be filled and that ebbs with fear; that part of me that says it’s never enough. Just like Madonna, the need is there for me, too.

    Moments after my new friend at the dinner party responded to me so graciously, I thought to myself, “Oh, Sarah. You still believe that there is a difference between people, that some have spiritual need and some do not. We all are in need. We are all the same at our core.”

    We are just people, spirits with bodies as our casing, and we are all in need of something more, even Madonna. After all, money and fame cannot buy personal healing, happiness, or wholeness.

    What I get to observe about myself in this situation is that I still all too easily fall prey to idolization of others and grandiose ideas of perfectionism. If only ___________, then I would be fulfilled and life would be good all the time.

    However, when I am engaged in my daily spiritual practice, I am not as concerned about external matters.

    When I am meditating, praying, sharing with others, being true to myself, and responding to life from a perspective of gratitude, I don’t take things personally. I enjoy the present moment. I notice the various ways laughter dances, the color of my barista’s eyes, and the flowers poking up from cracks in the sidewalk.

    Those practices provide perspective for me and allow me to appreciate the art of living. I do not experience lack when I am aware that each moment is a gift along with everything that moment offers—that is truly my spiritual practice. When I am tuned in to that spiritual frequency, which requires effort and discipline, I experience life with abundance.

    Often times we compare other people’s outsides to our insides, and it’s simply not fair to us or to them. When we compare at all we are robbing ourselves of the present moment, the most spiritual moment to be in, and we miss out on the beauty that is ours to cherish.

    No one is better or worse than another person yet we cling to labels, social status, and mainstream media to tell us who we should be and how we should appear.

    When we are connected to ourselves and we are actively engaging our spiritual work, we care little about out there. We learn how to define our own fulfillment and exist in a state of contentedness. We find we are enough for ourselves just as we are.

    In the words of Madonna herself, “Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another.”

    Meditating man image via Shutterstock

  • Learn to Love Yourself by Doing Something Good for Yourself

    Learn to Love Yourself by Doing Something Good for Yourself

    Orange Sky

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of sexual abuse and may be triggering to some people.

    “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~BrenéBrown 

    I was happiest when I didn’t know my weight, and that was ironically when I was at my heaviest, which was in high school.

    I was slow to take on the self-loathing and body image issues that plague so many young kids. I rarely felt bad about myself, partly because I had a loving family and a boyfriend who constantly told me how pretty I was.

    The boyfriend and I parted ways when I started college, and, thrust into a different world, I realized that I was fat. Before I knew it, I began absorbing what magazines suggest the ideal woman should look like.

    I tried changing my body, forcing it to do things I hated because I hated myself. Eating too much one day and eating too little the next was the answer to my fat problem, and exercising through the form of dogged running was the punishment for being “bad.”

    The Catalyst

    One year and two months from writing this, I was sexually assaulted. The situation fell into the “blurred lines” category. He bought me a drink and many more to follow, until I saw double, until I couldn’t stand anymore and fell tumbling onto the cobblestone ground of that foreign, lonely country.

    He didn’t need any drugs, all he had to do was talk smoothly like the snake he was, knowing that all it would take was a few drinks for someone of my size to lose her judgment; he knew me better than I knew myself.

    It took me a few days to register what had actually happened. He had gone far enough that I felt violated, used, and disgusted with myself, where looking and touching my own body felt dirty, but not far enough that I needed to go to the hospital take a pill.

    That night, as I moved in and out of alcohol poisoning-consciousness, in a moment of sanity I found my wits and told him to get out. He left peacefully, as though he was a good guy, but there was already enough damage done. I was never suicidal, but I was as close as I’d ever been to those kinds of thoughts.

    Returning to my family for much needed rehabilitation, I sought therapy and friends. It helped, but it didn’t heal. That’s because the love and support I was getting only worked as a Band-Aid. The trauma would never go away until I decided to kick it out of my home. And I tried. I really did try. But I was just too tired, too weak.

    One day a friend told me that maybe in order to kick trauma out, I needed to feel stronger, like I truly owned the place; what would make me feel like the master of the house again? Knowing how to defend myself. Knowing how to fight. Not being afraid of it.

