Tiny Buddha

Tag: present

  • Easing Anxiety: How Painting Helps Me Stop Worrying

    Easing Anxiety: How Painting Helps Me Stop Worrying

    “Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it.” ~Kahlil Gibran

    Anxiety has followed me around like a lost dog looking for a bone for years now.

    I feel it the most acutely when I’m worried about my health or my daughter’s health. I notice a strange rash or feel an unusual sensation and all of a sudden: panic!

    My worries are not limited to health concerns though, and my ruminations go in the direction of dread about the future of the world, worries about my finances, and fears that I’m not good enough.

    Is my anxiety warranted? My mind tells me it is.

    “Remember how you had that bad reaction to a medication? It could happen again!”

    “You know how your daughter had that febrile seizure two years ago? You never know what could happen next!”

    “Think back to that time you and your family had a slow winter and were extremely worried about money. That could be just around the corner!”

    And on and on my mind goes. I know I shouldn’t believe what it tells me, but sometimes I get sucked under and can’t help it.

    I don’t think I was anxious like this when I was a kid. I think these underpinnings of nervousness started when I was older, probably my late twenties. I suppose by then I’d lived enough life to know that things can and do go wrong.

    I don’t like feeling anxious. I don’t like the way my body feels jangly and my mind races. I don’t like it when I can’t focus on the thing I’m supposed to be doing.

    But this is not a sad story, it’s a story of tiny improvements and little steps forward. It’s a journey of finding peace in the middle of a storm.

    For me that peace began with painting.

    Let me go back a few decades, back to when anxiety wasn’t part of my life. When I was a child, I loved art. I drew, I colored, I took extra art classes on the weekends because that’s what I enjoyed.

    I went to college to become an art teacher, switching to a graphic design track later. When I finished school in May of 2001, I had a part-time design job, and after the events of September 2001, I knew I needed to travel, to get out of the safe life I was living in my hometown.

    That’s when my creative practices fell by the wayside. I would never give up those years of travel and camping and working random jobs, but when I look back, I see this is where I stopped making art.

    Luckily, after the birth of my daughter in 2014, the desire to create came roaring back. At first, I was using a tiny corner of a bedroom in our small mountaintop rental house to paint. Eventually we bought a house, and I had the space to spread out, to keep my supplies on top of my desk, ready to paint whenever the urge struck.

    That’s when I started noticing something important: Painting stilled me in a way that nothing else did. It eased my fears and anxieties in a way other practices (deep breathing, meditating) did not, at least not as consistently.

    Painting is my peaceful place. Painting brings me directly into the moment, quickly and easily. You know how you’re supposed to stay mindful and present? That’s what painting does for me, no tips or tricks or timers or mantras needed.

    Yes, I use other methods to quell my anxiety, but painting is my absolute favorite. I get to bring forth something new. I get to flow with wherever the brush takes me. I get to be still inside while the rest of the world drops away, all while allowing something beautiful to emerge.

    When anxious thoughts start to swirl, I know what to do. I head into my studio, grab some materials, and start creating. Soon enough, the spiraling worries are gone and instead my mind is quiet.

    Even if you aren’t artistic, even if you don’t have a creative bone in your body, I still think you can achieve the stillness I achieve when painting. You might not have a brush in your hand, though!

    First things first: If you struggle with anxiety, you should seek the help of a licensed professional. As helpful as painting is, I also see a counselor, and the tools she’s given me are absolutely priceless.

    Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here are the other ways I think stillness and peace can be found, even if you’re not meditating or breathing deeply while counting to ten.

    Think back to what brought you joy and the feeling of flow when you were a child. Maybe for you it was playing sports or a musical instrument; writing your own sketches or training your dog to roll over. Whatever it was, look for ways to add more of it back into your life now.

    Start paying attention to your life as an adult and what activities make you forget about the time. When are you fully immersed? When do you fully let go? Maybe it’s during a yoga or meditation class, but maybe it’s when you’re preparing a meal for your family or writing up a budget for work.

    Still your mind any time you remember. I do this now, especially when I’m not painting. I know that a still mind releases my anxiety, and I also know I can’t paint all hours of the day. Simply noticing the feeling of my body on the chair below me or listening to the sounds in the room around me helps my mind to quiet.

    I think the reason painting is so helpful for my anxiety is that, in order for me to be anxious, I have to be worrying about the future and what it holds. When I’m doing an activity that requires my full concentration, I have to be in the moment; there is no other choice.

    All of the practices that we can use to find calm, whether it’s changing our thoughts, following our breath, repeating a prayer or mantra, they all rely on the same thing: bringing our presence to the now.

    What activity brings you into the now? What makes you feel fully alive and entwined with the moment? It doesn’t matter if you’re artistic. It doesn’t matter if you like making things. The only thing that matters is finding a way to be here, in the now, instead of in the unknowable future.

    **Artwork by the author, Jen Picicci

  • How Spending Time Alone Helped Me Overcome My Loneliness

    How Spending Time Alone Helped Me Overcome My Loneliness

    “If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.” ~Jean-Paul Sartre

    I have spent most of my life surrounded by people, which is probably why I never realized I was lonely. For the majority of my adult life, the only quiet times I had to myself were the very start and very end of the day. Otherwise, my mind was inundated with chatter, notifications, and distractions.

    This constant noise let me mask the depths of my loneliness. I was bombarded with texts and distractions at all times, but I lacked deeper connections. As the years passed and I grew busier and busier, I found that I actually took steps to reduce my alone time. I’d watch TV until I fell asleep; I’d check my work emails first thing in the morning.

    Looking back, the situation was obvious—I was terrified of being alone with my own thoughts—but at the time, I just thought I was being productive, or simply didn’t like being bored.

    I didn’t realize my problem until my laptop suddenly broke. One chilly afternoon, when I was curled up on the sofa, ready for some New Girl, it unexpectedly powered off, and I was faced with my own reflection in the black screen. My phone was out of charge.

    Without distractions, work, or social media filling up my mind, I came to the abrupt realization that, despite all my activities and invites, I was deeply lonely. And that was making me profoundly miserable without even realizing it.

    That afternoon, I found out I was terrified of being alone. I looked at my relationship with myself and found it lacking.

    The prospect of being stuck in my own company was so scary to me that it jarred me into action. I’d gotten so good at filling my mind with chatter, I didn’t know who I was when I was alone. I was definitely one of the many Americans who spend more than five hours a day on their phones, according to a 2017 State of Mobile report—never really alone, after all. But I didn’t know how to start being less lonely.

    I didn’t want to only rely on others, so I made a plan to build my relationship with myself.

    I decided then to be mindful about my intentional alone time. First, I figured out when I had space to be with myself. Then, I identified the times I found it hardest to be alone. Finally, I picked out the obstacles.

    That left me with a solid three-point strategy: I had roughly three chunks of time during the day when I could have mindful alone time. My mornings and evenings were roughest for me. And my phone was the primary driver in stopping me from my goals.

    My plan was to have three sections of alone time: active alone time, time meditating, and time doing something that didn’t involve a screen. But before I did any of that, I had to remove the biggest obstacle: my phone.

    Even though it kept me connected to the world, it was holding me back from developing a deeper relationship with myself. I spotted that I used it most in the morning and the evening, so I invested in an old-fashioned alarm clock and decided on a strict no-screens-after-9:00pm rule.

    Normally, my morning started with me staring at my phone’s notifications. Instead, I got up and went for a fifteen-minute walk in my neighborhood. At first, it was boring—I was desperate for distraction. But the more I did it, the more I found myself capable of noticing birdsong, thinking about my plans for the day, unraveling the tangled feelings of the day prior, and looking forward to my first cup of coffee.

    I also worked in a five-minute meditation. At the time, meditation was new for me, so I figured that five minutes would be short enough for me to start getting into the habit. I quickly realized I needed to invest in an app to do guided meditation, which really helped me stay consistent and get actual benefits from it.

    Finally, I filled my evenings with reading and painting. Both of these activities are manual, which meant that I couldn’t check my phone while I was doing them. I was able to rediscover my love of books, and while I’m not very good at painting, the process of producing tangible art helped patch the gap in the evenings when I normally would reach for my phone.

    Research proves that loneliness is harmful for your physical and emotional well-being, but you don’t necessarily have to look outside yourself to cure your loneliness.

    All my habit changes pointed to one final conclusion: You can’t depend on others to feel better about yourself. Learning to be okay with being alone was crucial to my journey with myself. You can’t begin to work on real relationships with others until you have a solid relationship with yourself.

    For me, it took one crucial moment to bring home the reality of the situation. From there, I needed to actively carve out alone time—not just time without other people physically present, but time without distractions, notifications, phone calls, or emails.

    Time that belonged just to me.

    Finally, it did take tweaking. I tried to do it with my phone, but realized it was impossible, so I removed it. I originally tried to do a half-hour walk, but the time away from any devices stressed me out. When I began meditation, I thought I could do it without an app, but found I spiraled into negative thought patterns or fell asleep.

    My point is, I didn’t get it right on the first try. The most important thing for me was that moment of realization. From there, I was able to keep trying until I found methods that worked for me. The results were amazing in the long run. I have a better image of myself, and I’ve found my relationships with others have improved.

    Because I’m dedicated to feeling my feelings instead of drowning them out in a blur of notifications and escapes, overall, I’m more present and self-aware than I used to be, which helps keep me more self-accepting and centered. Nowadays, when things get rocky—and that does happen, as an unavoidable part of reality—I’m able to draw from my reserves and go with the flow.

    It was uncomfortable, it was difficult, it was frustrating, but it’s definitely been worth it.

  • How Curiosity Can Improve Your Relationships and Your Life

    How Curiosity Can Improve Your Relationships and Your Life

    “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.” ~Albert Einstein

    When speaking to a parent recently, she said, “I have made it a rule that my kids read every day for an hour. There are no two ways about it. They now do it and it is great, but I have noticed that they have stopped asking questions, they have stopped being curious, and they look dull, and that bothers me.”

    Strange that reading would dull their curiosity instead of sparking it. But beyond that, this conversation got me curious—about curiosity.

    Why is it important to be curious? And is it even possible to stop being curious?

    Do you remember when you were a child, just grabbing anything and everything and looking at it from all angles, exploring what it was?

    Do you remember being obsessed with asking “Why?” till the crack of dawn because you were fascinated with the mystery?

    Do you remember feeling the wonder in your eye, the sparkle of fascination as you looked at an ant or a worm as if it were magic?

    As I think about it, I feel like there are two fundamental aspects of living—“being” and “doing.”  Curiosity, I feel, is a quality of “being.”

    Curiosity is taking the time to know something, to revel in the moment with wonder and fascination, to go beyond the limitations of the mind, time, perceptions, rules, and expectations.

    A curious mind is a mind that expands and grows, a mind that is fascinated with life, that is fully alive and bubbles with questions and wonders. It is a mind that is keen and observes and is limitless. It is a mind that is sharp and sees beyond the obvious.

    People with curious minds seem to lead fuller lives. If you think about it, they are likely to explore and seize more opportunities because they’re curious about where it could lead, they are likely to connect with more people because they are curious about who and how they are, and they try more new things because they’re curious about how much they can do.

    I actually think we are born curious, born in wonder, born into this magical place of being. So then, at what point do we stop being curious?

    My answer was—when we get caught up in the “doing”!

    Running from pillar to post, taking care of family and work, making ends meet, keeping up with the demands of the world and the ones we place on ourselves, it is not so difficult for the balance of life to tip toward “doing” and more “doing.” Curiosity can take a back seat and monotony can set in sneakily.

    Curiosity, in my opinion, is that polish that adds a shine to each and every single activity, to the “doing.”

    Like Brian Grazer says in his book A Curious Mind, we are born curious and no matter how much battering curiosity takes, it’s right there, waiting to be awakened… and that, to me, is fantastic news.

    So if you would like to awaken your curiosity, feel fascinated, and share this fascination with others, here are a few simple tips.

    1. Drop the label.

    This is a story about the famous Nobel Prize Winner, scientist Richard Feynman. One day when walking in the garden, he asks his father, “What bird is this?” His father says, “It is a brown-throated thrush” and then goes on to say the name in many different languages. Then he looks at Feynman and says, “Now you know absolutely nothing about the bird except the name.”

    A label closes the mind to an exciting world of possibilities.

    He is an “alcoholic,” She is a “liar,” I am a “failure”—all these are labels that can trap us into one way of perceiving the world around us and, in fact, our own selves too.

    There is a lady I know whom I had unknowingly labeled as “annoying.” Every single time she would call, I would say, “She is so annoying.” So it was no surprise that I would get annoyed because I was interacting with the label I had given her and closed doors to any other way of experiencing her.

    Dropping the label helped me notice that she is so much more—she is funny, she is loving, she is dedicated, she is curious, and much more! Now I still get annoyed sometimes, but it is not the only way I experience her. It feels like a buffet of experiences with her, and I feel freer within myself and more loving toward her, and we in fact share a few laughs every so often.

