Tag: pause

  • How to Speak from the Heart: Let Your First Word Be a Breath

    How to Speak from the Heart: Let Your First Word Be a Breath

    “Mindfulness is a pause—the space between stimulus and response: that’s where choice lies.” ~Tara Brach

    We’ve all been there.

    A sharp reply. A snide remark. A moment when we said something that didn’t come from our heart but from somewhere else entirely—a need to be right, to sound smart, to prove a point, to stay in control, or simply to defend ourselves.

    What follows is the spinning. The knowing that what was said didn’t align with our soul. The overthinking, the replaying of the moment, the rumination, the regret, the tightening in the chest, the wish we could take it back.

    We justify, we rationalize—but deep down, we know those words weren’t true to who we really are. They weren’t true to the part of us that longs to connect.

    For many years, I lived in that loop.

    I prided myself on being kind, thoughtful, intelligent, articulate, in control. I made every effort to be so. But I was operating from a place filled with expectations and invisible scripts—needing to prove, impress, or protect. I was filling roles: the composed professional, the high achiever, the witty and loyal friend, the perfect daughter and sister, the confident partner, and the ideal mother.

    And so, although my words were often considered, they lacked something deeper and essential: heart.

    I thought being thoughtful meant thinking more. Planning my responses. Winning debates. But what I didn’t realize was that thinking without presence can become a wall, not a bridge.

    It wasn’t until I learned to pause—to breathe—to allow space between stimulus and response, and to use that space to connect within, that I began to understand a different kind of thoughtfulness. A deeper kind: heartfulness.

    This is wisdom—not intellectual but embodied. It lives not in the mind, but in the body. In the breath. In the heart.

    The Journey Back to the Heart

    This shift didn’t happen overnight.

    It came slowly as I gave myself permission to pause, to reflect, to grow. I started noticing how my words were shaping my relationships and my experience of life overall. I wanted to feel better. Calmer. More connected. Ruminate less. Regret less. Suffer less. Feel happier, more relaxed, more authentic.

    Mindfulness opened that door.

    Through meditation, self-inquiry, and contemplative reading, I began to understand the power of being impeccable with my words.

    Books like The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz—and its core teaching: be impeccable with your word—resonated deeply. So did the Buddhist teaching on Right Speech, which invites us to ask before speaking: Is this kind? Is this honest? Is this timely? Does it add value?

    These questions became my framework.

    I would repeat them silently each morning during meditation. I would return to them during conversations, especially the difficult ones. Eventually, they became part of me.

    And here’s what I realized: being impeccable with our words isn’t just about avoiding gossip or negativity.

    It’s about creating love.

    It’s about adding to the world rather than taking from it.

    It’s about using words to build, not break.

    That meant pausing before I spoke. Feeling into my body. Listening for what was true beneath the surface.

    And slowly, my words began to change.

    I began to feel the quiet power of responding instead of reacting. I was no longer using my energy to defend or ruminate.  Instead, I was using it to create connection and kindness.

    This was a new kind of power—not the kind that makes us feel “in control,” but the kind that offers space. Space to connect with who I really am. Space to choose love.

    A Simple, Yet Powerful Phrase to Remember

    Just a few weeks ago, I came across a podcast where Jefferson Fisher, a Texas trial lawyer who speaks often about emotional regulation and grounded communication was being interviewed.

    He suggested:

    “May your first word be a breath.”

    And in that moment, I felt the wisdom of the years of practice, reflection, and self-inquiry come together in one clear, simple, and practical sentence, something I could share with others to help implement and integrate the power of pausing before speaking.

    This quote offered the simplest reminder for the wisdom I have spent years cultivating.

    If there is one thing that you take away from this article, let it be this: “Let a breath be your first response” and see what happens.

    This phrase has become a kind of shorthand for me.

    A phrase I carry into parenting, relationships, conversations, and teaching.

    Because when your first word is a breath…

    You create space. You reconnect with the part of you that knows who you want to be. You return to the heart—before habitual reactivity takes over.

    Why This Matters

    Our brains are wired for efficiency. Most of us live and act from a place of patterned reactivity, what neuroscience calls the default mode network. This is the brain’s autopilot, built from years of conditioning and past experiences. It’s like mental autopilot: fast, familiar, and often defensive.

    The brain does not distinguish from good or bad, from positive or negative, from happier or unhappy. It doesn’t filter for what’s kind, truthful, or wise—it simply scans for what’s familiar and safe. It’s designed for survival, not fulfilment.

    And when we’re triggered—by stress, conflict, or fear—our nervous system kicks into fight-or-flight mode. In this state, we’re primed to protect, defend, or escape. Our field of vision narrows. Our breath shortens. Our first words are often fast, defensive, sharp—not because we’re unkind, but because we’re unsafe.

    This is why we say things we regret.

    It’s why we speak without consideration, even when we know better.

    It’s why our words can feel out of sync with who we truly are.

    But mindfulness interrupts that cycle.

    It invites us to pause. To observe. To breathe.

    And in that pause, we return to ourselves. We reconnect with the part of us that knows. And we get to choose again.

    This matters because when we give ourselves permission to pause, to check in, and to bring more heart into our lives, we begin to create something more meaningful.

    We stop living in reaction.

    We stop creating pain for ourselves and others.

    And instead, we begin to cultivate an inner peace that radiates outward, into our relationships, our work, and our presence in the world.

    Let This Be Your Invitation

    “May my first word be a breath.”

    Not because you have to believe in it, but because you can experience its benefits immediately.

    Try it the next time you’re in a difficult moment—before replying to that message. Before responding to your child’s cry. Before defending yourself in an argument.

    Pause. Feel your feet on the ground. Feel your body.

    Breathe in for two seconds. Hold for two seconds. Breathe out for two seconds.

    And ask yourself: What would my heart want to say here?

    The Life That Becomes Possible

    Imagine a life where your words feel true. Where your voice comes from clarity, not chaos. Where you speak, not to prove, impress, or control, but to connect.

    A life where your presence calms the room, not because you’ve mastered perfection, but because you’ve learned to pause.

    This is the life I live now.

    Not perfectly, but intentionally.

    It’s the life that opened up when I stopped performing and started pausing. When I chose presence over reactivity. When I let my heart lead instead of habit.

    It’s available to all of us.

    And it begins not with a plan, a list, or a big transformation. It begins with something much simpler.

    A breath.

    So if you’re looking for one practice to change your life—one small shift that creates ripples in how you speak, relate, and live—let it be this:

    May your first word be a breath.

  • Trusting the Pause: When Patience Is Better Than Pushing

    Trusting the Pause: When Patience Is Better Than Pushing

    “The most powerful thing you can do right now is be patient while things are unfolding for you.” ~Idil Ahmed⠀ 

    I still remember my last year of college vividly. I was frustrated and disheartened after my application to study abroad was rejected. I had been obsessed with exploring the world through academia, convinced that further study was the best way to achieve my dream.

    While most of my peers were preparing to enter the workforce, I envisioned a different path for myself—one that involved research, intellectual growth, and ultimately a career in academia.

    However, there was one major obstacle: my English proficiency. Since English is not my native language, I struggled to meet the minimum IELTS score required for my application. My first attempt was a disaster. I scored poorly in the speaking part and barely passed the writing section. I never expected it to be this difficult.

    The test was expensive, making it impractical to retake the test multiple times without the confidence of passing it. I felt trapped. If I failed again, I had no backup plan—I had not applied for any jobs, fully investing myself in the dream of studying abroad. The dilemma weighed heavily on me: Should I continue pushing myself to pass the test and secure a scholarship, or abandon my dream and focus on competing in the job market?

    Both options felt like dead ends. I was not good enough to pass the test, nor was I prepared to compete for jobs.