    Perhaps knowing how to throw a punch wouldn’t have made a difference in last year’s situation; however, the experience instilled in me a fear of assault that was ten times stronger than it had been, simply because I knew what the aftermath of such an experience was like, and was so scared of it ever happening again that I became fixated on that one fear.

    That’s when I decided that even if I couldn’t fix the past, even if it had nothing to do with my physical strength, I needed to address the fear. I needed to take my life back and do something for myself. I knew I deserved that.

    I started taking Krav Maga, a form of Israeli combat defense. At first all I wanted was the guilt of the past to go away, with the knowledge that in the future I would never again be caught off guard, mentally or physically. That’s all I was asking: emotional and physical security.

    What I didn’t expect was that one self-defense class would turn into hours at the gym taking kickboxing and partaking in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, getting bruised from head to toe, which sounds like a beating, but I assure you it was a worthy one. I had never felt more alive or stronger in my life.

    The Change

    As I began to witness what my body could do, this new form of “exercise” became the detox for last year’s trauma. When I was knocked to the ground, instead of dwelling on my failure, I got right back up to continue the fight, because I owed it to my body.

    It wasn’t about my weight; it was about doing something positive for myself.

    Allowing myself to learn how to throw a hefty punch and be confident in my ability to do so not only made me feel good, it made me feel loved. For the first time in a long time, I loved myself. I learned how to be my own cheerleader, and not the little devil telling me that I can’t.

    I believe that giving yourself what you deserve and praising yourself can help you learn to love yourself; just getting there can be a little hard.

    I needed to reach a point where I threw aside my worth before I could choose to give my body and mind what they deserved, instead of letting them rot away in sorrow. I just never expected that this choice would not only heal last year’s pain, but also lead me to self-love.

    The Constant

    So I want everyone and anyone who has experienced something negative in their lives—no, I want people with all experiences—to sit down and think about what you need and what you’re going to do about it.

    Does that include taking time out for yoga? Trying out for a spot on SNL? It doesn’t matter. Take that idea, do it, but most importantly of all, be your own cheerleader. Love yourself. Know that you deserve it.

    Today when I look in the mirror and see a little muffin top, instead of spiraling into the abyss of negative thoughts and misery, I try to think of all the good things I do for myself and others. I think about how hard I sweat that morning, how much I read and learned that afternoon, and how the curry I cooked up made my family so happy.

    Miss Muffin Top is not the enemy; she’s a part of me, and should not be the scale for how much I’m allowed to honor my existence.

    Photo by Carlos Pantoja

  • The Gift of Kindness: A Simple Reason to Give What We Can

    The Gift of Kindness: A Simple Reason to Give What We Can

    Helping the Homeless

    “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” ~Dalai Lama

    “Look at that guy,” I said to my wife.

    We were circling the block looking for parking when I spotted him on the sidewalk in front of the bank. For some reason he stood out from the other people in the area.

    “Seems off,” I thought to myself.

    As I passed by, I kept an eye on him. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere, just walking back and forth along the sidewalk in front of the bank.

    He was looking around and moving around like he was waiting for someone, but clearly he was alone.

    We came back around the block and I parked in a loading/unloading zone.

    “Make sure they don’t tow me,” I joked to my wife. I hopped out of the car and made my way to the bank’s ATM on the sidewalk.

    Halfway through the transaction I heard a very small voice coming from behind me.

    “Can I have two dollars? I need two dollars for the bus.”

    The voice was so small that at first I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or someone else. I continued with my transaction without acknowledging the question.

    “That’s awesome. You’re ignoring me,” he continued.

    At this point I realized that he was talking to me. I didn’t respond.

    The voice got smaller and turned into mumbling. I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

    I finished the transaction and turned back toward my car. He was standing near my car but not in the way.

    I looked at him.

    In front of me was a disheveled, forty-something man. The years appeared cut into his face in the form of deep wrinkles accentuated with dirt.

    The wrinkles could have meant a man much older, but his overall demeanor suggested youth. He still had the aura of a younger person.

    His hair was very short and he was holding a coffee.

    As I walked toward my car he stopped talking. I got around to the driver side and opened the door.

    “No,” I said loudly and resolutely while looking at him. It was the answer to his earlier question, and also an answer to him in general.

    He didn’t respond.

    Driving away I felt uneasy and my mind replayed the situation a few times.