    And all I did was get curious and ask myself, “What else is she?”

    So how do you describe the people and relationships in your life, your work, your circumstances, yourself?

    And what if you could drop the label of something you think you already know? Look at it as if it were new, as if you knew nothing about it. Drop the label and allow your mind to journey through a world of possibilities. What else could it be? How is this happening?

    Think wild and think free!

    2. Go beyond the limitations of “I am bored” and use the power of “but.”

    Have you found yourself saying, thinking, or feeling “I am so bored”?

    Boredom, in my opinion, is poison to curiosity. It limits the mind.

    Oftentimes, feeling bored is not the problem. The problem is when we stop at that and look no further, when we close the door to an exciting world of possibilities.

    A little trick is to trick the mind using the power of “but.”

    Every time you find yourself saying, “I feel bored,” quickly and emphatically add the word “but” after it.

    I am bored, but let’s do something fun! I feel bored, but how do I even know I am feeling it?

    “But” negates everything that is before it and brings focus to what is after it.

    Even if you don’t find a filler after the “but,” just say “but”… and pause…. and see what happens next. Leave that door open.

    If you think about it, “I’m bored” is such a useless thing to say, isn’t it? We like in such a vast world, and we have barely seen anything, how could one get possibly bored? Look at any situation with curious eyes and allow your mind to wander and create what you want to experience.

    3. Question everything with pure fascination.

    Why are the trees green? Why do birds fly? Why is the sky blue? Why am I not getting that pay raise? Why can’t I lose those ten pounds I want to lose? Why am I doing the job I do now?

    The key is asking questions with pure fascination, as if you were trying to solve a mystery.

    Remember, millions of people saw the apple fall, but Newton asked “Why?”

    Growing up, I was teased about having a flat-ish nose. I felt like I had to have a sharp nose, and my grandmother and I would try to stretch my nose out every morning with oil, as if it were made of clay. Then one day, I remember curiously asking her, “Why is a sharp nose better than a flat one? Do they smell things better?”

    Now, I don’t remember what she said, but I can tell you that I love my nose now and am quite curious and fascinated by what a funny thing it is.

    Can you imagine looking at life, relationships, and work with pure fascination? The world becomes a playground of endless possibilities for the mind that is curious and fascinated.

    So what is one thing in your life you could be fascinated with and curious about, and how could that change things for you?

  • How to Get Out of Your Head and Show Up for Your Life

    How to Get Out of Your Head and Show Up for Your Life

    “If you think there’s something missing from your life, it’s probably you.” ~Robert Holden

    Most people would agree that thinking too much can cost you your peace, your happiness perhaps—but your life? Surely that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

    I’ll explain with a story.

    I remember taking my daughter to the park one day when she was around three years old. Like all kids of that age, she was thrilled and mesmerised by her surroundings—the insect crawling up the blade of grass, the ducks squawking in the pond, the dog chasing the frisbee nearby.

    She was fully engaged with the life around her—fully present in the moment.

    All of a sudden, she pointed up to the sky and shrieked, “Airplane!”

    Her shrill voice snapped me out of my reverie and, looking up at the plane high above us, I became aware of my surroundings for the first time.

    I noticed that we’d actually arrived in the park. Although my body had been there for several minutes, I had just arrived.

    Prior to that, I was a million miles away, deep in thought about something or other, totally oblivious to my surroundings.

    Life is always happening now, but, distracted by our thinking minds, we fail to notice.

    Your Body Is Here—Where Are You?

    As soon as we wake up each morning, the mind TV automatically switches on and starts broadcasting our familiar programs.

    And through habit, we give it our full attention. We find the mind’s content way more compelling than the life around us.

    My days used to go something like this. Maybe you can relate?

    I’d be gulping down breakfast and thinking about my to-do list for the day or how the traffic was going to be on the way to work. The next thing I knew, I’d be staring down at the empty cornflakes bowl in front of me, with no recollection of having eaten it.

    I’d totally missed out on the wonderful taste and texture of the food in my mouth, not to mention the warm sun streaming in through the window and the beautiful song of the skylark outside.

    The body would then be driving the car to work while I was busy replaying the conversation I’d had with my sister the night before, missing the clouds, the trees, and the beautiful sky along the route.

    Next thing I knew, I’d be pulling into the car park at work, with no recollection of having driven there.

    The body would then be sitting at its desk, but again, I was somewhere else—counting the days until the weekend or making plans for our next holiday.

    Robert Holden, director of The Happiness Project, sums it up beautifully with these words:

    “If you think there’s something missing from your life, it’s probably you.”

    The Past and Future Have No Life of Their Own

    Being lost in past and future mind-movies pulls our attention away from the present moment, away from life, away from reality.

    The past and future have no reality of their own. What happened yesterday or what may happen tomorrow exist only as ideas in your head.

    The moment is always fresh and alive. The movies that play in our heads are old and stale. They are devoid of life.

    Thinking too much costs you your life.

    When we spend too much time lost in our thinking minds—rushing from one appointment to the next—life, which is always happening now, flashes by unnoticed.

    The days, the weeks, the months, the years all blur into one, as the preciousness of each living moment is lost to a lack of presence.

    We’re left wondering where all the time has gone and why we feel so dissatisfied, unfulfilled, and disconnected.

    Taking time to be more attentive to each new moment as it arises is the key to experiencing more peace, connection, and aliveness, regardless of what is going on in your life or what you believe it should look like.

    When we are absorbed in the present moment, contentment happens by itself. We need not look for it. It is a by-product of being present.

    Out of Your Head and Into Your Life

    So how do you get out of your head and back into your life?

    Present moment awareness is key. This is where life hangs out!

    And the good news is that, because the mind can only be in one place at a time, you don’t have to actively try to stop thinking. Bring your attention to the present moment and thinking will stop automatically.

    To my mind, mindfulness practice is the simplest and most effective way to achieve this.

    Although I had been practicing and teaching other forms of meditation for many years, I became curious to learn more about the mindfulness approach and signed up for an eight-week course.

    During the course, there was one particular exercise, “walking meditation,” that had a lasting impression on me.

    As we walked slowly and silently through the lush gardens of the retreat center, we were invited to be attentive to the present moment—to feel the ground beneath our feet and pay close attention to every little movement and sensation in the body, as we mindfully placed one foot after the other.

    We were instructed to give our full attention to each of the senses, one by one.

    This is what I wrote in my journal afterward:

    “Being attentive to the intricate patterns and colors of the leaves, the spider busy at work on its web, feeling the texture of the grass under the soles of the feet and the gentle breeze on the skin, smelling the soil, the herbs, the fragrant moss, listening to the gentle crackle of twigs underfoot and the rustle of the wind in the trees—transformed what, at first sight, appeared to be a lovely garden, into Narnia, the magical kingdom!”

    It is both astonishing and humbling to really notice the enormity of what is going on around us and within us in every moment—when you pay attention.

    The wondrous transformation of the garden happened through a shift in attention alone. Nothing new or different appeared on the outside. Everything was exactly as before.

    And we can bring this quality into every aspect of our lives.

    We are normally so distracted by the thinking mind that we fail to notice the immense richness that is present all around. Being attentive to the fullness of what each moment contains, as children are, naturally instils a sense of wonder and joy within.

    Our True Home Is the Present Moment

    I’ll finish with these beautiful words about walking meditation from Buddhist mindfulness teacher, Thich Nhat Hahn:

    “Walking in mindfulness brings us peace and joy and makes our life real, enjoying peace in each moment with every step. No need to struggle. Enjoy each step.

    When we practice walking meditation, we arrive in each moment.

    Our true home is in the present moment. When we enter the present moment deeply, our regrets and sorrows disappear, and we discover life with all its wonders.

    Breathing in, we say to ourselves, ‘I have arrived.’ Breathing out, we say ‘I am home.’ When we do this, we overcome dispersion and dwell peacefully in the present moment, which is the only moment for us to be alive.”

    When the mind is quiet, we are able to engage directly with life, as children do. When we really pay attention to the richness of the present moment, we become enthralled with life, as children are.

    Too much thinking will cost you your life.

  • Stay in the Moment

    Stay in the Moment

  • Stop Striving, Start Stopping: How to Enjoy Life More

    Stop Striving, Start Stopping: How to Enjoy Life More

    “Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.” ~Andy Rooney

    Three months ago, I was blessed with an awesome opportunity—a free weekend break to Snowdonia, Wales.

    Having experienced chronic health conditions for the past six years of my life, I had been hibernating.

    My days were a black-and-white routine: wake up, drink a smoothie mix, go to work, meditate, come home, lie down, eat, sleep. Yet, my mind was always so busy filled with endless tasks, big dreams, and an expanding sense of pressure as I craved more than what I had.

    When this opportunity arose. I immediately felt fear. What if I couldn’t handle the journey? What if I didn’t get enough sleep? What if I couldn’t find food that I could tolerate?

    Yet, another part of me glittered with gold.

    An adventure. A story. A long lost, forgotten part of me.

    And so, I called a friend.

    The next morning, we were on our way to Wales.

    The seven-hour journey flew by in an ultimate sense of flow.

    We arrived at a quaint, quiet hostel high up on the hills. Sheep scattered their white wool; tiny snowdrops on a vast, barren land. A grey sky painted watercolor clouds, and deep, green trees sang and swayed as they gave way to the wind.

    We sat quietly and observed. High ceilings and red carpets held the space of silence. The wind outside howled and stormed, brewed and bawled, concocting a frenzied feast for the night.

    We drifted off to sleep in our new world. A no man’s land, which oddly felt like home.

    We rose the next morning, with no clear plan but to simply wake and see where the wind would take us. Our eye lashes fluttered as we peered outside to see what surprises the storm had scattered and sown for us.

    We chose to drive around the winding hills of wanderlust, each corner revealing yet another crystal blue lagoon, laced with grey slate and white sheets of snow.

    We parked the car on the left-hand side of the road and looked up in appreciation. Our eyes glistened at the sight of rolling green fields, rusty iron gates, and trickling rivers gently cradled by bracken and boulders. A tiny, snow covered peak painted delicately, precariously and prettily, just waiting to be explored.

    And so, we walked.

    We walked and we walked and saw a lonely red hat, left and long forgotten. My boots stampeded the squelchy mud mashed with fresh fallen snow. We marched on.

    I was determined to reach the top.

    One hour into our climb I squealed with delight, “Look, we’re nearly there!”

    “No,” he said. “That’s just the beginning.”

    And he was right.

    As we reached what I had thought was our peak, another higher, rockier, snowier mountain suddenly arose before our eyes.

    “Oh,” I said.

    And so, we continued to climb for hours and hours.

    Much to my surprise, with every peak we reached, yet another one revealed itself. Each with its own intricate beauties—blue laced lagoons; pretty white blankets of pure, untrodden snow; higher heights with a dazzling white glow.

    Three hours in, I finally realized my drive to reach each new peak was limiting my boundless joy.

    The joy of climbing, the joy of tumbling. The joy of dancing, the joy of being.

    The joy of appreciating, the here, the now, the moment.

    I stopped and turned.

    “I think that’s enough,” I said.

    For once in my life. I didn’t want to reach the top. I didn’t want to conquer the next big challenge. I wanted to stop. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to play.

    And so, we breathed.

    We filled our pale pink lungs with cold, crisp air as we slipped and slid on sheets of ice. We looked at the highest height and laughed. We didn’t need to reach the top. What did we have to prove?

    We had it all right here.

    And so, we made our descent.

    Slowly, lovingly, and longingly.

    Appreciating every layer as if it were the last.

    But this time, we didn’t just walk and walk and walk. We climbed, we ran, we hopped, we danced. We rolled, we sunk, we stepped, and we laughed.

    The blue laced lagoons became sheer slate drops. The pretty white blankets became sludgy stained snow. The dazzling white glow dissolved into a land of green, bracken grass.

    And it was all simply perfect.

    We rolled down our final descent and laughed as we realized that in a land of a thousand acres, we had found the exact lonely red hat that had greeted us at the start.

    We crept through the creaking iron gate and sat on a piece of solid, set stone.

    And for the first time, I knew.

    That the next big thing, the next best thing, the next mountaintop would always be ahead of us. And I realized how much of my life I had wasted. Wanting, waiting, striving. When all there ever really was, was really right here.

    And in the right here, right now, everything was good.

    No matter what the view.

    There was always something to celebrate.

    Every layer of our life is worth living.

    Returning home from this trip, I reflected on my drive, my ambition, my constant search for success. And I realized, this search was, in fact, fueling an unsustainable state of health. On those vast lands, of everything and nothing, I had felt more energized, more free, and more in flow than I had in six long years. For the first time, I felt alive.

    And so, I hope this story inspires you to simply stop striving. For this pattern has tainted so much of my beautiful life here on earth. Stopping the striving, and the endless soul searching, leaves space for our inner peace, our inner flow, our inner glow.