    In my frustration, I sought consolation in books. I read some spiritual books in hope of finding peace. That was when I encountered Rumi’s quote, which he quotes from his mentor: “When I run after what I think I want, my days are a furnace of distress and anxiety. If I sit in my own place of patience, what I need flows to me, without pain.”

    The words struck me deeply. I realized that I had been fixated on a single path, convinced it was the only way to reach my goal. I had never considered any other alternatives.

    I have been a fan of Rumi since high school. When I entered college, I found even more of his works that resonated with me. During this time, I also became interested in spiritualism and self-awareness. That is also when I started practicing meditation as part of martial arts training.

    I decided to take Rumi’s wisdom to heart. Instead of obsessing over the problem, I stopped forcing a solution and, for the first time, embraced stillness.

    It felt unproductive at first, but gradually, I began to understand something: If I was not ready for my dream at that moment, then perhaps it was not meant to happen yet. I accepted that progress would not come instantly and that my journey was not over just because I had hit a roadblock.

    Stillness reduced my anxiety and my self-deprecation at least. It restored the feeling that I was alright, and the sky was still above me. Amidst this realization, a friend from high school called me. She asked if I had graduated, and when I said yes, she mentioned a vacant teaching assistant position at her school.

    I sat up straight. I had a degree in education, so yes, teaching is my forte. More importantly, this particular school is an international school where most of the students and the teachers are expatriates.

    I did not fully understand it at the time, but I felt that this was exactly what Rumi means by “what I need flows to me, without pain.” So I said yes without hesitation.

    Long story short, I got the job. As a teaching assistant, I basically helped the main teacher to prepare the learning material and assisted the students with their work. The environment immersed me in English—I spoke it all day, read documents, read books, and wrote reports in English, improving my English significantly.

    Eight months after I started working at that school, I retook the test. I felt truly confident. The anxiety was gone, and I knew I would at least meet the minimum score. The test was, as Rumi promised, painless. I did not achieve the perfect score, but it was more than enough. I felt relieved, and I knew that the biggest obstacle had been eliminated.

    The test I took was just the beginning of my journey to studying abroad. I completed all the required administrative processes and secured a spot at my desired university just three months after the test. I was also accepted into a scholarship program, so within a year of my initial uncertainty about my future, I experienced a joy that I had never imagined before. Everything fell into place, and I realized it was meant to happen at that time.

    Patience, I realized, is the best cure for anxiety. Yet, most of us—including me at that time—struggle with it. The urge to take control and rush toward our goals is overwhelming. We are always taught to push, to strive, to achieve. Surrender and waiting are never part of the curriculum.

    I now believe that while ambition is important, relentless pursuit is not always the answer. Patience is not about giving up; it is the ability to wait while still focusing on the target. I think it is similar to a lion when it hunts its prey. The lion remains still, observing, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. A predator understands that patience is the key to success.

    So patience is not passive. It is an active projection of trust and readiness. Through this particular experience, I started to understand the differences between stillness and doing nothing.

    When I relax and allow myself to slow down, an alternative path emerges. What I once considered a detour—getting a job—ended up being the very thing that helped me to reach my goal. By not chasing my dream directly but rather waiting patiently while doing something else, I ultimately found my way.

    Now, whenever I am in pursuit of something, I remind myself to pause. I take a step back, observe, and ensure that the odds are not stacked against me. If they are, I wait patiently and explore other possibilities. Because sometimes, the best way forward is to stand still.

  • Why We All Need to Pause More Often and How to Do It

    Why We All Need to Pause More Often and How to Do It

    “Taking time to do nothing often brings everything into perspective.” ~Doe Zantamata

    I have always been that person who just cannot seem to slow down. An overachiever? That’s putting it mildly. In every aspect of my life—work, relationships, personal goals—I have always pushed myself to the absolute limit. It is like I have this internal drive that just won’t quit.

    At work, I am always the first one in and the last to leave. Deadlines? I would meet them days early. Projects? I would volunteer for extra ones, even when my plate was already full. And don’t even get me started on my personal life. Whether it was fitness goals, learning new skills, or maintaining relationships, I approached everything with the same intensity.

    I set these incredibly high standards for myself, and I didn’t ever want to fall short. The thought of not meeting my own expectations was like this constant knot in my stomach, anxiety at its peak. I was relentless, always pushing, always striving, never giving myself a break.

    And as for motives, once I set my mind to something, there was no going back. I would make these strict plans and stick to them religiously. It didn’t matter if I was exhausted or if life threw a curveball my way. I would power through, even during the hardest burnouts I ever had in my life.

    Looking back, I realize I was incredibly hard on myself. It wasn’t just about avoiding certain behaviors or sticking to my goals. It was this rigid, almost punishing approach to everything. I had this idea that if I wasn’t constantly pushing forward, I would somehow fall behind.

    Being strict to the core might sound admirable, but let me tell you, it comes at a cost. There were times when I would lie awake at night, my mind racing with all the things I needed to do and all the goals I hadn’t yet achieved. Relaxation was a foreign concept. Taking a break felt like failure.

    It’s funny, you know. People would often tell me to take it easy, to give myself a break. But in my mind, that was just an excuse for mediocrity. I couldn’t fathom the idea of not giving 110% to everything I did.

    Little did I know, this relentless drive was setting me up for a major wake-up call. But that’s the thing about being an overachiever—you don’t realize you are burning the candle at both ends until, well, there’s no candle left to burn.

    It wasn’t until I forced myself to take a step back that I realized the toll this constant cycle of proving myself was taking on my mental health. I remember a particular moment when I felt completely overwhelmed by the endless to-do lists and expectations that I could not meet, no matter what. Instead of powering through like usual, I decided to pause.

    It is like the saying goes: We need to step back to see the bigger picture. We, as humans, have tunnel vision. The pause from the chaos of daily life hustle made me realize what I had been missing all along.

    I realized that my worth wasn’t defined by perfection but by my ability to be present, to find joy in the journey, and to extend kindness to myself. I had personified myself into these roles. Great friendship and good mentorship made me realize what taking a pause really meant.

    I have always gone above and beyond to prove to everyone around me that I am capable of doing great things too. But that stopped when I paused and thought about living up to their expectations of a great life more than mine.

    So, did I stop doing everything?

    No, definitely not; stopping doing everything in life and taking a pause is different. Pausing is not about grinding to a halt or procrastinating. It’s about creating space—to breathe, to reflect, and to gain perspective. And ironically, it’s in those moments of stillness that we often find the clarity and inspiration to move forward with greater purpose and fulfillment.

    What exactly happened when I took a pause?

    I realized a few things when I started taking pauses in my life:

    Clear picture: Taking a pause made me look at my life and perceive what was really going on with a clear perspective. It made me look at my problems from a different angle.

    Focus: Although I gave importance to all the things around me, the constant grind and cycle of work kept me from focusing on things that really needed to be looked into. Pausing changed my focus from being a people-pleaser to what I want myself to be.

    Health: How many times have we all eaten what we got our hands on whenever we were hungry and regretted our food choices later? A better focus on my life made me want to look at my food choices and exercise routine differently. This change made a good impact on my health.

    Stress: The amount of stress I was relieved from as soon as I started taking breaks was good; nah, it was great! Stress is something everyone has in their lives nowadays. I bet you can’t find anyone who is stress-free in life. (Even the rich are stressed about how to invest their money better.) Taking a little pause from the stress of what’s next is great for everyone in life, not just me.

    Energy levels: It is indeed true that energy levels are boosted after a much-deserved break from any routine. My positive energy was high in dopamine; I had clear goals for what to do. I was motivated to do certain things I would have postponed if I hadn’t realized I deserved the pause.

    Better work: There are two types of people: those who want a break before doing great work, and those who can only take a break after their good work. (This was an Instagram meme, by the way.) Whichever category you fit in, you need a break to perform at your best. I have observed that I work better after a good coffee break; my creativity is then at its peak.

    How did I incorporate pauses into my life?