    I have given money to people in the past. It hasn’t happened often, but sometimes.

    My problem with this man was that I felt he didn’t need the money. It was the coffee that bothered me. He had a cup of coffee in his hands. Premium coffee.

    Coffee, I later learned, would be our connection.

    I had forgotten about him by the next day while I was waiting in the Starbucks drive-through line. We reached the service window.

    “Hi! The car in front of you paid for you,” the barista said.

    “What?” I replied. I was caught off guard.

    “Your order has been paid for,” she reiterated. She handed us our items. “You’re good to go.”

    “Thanks,” I replied reaching for the items.

    My daughter asked me why I was shaking my head as we pulled forward.

    “The universe is always teaching me lessons,” I said smilingly.

    She looked at me blankly.

    That’s what I call it when stuff like this happens—the universe teaching me lessons.

    Over the years I have learned to pick up on this phenomena. The lessons are broad and typically focus on topics like compassion, forgiveness, understanding, and renewal. They always emerge through the random coupling of everyday events.

    Some lessons are blatant, but others can be very subtle. The subtle ones are the best. Sometimes I will only “get it” after a couple of days letting it sink in.

    This one I considered blatant. The lesson being:

    Share what you have. Give—even if they don’t need it.

    I didn’t give that man any money because I didn’t believe he needed it. My assumption was that earlier that day he had traded some of his money for that coffee he was holding.

    If he really needed two dollars, then he shouldn’t have spent his money on that coffee.

    But, that reaction is totally contrary to the lesson.

    Later, as I stewed on the lesson, a couple of thoughts occurred to me: Maybe there was no coffee in that cup. Maybe he was collecting change with it. Maybe the cup was empty. Maybe the cup only had water in it.

    The point was that I didn’t know. I assumed.

    The bigger point was that it didn’t matter whether the cup was filled with premium coffee, gold coins, or anything else.

    Giving is not about the other person’s perceived need; it’s about the act itself.

    We are choosing to be the best version of ourselves when our actions demonstrate the best within us.

    Do you remember how you felt the last time you gave? I am willing to bet you felt good about yourself, and good about the act. And that’s great!

    Now, was that good feeling because you filled a need, or because of the act in general?

    Think about it. You can say it was both, but I am also willing to bet that you would feel just as good if you gave to someone who didn’t really need it.

    The good feeling comes because giving is an act of kindness.

    The person in front of me in the drive-through that day could have looked in her rearview mirror and concluded that I didn’t need it.

    After all, I am driving a newer car, my clothes were clean, and the assumption is that I can afford a coffee since I am already in the drive through line.

    Her gift to me was not because I needed it.

    Her gift to me was about kindness. It was about doing that extra little bit to lift someone else up.

    Lesson taught. Lesson understood.

    Photo by Ed Yourdon

  • Why We Don’t Always Get What We Want

    Why We Don’t Always Get What We Want

    Lonely Man

    “Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.” ~Dalai Lama

    It’s probably happened to you. In all likelihood, it has happened multiple times in your life thus far.

    You don’t understand why it happens. And when it does, it can throw you into the deepest valleys of despair.

    Perhaps you cry out to a higher power to make things better. Maybe you just stare into the cosmos, wondering what the meaning of life is and why things get tough.

    I’ve been there. Many times. For all sorts of reasons.

    Breakups, career problems, dealing with a death, financial issues, there are a million things that can put you into this frame of mind.

    You know what you want more than anything, but no matter what you do, the universe just doesn’t seem to give it to you. Why? Why can’t things just be easier, simpler? Why can’t things get better?

    Why can’t we get what we want?

    A few years ago I was going through an extremely difficult time in my life. My fiancé of four years had broken up with me. Over the phone.

    No visit. No long talk about how we could maybe work it out. She just told me she couldn’t do it anymore.

    And just like that, I was thrown into that valley.

    I spent the next few months searching for answers. I read through different religious texts, self-help sites, and scientific books. I prayed, I meditated, and I even tried to visualize the thing that I wanted the most. 

    I just wanted my fiancé back.

    My work suffered at my job, though I didn’t notice. It took an old friend, one of my bosses, calling me into his office and having an honest conversation for me to realize that I was basically coasting through the weeks.

    In the evenings, I was plagued by dreams of my ex. In them, we were happy and together. Everything had worked out.