    The mountains will always call us. Higher heights will always tempt us. Newer sights will always blind us. Yet, we have a choice. The choice to sacrifice our present for a future that may never come. Or to lovingly embrace our present as if it’s the only thing we know for sure we have—because it is.

  • Why I Appreciate Simple Things in Life After The Coronavirus

    Why I Appreciate Simple Things in Life After The Coronavirus

    “It’s not a bad idea to occasionally spend a little time thinking about things you take for granted. Plain everyday things.” ~Evan Davis

    Let me go back in time. Not too long, but only six months ago when the virus outbreak hadn’t occurred yet. I was cursing the traffic, complaining the beer in a bar was not chilled enough, and hating that the supermarket next to my house did not have my favorite deodorant.

    Soon after, due to the global pandemic, my country was under lockdown like many others. When I was indoors, I realized how beautiful and blessed I was to have the life which I otherwise assumed was regular and usual. Little did I know that I was taking things for granted and complaining about the most trivial problems.

    When I look back now, I notice many special areas of life whose importance I failed to understand earlier.

    1. Freedom

    I had the choice to go wherever I wished and do whatever I wanted. As long as I did not do anything illegal or break any rules, of course.

    I had the freedom to live life like I wanted to. No holds barred, and no questions asked. It was my life and my choice.

    Yet, if I had to drive too far, I would whine about the miles I had to cover. During the lockdown, I needed a valid reason to travel that distance and face cops who most certainly wouldn’t allow me to get there.

    Staying indoors has taught me that losing control of the fundamental aspects of your life makes you uncomfortable. These are the things we consider usual and expected. We only realize the value of them when they vanish.

    2. Comfort

    Life and technology have evolved by leaps and bounds over the years. In fact, life today is drastically different from what it was a decade ago. Back then, you needed to carry a digital camera for photos, self-driving cars hadn’t hit the road yet, and group messages were not even a thing.

    Now, we enjoy so many benefits from the comfort of our couch. You can order food, get your car washed, or send a package to your friend without stepping outside your front door. When the delivery executive arrived ten minutes late, I would mentally curse the company for making me wait.

    During the lockdown, I would wait a whole day for the same service. The comfort of technology and the services various businesses provide are priceless.

    3. Variety

    I had a hard time picking vegetables. I would roll my eyes saying, “Someone needs to produce new vegetables. I can’t eat the same all the time.” That was despite having a large variety in the supermarket. I wanted something fresh and new.

    The same applied for the cereals I bought, the restaurants I dined at, or the shopping mall I visited. I had enough of the cereals that seemed to taste the same. I was fed up with the restaurants in the vicinity of my house. I wanted other shopping options than the usual mall next door.

    I would travel an extra distance to add variety in my life. During the lockdown, I did not even have the privilege of relishing the usual options.

    The more variety we have, the more we crave. Desire is like a treadmill running on infinite electricity. It never comes to an end.

    4. The fun outside

    No matter which city you live in, you have umpteen opportunities to have fun and relax. I had the option to watch any movie I like, go bowling no matter how bad I was at it, or enjoy the adrenaline of a kart race.

    Even though I had very many ways to have fun, I compared my city with others. I complained, “Damn, my city has no options to enjoy nature. I have to go miles away for a trek.”

    When I was locked in and resorting to board games, I realize how fun-filled my city actually is.

    5. The human interaction

    When I went out with a large group, it would take a toll on me. Being an introvert, I preferred only a certain level of interaction. Beyond that, I would choose to be by myself than socialize. The smiles seemed artificial, and the handshakes appeared unnecessary.

    Today, when I come across a passerby, the smile lies hidden behind the mask, and a handshake is out of the question. Earlier, we called the people around us a “crowd,” today we call our situation “isolation.”

    The memes on the internet, which say that introverts feel no difference locked indoors, aren’t true. Both introverts or extroverts need at least some form of interaction to feel connected with the rest of the world.

    6. The power of teams

    Before, whenever we had to solve a problem at work, we would gather in a room and exchange ideas. Many complex issues found a solution because human beings can improve on each other’s thoughts to reach the desired outcome.

    Today, facilitating such a conversation is a nightmare. Video conferencing tools provide a viable workaround for one on one discussions and team meetings where everyone shares updates. But they cannot replace a bunch of smart people sitting in a real room discussing ideas at tandem.

    Moreover, teams who see each other every day, gel along better. The physical presence creates a bond beyond just work relationships. It is the strength of such bonds that facilitates organizations to achieve massive goals.

    I realize the power of teams, even more today when they cannot operate like they used to.

    7. The giant web of economy

    The economy is like a huge castle constructed of many individual Lego blocks. When you take one out, you feel no difference. Take another out, still not too big of a pinch. Take a few more out, and the entire structure collapses into mayhem.

    Different parts of the economy are interdependent, even if they do not seem apparent. Shutting down public transport left many people unemployed and unable to earn their daily wages. A lack of transportation implied goods couldn’t flow freely. As a result, we did not have all the supplies in your supermarket.

    Every contributor to the economy helps it remain steady. When everything runs well, you don’t notice their contribution. When a few portions break, you understand their role in keeping the whole structure stable together.

    The Lessons I Learned from the Lockdown

    The past weeks of the lockdown have taught me some invaluable lessons I will remember for the rest of my life.

    1. Enjoy the present.

    I have targeted gigantic goals for a long time. As a result, my eyes are always on the future, and each day is a grind to get there.

    But the world around you is full of things to relish, cherish, and enjoy in the present. I am not saying you must stop chasing your goals and enjoy today alone. I will continue pursuing goals like before, and so should you. But while you are on this journey, don’t forget to pause and experience the happiness around you.

    Don’t lose the sense of the present by solely focusing on the future.

    2. You feel the pain only when something is missing.

    Some of the things of your day to day life seem normal and expected. For example:

    • You expect to find all you need in a supermarket
    • You expect the pizza to arrive within thirty minutes
    • You expect the mechanic to show up and fix your broken vehicle

    Over time, such expectations make you lose the value of little things in life. Don’t take such things for granted. You never know why and how they can be snatched away from you. You only feel the pain when you lose the privilege altogether.

    3. Your emotions are defined by what you choose to see.

    No matter who you are, what you do, and which part of the world you belong to, you always see what you want to see. If you want a reason to complain, you will find a ton of things around you that aren’t right. If you seek happiness, you will notice many parts of your life that are a reason to rejoice.

    Everyone shows a common reaction when things go well. Someone gives a toast, people clink their glasses, and everyone dances to the music.

    But you cannot always control the world around you to work in your favor. The market can collapse, a natural calamity can occur, or a virus outbreak can happen.

    What you can control is how you respond to such calamities to stay strong. Your reaction to such mishaps is what defines you.

    The global pandemic due to the coronavirus made my life harder. But, on the positive side, it has made me stronger.

    “When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways—either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits or by using the challenge to find our inner strength. Thanks to the teachings of Buddha, I have been able to take this second way.” ~Dalai Lama

  • How to Appreciate Life (Even During a Global Pandemic)

    How to Appreciate Life (Even During a Global Pandemic)

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

    “Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.” ~John Lennon

    When I was in my late twenties I went on a trip with my mom and brother to Scotland.

    Though I was a bit trepidatious about spending so much time with my family, I was excited for the trip too. When it finally arrived, I couldn’t wait to see the gorgeous Highlands, tour ancient castles, and eat endless amounts of shortbread. When we got there, I did exactly that, and it was incredible.

    But though I loved my mom to the moon and back, like many parent-child relationships, she also got on my nerves a lot. As the trip progressed, I found myself annoyed at how many pictures she took, her repetition of the same stories, and how late she’d sleep (and snore) in the mornings while I itched to get out exploring.

    Lack of contact with my friends and a lack of personal space from my family had me crawling out of my skin with impatience and frustration.

    I’d listen to Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now each morning as I drank my coffee; his reminders to stay present in the moment (the “now”) reminded me it was pointless to “argue with reality” and wish I wasn’t where I was. But inevitably, by the end of the day I found myself counting the sleeps until I got to fly home and sink back into normal life.

    What I couldn’t have known on that trip was that my mom would die of a heart attack mere months after getting back to the states. The pictures she was so bent on taking every five minutes would be her last few captures of earth; the conversations we had over hotel breakfasts would be some of our last mother-daughter interactions. 

    I couldn’t have known it at the time, but I’d soon ache for her repetitive stories, miss shoving the pillow over my ears as she snored, and long for a “do over” of certain moments where I acted like a brat.

    In the years since she’s been gone (and through a lot of self-work) I’ve forgiven myself for being human and wishing my time on that trip away—but that experience taught me that we can never take time, life, or the people in it for granted.

    Though it’s easy to forget, life is always only happening in the present, and good old Eckhart Tolle is still right when he reminds me (repeatedly) of the power of now.

    But however well I learned this lesson after my mom’s death, this feeling of wanting to fast forward into the future is one I’m noticing a lot lately, both in myself and the culture as a whole.

    The Coronavirus pandemic has caused many normal parts of life to screech to a halt, and it sort of feels like life itself is actually halted too. After all, for those lucky enough to not be ill (or have ill loved ones), the changes to daily life seem like a giant “pause” button has been pressed on our world—like we’ve stepped into some dystopian movie.

    When will I be able to go back to work?

    When will we know that the curve has flattened?

    When will I feel safe in a crowd again?

    When will this be over?

    When we watch those dystopian movies, we know that eventually we’ll be able to get up from the movie theater, throw our popcorn bucket away, and continue with regular life.

    But this current version of the world isn’t a movie: it is real life, and though it feels anything but normal, there’s no one holding a giant remote keeping us on pause. Though the roads are empty and the grocery shelves bare, the calendar pages still fly by and each day that passes is one of a limited number we each have in life.

    If losing my mom unexpectedly taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to wish life away, even when things feel bleak, overwhelming, or downright scary. Life is happening right now, and there are ways we can continue to live it while still holding space for the surrealness of it all.

    In the spirit of being present with what is and making friends with even an uncomfortable reality, I offer you some tried and true steps for staying present with life—whatever it may be bringing.

    1. Start your day intentionally

    In the most normal of circumstances it’s tempting to start the day by grabbing our phones, and in the midst of a pandemic it can feel almost responsible to check the news at the crack of dawn. But unless we’re actually headed out the door at the very moment our feet hit the ground, there’s no reason to make a screen (or the news and opinions on it) the first thing that we see.

    Starting our day with things outside our immediate reality can introduce panic, anxiety, and a frightening picture of what the future day or week might hold.

    Before interfacing with the world, I’ve found that spending at least a half hour with just myself (and the family right in front of me) can ground me in the present and equip me with the foundation to face what’s going on elsewhere.

    Within this time, I imagine how I want my day to go: How do I want to feel, respond, or show up to whatever happens? Yes, imagining the day ahead involves leaving the present—but in a way that lays a foundation of protection for each future moment that the day will bring.

    2. Check in with what’s real

    What’s actually real to me right now? Not what’s on the news, not what I wish were happening, but what is right in front of me?

    I do this by asking myself: How am I feeling physically, emotionally, spiritually? I babble with my baby and “talk” to her about what I see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.

    Though it is responsible to stay informed about community guidelines and general advisories about the current pandemic, checking in with our senses and what is truly real in our world can keep us from zooming forward into the imagined dystopian future.

    3. Take off the productivity pressure and slow down

    Regular life is often filled with lots of rushing: rushing to work, dropping the kids off, walking the dog, or getting that “thing” accomplished and behind you. Being quarantined has abruptly cut off much of that “hustle” mentality, but we sneaky humans find ways to hold onto our comforting (if unhealthy) habits.

    One of those habits is the tendency to stay busy. During this “stay at home order” I’ve seen a productivity push emerge: a pressure to take this time to learn, create, accomplish, perfectly schedule your children, organize community initiatives, and do it all without physical support from your regular village.

    If you’ve got the bandwidth to use this time in a “productive” way that feels good, more power to you— there’s nothing wrong with accomplishing when it comes from a place of inspiration or power. But if, like many of us, you’re struggling to do even the smaller tasks in life right now, I encourage you to reject this push for productivity and lean into the slowness that this time has created.

    If it’s tougher than usual to get ready for the day, practice noticing everything about what getting ready for the day entails: “Right now I’m combing my hair, now I’m feeding the dog, now I’m getting into the shower.”

    As you notice (and say) what you’re actually doing, allow yourself to just be doing that thing—not shaming yourself over the language you’re not learning or wondering why working from home isn’t as smooth as you thought it might be.

    Leaning into slowness, noticing and staying with every individual action taken, and giving yourself permission to be overwhelmed (and likely slower than usual) is a key to staying present with life exactly as it is right now.

    4. Be a time traveler

    During the Scotland trip, I wasn’t particularly grateful for my mom, because being with her felt so normal: after all, I’d never not lived in a world with her in it. Now, however, I’d be so grateful to wake up to her snoring or to hear her re-tell the same story about Buford the run-away cow.