    You might be thinking, “I don’t have the time to take a pause. My time is valuable.” A motto I have also suffered from, like most people in life. Pauses need not be as big as becoming unemployed, dropping all that you usually do, and starting new things.

    Meditation: It can be as simple as a ten-minute mindfulness meditation session. All you have to do is breathe and release that cortisol out of your body.

    Exercise: If you are someone who doesn’t like to sit still, you can go for a walk or run perhaps. A quick adrenaline pump can make you energized. Research suggests that your energy levels stay the same even an hour after exercise.

    Work break: If you are someone who works a lot, you can take five-minute breaks to maintain your workflow. You can also practice the Pomodoro technique, which a mentor of mine taught. It involves working for twenty-five minutes, followed by a five-minute break.

    How did I recognize the signs that I needed a pause?

    It’s funny how our bodies and minds have ways of telling us when we need to slow down. It’s like they’re waving red flags, trying to get our attention. I started noticing these little signs popping up more and more.

    There were days when I would wake up feeling like I had run a marathon in my sleep: totally exhausted, head pounding, and shoulders so tense. And I could not focus on any of my tasks. It was like my brain had decided to take an unscheduled vacation without bothering to inform me.

    Emotionally? Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly winning any “most cheerful person” awards. I found myself snapping at the smallest things, feeling anxious over stuff that normally wouldn’t faze me. People were constantly walking on eggshells around me. It was like my emotional fuse had shortened.

    And then there were the behavioral changes. Suddenly, I was the queen of procrastination, putting off tasks I usually tackled head-on. My coffee consumption skyrocketed. I mean, how else was I supposed to function?

    It took me a while to realize that these were all signs pointing to one thing: I desperately needed a pause.

    But here’s the thing: Taking a break isn’t just about flopping onto the couch and zoning out (though sometimes that’s exactly what we need). It’s about creating an environment that actually lets you recharge.

    I started by decluttering my space. You’d be amazed by how much mental clarity you can get just by tidying up a bit. I carved out a little corner of my home that became my ‘pause zone’—no work allowed, just pure relaxation.

    Setting boundaries was a game-changer. I had to train my family and friends to understand that when I was in my pause zone, it was like I had an invisible “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging over my head.

    I got a bit fancy with it, too. I started using some lavender essential oil (turns out, it really does help you chill out) and found this great playlist of nature sounds. There is nothing like the sound of gentle waves to make you forget about your overflowing inbox, right?

    The point is, creating a space that encourages you to pause doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s about finding what helps you unwind and making it a regular part of your routine. Because, let’s face it, we all need those moments to step back, take a breath, and remind ourselves that the world won’t fall apart if we take a little break now and then.

    I have also come to realize that taking a break doesn’t always mean jetting off to some exotic location or spending a fortune on a lavish vacation. Sometimes, the most effective pauses are the small ones we take in our daily lives.

    It could be as simple as changing up your morning routine, like maybe taking a different route to work or savoring your coffee on the porch instead of rushing out the door. Perhaps it’s dedicating ten minutes to mindfulness before bed or taking a quick walk around the block during your lunch break.

    These mini pauses, these tiny shifts in our day-to-day patterns, are like little reset buttons for our minds. They give us a chance to step back, even if just for a moment, and see our lives from a slightly different angle.

    And often, it’s these small, consistent breaks that make the biggest difference. They remind us that pausing isn’t about escaping our lives but about being more present in them. So next time you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember: A meaningful break doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes, the smallest pause can offer the greatest perspective.

  • How I Broke Free from My Toxic Need to Achieve

    How I Broke Free from My Toxic Need to Achieve

    “If it’s out of your hands, it deserves freedom from your mind too.” ~ Ivan Nuru

    “Honey, we’re gonna call you an ambulance.”

    The woman on the other end of the phone at the hospital call center sounded stern as I lay on my bathroom floor in my robe, writhing in pain, barely able to speak.

    I never knew you could hyperventilate from pain, I remember thinking.

    It was December, and I’d just returned home from a stressful international work trip with jet lag and exhaustion as my souvenirs. The sensitive, introverted parts of myself I normally shoved under the veneer of Ms. Capable Can-Do-It-All were overstimulated by the constant activity and overwhelmed by interacting with so many coworkers in a city I didn’t know.

    During the trip, my cousin called me. They never call me.

    “Grandpa died,” they said.

    In my grief, I did my best to find last-minute flights back to see family in the US, but I missed my third connection and slept on the airport floor. I’d been pushing myself for months; by the time I finally walked through my apartment door, I was more than fried. I was burnt out. Then I came down with the worst flu of my life.

    And now, sudden stomach pains pulsed through my entire body, so intense I had to crawl to my phone to dial the hospital.

    As the EMTs arrived at my door, ready to whisk me away in an ambulance like an unglamorous Cinderella, I started being able to breathe again.

    Suddenly, I was much more aware of my surroundings. The awkwardness of two men in unfamiliar uniforms strapping me onto a stretcher and carrying me down the narrow stairwell like a cumbersome, delicate piece of furniture, into the back of the ambulance going only a few blocks away when I could usually walk there, was surreal. I felt detached from my life somehow, as if I was witnessing it from the outside.

    Right then, the whole situation struck me as, for lack of a better word, funny.

    I can’t wait to see what’ll go wrong next! I thought, almost laughing.

    As I sat quietly in my hospital bed with an IV in my arm and my pain finally eased, I realized something.

    In this moment, there was nothing I could do about my health. Whatever diagnosis the doctor was going to walk in and give me, I couldn’t change it.

    All I could do was be present. And I found that incredibly…freeing.

    I’d spent the better part of three years burnt out, mostly miserable, and continuing to push through, no matter how exhausted I was, or how much everything in my body and the back of my mind was telling me to STOP.

    However, I didn’t listen. I was too focused on succeeding in my dream job, the job I’d worked myself to the bone for years to land. I was damned if I’d let something as silly as my body get in the way of my dreams.

    But right then, in my blue-and-white-striped hospital gown, I had a gut thud of knowing that things had to change.

    I needed to let go. Of the dream that wasn’t really mine anymore. Of holding on so tight to what I knew that I wasn’t letting myself breathe or acknowledge what was true for me.

    I needed to let go of the idea that I could force myself into happiness by achieving more. It wasn’t working. I just felt empty.

    I needed to start trusting myself more. Not the loud inner dictator part of me who constantly scolded me for not working hard enough—I’d been trusting that part too much already. No, I needed to start trusting that gentle voice inside that whispered, “Hey, take a break…it’s okay to rest. It’s okay to just let yourself be.”

    I also realized I needed to start taking up more space in my life instead of giving it all away to work and other people. I wanted to live in a way that brought out my softer, more compassionate, more authentic self, not just the tough, competent leader part of me who fulfilled everyone else’s expectations first. I wanted to figure out how to be who I actually was, not just who I thought I should be.

    Because that part was so, so tired. Frankly, she needed to lie down and take a nap. And figure out who she was when she wasn’t performing.

    So ultimately, that’s what I did.

    (Yes, the nap. But also the figuring out.)

    Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe you’re at a crossroads where you don’t know where to go next, you just know it’s not where you are. Maybe you feel torn between your ambitious side and the part of you that knows that how you feel on the inside is more important than how your life looks on the outside.

    If so, here are a few things that helped me, and might help you, too.

    1. Embrace the pause.

    When you spend your whole life being rewarded for ignoring your body’s signals and pushing through for work, it can feel like sacrilege to give yourself a moment to rest. Do it anyway.

    Lie on your bed, breathe, and stare at the ceiling for five minutes. Commit to doing absolutely nothing, no matter how strong your urge is to be productive. And then do it again. Work can wait—your well-being is worth it. And ultimately, the more you include yourself and your needs in what you do, the more successful and productive you’ll be, even if it takes a little longer to get there.