    Of course, I always woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying. Yeah, I woke up crying.

    I was raised to believe in a higher power. But during those nights of torture, I found myself pounding my pillow and begging him/her to make everything better.

    Nothing ever got better, though.

    Talks with friends yielded no good counsel. As a student of the psychological sciences, and a counselor myself, their cliché words only served to frustrate me.

    “There’s a reason for everything.” “If it’s meant to be.” “Time heals all wounds.” The more I heard their fortune cookie advice, the angrier I became. 

    And the whole time, I continued to beg the higher power to fix everything.

    One day at my job, I was talking to one of the teachers I worked with. She was a huge fan of Native American history and had an interesting perspective on my predicament.

    She suggested that I go on a vision quest.

    I’d done one of these when I was in graduate school as part of an assignment. We had studied the ancient technique the natives used when they were searching for answers, so I was pretty familiar with the process.

    If you don’t know what a vision quest is, you go out to a place where all you can do is observe the world around you and focus intensely on the thoughts that come as a result.

    This time, though, the stakes were much higher than on my previous quest.

    I decided to do it on a weekend and woke up the following Saturday morning with one mission in mind: to find answers. 

    The former capital of the Cherokee nation was only twenty minutes from my house, now set aside as a state park. I figured what better place to do a vision quest than where the Native Americans used to live?

    It was a chilly morning, and the forests surrounding the historical site were thick with fog as I began my walk.

    I stopped at various points along the way to meditate and pray. There was one spot next to a gentle brook where I watched the birds and squirrels scurrying about their day, mirroring the many thoughts and feelings rushing around in my head.

    While nature was peaceful around me, a storm still raged in my heart centering around a single question: Why can’t I have what I want?

    I continued the walk, writing down every thought and emotion that came to my mind. Minutes turned into hours and, as I neared the fourth hour of my quest, I decided it was getting close to time for me to leave. Empty handed.

    I neared the top of a ridge at the edge of the sacred land and looked up into the leafy canopy of the forest. Poplar, oak, and maple leaves hung silently above me.

    “I just want to know why you won’t fix this for me,” I said out loud, bitterly.

    Suddenly, my mind was whisked back to the school where I work to a point a few weeks before and a conversation I’d had with one of my students. I’d walked into the computer classroom to see what everyone was working on that day and he’d gotten my attention.

    “Hey, can you fix my grade in this class so I can pass?”

    The question caught me off guard and I laughed. “Yeah, I can do that,” I surprised him with my answer. As a school counselor, I have access to that kind of stuff.

    His face became hopeful. “You can?”

    I went on to explain to him that I could do that, but I wouldn’t.

    He asked why.

    I told him it was because if I fixed everything for him like that, he would never learn anything.

    My brain zipped back to the moment, standing on the forest trail. The realization punched me in the face like Mike Tyson in his prime.

    A smile crept onto my face. Then I began to laugh and looked back up into the treetops.  A robust breeze rolled in, waving the high branches around dramatically.

    I continued to smile as I spun around staring dizzily into the rustling leaves.

    That was it. If someone or something always fixed everything for me all the time, I would never learn anything. More than that, I would never be able to do anything for myself in life. I would always be dependent on someone or something else to make things better for me. 

    I would never be able to learn another language, live in a foreign environment, try new foods or activities, or grow as a person in any way.

    Sometimes in life things happen that can be difficult, and often they can be extremely painful. We must push through those moments where all seems lost. When we do, we can find a new us on the other side that is wiser and more beautiful than we ever imagined.

    By working through these difficult changes in life, we grow into something new, better, stronger.

    To paraphrase what the Rolling Stones said: You can’t always get what you want. But you get what you need.

    Photo by Zigg-E

  • How to Recognize and Help When Someone Needs Support

    How to Recognize and Help When Someone Needs Support

    “When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another-and ourselves.” ~Jack Kornfield

    After planning the next three months of my life in my head, trying to focus on my breath and recounting the plans for tomorrow, I decided my battle with insomnia was going to win. I got up, careful not to wake my husband, and decided to start reading.

    Nestling into the lines of my latest library book well after midnight, my phone began to beep.

    Even in the most quiet of the night, are we ever really alone?