    Because I’ve lost her, I realize how precious the time I had with my mom was—and the sobering but truest fact about life (in even the best of times) is that we will eventually lose everything.

    Everything will someday be rendered precious, because the nature of our lives is impermanence. Though I doubt any of us will miss the fear or heartbreak of this pandemic, we just might miss the extra time with our family, the unique ways people have been kind to each other, or the incredible global connection we’ve experienced by going through the same thing at the same time as every other human on the planet.

    Kind of like how we might be envious of our former selves that (mere months ago) were going to basketball games and brushing up against people in sweaty yoga classes, our future selves might someday miss these strange times, if only because we hunkered down and spent them with people who are no longer in our lives, or parenting children who are now grown and out of the house.

    ***

    Though the experiences are decidedly different, I see some parallels between the sudden death of my mother and the current moment in time.

    After my mom died, I kept trying to gather pieces of myself and fit them back together: I was waiting for the day that things would feel normal again. But my relationships, goals, and every thought going forward felt different…because I was.

    Similarly, when the world, our communities, and individual lives return to what one might call normal, these things likely won’t feel the same. Our world will now be different because we are.

    But rather than grasping at the familiar of yesterday or projecting into an imagined tomorrow—I hope you’ll join me in holding space for the mourning, destruction, and transformation that’s happening both collectively and within each one of us.

    Yes, things are difficult at present, but as the great Ram Dass said, let’s be here now.

    This—right now—is our life, and while we still have the choice, let’s decide each day how we’d like to live it.

  • How to Tame a Worrying Mind During Difficult Times

    How to Tame a Worrying Mind During Difficult Times

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

    “Mental health is just as important as physical health.” ~Unknown

    Our main focus during this challenging time is quite rightly on our physical well-being. But we shouldn’t forget about our mental health considering these are stressful times for all of us.

    Will we get sick?

    Will our loved ones die?

    Will we have enough food to feed the family?

    How will we pay the bills?

    Will things ever get back to normal?

    So many questions, so many worries.

    Worrying used to keep me awake at night. It occupied every space of my mind during every waking minute. I always felt on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I didn’t feel like I could handle life at all.

    My life was like this for many years until I began to understand myself better. I healed my past traumas and learned to respond to myself in effective and compassionate ways.

    Some of what I’ve learned has helped a great deal during this time of uncertainty and unpredictability. This has resulted in me experiencing great mental health with well-balanced moods, resilience in the face of challenge, and solid emotional regulation skills.

    And let me tell you, I was pretty much the opposite extreme before, so these mental health secrets really do work. I want to share them with you so you too can benefit, because emotional well-being can help see us through the challenges that lie ahead.

    Mental Health Booster #1: Be Present

    When I used to worry and cripple myself with anxiety, I was caught up in my head. I followed every thought like a puppy chases a squirrel. It was too tempting, and I couldn’t resist it. One fearful thought led to another, and down the slippery slope of worry I went. I never landed anywhere pleasant.

    Being caught up in my mind meant that I wasn’t present enough to pay attention to myself, so I didn’t know how I felt or what I wanted. I was just stressed out of my mind while staying stagnant in my life.

    Being caught up in your head right now probably looks like worrying about your health or someone else’s, watching the news and feeding your mind with more and more scary updates. Maybe you can feel that you’re spiraling and your anxiety is increasing. Maybe you’re obsessively following the media coverage and forgetting about everything else.

    These are examples of not being present.

    Being present means being fully in the moment. It’s not being distracted but engaging with what is.

    So instead of filling my mind with worrisome news, I tend to what is going on right in front of me. I may play with my baby, cook for my children, or take a warm bath. In this way, I am there both physically and emotionally, which helps me to stay out of my head.

    During challenging times, I pay particular attention to any distress signals like shallow breathing, feeling shaky, or having a tight chest. I no longer see them as something additional to worry me but rather as signs that alert me to take a break.

    I pause and get still. I start to be there for myself.

    I reconnect with what is going on around me. I ground myself in my body. I focus on my breath.

    I slow down. I get present.

    Then the anxious voices in my heads, my little worry warts, begin to fade away.

    Mental Health Booster #2: Feel and Validate Your Feelings

    We all experience an increase in uncomfortable feelings during challenging times. If we have to stay at home, there are fewer distractions to take our mind off fearful thoughts and difficult emotions.

    We can easily find ourselves overwhelmed by our feelings.

    I remember many times in my life when it felt like the walls were closing in on me while something horrifically painful inside me was trying to break out. I felt hot and panicked. I didn’t know what to do and worried that I was losing my mind.

    I had been avoiding and fighting my feelings for so long that I didn’t understand them. I feared them. I used all my energy and effort to suppress them, but every now and then, during challenging times, I couldn’t keep it up

    The additional stress was simply too much.

    One day I read that we were meant to feel our feelings. Wait, WHAT!?

    Mind. Blown.

    I had been fighting my feelings and running away from them all my life, and now I was being told that if I ever wanted to get better, I had to feel my feelings.

    So I started letting them happen. It wasn’t comfortable and it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it because I realized resisting my feelings was what actually made it all so painful.

    I learned that I had to stop telling myself that I shouldn’t feel how I was feeling, that I was being ridiculous, that I was too sensitive, and so on. I was invalidating myself. I was shaming myself for feeling whatever I was feeling.

    I was making myself wrong for feeling all the time. No wonder I felt overwhelmed when experiencing something I had judged as shameful!

    Invalidating our feelings is harmful to our mental well-being. It erodes our self-esteem and leaves us feeling broken and defective. It makes us disconnect from ourselves, and we begin to make all the wrong choices because we no longer know how we feel and what we want.

    Staying mentally healthy during difficult times requires you feel your feelings and allow yourself to process them, which means not fighting or avoiding them.

    It also means that you have to learn to validate your feelings. This involves you normalizing and empathizing.

    You do this by telling yourself that it’s okay to have this feeling, and that any human with the kinds of thoughts you’re thinking or the kind of experience you are having would feel how you’re feeling. Tell yourself that it’s okay. That in itself is reassuring.

    For example, most recently I have been experiencing fearful thoughts about the health of my loved ones. I worry that they’ll get sick, or worse. Instead of fighting my worry,  I validate my fears and soothe myself.

    I can see that it’s perfectly natural to worry about losing those you love and that the anxiety I experience is a result of these kinds of thoughts. My anxiety is therefore perfectly normal considering the circumstances, and I don’t have to see it as a problem, which in itself is reassuring and decreases my anxiety.

    Mental Health Booster #3: Engage with Something Meaningful

    When we learn not to make our feelings problems, it creates the space we need to engage with something meaningful, something that matters to us, something that brings us joy.

    And what is really important for our mental well-being during difficult times is to engage in something meaningful for us.

    We can choose something fun, something silly, something creative, something lighthearted. We can come up with new projects or can focus on being productive in some way. We can improve our relationships by having some fun or being caring toward each other. We can play with our kids.

    Whatever it is, choose something. Get present and engage with it.

    It will take your mind off things. It will give you a break.

    Don’t let a difficult situation confine and restrict you.

    This isn’t about denying or avoiding the realities of a difficult situation. It’s about preserving the mental energy needed to deal with it in the most effective and compassionate way possible.

    And a big part of preserving our mental energy and health is maintaining a sense of purpose in the face of a crisis.

    This is something most of us have in common: We all want to feel that we are useful in some way, that we have a purpose, that we’re doing something valuable.

    And there are so many different things we can do to have that experience. But in order to do so, we need to have space in our minds, which requires us to practice being present, to feel our feelings and to validate them.

    —

    I hope that these three mental health boosters help you as much as they have helped me. I am grateful to you for reading this, as this is my meaningful contribution that allows my mind to focus on something I find valuable and enjoyable.

  • How To Make Peace With Your Noisy Mind—7 Tips From An Ex-Monk

    How To Make Peace With Your Noisy Mind—7 Tips From An Ex-Monk

    “Leave your front door and your back door open. Let thoughts come and go. Just don’t serve them tea.” ~Shunryu Suzuki

    There are few things more exasperating in life than having a noisy chatterbox in residence between your ears—a busy mind that never stops and won’t leave you in peace for a moment.

    You are sitting by the pool on your long-awaited vacation.

    The weather is perfect. Your diary is clear. You settle down on your deckchair with an ice-cold drink and your favorite book.

    Everything is perfect—well, almost everything.

    The message “on vacation” clearly hasn’t got through to the mind department.

    “Man, that drink was expensive. Better suck your belly in, there’s someone coming. You are as white as a sheet. What on earth will people think? Okay, that’s it. I’m starting a diet on Monday. Oops, I forgot I’m on holiday. Okay, I’ll start when I get home.”

    Just writing about it is exhausting enough, let alone living it.

    Being subjected to a relentless torrent of mindless chatter and having no idea how to stop it can be exasperating to say the least.

    I know. It was the intense suffering inside my own head that led me to sign up for a six-month meditation retreat and later become ordained as a monk.

    Happily, I quickly discovered that quieting a noisy mind isn’t nearly as difficult as I’d imagined.

    Hint: You don’t even have to change or fix your thoughts.

    These days, although I still have my crazy moments when the mind shoots off on a mad rant, my general experience is so much quieter and more peaceful than it used to be.

    I’d love to share some (possibly surprising) truths that will hopefully help you achieve the same.

    Here are seven tips you can start applying right away.

    1. Accept that your mind is busy.

    Did you know that the average mind churns out around 70,000 thoughts per day? That’s a lot of thoughts.

    No wonder it feels so busy in there!

    Even people who are relatively laid back have a lot of traffic going on between their ears.

    So don’t be surprised that your mind is busy. Don’t create an additional layer of suffering by thinking there’s something wrong with you for having a ton of thoughts. There isn’t.

    Expecting your mind not to be busy is like expecting the grass not to be green.

    Let it be busy.

    2. Engaging with the mind is optional.

    If I were to choose one thing I learned about the mind in my time as a monk—the one thing that had the greatest impact on my peace, it would be this:

    Engaging with the mind is optional.

    It is not so much the thoughts themselves that cause us to suffer but our fascination and preoccupation with them.

    We spend our days chewing on them, wallowing in them, stewing in them, and generally giving them an inordinate amount of our time and attention.

    And we don’t need to.

    Want to know the secret to ongoing peace?

    The less you get involved in what the mind gets up to, the more peace you will experience.

    Sit back and let the mind do its dance. Your involvement is not mandatory.

    Which brings us to the next point.

    3. Watch your thoughts from a distance.

    In order to disentangle ourselves from our thoughts, we need to create some distance, some breathing space, between ourselves and the mind.

    Most of the thinking patterns that rob us of our peace run unconsciously on autopilot. The same old patterns play over and over, day in, day out—like broken records. And it is so habitual, we don’t even notice we are doing it.

    The key is to bring more awareness to these unconscious patterns.

    The first step when you learn to meditate is to take a step back and watch the mind objectively—with an attitude of curiosity and non-judgmental acceptance.

    You may also find that the simple act of watching thoughts, rather than being wrapped up in them, will stop thinking it in its tracks—or at least slow it down.

    4. Give your thoughts the freedom to come and go.

    If you want to tame an angry bull, the worst thing you can do is to tie him up or try to confine him in any way. This will only make him angrier and more difficult to control.

    The best way to calm him down is to give him a huge open field to run around in. Meeting with no resistance, he will quickly run out of steam.

    And it’s the same with the mind.

    Thoughts themselves don’t cause trouble. Left alone, they appear in your awareness, remain for a moment, and move on again.

    No problem.

    It is when we try to control or manage them—through labelling them as bad, wrong, or unacceptable—that we get into trouble and create suffering for ourselves.

    Let them wander freely through the vast, open field of your awareness and they will quickly run out of steam. Don’t energize them with your resistance.

    If thoughts are there anyway, it is much better to befriend them rather than struggle against them.

    What happens to a sad thought or an angry thought if you welcome it rather than reject it?

    What happens if you don’t mind it being there?

    5. Don’t take your thoughts personally.

    Seeing that ‘my’ thoughts are not personal was another game-changing insight for me.

    For most people, what typically happens is this:

    You feel jealous. You feel afraid. You feel angry. And you then beat yourself up, believing you are personally responsible for the thoughts (feelings and emotions too) that show up in your head—believing there’s something wrong with you for having these thoughts.

    There isn’t. You are not the author of your thoughts.

    If you watch the mind closely, you’ll notice that thoughts appear by themselves, apparently out of nowhere.

    In mindfulness training, we use the analogy of “the undercurrent and the observer” to illustrate our relationship with the mind.

    The key understanding is that the undercurrent—the continuous stream of thoughts, feelings and emotions that pass through your awareness—is self-arising.

    It is not within your control and therefore impersonal.

    What most people do is thrash about midstream, like a crazed thought traffic policeman, frantically trying to control the flow—welcoming this thought, rejecting that one.

    Trying to control the river is futile and exhausting.