    2. Listen to your inner nurturer.

    See what happens when you tune in to your inner world, and if you can hear the gentle voice inside that whispers, “Take a break; it’s okay to rest.” It might not be there right away; that’s okay. Being kind to ourselves is a practice, and it can take time to develop.

    How can you tell the difference between your inner dictator and your inner nurturer? The dictator, when you listen long enough from the place of mindful observation, usually starts to sound like your parent or teacher or middle-school volleyball coach. Your inner nurturer sounds like you, or if you grew up in the eighties, maybe like the Empress from The Neverending Story.

    You’ll know the difference because when you hear the first one, your body will tense up; when you hear the second one, your body will relax.

    3. Get curious about your self-worth.

    Sometimes as kids, we learn that we have to earn love and approval by working really hard, being responsible, or being good. When we grow up, this can translate beautifully to the working world, because there’s always a new way to improve, something else to do, or someone else to impress.

    But what if your sense of confidence didn’t depend on being the best, the most responsible, or the hardest worker? Take a moment and sit with the question: Who could I be if I felt loved and accepted just as I am, even when I’m relaxing and doing nothing? Even when I’m mediocre at something? Even when I’m just being? 

    Bring some curiosity, with as little judgment as you can muster, to when you feel most “worthy.” If it’s usually when you’re doing something for someone else, or in achieving mode, I invite you to see if you can expand your sense of worthiness to when you’re not doing anything at all. Or even, gasp, when you make a mistake. It can be a long road to finding peace and feeling worthy of love and connection just as you are, but in my experience, it’s worth it.

    4. Redefine success on your terms.

    Challenge the conventional definitions of success that may have guided your life so far. You can even journal about it: what does success actually look like for you based on your values, passions, and commitment to personal growth?

    True fulfillment comes not from meeting external expectations but from aligning your achievements with your authentic self. It doesn’t matter how fast you’re going if you’re headed in the wrong direction.

    We often get caught up in the pursuit of success, attached to goals that might have lost their relevance along the way. Just like I did. It’s easy to ignore the signs when our bodies are screaming for a pause, a moment of relief. But, as cliché as it might sound, life is pretty short, and it’s not worth it to sacrifice our well-being on the altar of ambition.

    So allow yourself the freedom to reassess your dreams when you need to, and adjust how you’re spending your time and energy at this stage in your life. See what it might be like to let go just a little bit; to trust that it’s okay to change, to evolve, and to prioritize your health and happiness over what others expect of you, or even what you used to expect from yourself.

    See if, in moments of overwhelm or uncertainty, you can take a breath, tune in to your body, and listen to your deepest knowing, trusting that the path you walk in every moment can be fulfilling in and of itself.

    Because isn’t that what life is all about?

  • A Powerful Practice for Self-Awareness: How to Avoid Doing Things You’ll Regret

    A Powerful Practice for Self-Awareness: How to Avoid Doing Things You’ll Regret

    Self-awareness is arguably the holy grail of inner peace, especially when you’re under pressure. But what is it? How do you achieve it?

    As a teacher of self-awareness, I’ll be the first to admit that it does not always come easy. Given our human instinct to resist whatever challenges us to grow and change, the journey to self-awareness often involves a struggle. I know mine sometimes does.

    To be more self-aware, I’ve had to cultivate a willingness to admit I don’t have it all figured out and that I might not always be right, especially when I feel really strongly that I am. I’ve had to make a point to look at my reality more objectively and admit when the way I’m doing something is just not working for me anymore.

    These admissions never come easily. But I will say that addressing my emotional reactivity has been essential to getting me to a place of greater self-awareness.

    When I was a young mother, I spent years trying to protect my kids from the impact of the dysfunction around them. Outwardly, we looked like the perfect family who had it all. My husband and I were pretty skilled at managing the family’s image, but the real story unfolding inside the four walls of our home was a marriage buckling under the weight of inauthentic emotional reactions like shame, blame, and guilt.

    We lived like this for decades. If you could call it living.

    For the longest time, I let my emotions run the show, relying on what felt like a satisfying reaction rather than reflecting on what was or wasn’t actually working.

    Firing off a sarcastic remark felt like I was being heard.

    Pushing the blame on others felt like a solution.

    Launching impulsively into action felt like the surest and fastest way to get the problem behind me!

    In the heat of the moment, a full-blown emotional reaction felt like it was protecting me. Ironically, all it actually protected me from was self-awareness and the change and personal growth that depend on it!

    Unaware that I was making the choice to act out my reactions, I couldn’t see the lack of wisdom in it. After the dust settled and the smoke cleared, the end result was nearly always the same: a truckload of pain, confusion, and an even bigger mess.

    By the time I mustered the courage to seek a divorce, my children were adults. I knew it was time for a massive change, and I thought my newfound courage would empower me to close the door on the powerful and damaging reactive emotions I had been running on for so long.

    But it wasn’t easy.

    As I gained more and more clarity, it became obvious to me: the reactivity I had acted out during my marriage was still surfacing even after my divorce. As Jon Kabat-Zinn said, “Wherever you go, there you are!” Needless to say, this was a hard fact to face.

    By separating myself from an untenable situation, I thought my shame and guilt would disappear with it. Boy, was I wrong!

    I still had a debilitating fear of uncertainty and faced enormous self-doubt about moving into the world on my own. I struggled with guilt and shame about my past life choices.

    I had been acting out some very specific patterns for decades, and over that long stretch those patterns had become habitual. So, whenever I faced a stressful situation, I fell right back into those same old patterns.

    The hard truth was that, like the deep and gnarled roots of an old tree, these emotional patterns of reactivity weren’t coming out without real effort and determination.

    A New Approach: The Practice

    Eventually, it became clear to me that if I wanted real change in my life, I needed a new approach. And that new approach became the fundamental practice of my program, the Inner Peace Blueprint, backed by a key Harvard study on the benefits of mindfulness.

    Researchers found that when practitioners of mindfulness focused awareness on their physiological state, it led to improved emotional regulation, which led to an empowered sense of self.

    So here is what I did:

    Every time I felt myself getting hijacked by shame, guilt, self-pity, insecurity, or fear, I interrupted those reactions by relaxing my physical tension and focusing on my breathing. This is the most basic technique I used—the practice of posture and breath.

    When I felt I couldn’t trust myself (or others), I would do the practice.

    When insecurity hit me as I imagined being on my own after thirty-six years of marriage, I would do the practice.

    When fear and guilt washed over me as I listened to my children talk about their own reactions to the divorce, I would do the practice.

    Remembering to do the practice took a lot of discipline, which was really not that surprising given the fact I had been reacting emotionally for my entire life, getting stuck in my head and going nowhere fast. My reactions were so familiar to me that they felt like who I was. They had become a deeply ingrained habit and were really hard to break.

    Not challenging this habit, however, was simply no longer an option. And the practice was the best way I could see to get the job done, so I stuck with it. Every time I paused to relax my body and breathe, I experienced myself calming down, even if just a little. Over time, I started to see how all the little bits of calm were adding up to a lot more calm.

    What I Learned About Self-Awareness

    With greater calm, greater self-awareness (which I define as “being able to see what I’m really up to”) came pretty naturally.

    I paid close attention to what I said when I was under pressure and asked myself: “Was it constructive or not?”

    Whenever I did something to get the pressure behind me and “make it stop!” I stopped to evaluate if what I did actually helped. Or did it just dig the hole I was in that much deeper?

    The practice afforded me the self-awareness to stop and consider my emotional state before I opened my mouth. It also gave me the self-awareness to make sure I waited until I was calm and clear about what to do (or not do) before proceeding.

    Today, the practice is still my primary self-awareness tool because it always brings me back to the now-moment. When I can focus my attention on my physical tension and release it through breath, I become more aware of my emotional state and can better regulate what I do and say as a result. This, to me, is the definition of self-empowerment.