    I thought to myself, who else could be awake at this hour? It was my twin sister all the way across the country, struggling with insomnia herself. Ready to share my latest updates with her, something in me encouraged me to ask how she was doing and why she was still awake.

    It was in the stillness of the evening that I slowed down to think of someone other than myself.

    I wondered, if the sun was brightly shining and I was carrying on with my own busyness, would I have answered her text message? If I were rushing through the day, would I have noticed her hint of sadness?

    She recounted the daily stressors and recent disagreement with a friend. In her written words, I sensed an echo of loneliness, a tinge of yearning for connection.

    So often in the busyness of our own self-absorbed lives we fail to notice when others are in need of connection. If we are in need, can’t we recognize that others are too?

    So many of us feel alone in our day-to-day trials, but as I remember learning as a young girl, when we focus our love on others, it betters our own hearts too.   

    How to take a few minutes out of your busy day for others:

    1. Do not hesitate to make the call.

    My sister-in-law started a movement within our family. Nonchalantly one night, she mentioned on my voicemail, “I decided if I’m thinking of someone to call right in that moment—and so I’m calling you,” she said.

    It does not take too much time just to say hi. Even if you cannot talk long, the gesture of your voice might be the song someone needs to hear.

    2. Write it out the old fashioned way.

    I’m a lover of stationary and stickers—the Internet’s nemeses. Nowadays, our mailboxes overflow with countless bills, excessive ads, and unwanted insurance offers.

    Be daring and surprise someone with a note, even if it’s just a few short sentences. You’ll only spend a few cents on postage, but your thought and care will be that bright treasure amongst the gloomy pile of trash.

    3. Imagine if it were you.

    When we hear about others’ problems, often times our objectivity offers a healthy perspective. Other times, however, it distances us from the emotional heartache and pain of those in need.

    When you hear the weakened voice of a loved one or look into fading eyes, try to open yourself wider and truly see the situation from their perspective. Genuinely saying, “I hear you” creates understanding and connection.

    4. Listen.

    I’m a talker and a fixer. When I hear someone’s problems, halfway through the story I want to rattle off my suggestions. But sometimes, we just need to vent. We need the ear of another to soak up the words of our wounds.

    I am learning this more and more each time I need to cry out and am not heard. We all have so much to say so often, so many times silence and a gentle nod of acceptance is what we really need.

    5. Think of your mother.

    What did we need when we were younger? Our mothers. No matter how diverse or painful our relationships were with our mothers or if they are no longer with us, we can all become that wise-feminine soul to stabilize the masculine vigor of our modern world.

    While action, goal setting, and swiftness are much needed, so are vulnerability, softness, and nurturing elements.

    6. Become a comedian.

    We hear about the positive biological impact of laughter. Be an advocate yourself. If you have offered time and encouragement, lighten the setting with a little laughter. Be sure to gauge your joke as not to offend but rather soothe.

    As my sister and I completed our novel length texts back and forth, she appreciated the words we shared and I saw our conversation as a compliment of her trust in me.

    We may not all have those two o’clock in the morning bonding opportunities with our siblings as the rest of the world dreams, but we all have twenty-four hours to seek out a wounded soul in need of our light.

     

  • The Hunger for More: What We Really Want and Need

    The Hunger for More: What We Really Want and Need

    Screen shot 2013-04-24 at 10.19.02 AM

    “Instead of complaining that the rose bush is full of thorns, be happy the thorn bush has roses.” ~Proverb

    As a child, I was obsessed with other worlds—reading about alien planets, writing fantasy stories, or just playing video games. As a teenager, I longed to know as much as possible— who we were, why we are here, the meaning of life.

    Later on, I started traveling. There was so much to see, so much to do, so many ways to look at the world. I wanted to see it all, touch it all, experience it all.

    This need for more has existed throughout my life in its many forms, and I can thank it for always driving me to do great, exciting things. But at the same time, it has never allowed me to stay still, to just enjoy myself the way so many people seem to.

    When I ignore this feeling, it starts gnawing away at me from the inside. It tells me that I am not doing enough, that I’m lazy, a time-waster. Some would call the feeling a feeling of becoming stir-crazy, cabin fever, ennui.

    I look at it as a hunger. When I ignore that hunger, when I stop traveling or learning or creating or just doing, the weight of the world piles up on me and life suddenly feels like a suffocating, restricting place.