    Better to be the observer, sitting calmly on the riverbank watching the river flow by—knowing it’s not personal.

    The less involved you are in trying to control the flow, the more peace you’ll experience.

    6. Know the difference between thoughts arising and thinking.

    Although there’s nothing you can do about the thoughts that show up in your head, thinking is another matter.

    Let’s say the thought appears, “My boss doesn’t like me.”

    It then triggers a dialogue in your head, “He’s definitely going to overlook me for the upcoming promotion. It is so unfair. I’ve been working here much longer than Jane. But he seems to like her a lot. Things never go my way. I’m just unlucky in life.”

    This type of unproductive thinking is the primary cause of suffering for most people—and it is entirely within our control whether we choose to indulge in it or not.

    Replaying the past over and over, catastrophising about the future, wallowing in unfounded beliefs and assumptions—these are some of the patterns that can create so much unnecessary misery.

    And it’s entirely avoidable.

    When you notice you’re caught up in an unproductive mind-movie, STOP.

    There is nothing that can compel you to continue if you choose not to.

    You’re the one in charge.

    Focus instead on being present in the moment. Put your attention on your breath, on the sensations in the soles of your feet, on the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

    Unproductive thinking is mostly a habit. And like most habits, with a little awareness, it can be broken.

    7. Live more in the present moment.

    One of the main insights in meditation practice is that your awareness can only be in one place at a time.

    If you are lost in your thinking mind, you can’t simultaneously be aware of your surroundings. Likewise, when you shift your attention to the present moment, thinking stops.

    When you are present here and now, the mind automatically becomes quiet.

    Whenever you are aware enough to catch yourself falling into habitual thinking patterns, stop and engage your senses.

    Tune into the sensation of the air caressing your skin, feel the weight of your body coming into contact with the chair, listen to the sounds around you.

    Be intensely aware that now is happening and notice what happens to your thinking mind

    Take Back Control From Your Busy Mind

    The mind isn’t a bad thing of course. It would be pretty hard to get through life without one.

    It can come in very useful for problem solving, writing articles, booking flights, or remembering which house is yours when you get home from work.

    Used productively to carry out specific tasks, the human mind is an incredible tool.

    But it can also be deeply destructive—like an out of control Frankenstein monster with a life of its own.

    The mind can be a beautiful servant or a dangerous master.

    It all depends on who’s in charge.

    The next time you’re sitting on your deck chair trying to relax and the mind kicks off with its crazy dance (as it will do) remind it who’s boss.

    Don’t give it the power to ruin your holiday.

  • How the Past and the Future Can Rob You of the Present

    How the Past and the Future Can Rob You of the Present

    “Remember then: there is only one time that is important and it is now! The present moment is the only time when we have any power.” ~Tolstoy

    Stop for a second and tell me: What were you thinking about just now? Chances are very good that you were thinking about something either in the past or in the future.

    Of course, some of that thinking is necessary. For instance, we think about what we need to get at the store to make dinner tonight, or what we saw on the news yesterday to consider where we stand and what to do about it.

    Sometimes, thinking about the past or future is also a pleasure: remembering happy times or anticipating something exciting in the near future. But often—usually—we end up dwelling instead on things we can do nothing about, because the past and the future exist only in our heads.

    We allow our present moments to be filled with negative emotions caused by something that is not even happening right now—and may never happen!

    Caught in a mental sand trap of our own making, we miss out on real life—what is happening in front of us in this very moment.

    These are the thoughts that rob you of the present. They call up very distinctive emotions: usually regret, anger, and sadness (the past), or fear and dissatisfaction/longing (the future). Although we all indulge in both past and future thinking, I think most of us have a tendency to concentrate on one or the other.

    My tendency has usually been to focus on the future. I used to worry a lot, which is a technique many people use to try to control what is essentially uncontrollable—the future—by imagining all possible outcomes and how they might respond in each case.

    The extreme version of this future-based thinking is a crippling anxiety that robs the here and now of any possibility for joy. You can’t live your current life when all of your energy is spent worrying about what might happen in the future!

    We future-thinkers also tend to be obsessive planners and goal-setters. Rarely pausing to enjoy what we’ve achieved, we’re already focused on the next step in the plan. That (often unconscious) feeling of dissatisfaction with the present and the longing for something different can also take the form of daydreaming about the future.

    What we have right now is never enough—there’s always something “out there” in the future that’s missing, the magic ingredient that will finally make us really and truly happy.

    Unfortunately, that mythical something we’re chasing is a perpetually moving target that keeps us from experiencing and enjoying our actual lives as we live them.

    This came home to me once when I was living in a sweet little rental just blocks from the beach in Hawaii. Obsessed at the time with buying a house (which I couldn’t afford in Hawaii), I moved back to the mainland, only to later regret squandering that wonderful opportunity in favor of the next thing on my list.

    Focusing on the past, on the other hand, often keeps people stuck in a pattern of victimhood. We become prisoners of what has already happened to us, carrying our stories and experiences with us like a burden we can’t (or won’t) set down.

    Yes, they are a part of us. Yes, we can learn from them, use them, and legitimately own their impact on us. No, we don’t have to continually relive them in the present moment.

    This is a hard one. In the case of past physical and emotional trauma, the body actually carries a sensory imprint of the original event that, when triggered, can send a cascade of emotions from your past into the present moment. When that happens, you have no choice but to deal with those very real emotions in real time—but even then, you don’t have to get sucked back into the story. Try this instead:

    Acknowledge the emotions that were triggered, let them move through your body, and stay present. What is happening right now, in front of you? Can you feel your feet on the floor, or your back against a chair? Can you take a deep breath and tune in to any sounds or scents around you? Let your physical surroundings gently bring your body and mind back to the present. That’s the only moment when we have any power, remember?

    Most of the time, it’s not trauma reactions that keep us mired in the past. Usually, it’s just our stories. Stories about bad decisions we made. Stories about people who didn’t treat us well. Stories about things that happened to us. These are the thoughts that rob us of both the power and joy that can only be experienced in this moment.

    You can always recognize when you’re stuck in an unhelpful story by the emotions it stirs up—usually anger, sadness and/or regret.

    Most of our stories are very well rehearsed, because we’ve thought and spoken of them many, many times. Their familiarity gives us a sense of identity, and even a strange comfort.

    I think of how many times I told the story of my divorce, both to myself and to others, but I wasn’t able to finally heal and move on with my life until I stopped telling the story. I stopped letting it define who I was.

    The past and the future exist only in our minds. Focusing on them is a poor stand-in for really living, but for many of us it’s such a pervasive habit that we don’t even realize we’re doing it. This, right now, is the moment when life is actually happening to us, and if we don’t pay attention, it too will disappear into the unreality of the past.

  • The Practice of Staying Present Will Heal You

    The Practice of Staying Present Will Heal You

  • 9 Lessons from my 9-Month-Old Nephew, Who’s Taught Me How to Live

    9 Lessons from my 9-Month-Old Nephew, Who’s Taught Me How to Live

    “The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” ~William Arthur Ward

    Oliver.

    Ahh, my heart skips a beat at just the sound of his name.

    In 2018, a tiny human being arrived on the planet, one who would change my life. In the short nine months my nephew Oliver has been in my life, I’ve learned a lot. I’m not talking about changing nappies and bottle-feeding, although I’m getting to grips with these essentials too. No, Oliver has taught me valuable lessons about life itself. Here are nine of the biggest.

    1. Love and be loved.

    Those who meet Oli can’t help but love him. He has big, beautiful, blue eyes and a smile that you can’t help but reciprocate.

    Although he’s beautiful on the outside, it’s his spirit I love most. He’s gentle, innocent, and curious. I see the good in him, and even though I know he’ll make mistakes as he grows up, I also know it won’t change my unconditional love for him.

    Loving Oli in this way has taught me to be more loving and less judgmental of others because I recognize that in every adult there’s an innocent child who’s just trying to do their best.

    This has also helped me better open up and receive love. I feel how deeply I want to help Oli, and how much it means to me when I can, which makes me more receptive when others want to help me.

    2. Make time to play.

    Oliver’s social schedule is impressive, better than most adults! He goes to birthday parties, visits family, has trips out, not to mention the numerous baby classes he attends. Regardless of where he is, whether it’s a class with friends or a rainy day spent at home, I can count on one thing—he’s playing!

    One morning, while watching Oli play, I asked myself, “Do I make enough time to play?” Adulting can be a serious matter at times, but that’s not to say we can’t pass time in a way that lights us up. Maybe I’m a little old to play with toy cars (or maybe not). Still, it’s important I make time for fun.

    So I now make time to play piano and watch movies instead of telling myself these things are unimportant, and I try to infuse a spirit of play into everything I do instead of taking it all so seriously.

    3. Praise ourselves.

    Recently, my sister taught Oli the song “If You’re Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands.” He’s always a little out of time, but he’s mastered clapping itself. It melts my heart to see him clapping away with his mini hands.

    I hope when he’s a little older, he’ll clap for himself after all his accomplishments and learn to praise himself for a job well done. Children are usually great at this. Sadly, when we become adults, we become more critical of ourselves, and words of praise become words of criticism. We become our own worst enemies, which makes it hard to ever feel happy, proud, or successful.

    I formed a habit at the end of last year, to praise myself for three achievements at the each of day. Big or small, it doesn’t matter. I simply praise myself. I’m a lot less critical of myself since starting this ritual—and a lot happier as a result!

    4. Give encouragement.

    “C’mon, you can do it.” This seems to be my catchphrase when I’m spending quality time with my nephew. He’s forever on the move, grabbing on to the side of the sofa and pulling himself up slowly.

    Rather than helping him directly, I sit back, smile, and encourage because I want to support his growth instead of just doing things for him. If my family are in the room, they’ll join in and it begins to feel like we’re a group of cheerleaders rooting for our favorite sports team.

    Oli loves encouragement. Don’t we all? Life can be challenging sometimes, and hearing someone say, “I believe in you” can help us push through when we’re tempted to give up.

    I now put more energy into encouraging my loved ones—and myself. Replacing my inner dialogue from negative, doubtful messages to pure encouragement has been life changing. Our thoughts determine our feelings, which influence our actions. For this reason, even a little self-encouragement can dramatically transform our lives.

    5. Express how you feel.

    Another important lesson Oliver has taught me, and taught me well, is to express how you feel. When Oli is hungry or tired you know about it! He doesn’t hold back. And he always gets his needs met as a result.

    For a long time when I was living with anxiety, I wore a mask and hid my real feelings, putting on a “brave face.” I was afraid of being judged and I falsely believed that “real men” shouldn’t show weakness or ask for help.

    I’ve gotten better at expressing how I feel, though there’s still room for improvement. As a result, I’m also better able to move past my challenges and get what I need.

    6. Be determined.

    One of Oliver’s cutest idiosyncrasies is his growl. He’s one determined little man, and his determined actions are always backed by a “GRRRR.” He’s advanced for his age, and I bet it’s because of his determination. If he fails the first time around, he tries again.

    As adults, we’re sometimes too quick to form conclusions about what’s possible and what we’re capable of doing. Babies don’t have this kind of internal monologue—they just keep going when they have a goal in their sights!

    Watching Oli has inspired me during recent challenges to really dig deep, get determined, and keep on going.

    7. Know when to rest.

    As playful and determined as he is, Oliver knows when it’s time for a nap.

    In the past I’ve been guilty of pushing too hard, working too long, and not resting enough. I sometimes think I’ll get more done if I work harder and longer—probably because I often heard growing up “You can be successful if you work hard.” But I’m actually more effective if I allow myself to stop working and rest when I’m tired, since I can then come back stronger and recharged later or the next day.

    I may not require as much sleep as a baby, but I do need to listen to when my mind and body is saying “enough.” It’s not about working harder, but smarter.

    8. Try new things.

    The last time I saw Oliver, my family and I took him to the English seaside for the first ever time. It was a cold and windy day, but we didn’t let the weather prevent us from having a great time. We walked for hours along the coastline, breathing in the salty sea air and listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

    Having a baby in the family is the perfect reason to go and experience all the world has to offer, to show them its wonders for the first time.

    As adults, our lives can get routine. We drive to work the same way, eat the same foods, and see the same people day to day. According to Tony Robbins, one of our six core needs is the need for uncertainty—or variety. Without new experiences, life starts to get boring.

    There’s so much joy to be had when we enter the realm of the new with a curious pair of eyes. Trying new things also helps us discover new things about ourselves—new interests or strengths, or traits we didn’t know we had.

    After this outing with my family, I made a list of new things I’d like to experience, from foods to devour to countries to explore. I may be far beyond Oil’s age, but we’re never too old to try new things.

    9. Live in the present.

    Perhaps the biggest lesson my nephew has taught me is to live in the present moment. He has no concept of time. The past and the future don’t exist in Oli’s world; he lives completely in and for the present, which ultimately, is the only time we can ever live in.