    Even when I lose sight of how my reaction is impacting and distorting my perception, behavior, and choices, I can be pretty sure that it is and that staying focused on calming down before I respond is always my best bet.

    This new way of responding to my reactions with the practice helped me break the habit of acting out my reactivity and making things worse as a result. And this is what keeps me on a trajectory toward sustainable, lasting transformation.

  • Maybe This Forced Pause Is Actually Good for the Planet

    Maybe This Forced Pause Is Actually Good for the Planet

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

    “The earth is what we all have in common.” ~Wendell Berry

     I love the warmth and brightness of sunny days, but I’ve always enjoyed the stillness that comes around as the rain starts to fall, as well.

    Creatures retreat to the warmth and dryness of shelters and home spaces. Outdoor work and routines are rethought, sometimes placed on pause. The world, at least as far as the rain clouds stretch, quiets.

    In some ways, these current moments in our world feel like one huge rainstorm—one that, instead of only a few miles, spans the entirety of our planet. And while there are moments that feel scary, as we all navigate uncertainty and unchartered territory, there are others during which glimmers of hope and magic seem to be surfacing.

    Among the many posts about ways we can all take action to help keep our families and communities safe, there are also statistics emerging about reductions in gases relating to energy and transport, as well as photos of things like clearer canal water and satellite images showing dramatic declines in pollution levels.

    While we’re all taking a break from the hustle and bustle of our daily routines—with all of our consumer-based ways in tow—maybe the Earth will have time and space to reset a little, to find a better balance, to heal.

    Maybe we’ll have time and space to think more about the things we want and the things we need, and how our lives and our daily activities and patterns affect the world around us.

    Maybe the waterways and the air will continue to become cleaner and clearer.

    Maybe the dolphins will continue to come closer.

    Maybe the levels of atmospheric nitrogen dioxide will continue to decrease.

    Maybe the Earth will surprise us with the ways that it is able to make quick changes during only a brief pause in the output of our everyday industry and pollution.

    And maybe we all will notice these changes and they will inspire us to make our own.

    Patience. Kindness. Compassion. Love.

    These are qualities of action and of being that will help us, and the people around us, to move through and around this smoothly. These are also qualities of action and of being that we can extend, in everyday ways, beyond this particular stretch of time, to our planet—as it, too, moves through and around this (and us) smoothly.

    Keeping these qualities at the fore, while interacting with others, might look like truly listening while others voice their concerns or struggles. It might look like checking in with older neighbors to see if they need anything before making a trip to the store, making time to connect with friends and family members more frequently through the online world or phone calls, or just, in general, getting creative with how we connect.

    And keeping these qualities in mind while interacting with and on behalf of our planet might look like continuing to be resourceful long after this unusual experience is over—really thinking about the things we buy, whether we truly need these things and how long they’ll last before they find a spot in a nearby landfill.

    It might look like continuing to plan our trips better, so that we’re driving less—or growing more gardens, so that we’re less dependent on transported, packaged foods.

    It might look like resource sharing with our neighbors… and doing whatever we can do to live in a way that is less focused on short-term desires and more focused on what is good for the overall wellness of this world that we all get to be a part of.

    Sitting quietly outside, it feels like the wind is whispering, “Are you seeing this?” And I’m wordlessly responding, “Yeah, it’s as if the whole world is simultaneously awake and asleep—as if we’re all suddenly paying more attention and in the process of resting and resetting a little, in ways, as well.”

    It is surreal, and strangely beautiful.

  • What to Do When You’re Stressed, Distressed, or Overwhelmed

    What to Do When You’re Stressed, Distressed, or Overwhelmed

    “Picture a pattern of upright dominoes that have been positioned just far enough away from one other to highlight the gap between them, but just close enough to hit each other if one of them tips over. Hit a single domino and it sets off a chain reaction. Oftentimes, our own actions, reactions and counter-reactions, criticisms and defensive responses function like dominoes. When we’re not able to access our mindfulness, reactivity takes over.” ~Alicia Muñoz

    Before my husband and I were married, he lived in New Zealand and I lived in the States. One way we coped with the distance was by making cassette tapes for each other, which we would send via snail mail.

    Sometimes we shared news of the day, personal information, and future dreams. Occasionally, in the middle of the night, the messages were passionate and deeply private—as only 3 am messages in the grip of longing and limerence can be.

    One day, I had a client who was interested in the teachings of a meditation instructor with whom I was acquainted, so I offered to make her a tape of a session from the instructor’s workshop. I grabbed a blank tape from a nearby basket, used my recorder to dub one of the sessions, and passed the tape on to her.

    A few days later, she asked if she could come by my office for a moment. When she arrived, she was uncomfortable and flustered as she handed the tape back to me.

    “Uh, I—I don’t think you meant this for me,” she stammered. Then she abruptly left my office.

    My heart seized. I knew which tape it was before I even listened to it. It was a recording so steamy I hadn’t even sent it to Tim. Somehow, instead of getting thoroughly erased or tossed in the garbage, the tape had found its way into the blank-tape basket.

    I can’t find the words to describe my feelings. Crushing embarrassment surged through my body. When I made it home, I flung myself onto the couch and lay there for ten minutes, paralyzed with shock.

    “How could you have been so careless?” I berated myself. It felt like the end of my career. As my shame and self-castigation mounted, my ability to discern my options plummeted. I began to consider moving to another town.

    Suddenly I remembered a training session on stress management I’d recently attended. It had advocated pausing long enough to take a slow, deep breath whenever we feel overwhelmed and then doing something different.

    I forced my leaden legs to stand and set the goal of touching an oak tree in the backyard before heading back to the couch. With effort, I got up and walked outside. When I reached my goal and gently touched it, I noticed a heron perched in a nearby tree, eyeing my fishpond with sinister interest. I moved into action, scaring it away by yelling at it.

    By the time I returned to the couch, I was breathing normally. Although I was still embarrassed, the magnitude of my emotions had moved from a ten to a three. I’d begun to see I would not die of embarrassment, and my client would also recover from her shock. Pausing long enough to do something different stopped the chain reaction of the domino effect.

    This is the biology of what happened. We each have a nervous system that operates outside of our conscious awareness called the parasympathetic nervous system. It’s activated when we are at rest and not in distress.

    Essentially, in our normal conscious life the lights are on at the front of our brain, where the frontal lobe resides, and we make decisions that are reasonable, responsible, and rational. Our heart beats normally, and we generally eat when we are hungry and rest when we are tired.

    When we are distressed, as I was when my client returned the tape to me, our brain switches gears and mobilizes the sympathetic nervous system, which causes the “lights to go out” in the frontal lobe and the “lights to go on” in the back of our brain where the amygdala (the brain’s 9-1-1 center) resides. So we react from another center, the system that tells us we are in danger, are embarrassed, or are under some other kind of threat.

    Our heart beats faster, our blood circulation slows down, and our body reacts as though we are under attack—even if the attack is coming from our own thoughts, as it was for me. Some of us don’t eat, others eat more than they need, some people collapse into sleep, and others stay awake with tingling limbs and racing thoughts.

    None of that is fun for anyone. The good news is, it’s totally fixable if we can remember to take a moment to pause. Working with our breath and moving our body—touching a tree as I did, for example—reassures the body that the danger is gone, and the lights can come back on at the front of the brain.

    My story is a reminder of how important it is to manage our own internal reactions before we can respond to a situation in a healthy, productive, reasonable way. Taking a moment, a breath, or a stretch helps us rebalance in the face of distressing interactions; we can think wisely about what to do next rather than act from panic and reactivity. I call this skill the pause.

    Four Small Steps to Help You Pause and Rebalance

    1. Notice when your body is tense and stressed. Accept your reaction without judging it as wrong. Take a few deep breaths to slow yourself down. Tense and relax the muscles in your limbs.