    If I continue to ignore it, I tend to slip into depression or sadness; the smallest of stresses will bring me to tears.

    But what is that hunger? Do we all have it, to some degree? Without the human desire for knowledge and development, we might all still be living in caves.

    Without it, we wouldn’t have medical and technological developments, and we wouldn’t have art or poetry, perhaps. But on the other hand, we might not have war, hatred, and greed.

    That hunger takes different forms depending on how it is channelled.

    Given the right circumstances, we get creativity, ambition, and invention. Given the wrong ones, we get that dark, burning need to amass more and more money and power—that greed that can be seen in so many people throughout our history.

    We often try feeding that hunger with money, power, knowledge, creative output, food, sex, or drugs. We desperately try everything to fill that void, apart from what we really need.

    Four years ago, when I was on the verge of depression, a friend suggested that I try mindfulness. In short, the art of being in the here and now, of focusing on the senses instead of the thoughts, and of looking at thoughts objectively.

    It took a while, but what my most successful moments of mindfulness showed me is that it is possible to be still, to absorb a moment fully, without that restlessness, that hunger, starting to tap its foot and demand to know what on earth I think I’m doing.

    Quieting the nagging voice in my head has become an art of its own, now.

    The most powerful moments are found walking through nature, just listening to the variety of bird song, or feeling the ancient strength of a tree against my back.

    In those moments, another, older feeling comes to me. That feeling is of being one; one with myself, one with nature, one with everything. The flowers, the trees and the birds are just a part of it.

    In the heart of a forest I realize something so true, so powerful, that it brings tears to my eyes.

    We are animals. We are part of the earth, just as any animal or plant is. Somewhere along the line, we evolved to crave more, to be aware of our surroundings, and to think about ways to improve it. That craving brought us the modern comforts that we know now, but it also brought with it a world of suffering.

    In our haste to become more, to know and to create, we also felt that it was our destiny to conquer not only each other, but also nature. But this very act of cutting ourselves off from our roots has had disastrous consequences for many.

    Most of us crave companionship, whether we seek it by clinging to romantic partners or through a string of disconnected, drunken nights. We are addicted to social networking, perhaps not because of the technology itself but because it substitutes for that feeling of oneness, of connection, that we have lost.

    We, in the developing world, are starving ourselves. This fast-paced, technology-based life, focused only on the acquiring of money and status is a twisted manifestation of a hunger that exists deep down in every one of us.

    But what that hunger really is, what that calling inside us really is, is a call back to oneness, to our roots, which we ignore.

    One way to describe it is that we all have souls, and that our souls are connected to the earth and everything on it. Or, you could say, every atom in your body was once part of something else on this earth, and will be again.

    Without nature, we cannot eat or breathe, and yet we lock ourselves up in man-made cubicles and unquestioningly buy food from packets.

    We also need to connect to each other. We might seem to connect online, but it is at the cost of face-to-face interaction, which is far better for us.

    It worries me to see children glued to phones and games, ignoring the people around them. If we aren’t even teaching people to connect to each other and to their world, then there’s little wonder that so many people are unhappy.

    Ironically, people slave away unhappily so that, one day, they can relax in the countryside or on the beach. That retirement dream might be nothing more than recognition that we need to surround ourselves with a more natural environment, not in some distant future but right now.

    I’m not saying that we should abandon all human progress and go back to living in caves. Some inventions have saved lives and made it possible for us to live much longer and healthier lives. However, we need to look at the mental health problem we’re facing and consider all other possibilities before throwing drugs at people.

    Nature therapy and mindfulness are growing industries, and have been shown to treat everything from substance abuse to depression and anxiety.

    You can see the effects yourself; just sit in a park and close your eyes, listening to the birds or the running water. Turn off your phone and let yourself just BE.

    Recognize that you were created by nature; that you are part of it and it is part of you. I have been so much happier since I honoured this core part of myself, and I want to share it with everyone.

    I believe the hunger is a calling—a calling back to where we came from. We are each one tiny part of a massive picture, and when we disconnect ourselves from it we are denying ourselves the beautiful, meaningful feeling that comes from recognizing that we are all part of the same amazing world.

    Photo by notsogoodphotography