    Oliver hasn’t yet learned how to remember. He hasn’t learned how to worry. He is pure. Like we all were at one time. If he falls down, he forgets it quickly and goes right back to playing, completely connected to the joy of what he’s doing.

    It’s never too late, I believe, to return to living life in the present. Although over the years, thoughts may have pulled our focus like a tug of war rope, back and forth, between the past and future, we can always return to the now, right now.

  • Why I Focus on the Now Instead of What I Want for the Future

    Why I Focus on the Now Instead of What I Want for the Future

    “The next message you need is always right where you are.” ~Ram Dass

    I want you to go back to New Year’s Day 2009 with me for a second. I’d recently left a job and was embarking upon a new career, one in which I was self-employed.

    I pulled out all the stops and created a vision board that contained all of the things: how much money I wanted to earn, how I wanted to dress, where I wanted to vacation, how I wanted to eat, and everything else I could think of. I thought if I created this vision board, if I planned out exactly how things would go, somehow I’d find satisfaction and peace.

    I remember later that same year visiting my then-boyfriend (now husband) when he was working out of state. The area where he was working was gorgeous, and I kept writing down the future I wanted, what it would be like to live in a place like this, how it would feel if only we could afford a place here, near the ocean.

    I also remember being obsessive and miserable.

    None of the stuff I was clinging to so tightly worked out. Life unfolded, all was well, but all that planning wasn’t making my life better; it was making it more stressful.

    Every year, I’d come up with new goals, new dreams. Almost always they’d have something to do with controlling the way I ate, or how much money I made, or how to figure out the “right” career for me.

    Even last year I bought a big old notebook, divided it into sections for each month, and wrote down goals. Big goals for the year, smaller goals for each month, all things designed to bring me the happiness I was seeking.

    But this past year has changed me. I no longer try to plan far into a future I can’t predict, and I no longer expect outside circumstances to bring me internal pleasure.

    I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I know pushing myself to visualize the life I wanted, over and over again, and obsessing about writing down my goals finally got to me. I finally got to a point where the last thing I wanted to do was think about those things.

    I wanted something new. I wanted to meet each moment where it was and ask myself: What’s next? What should I do now?

    Recently I was letting my mind spin into high anxiety mode. I was freaking out about money and career and every other thing you can think of. Instead of my usual planning and searching and trying to come up with something to work toward, I sat down.

    I got out my notebook. I opened it, and I asked myself, “What can I do right now to feel better?” I don’t remember what the answer was, but I’m certain it was something along the lines of “take a deep breath” or “lie down” or “relax.”

    In fact, that’s often the answer I get when I stop and ask what to do in the moment. It may seem weird—I mean, shouldn’t we be planning for our retirement? Maybe sometimes, but more often than not I believe stopping and realizing this is it, this is the moment to stop and breathe, this is the moment to chill out, is a better way to live, at least for me.

    I feel happier and more settled this year, and I don’t have a resolution or goal in sight. Here’s how I’m approaching life nowadays: with the intention to stay in the moment and simply do the next right thing.

    I didn’t come up with any resolutions for this year. Okay, I guess I have one, but it’s an intention, not a resolution: to remind myself to check in with the present moment rather than letting my mind go in circles trying to figure out what the future holds. Because that makes me feel worse, not better.

    I committed to letting go of obsession. I’m still human—I still have things I hope to achieve, and I still have dreams for where my career might go, I still have lots of places in the world I want to visit. I’m not giving up; I’m just doing things differently.

    As soon as I feel my anxiety start to rise, as soon as I start to think the same thoughts (or worry the same worries) over and over again about what the future may bring, even if it’s something positive, I stop. I stop thinking, I stop planning, and I breathe into the moment.

    I remind myself every single day to ask myself what’s next right now. Not what I should do next year, not what my five year plan should be—what I should do in a minute or two from now.

    The way I do this is pretty simple: I either pause for a moment and see which thing seems like the most delightful thing to do next, or, if I’m in a stressed out place, I pause and write to myself.

    It’s journaling, really, but a type where I’m having an internal dialogue with what I think of as my heart. I’m looking inward, intending to hear what the deepest part of me would like to do next rather than letting my mind run away with the show and tell me all of the things I should be worried about.

    I sit still, breathe deeply, think about something that makes me feel calm and content (that usually involves imagining or petting one of my cats), and then write down a question. I ask what to do now. I ask what I can do to calm down. Then I just listen.

    Like I said, the answers I usually get have to do with lying down, or resting, or relaxing, or letting myself have fun. It’s all stuff that sounds really great, truly. It makes me feel better, not worse.

    I can hear the arguments now, though: You have to have a plan. You can’t always have fun!

    I’m not suggesting you empty your 401k or sleep all day, not at all. I’m suggesting that, at least for me, checking in with myself and listening for what to do next—not worrying and obsessing about how to achieve, achieve, achieve—is the key to a calmer, happier life.

    Yes, I have dreams and a vision for the trajectory of my career. Yes, I think about my health. Yes, I have plans to travel this summer. But I think about those things when it’s time to think about them, like in the exact moment I’m at my computer and can look at rentals on Airbnb. I don’t need to worry about it, stress about it, and think about it at other times when I can’t do anything to change it.

    The same goes for everything else in my life: I can’t become an overnight success; what I can do is find out, in each moment, what would serve me in moving toward the ideas I have for my career. Sometimes I truly think I’m being told to rest because that is what will serve me best—because I need a break.

    It’s simple though not always easy: Slow down and check in with yourself. See what the next right move is, the thing you should be doing in the next few minutes. I know it makes me feel calmer and more centered, and, so far, has never led me to feel anxious or worried.

    If you set a bunch of resolutions at the start of the year and are finding it hard to stick with them, maybe this is the perfect time to shift your focus from what you want in the future to what you need right now.

  • Let’s Get Real: Why I’m Done Pretending to Have It All Together

    Let’s Get Real: Why I’m Done Pretending to Have It All Together

    “If you’re not really happy, don’t fake a smile on my behalf. I’d rather you spill your guts with tears every day until your smile is real. Because I don’t care about the show, the disguise, the politically correctness. If you’re in my life, I want you to be in your own skin.” ~Stephanie Bennet-Henry

    This is the story of my inner child, the insecure part of myself that I am ready to respect and recognize.

    My thoughts and views are as follows: I’m not a superior mom, probably just an average psychologist, and am way too sensitive about everything. I have this view of myself, when challenged by others, as that insecure little girl who believed she didn’t measure up. I shrivel up and want to cry.

    As I age, I think I am less likely to accommodate to please others, but I also have been more in touch with my vulnerability. It stirs things up in me when someone challenges a decision I made or when I am faced with uncertainty.

    I want this to be known, and don’t want to pretend that I’ve got it all together, because I don’t.

    I know that there are moments when I am victorious, such as when I was able to resign from a job where I didn’t feel respected or treated as valuable after fifteen years. That decision felt good, but it also left me with feelings of uncertainty and fear that haven’t quite resolved.

    The victorious spirit, that Norma Rae moment, didn’t last. I wondered afterward if I’d made the wrong choice. Will I ever be able to make a living like I did in my previous job? What if I fail? How will those around me see me? Will I be good enough? Am I good enough right now?

    Yes, I am a psychologist. I’m an educational psychologist. I specialize in helping children feel a sense of competence and mastery over their lives and find their voice.

    Why did I want to do this? Well, I wanted to fill a role for others that I wish someone did for me when I was younger. I wanted to be a presence for a young person and let him/her know that “everything would be okay.”

    Learning how to self-soothe is an important skill, and I spent about thirty years trying to figure out how to do that. Over the years, I have learned some tools, such as having a sense of humor—usually self-deprecating—doing many years of therapy myself, learning self-compassion, and finding one or two really good friends I could trust with my stories. Yet, deep down, there is still this tug, this pull, and anxious stir that reminds me that I may not be all that.

    I have learned not to seek reassurance from others as I used to do during my teen years and early twenties, through alcohol, sex, and unstable relationships. As I got older I found a stable partner. I was married for eighteen years, and many of these years were very happy and fulfilling.

    I have an amazing son who works hard in school, is a good person, and most of all seems to be happy, confident, and self-assured. People tell me that he is a result of my parenting and I love to think that, but somehow this idea feels foreign to me. I think that he is his own creation and magically developed without my influence. This is a crazy idea considering how much I know about child development and my education and training. I discount my importance.

    So, where does this leave me? I think that I am like many people, but I just admit to the dark side maybe a little more freely.

    I get tired sometimes of being told to just focus on the positive and not to let in any negative thoughts. Sometimes I need to go through it. I need to go through it so I can get to the other side.

    I appreciate when someone shares their struggles and acknowledges that there isn’t always a resolution at the end, it’s just about continuing, experiencing, and being authentic. At least that’s how it is for me.

    I don’t want any pity or sympathy or anger. It’s funny how this can ignite anger in some people. Sometimes I think it reminds others of a part of themselves that they might deny. What do I want? I want to tell my story and I want to be fully present, aware, and I guess just accepted for where I am right now. I want to believe that is good enough.

    I suspect we’d all be a lot happier if we would just allow ourselves to be authentic. It’s painful to hide our true selves and our feelings, and it keeps us disconnected from other people.

    The only way to really connect with others on a meaningful level is to let them see who we are and to share what we’re going through and what makes us tick. Not everyone will like it, and that’s okay. We gain self-worth not by being what others want us to be, but by being true to ourselves.

    If there’s one lesson I’d like to share from my experience, it’s this: You don’t need to have it together all the time, and you don’t need to be fixed, as you are beautifully flawed. We all are. Emotions are not good or bad, and most people actually appreciate and admire when we share them. Some of the most tender moments I can remember in my life were when people told me how beautiful I was, not in spite of my feelings but because of them.

  • Experience the Benefits of Mindfulness: Join eM Life’s Free One Percent Challenge

    Experience the Benefits of Mindfulness: Join eM Life’s Free One Percent Challenge

    Whether you’re a regular reader here or you just found your way to Tiny Buddha recently, odds are you’re familiar with the practice of mindfulness, but you may not be aware of the many benefits.

    A regular mindfulness practice can not only boost your mood, reduce your stress level, and help you be less reactive, it can also enhance your creativity, improve your sleep, and increase your resilience so you’re better able to handle life’s varied disappointments and challenges.

    And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Studies have shown that a regular mindfulness practice can also give you a higher pain threshold, lower your blood pressure, and even slow down neurogenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s and dementia.

    On a basic level mindfulness is being present and aware of what’s going on within and around you, without judgment. In theory, it sounds simple—it’s simply being where you are. But our minds can be loud and busy, and finding freedom from our thoughts isn’t easy, which is why we need to make mindfulness a regular practice.

    Just fourteen minutes of daily practice—one percent of your day—can help you experience the healing, calming benefits of mindfulness in your everyday life. And eM Life’s One Percent Challenge can help you make this a habit.

    eM Life’s One Percent Challenge

    Each day of this online challenge, you’ll be able to access interactive sessions to help you deepen your mindfulness practice. You can participate live or on demand and immediately exercise the skills you’ve learned with clear strategies for how to integrate them into your daily life.

    By participating in this challenge, you’ll learn to quiet your mind by devoting attention to your breath and body, and to practice awareness so you’re less apt to get swept up worries, fears, and unnecessary drama.

    The One Percent Challenge is a free, simple way to dramatically transform your life. With just fourteen minutes a day, you’ll cultivate a sense of insight and peace and will be better able to mindfully pause, reflect, and make the choices that best support your health and well-being.

    You might even find that after committing fourteen minutes and beginning to experience a positive shift, you feel inspired to practice for longer, which will deepen the benefits.

    Give Back While Giving Yourself Peace

    By participating in eM Life’s One Percent Challenge, you’re facilitating charitable donations to a number of worthy causes. The more people who practice, and the more minutes they complete, the greater eM Life’s donations to the following organizations:

    Mental Health America

    The country’s leading nonprofit dedicated to helping break the stigma around mental health

    ShatterProof

    An organization with a mission to change the conversation about addiction through advocating for research, resources, and change

    The Mardy Fish Children’s Foundation

    An organization that provides children with opportunities to participate in safe and impactful fitness, nutrition, and enrichment programs

    Earn Rewards

    After completing ten, twenty, and thirty days of mindfulness sessions, you’ll unlock wellness-focused rewards, like a 1:1 mindfulness session with one of eM Life’s world-class instructors, a Garmin vivomove® HR Smartwatch, a Mindful Daily Practice Guide to keep your mindfulness journey going, and much more.

    Make this the year you cultivate mindfulness for a more present, peaceful life, and you’ll not only reap the many rewards, you’ll also make a positive difference for countless people in need.

    You can register for eM Life’s One Percent Challenge here. I hope it’s helpful to you!