    2. Do something to get back to your body. Go for a walk, run, or do some other kind of exercise. Touch a tree and scare away a heron, as I did. Take a shower, chew on an ice cube, or smell some lavender.

    3. Do something that quiets the mind. Listen to a soothing piece of music. Say a prayer, practice a mantra, or recite a poem.

    4. Notice again what is going on in your body. It will probably feel different now.

    You might have picked up on this already, but practicing the pause is inextricably intertwined with practicing mindfulness. Pausing involves observing your emotions and noticing your mind’s desire to react from its fear center, and it also involves redirecting the mind’s attention to more soothing, physical rituals like breathing and moving.

    At spiritual retreats, it’s a common practice to ring a bell at unexpected times throughout the day. People are asked to stop what they are doing for a moment when the bell rings—they must stop folding clothes, put down their forks, or take a break from their conversations—and turn inward. This develops the practice of becoming still enough to take a breath and check in with our wise and centered selves rather than giving in to our first reaction to what is going on in the outer world.

    Adapted from the book Love Skills. Copyright ©2020 by Linda Carroll. Printed with permission from New World Library

  • The Life-Changing Benefits of Two-Minute Meditations

    The Life-Changing Benefits of Two-Minute Meditations

    “Smile, breathe, and go slowly.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    I felt everything, from my lower back pain flaring up to tightness in my jaw where I clinch and carry my stress. With my eyes still closed, I rolled my shoulders and repositioned the pillow under my butt. Five minutes had passed, and I had no idea how I would ever make it to forty.

    I opened my left eye to see if anyone around me was fidgeting as well and saw rows of people sitting in perfect, cross-legged lotus position with straight necks and relaxed jaws next to me.

    Our teacher, mindfulness author David Richo, sat in front, a relaxed calm floating around him like morning mist. I sighed, shut my eye again, and tried to concentrate on not concentrating so I could make it through the rest of the group meditation.

    Once I remembered that I’d forgotten to pick up my dry cleaning and that I still hadn’t called my best friend back, I relaxed a little more and tried to just “be.” I heard a rooster crowing in the wilderness above the Spirit Rock property, noticed it, and let it go. I re-recognized the back pain and let that go as well.

    Next, I heard what sounded like a cross between a snorting pig and an old rusty shed door opening up. The crackling sound lasted a couple of seconds before it caused my body to jerk and jolt both of my eyes open.

    I looked around confused. No one else moved, and I realized that the sound had come from my nasal passages. I had fallen asleep and snored on or around the twenty-seven-minute mark.

    Mortified, I clasped my hand to my mouth, shut my eyes tight, and prayed to disappear. So much negative talk flooded my brain, I had to stop it right down at, “You suck at this. Who are you trying to be here, Michelle?”

    I nervously picked up my notebook and reread what David had taught us that day. To be healthy, we must be kind and patient with ourselves.

    I took a deep breath and remembered that my meditation skills were new, and that forty minutes simply might have been too much to expect at that particular time in my life. Despite my attempts at self-compassion, my cheeks still burned with red embarrassment.

    I didn’t feel like trying again, so I sat quietly and continued to review my notes from Richo’s lecture while the rest of the group finished. I pined over the snore for the remainder of the afternoon and found it impossible to simply love myself for being human.

    In Eat, Pray, Love, Liz Gilbert writes about spending entire days struggling to meditate at an Ashram in India. I remember, when the book came out, reading a FAQs page on her website where she addressed questions and encouraged beginners not to start out at the ashram. Hours of meditation are difficult even for experienced meditators. Forty minutes is still hard for me.

    What I have found is that I am much more comfortable practicing small doses of meditation throughout a day, rather than forcing myself to plan extended stretches that make me so anxious, I end up avoiding the meditation all together. Even just two minutes can make a tremendous difference.

    Meditation and yoga force us to sit with ourselves. That means we sit with anything we are avoiding, as well as anything that is hurting us mentally and/or spiritually. I have a tendency to avoid feeling discomfort.

    So, sitting still is incredibly counter-intuitive for me and, I believe, many other people. By going easy on myself with how long I “should” sit, I am more likely to sit at all.

    Through practicing short meditations, I have seen the positives in my life grow and the negatives decrease.

    Self-Compassion 

    I’ve cultivated more self-compassion through meditation. The more I can get quiet and turn the Michelle who is a “human-doing” off, the gentler I am with myself. By giving myself the time to be still, even if it’s for two minutes, I am showing self-love and learning to become more comfortable in my skin. In that stillness, I am able to see where I am self-critical in a clearer way.

    For instance, in meditation, I often criticize myself for not being able to quiet my mind enough. I also look at what I didn’t accomplish that day rather than what I did. Inside of the practice, I am given the space to see these things so I can bring compassion to my critical mind and practice loving kindness instead.

    Acceptance of Discomfort

    When I can sit with painful feelings, I usually realize fairly quickly that the wolf at the door wasn’t as big as I thought. Meditation reminds me that I am more than capable of handling the thing I am dealing with.

    Some of the biggest discomfort I encounter is related to conflict with others. Even if the problem is small, like when I had to ask my guitar teacher to stop texting during our lesson last week, I still feel uncomfortable. My teacher kindly apologized, and once again I remembered that conflict is part of life. Meditation helps me to approach conflict with grace and to remind myself that the world isn’t going to end if someone reacts negatively when I speak up.

    Pronounced pain, like disagreements with family members, takes more time for me to process. The strength that’s grown out of facing that pain through meditation, has helped me to approach uncomfortable emotions with less fear.

    Compassion for Others

    Sometimes when I meditate, I send out positive energy toward people I’m not super fond of. I bring compassion for them into my body and out into the universe, and I feel less pissed off as a result. I wish for them the best of everything, and this often helps me to let go of the thing I was mad about in the first place.

    I don’t understand why this happens, but it does, and holding as little negative energy as possible eases tension and makes me gravitate toward the next meditation.

    Ability to Pause

    The more I meditate, the more I am able to pause in tough real-life situations where I might have reacted in the past.

    Road rage comes to mind here. Most of us have gotten mad at someone else’s driving skills at some point. What I think about now in the pause is that I don’t know what the other driver is going through or who else is in the car. I usually have no context as to why they are driving the way they are. Where I used to honk, now I can wait and calmly move around them.

    A yogi once told me, “Imagine that driver is a cow standing in the parking space you want. You would probably laugh and just find another space. When it’s a person, why do we suddenly rush to honk and yell?”

    Meditation simply makes me calmer. It is far from perfect, but it has given me more of a capacity to marinate before I respond to sticky situations.

    Increased Connection

    Meditating reminds me that I am a tiny part of an incredibly larger whole. My problems feel smaller when I can stop and remember that I am a grain of sand in a giant universe. The practice puts life, and my place in the world, into perspective.

    It really doesn’t take much to experience these benefits. Two minutes of meditation can make a huge difference. Focus on your breath. When you think of or hear something, notice it, and then get back to your breathing. See how you feel, and then, if you’re able, work your way up.

    You can sit quietly, or you can also listen to the myriad of guided meditations available through YouTube, iTunes, and many other platforms. Sometimes it helps in the beginning to listen to a nice soft voice telling you what to do.

    There are also meditations that include cool music with those bowl sounds as well. Just make sure the sounds aren’t so relaxing that they put you to sleep and then you snore in front of 200 people. Let it go, Michelle.

    I could be better and more consistent with meditating. I could also harness more self-compassion and less negative self-talk. I know that the more I meditate in short increments, the closer I will get to achieving these things.

  • Escape Isn’t Self-Care: What We Really Need to Feel at Peace

    Escape Isn’t Self-Care: What We Really Need to Feel at Peace

    “A pause gives you breathing space so listen to the whispers of the real you waiting to happen.” ~Tara Estacaan

    You and I, we’re much too busy. We’re doing too much. We’re stressed. We’re overscheduled and overwhelmed. And we’re not doing enough self-care.

    The good thing is there’s help. There are headlines, hacks, and half-baked gurus who promise to bring us to the less-stressed light. And there’s a vast supply of products to help too. Bath salts, wine, essential oils, yoga classes, massages, chocolate cake, books, life coach packages, etc. But sometimes I wonder, are all the articles and products about becoming less busy actually helpful? Does the practice of self-care actually take care of yourself?

    For the last few weeks I’ve been dosing myself regularly with the things prescribed as self-care. Bath soaks. Chocolate cupcakes. Mantras. Spa music. I’m doing it and I feel like if I fake it till I make it, maybe I’ll soon feel like my life is better managed. I’ll feel less stressed. I’ll run to social media and post a bunch of cloying hashtags: #blessed #metime #nofilter.

    I’m somewhat inclined to think that most of the snake oil being peddled as self-care is feel good fluff. It’s not bad. Baths are lovely. Chocolate cupcakes are really lovely. But, it’s not self-care in and of itself. It’s escapism that that has often been packaged and sold to us.

    Escape is a completely necessary and wonderful practice. One I enjoy with some frequency. Escape practices allow for quiet, space, pampering, indulgence. Do it. Enjoy your escape.

    But the reality is all these practices aren’t bringing me even a slice of peace. I am sitting in the bathtub with billions of thoughts swarming my head. I don’t know how to turn off. My life moves faster than I can. My daily existence exceeds my ability to process it all. Things have to change.

    This here is the crux of actual self-care. Self-care is parenting yourself. It’s cleaning your room by the time your family returns home. Not having candy for dinner. Getting lessons in how to make a solid pasta with bolognese. Kissing booboos. It’s going to your room and thinking about what you’ve done and continue to do; not as a practice of shaming or punishment, but as a practice of self-awareness and understanding the consequences of your actions.

    Self-care means pausing and paying attention. It’s asking yourself a lot of questions: How am I? What’s working? What’s not working? Why am I stressed, sad, mad, overwhelmed, feeling ashamed, etc.? What can I change? If I can’t change it, how can I cope? If I can change it, what do I do first? Self-care can…suck.

    Sometimes I pause, check in with myself, and realize the thing I need right now to relieve some pressure from my life is a hot bath and a glass of wine. Perfect. Escape can be self-care. But sometimes I pause, check in with myself, and when I really pay attention I am forced to recognize that the way I am living right now isn’t cutting it.

    My habits, jobs, or relationships have become cycles that bring frustration, stress, sadness, or other crappy feelings. I can throw all the yoga classes and massages at those feelings, but I won’t actually feel better until I change something.

    When you come to the point where you need to take care of yourself, it means your current way of being isn’t working and you need to guide yourself back to a good course.

    It’s saying no to something. Sometimes it’s saying no to something deeply ingrained in you or in our culture. It will feel like parts of yourself go missing. It will feel like you are doing it all wrong. You will have to keep reminding yourself our materialistic and accomplishment-obsessed culture got it wrong, and you have a right to sanity.

    Here are some of things I have done out of self-care that have sucked: reduced my eating out budget, quit a job, put a goal on hold, taken a six-month break from drinking, disappointed my daughter, disappointed my wife, let myself feel pain rather than seeking distraction from it, and opened my heart knowing it will break over and over again.

    Self-care can be gritty, treacherous stuff. It’s like a scramble up a steep incline. Rocks are loose under your feet. It’s hard to find stable footholds and grips. But, eventually, you get to the summit and take in a windy, clear view.

    About a year ago I made a list of things that make me feel most human. At the time of making the list I didn’t realize it, but looking back I realize this was a list of things I do to pause. The practices that work for me to connect to myself and check in. A walk in the woods. Time alone. A soak in a hot bath. Yoga.

    None of these things are necessarily self-care in and of themselves, though they can be. But, they are practices that allow me to listen to myself. They make room for self-awareness.

    Your self-care will be varied, inconsistent, and dependent on your current circumstances. But, the practices you use to pause, pay attention, ask yourself a bunch of questions, and listen to the answers can be consistent, regular practices. Schedule them into your life. Make yourself accountable. Ensure you are pausing. Give yourself the opportunity to listen.

    Self-care is what enables me to go to a lovely massage and return to a life I like. I’m not just waiting for the next time I can get away. The neverending chase for bliss and ease doesn’t provide me substance or solidity. So instead I work to craft a good daily life. A life with rhythms and cycles that I can sustain while maintaining a feeling of wholeness.

    This simplicity is exactly what has brought me the most happiness. This life that is wholly boring, introspective, questioned, and arranged with intention.

  • Why I Stopped Being Busy and Took a Pressure-Free Pause

    Why I Stopped Being Busy and Took a Pressure-Free Pause

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

    It was a Monday a few weeks ago, 6:00am, and I was taking a morning walk. The only light in sight was the neon yellow glare of the street lamps.

    My heart was heavy. It was as if someone had cut my chest open while I was asleep and slipped a cannonball inside.

    My alarm had awoken me at 5:00am, as it had every morning since the start of the year.

    My shoes crunch-crunched in the snow as I trudged along, ignoring this dull ache in my chest, telling myself, “It’s just resistance to being up so early. Keep pushing through; gotta get those 12,000 steps today, Will.”

    I got to the end of the road, a mere eighty or so meters from my house, and WHOOSH, a wild wave of emotions washed over me, forcing me—jolting me—to stop walking and stand still and silent in the snow.

    I stood and stood as if I’d fallen asleep upright and frozen to death.

    This whooshing wave felt like a panic attack. Except it wasn’t.

    It was this feeling coming from my chest, the one I had tried to ignore. If its first attempt to get my attention was a whisper, this was a shout.

    And it was shouting in desperation, ”LISTEN TO ME, WILL.”

    Without consciously making the decision, I turned and walked home.

    I’d barely walked for two minutes, not quite the forty-five-minute morning walk I had planned, but something inside of me, I can’t explain what, told me this was long enough for today.

    Arriving home, I sat down at my desk to give this feeling some attention.

    My eyes closed. I did my best to give a name to what I was feeling…

    Was it sadness? Nope. Dissatisfaction? Closer, but not quite. Pressure? Yes, pressure! I was feeling pressured!

    The next logical question for me was, why? Why was I feeling pressured?

    The answer was right under my nose, and no, that’s not a metaphor; the answer was literally right under my nose, sitting there on my desk, staring up at me.

    You see, lying there in the center of my desk, scribbled on a piece of paper, was my list of jobs for the day, and it was a long, long list.

    I’d listed all the action steps I felt I needed to take, I felt I should take, I felt I must take on this day.

    An intimidating list detailing emails to be sent, words to be written, opportunities to be created. More. More. More. This list was going to keep me occupied almost every waking minute of the day, having me run around like a headless chicken, stuck in doing mode.

    Sure, there were self-care rituals—meditation, Qi Gong, walks dotted throughout the day—but even these seemed like chores within my strict schedule, just something else to tick off.

    Supporting myself through this, next, I pondered the question:

    How can I take this pressure off of myself?

    At first, no ideas came to mind, nothing, nada.

    Because wasn’t my list full of non-negotiables?

    Then an insight arose, which brought with it an air of refreshment followed by fear.

    “TAKE TIME OFF, WILL.”

    My heart was speaking to me again, the same voice that had spoken to me earlier on my walk, now providing me with an insight to take time off.

    Which was fascinating because the voice of my mind had been telling me to do the exact opposite previously, telling me to write out a big long list of to-dos.

    It was my mind that had told me to wake up at 5:00am so I could do more during each day.

    It was my mind dishing out the restricting need, must, and should statements.

    The thought of taking time off was refreshing, but the fear was: What would happen if I stopped living in doing-mode for some time?