  • What Expecting to Die Young Taught Me About Living a Happy Life

    What Expecting to Die Young Taught Me About Living a Happy Life

    “I’ve come to trust not that events will always unfold exactly as I want, but that I will be fine either way. The challenges we face in life are always lessons that serve our soul’s growth.” ~ Marianne Williamson

    At the age of nine, I was sitting in a doctor’s office at Baylor University with both of my parents when we were all told I wouldn’t live to see twenty-three. The doctor casually told us my dad would probably never get to walk me down the aisle and I’d likely never make my mom a grandmother, but there was great chicken pot pie in the cafeteria on the first floor.

    Enjoy the rest of your day.

    Eight months later, on my tenth birthday, the possibility of my dad walking me down the aisle was permanently taken away when he died suddenly of an aortic and thoracic aneurysm. He had the same genetic abnormality I have, which caused the aneurysm, so by my logic, confirmed by the doctors, my demise was not far behind.

    I had no idea the day I turned ten, the day I lost my dad, my misguided and broken heart gifted me a license to be entitled and reckless until the day I died. Which, according to the medical community, wasn’t that far away.

    Let me back the medical drama bus up back to the day in Texas at the hospital just for a quick, minor detail to note.

    That day my dad and I were simultaneously diagnosed with a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome.

    In a very tiny nutshell, it’s a connective tissue disorder found on the fibrillin one gene. It essentially weakens all connective tissue in the body. The result is a body whose heart, lungs, eyes, and spine are severely impacted. A prominent and common feature with this condition is “abnormal” height. People affected are relatively tall (I’m 6’2”, my dad was 6’9”).

    For precautionary purposes, we both stopped participating in any activities that raise the heartbeat, to decrease the risk of having an aneurysm or potentially causing damage to the face due to dislocation of the lens in the eye.

    No contact sports, no exercising, no gym at school. I was basically told I could walk, bowl, or golf. I hated sports anyway, so I was excited to not have to dress for gym.

    This consequently led to a lifetime of comments like “You don’t play basketball or volleyball?! That’s a shame!” or “Omg, you’re so tall!” As if I wasn’t already painfully aware, but I digress…

    Point being, I was told from a very young age on a fairly regular basis, “You can’t.” So I learned to habitually answer, “I can’t” every time someone asked me to do pretty much anything.

    What possible negative effects could this have?

    I couldn’t see it at the time, but this led to a lifetime of constantly assessing every situation based on whether it was going to speed up my untimely death or not.

    I didn’t learn how to question whether or not I liked things but whether or not it was something that was going to kill me sooner or later. In turn, I missed a million opportunities to get to know who I was as a young woman.

    All I knew and all I was told were all the things I couldn’t do all the time.

    This short-term life span turned my life into a short-term life plan. Soon enough the emotional pains of being a teenager and the new kid in high school, along with unresolved daddy issues, kicked into high gear, and I had no idea how to deal with any of it.

    So, I drank. A lot.

    The rest of high school and most of college was a blur. I got married at twenty-three because, well, time was running out for me. And then, when I was twenty-four, doctors told me my life expectancy had suddenly increased to forty.

    (If there’s one emoji to express how I felt it would be the face with the wide eyes and red cheeks that looks like he would say “Oh sh*t!” if he could talk.)

    I panicked and started trying to speed up the clock. Living wasn’t for me. I wasn’t raised to live; I was raised to die. Live all the places, have a baby, buy the stuff, laugh all the laughs, and then die.

    This is where my excessive drinking turned into full-blown alcoholism and prescription drug addiction.

    I was either going to OD or make my heart explode, but I wasn’t going to stick around. I must note that none of this was planned, intentional, or a suicide mission. In my mind at the time, I literally didn’t know what else to do, not even how to ask for help.

    So, someone asked for help for me. Rehab is a whole other blog.

    I’m thirty-nine now, well past my expiration date, and still learning how to live life today. In my drinking days, life revolved around morbid reflection. In early sobriety, life revolved around morbid projection. Today life revolves around just this day. This hour. This moment.

    When one of my coaches asks me to journal about how I want my life to look in five years or where I want my business to be long term, I still don’t know how to answer that.

    I don’t understand long term. And for the longest time, I always thought that to be a nightmarish curse. Until now. 

    My inability to see life long-term seems to be all the rage these days. There’s Eckhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, and Deepak Chopra all preaching about being present, being here now, and being there with the spirit of love, and I’m over here wondering how long the two-week wait to hear if this gets published is going to feel or if I’ll be around to see it go live.

    When you think about it, we’re all terminal. No one gets out of here alive. Yet we all run around like we’re going to cheat death.

    We run out of joy staying married to jobs, people, and places we are no longer passionate about. We’ve forgotten how to be happy because we’ve made it so elusive.

    It only feels elusive because we’ve spent our time wrong. We’ve spent our time focusing on how we can create a living for ourselves instead of how to create a life for our hearts, and the only way to do that is to get to know yourself first.

    In designing my life by listening to my heart, I discovered a few things along the way.

    I learned that we habitually state we are human beings, but we spend too much time doing. We get stuck in the how and what next instead of being right where our feet are in that moment. I learned to create space and presence for life to happen organically instead of allowing my mind to race with perceived fears.

    Living in each moment used to mean living as recklessly as possible and constantly challenging the odds just to see if I would make it. Today, living in each moment means being driven by what my heart is calling me to do.

    I’ve learned to take the time to figure out what the voice of my heart sounds like instead of the blazing of doubt in my mind. This finally allowed me to see what felt light and right in my life and allowed everything that feels heavy to fall to the way side.

    Heart driven. Soul led.

    This journey was started by a seed that was planted three decades ago. The seed called “I can’t” grew into a self-fulfilling prophecy filled with destruction, heartbreak, sorrow, and the urge to run from everything.

    When I stopped running (drinking, using, blaming, complaining) and learned to be still with myself and all that had encompassed my life, an entirely new life was born.

    In designing my life and healing my soul, I have found that happiness can be found in big moments like reuniting with my soulmate, winning a competition, or leaping into a new career. It can also be found in the smaller moments like watching my child choose a book instead of watching television, receiving flowers just because, or just being grateful for the sunshine.

    But I have found I am the happiest and most content when I am meditating, creating a safe space for others, and playing. Playing like a child on a daily basis is where it’s at. Whether I’m writing, coaching, baking, or gluing rhinestones on anything I can get my hands on, that’s where I’m at complete peace.

    And that (happiness) seems to be the individual goal of most people I meet, but it doesn’t seem to translate into the collective thinking. That’s where I’ve found the hiccup. The getting tied up in what we see everyone else doing, where everyone else is succeeding, and then wondering why we don’t have that perfect slice of peace pie that everyone else seems to have.

    The hardest thing I’ve learned is there is no special sauce, no magical happiness-to-sadness ratio, and no one-size-fits-all solution. We each have to define happiness for ourselves.

    For me, this means doing the work. It looks like me getting brutally honest with my past, mending my mistakes, giving love to every person I meet, and telling those who are close to me what’s really going on every day.

    This connects me to you and you to me, and this is ultimately the biggest lesson I learned.

    We all want to be seen. We all want to be heard. We all want permission to be ourselves. I’ve experienced what that feels like, and now I’m living a life that I was told would never happen. I stopped believing other people’s opinions of me, my life, and where they think it should be when I realized those opinions and thoughts are about what’s missing from their life, not mine.

    There is no slice of peace pie waiting for you or for me. We each have our own pie to flavor, bake, and share. I guess that would be called Purpose Pie. I sit in gratitude every day I have found my pie and am able to share with all who are hungry.

    All of this because they told me I was going to die and the hospital chicken pot pie was nice.

  • 10 Ways to Give the Gift of Your Presence (The Best Gift You Can Give)

    10 Ways to Give the Gift of Your Presence (The Best Gift You Can Give)

    A couple weeks back I shared a quote on Facebook that really spoke to me:

    “A child is going to remember who was there, not what you spent on them. Kids outgrow toys and outfits, but they never outgrow time and love.”

    I love this quote because it puts things in perspective, and it’s true not only for kids but for all of us. Sure, shiny things are nice and appreciated, but what we all really want is love, and time with the people who mean most to us.

    For those of us who are fortunate, the holidays are all about connecting with family—whether that means the family we were born into, the one we married (or chose not to marry) into, or the one we pieced together with a ragtag group of misfits just like us.

    But being with the people we love isn’t the same as being present with the people we love. Especially if we see these people all the time, it’s easy to be there but not.

    I know, because I’ve fallen into this trap myself. I’ve listened to my boyfriend talk while wondering about completely random, inconsequential things, like when my favorite show will start up again or whether I should cut my bangs.

    Or, on my worst days, I’ve held a full conversation with someone while rehashing painful memories in my head or worrying about the many things I can’t control.

    It’s human nature to sometimes do these things, but there’s no denying it can make a huge difference for the people we love when we’re fully present with them, and that presence is the best gift we can give. How can we do that? Read on…

    1. Take care of your own needs.

    This may seem like an odd start to this list, since the point is to be present with other people. But it’s much more difficult to be present when we’re exhausted, overwhelmed, or deprived of the things we need to function at our best.

    I know this from recent experience. For a number of personal reasons, I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I haven’t been getting as much exercise as usual because I’ve felt so drained.

    As a result, every time I talk to someone I have to consciously repeat what they said in my head, because my tired brain often interprets their words as something sounding like the teacher from Peanuts. I also have to resist the urge to be short with them, which, I’m embarrassed to admit, I sometimes do when I feel tired and sluggish.

    Especially if you have kids, it might be tough to get a good night’s sleep, tonight in particular. But do what you can to take care of your needs. Eat a healthy breakfast. Get out for a solo walk to clear your head. Set boundaries with people who drain you. As the saying goes, “You can’t give from an empty cup.”

    2. Fully listen—even if it’s a story you heard a million times before.

    Everyone wants to feel important, seen, and heard. Give your full attention instead of just waiting to talk, even if it’s a story you could repeat verbatim because you’ve heard it many times before.

    We often retell the stories that bring us the most joy—or alternatively, rehash the situations that have brought us the most pain.

    You don’t have to be an all-day sounding board for repetitive complaints (boundaries, remember?), but it could make a huge difference to lend your ear, your compassion, and your support, even if just for a while.

    3. Drop the judgmental story and accept people for exactly how they are in the moment.

    I shared a Winnie the Pooh-related meme on Facebook the other day that really resonated with me. The quote reads:

    “One awesome thing about Eeyore is that even though he’s basically clinically depressed, he still gets invited to participate in adventures and shenanigans with all his friends. And they never expect him to pretend to feel happy, they just love him anyway, and they never leave him behind or ask him to change.”

    Accept the people you love who are depressed. Accept the people you love who struggle with anxiety. Accept the people who can’t seem to get into the holiday spirit, maybe because they’re grieving or coping with a pain they never discuss.

    I don’t know about you, but I’ve been all of these people before. And I appreciated the people who didn’t expect anything more than I could be and give.

    It’s such a massive weight off our shoulders to know we can simply show up as we are, without pretending or having to justify why we feel how we feel.

    4. Talk first, tech later.

    These days we’re all essentially living double lives—the one where our feet take us from place to place and the one we’re our hands swipe from dopamine hit to dopamine hit. (For those who are unfamiliar, dopamine is essentially the “feel good” chemical that gets activated when we experience some type of reward—e.g.: social praise.)

    I know how seductive tech connection and social media can be, but try to be fully available to the person right in front of you—even if you’re tempted to text other people “Happy holidays!” during a real-life conversation, or post your ugly Christmas sweater pic on Instagram.

    As I’ve said before, your texts will be there later, but the person in front of you will not.

    5. Don’t be the Ghost of Christmas Past.

    If you’re reliving happy Christmas memories, then sure, go for it. But if you’re comparing this year to years past unfavorably, try to let it all go. Especially if you’re feeling bad about what you did last year versus what you did this year.

    So what if you gave more expensive gifts last year? No one reflects with a calculator in hand; they remember the love and thoughtfulness. So what if more people showed up last Christmas? Time with anyone you love is precious, whether it’s one, ten, or more.

    This is something I’ve had to work on this year. I’ve only missed one Christmas with my family in my entire life, but for personal reasons, I wasn’t able to fly back this year.

    Given that this is my favorite annual tradition, I’ve resisted, at times, that I won’t get to join “the ginzo convention,” as our gatherings have been called. (My apologies to any Italians who are offended; we actually find this more endearing than derogatory.)

    But this year I’ll be with my boyfriend and his parents. And it will be different but no less wonderful. There will be other Christmases with my family, but this is the only opportunity to appreciate and enjoy this year’s plan.

    6. Notice the little things.

    When we’re caught up in our heads, dwelling on the past or anticipating the future, or otherwise distracting ourselves from the moment, we miss the details.

    You can only compliment your sister’s taste in holiday décor if you look up, look around, and take it all in.

    You can only notice your grandmother’s new brooch (or is it only mine who had an impressive gaudy Christmas pin collection?) if you’re not just looking at her but really seeing her too.

    We all love compliments, and the best ones come from people who pay enough attention to notice the little things.