    Fear suggested that taking time out would be a bad thing; I’d lose out on an opportunity of some kind or end up getting lazy. My heart trusted that taking time out, or rather, slowing down was the right path to take to relieve the pressure.

    After a little more reflection, my heart gave me a complete ‘prescription’ to take the pressure off of myself. It involved three stages.

    1. Distinguish between non-negotiable commitments and desires so that I could be more flexible.

    So much of what I thought were non-negotiables were not. They were nothing more than rules I had created. For example, I had told myself I must finish my studies by March. In truth, I don’t have to; this is just a desire.

    I still had a list of commitments I couldn’t stop entirely, but it was a much shorter and more manageable list!

    2. Pause my desires to relieve the pressure.

    Once I’d identified my actual commitments (work, family, household duties), I looked at my list of desires and gave myself permission to pause these.

    This was when fear crept in again…

    Am I allowed to pause my commitments?

    Am I allowed to say no to people?

    The answer is yes.

    I decided on a three-week pause period where I would concentrate only on actual commitments and, of course, concentrate on taking care of myself.

    I decided to pause my studies, any reading for learning (as opposed to enjoyment), any business-related activities, being active on social mediaanything I felt I could pause temporarily without jeopardizing myself.

    3. Create a refreshment plan.

    Within my three-week pause period, I set some gentle intentions for how I would spend my time. After all, I had created a lot of time by simply pausing the desires that were causing the pressure.

    So I asked myself a different question.

    Rather than “What must I do?” I asked myself, “What would I love to do?”

    Some of my answers included:

    – Resting. Sleeping longer and napping during the day. My long days were making me feel exhausted.

    – Spending more time outside in nature. I was spending too much time in the online world, staring at computer screens all day. I’ve found myself on my walks, just pausing, closing my eyes, and enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face.

    – Spending more time with my girlfriend, Yvonne, and my family and friends. I know the quality of our personal relationships is a huge determining factor in our levels of happiness. I’d been a little neglectful of this.

    – Reading more fiction. I normally read to learn, which I love, but it’s tough going. I wanted to escape to some far-off fictional land!

    – Practicing the act of appreciation. Tony Robbins says, “Trade your expectations for appreciation, and your whole world changes in an instant.” Having dropped my personal expectations of myself and switched to appreciating, this has certainly been true for me. Each night I’ve been listing ten things I appreciate.

    I’m two weeks into my pause period, and I’m pleased to say I’m feeling refreshed. My personal relationships have improved, the weight has been lifted from my shoulders and chest, and I feel somehow I’ve gotten out of my own way.

    Perhaps I was being busy in an illusionary attempt to feel in control of the areas of my life I wished to move forward.

    This may be true.

    I also feel we often stay stuck in ‘doing mode,’ moving toward our goals, because we feel on the other side of those actions and goals is what we really want. 

    And what do we really want? I can only speak for myself, of course. When all is said and done, what I really want most is the freedom to enjoy my life and to feel good.

    By taking a step back, I’ve realized an important truth.

    I have this freedom right now.

    It’s a funny world we live in where we work so long and hard to essentially buy back our freedom at a later date.

    It’s far easier to appreciate the level of freedom we have right now, before pursuing more. This has been my biggest lesson.

    There is absolutely a time for actions, progress, a time for being down on our knees planting seeds.

    However, we need to be mindful of when it’s time to pause and take a step back and enjoy the warmth of the sun on our faces.

  • The Power of Doing Nothing When You’re Frustrated or Anxious

    The Power of Doing Nothing When You’re Frustrated or Anxious

    Stressed man meditating

    “This ‘doing nothing’ is not a cold, passive resignation, but is a luminous, sacred activity, infused with presence and a wild sort of compassion. It is a radical act of kindness and love.” ~Matt Licata

    I am storming home after work.

    The important men in my life are driving me bonkers—they’ve been self-important, disrespectful, condescending jerks.

    My dad doesn’t see the value in the work I do, and my partner blew off our date to take an important phone call. My younger brother leapt off of the phone with me, which he’s been doing every time I’ve called in the last year.

    I am taking furious, short breaths, and hardly noticing each step.

    My mind races with things I could say to show them just how in the wrong they are. I rocket between being spiteful and feeling sorry for myself.

    A woman my age walks toward me, carrying two bags and nursing a baby. I move aside to let her by and accidently make eye contact with her little girl.

    She gazes at me unblinkingly, no expression on her small, round face. She doesn’t react to my momentary presence in her world; she just looks at me.

    Our eyes meet for only a moment, and then they are both gone. That look has stopped me in my tracks and drained me of all my struggle. I’m standing there on the sidewalk, feeling totally empty of the fury that possessed me a few seconds earlier.

    That emptiness makes me lightheaded, and I stand for a moment, swaying in the dusky light. I’m suddenly aware of my breathing, of the tightness in my abdomen and hands. For the first time, I notice what a whipped-up tower of smoke and rage I’ve become.

    I make eye contact with myself, as if I’m now the wide-eyed babe, lying on my mother’s chest.

    I’m filled with compassion for myself. I become aware that the anger I was feeling is also anger at myself for not hearing and responding to what I want—for putting my needs last, for being judgmental and self-righteous.

    This awareness washes over me in a wave of feelings, more so than thoughts. I experience anger, sadness, and finally the comfort of being heard. Someone is listening to me—I am listening to me.

    . . . . .

    I regularly encourage my girlfriends to take more time for themselves, to move more slowly through choices and transitions, to make space in their heads to really hear themselves.

    I don’t want to wait for a wide-eyed magic babe to spook us back into our own experience. I want us to be intentional about it.

    Through meditation, I can sometimes create space to hear myself. But many of my friends are fast-paced, creative women who have a hard time sitting still. Meditating is simple, but not easy, and especially for these active types, “doing nothing” is something that has to be eased into.

    Walking has been an incredible space-creator for me, as has writing.

    At the beginning of both of these pursuits, I am filled with chitter-chatter—the daily bushwhack through the swamp of self-judgment, fear, and worry.

    By being intentionally aware of my surroundings when walking, and my words when writing, the fog of my heavy thoughts begins to lift. Eventually I am purely in the experience—noticing the birds and the flowers, and the feeling in the bottoms of my feet, or simply connecting word to word, sentence to sentence.

    To maintain a connection to the physical world around me and the spiritual world within me, I practice both writing and walking for an hour every day. Sometimes, it’s an uphill battle and I end up feeling totally defeated. But most days, at least a shimmer of my true self shows up during my practice, and I feel blissfully at peace.

    . . . .

    The lesson I learned that evening, when I saw the baby and her mother, was that how I’m feeling just is.

    Most of my frustration and anxiety comes from trying to fix the way I’m feeling, to somehow “solve” it. As soon as I settled into the experience of being angry, the anger itself just sort of melted away, and my true desires became apparent.

    A friend and I were recently speaking about “looking straight at things” rather than seeing them out of the corner of your eye and avoiding them. We were discussing negative body-talk, anxiety about work, and the emotional discomfort that often leads to overeating.

    She told me, “If I could just look straight at the part of me that wants a bowl of cereal, I would see that I’m actually nervous about an upcoming presentation.” The urge to eat more when she’s already full is disguising the discomfort of feeling over her head at work.

    My intense anger at the important men in my life was disguising the true discomfort that stemmed from over-working myself, not prioritizing my own self-care, and putting others’ opinions of my life before my own.

    A curious experience with a tiny stranger was enough to shock me out of my thoughts, bring me back into my body, and allow me to really hear myself.

    That moment reminded me how to be present and to give myself the time and space to understand my inner needs.

    I extend this same reminder to you: In whatever way is easiest for you, start being present to yourself by doing nothing. I challenge you to lie on the couch, sit on the bench, or meditate; allow space for your true hopes and fears to bubble up into your conscious mind.

    As Matt Licata says, this is a “radical act of kindness and love,” and we each benefit from showing ourselves that loving kindness.