    7. Let people know their presence matters.

    Okay, so this one isn’t really about giving presence but rather appreciating someone else’s. Because really, that’s what this all comes down to—showing people they’re important to us.

    As I mentioned, I didn’t go home this year, and my family knows this has weighed on me. So each of them sent me Christmas cards with gift cards inside. My brother sent his with a Disney gift card, because he knows my boyfriend and I are annual pass holders. But that’s not what touched me most.

    Inside the card, he wrote, “Not home, but not forgotten.” Cue the waterworks.

    Not that I didn’t already know this, but this reinforced that I’m an important part of my family. My presence matters. I matter. I can’t think of a better gift than that.

    8. Sing a song, play a game, watch a home video, or do something that becomes a tradition.

    I don’t know about you, but I look forward to certain holiday traditions every year, and because these are things that only happen once a year, it’s instinctive to be fully present.

    For example, my brother and I watch A Very Brady Christmas—an incredibly cheesy movie that we enjoy nonetheless. And, though this one isn’t an annual tradition, my family and I regularly re-watch one specific home video from my grandmother’s house, from when I was about five.

    My sister, cousins, and I all sang songs (mine being Wudolph the Wed-nosed Weindeer—I was five, remember), and my grandmother had us reenact the story of Jesus’ birth, which she narrated.

    Though I no longer hold the same religious beliefs, it still touches me to watch this, especially since my grandmother’s now gone.

    If you don’t have a holiday tradition, start one now—something everyone will love and look forward to, or love to mock but fully show up for nonetheless.

    9. Get people talking about their passions.

    While it’s a beautiful thing to give people the gift of your presence, it can be equally beneficial to give them the gift of their presence—and most people find it much easier to be in the moment when they’re talking about something they love.

    When someone’s passionate about something, it’s like everything else falls away, kind of like in the movies when the spotlight turns on, the background noise fades, and it’s just the star, the light in their eyes, and they story they can’t not tell.

    One of my cousins is really into theater, and she’s in her early twenties, so she’s just coming into her own and figuring out who she wants to be. Whenever she talks about plays or auditions or the many impressive things she’s doing to give this a go, her enthusiasm is magnetic.

    And not only does this get her excited, it reminds me to keep pursuing what sets my heart on fire—to keep dreaming, keep trying, and keep filling my life with possibilities. So really, this is a gift we give and a gift we get.

    10. If you have trouble being present, just be present with yourself.

    Sometimes, despite our best intentions, we struggle to do all the ‘right’ things. I’ve often been hard on myself when I struggle because I want to do everything perfectly. I want to be perfectly considerate. Perfectly open-minded. Perfectly compassionate. Perfectly present.

    But we’re only human. Sometimes all these great practices are just plain hard to apply. Sometimes we’re tired, or sick, or overwhelmed, or anxious. Sometimes we can’t let go of the pain someone once caused, or can’t stop thinking about pain that might come.

    And I’ve decided that’s okay. It’s okay to not be perfect. It’s okay to briefly be present and then get lost in our head for a bit. It’s okay to accept someone in front of us then judge someone else—so long as we eventually recognize what we’re doing.

    All we can really do in these human moments is be aware, accept ourselves as we are, and give ourselves permission to be perfectly imperfect. The best way to get present again is to accept that we sometimes won’t be, let go when we struggle, and then try again.

    —

    Happy holidays everyone—and thank you for your presence here on Tiny Buddha! You make a difference, and you’re appreciated.

  • Creating Calm in the Chaos: How I Found My Peace in NYC

    Creating Calm in the Chaos: How I Found My Peace in NYC

    “In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.” ~Deepak Chopra

    I found my peace in New York City, where I spent a year as a consultant on a temporary work assignment.

    It may seem counter-intuitive that living in a city targeted by terrorists, clogged with traffic, and punctuated by sirens and honking horns could instill a kind of tranquility unattainable in Minnesota, where I currently live. After all, Minnesota is home to over 10,000 lakes, comforting casseroles of tater tots and cheese, and generations of Scandinavians who make Minnesota “nice.”

    So, what is it about the chaos and madness of New York City, as experienced in my year of living and working there, that helped me slow down, tame my neuroses, and rediscover a quiet place not present in my Minnesota life?

    It turns out New York City is a pretty good teacher. It pushed me to my limits (and no, not just how long I’ll stay in a subway car with a puddle of piss) and taught me three big lessons along the way.

    Lesson #1: Let go.

    It seems simple, right? Who hasn’t received this advice at some point in her life? For me, letting go speaks to short-circuiting the wiring in my brain that causes me to spend far too much energy worrying about things that objectively don’t matter.

    Back in Minnesota, I get hung up on things like people taking the parking spots in front of my house or the peeling paint on my neighbor’s windows or the landscaping crew that fires up when I step outside for my morning coffee.

    I’m one of those people who adjusts the angling of picture frames and positioning of salt shakers and wipes the fingerprints off my phone screen with a persistent regularity. If I had lived in Victorian times, I certainly would have been treated for my “delicate sensibilities” and spent my days on a fainting couch or taking in the air on the Continent.

    But living in my pre-war rented apartment on 23rd street in a building with over 900 apartments, I somehow managed to not care about a lot of things that likely would have triggered me back in Minnesota. For New York makes palpable the sense that I am part of something much larger than myself and my petty preoccupations. It puts my sense of my own importance into perspective.

    My particular concern at a given moment is not more important than anyone else’s.

    You don’t like sirens at 3am? Too bad—someone’s probably fallen down a flight of stairs or needs his stomach pumped.

    You find it rude and annoying that the woman down the hall parks her cruiser bike in the hallway in a blatant disregard of apartment policy? Deal with it. It’s not worth the risk of months of awkward elevator encounters if you say something.

    In those moments, instead of giving in to my frustration, I chose to let go of my urge to control and settle into a space of acceptance, knowing that New York City will not bow to my will and neither will most New Yorkers.

    Lesson #2: Be present.

    I know, this is another lesson that is boorishly common and desperately close to being trite. And it’s a lesson I’ve been trying to ace for a long time with fleeting success.

    My mind lures me into the future, pulling me along on a subtle but sustained undertow of discontent that prompts wonder about how things might be different if I found a new job or started doing yoga again or any number of “what if?” scenarios.

    It’s not uncommon for me to read or watch something or sit in a meeting and realize that I haven’t really absorbed anything—my mind was too busy thinking of other things. Sometimes it is serious stuff, like whether I’m saving enough for retirement, but more often than not, it’s random thoughts that could certainly wait, like what if dogs could whistle?

    The city demands a certain degree of presence to avoid being hit by a cab or taken down by a commuter on a Citibike.

    For me, the splendor of being in one of the world’s greatest cities inspired me to take in all the sights and sounds (but definitely not the smells) and feel truly alive.

    I remember sitting precariously on the ledge of my 16th floor window on a warm October night with only the faintest whisper of winter in the air. I watched dogs come home from their nightly walks, saw the specks of other humans in windows across the way, listened to the hum of the bus as it let people on and off. Above us all and our millions of anonymous lives, a harvest moon shone bright, lending an intimacy to a night alone balancing on the edge.

    In those moments I became more of an observer, experiencing the world as it was in that moment, divorced from any of my misplaced notions about how I think things should be.

    New York City rewards those who pay attention, whether it is those beautiful moments of feeling connected to humanity and grateful to be alive or the ridiculously absurd things you can overhear walking down the street that will have you laughing for days.

    Lesson #3: Simplify.

    This lesson gets to my inclination toward accumulation and the sense of satisfaction I get from filling my house with beautiful things. Being married to a general contractor who likes projects, I live in a big turn-of-the-century house built for a family with servants, yet currently home to only my husband, dog, and me.

    Despite acknowledging when we bought the house that it was far more space than we needed, I found myself becoming more and more attached to my house and cultivating an unconscious belief that I need a big house and lots of pretty things to be happy and feel successful.

    Living in my little rented apartment in New York City, with its sliver of a kitchen, I learned that not only can I be happy with much less, but the weight of those possessions and responsibilities creates a not insignificant amount of stress and anxiety.

    While NYC real estate certainly brings its own burdens, I discovered the value of scaling down and living a simpler life that is focused on how I live, not where I live and what I have.

    —

    As my project comes to an end and it is time to return to Minnesota, I’m challenging myself to bring these lessons home and maintain my New York state of mind. In my own version of “What Would Jesus Do?” I need to ask myself: “’Would NY-me care?” If the answer is no, then I’m just going to breathe and let it go.

  • Life’s Too Short to Be Too Busy: How to Make the Most of Your Time

    Life’s Too Short to Be Too Busy: How to Make the Most of Your Time

    “Slow down. Calm down. Don’t worry. Don’t hurry. Trust the process.” ~Alexandra Stoddard

     Heard in the offices across America…

    “I’m so busy and have no time!”

    “How is it almost 2019 already?!”

    “I’ll sleep when I’m dead…”

    We’re so focused on the next deadline, getting the next promotion, having the approval of our managers and peers alike that we push, push, push all the time.

    Oh, how I can relate! I worked in corporate America commuting into NYC (two hours each way!) as the VP of marketing at a major media company. And I worked… a lot.

    When I wasn’t at work, I was running around, checking things off my long to-do list, pretending to be Martha Stewart and always trying to accomplish the ‘next thing.’

    I knew my sense of self-worth was way too wrapped up in how much I could check off my to-do list, and I’d do anything for the approval of my colleagues; but I didn’t know any other way. Even though I was getting a lot of things done and getting the recognition I craved, I wasn’t that happy. In fact, I was miserable.

    Then tragedy struck—not once, but twice.

    In 1998 my sister, Jenny, had a brain aneurysm and suddenly passed away. She was eighteen. It was a blow like nothing I’d ever experienced before. The day after her funeral, it felt like the energy and effort it took to brush my teeth was equivalent to running a marathon.

    But somehow I got back in the saddle. I managed my grieving doing what I knew best: working and pleasing people. Getting on the train at 6am to commute into NYC and not getting home until close to 10pm was my everyday. My need to be Martha Stewart went into overdrive. Let’s just say Christmastime meant thousands (really, thousands!) of home-baked cookies. And no one was complaining about that!

    Then it happened again.

    In 2008, my brother Scott went into cardiac arrest while playing basketball and passed away. That phone call is something I’ll never be able to erase from my mind. He was thirty-three and getting married in a month. I was the one who canceled all the wedding plans. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.

    I don’t need to tell you I was devastated. But I was also really annoyed. Really, I need to do this again?! And so while this really sucked (understatement!), since I had gone through this once before, I thought to myself this is an opportunity to do it differently.

    I’ve always been super goal-oriented, but after Scott died, my only goal was to not have any goals. Kinda crazy, right? But my soul needed the time and opportunity to kind of wander aimlessly to heal. I realized I wanted to make my work more meaningful, to have the time to unwind and have more fun.

    Slowly, I started to make sense of it all.

    I came out the other side vowing to live my life to the fullest—something my sister and brother would never have the opportunity to do. That meant laughing, a lot, having some great adventures (Paris! Skydiving!), and doing something meaningful with my life.

    The first thing I did was to leave work at a reasonable hour. I realized I was working those long hours because I felt like I had to put in the facetime to climb the ranks. Can you relate? If I left while everyone else was still at their desks would they call me a slacker? I decided not to care.

    I was naturally organized and productive, but now I really fine-tuned those skills so that I could get tons of solid work done during the day. When I walked out the door I was able to pretty much disconnect from the office. Not all the time, but most of the time.

    I stopped baking all those cookies too.

    Hiring a life coach helped me get to the bottom of what was really important to me (it’s being surrounded by beauty, doing things passionately, and laughing, a lot). While I still love to bake, these days you’re more likely to catch me at the bakery.

    Life is too short to be too busy. I learned this the hard way.

    You may be thinking, “I know, I know… I need to slow down and take stock of what’s really important to me, but not until I finish this next project.”

    It’s so easy to take time for granted, it’s true we can’t make more of it, but it always seems to be there for us. Until it’s not.

    So how can you start?

    1. Get clear on where you are spending most of your time and more importantly, why.

    You may be working many hours because you need the money, and that’s a valid point, but if you look a little deeper maybe the money is going to support a lifestyle that you really don’t want.

    No doubt, this is the hard work, so be curious and investigate. This is about self-discovery, not self-punishment.

    2. Start to dream about what you’d do if you had all the time in the world.

    Get specific. What do those days look like? What’s so great about them? Why do they make you happy. Add visualization, dreaming, and journaling so you can really see it.

    3. Figure out how you can put more of your ideal day into your reality day starting now.

    Can you leave the office earlier one or two nights a week? Sign up for a dancing class? Say no to a big project or committee? I used to start my week off with a fresh bouquet of flowers for my desk. It made a difference.

    What I realized after I made it through the dark days and nights and came out from under the covers into the light is our tragedies are what bring us to places we’d never go on our own. Their gift is making our lives more meaningful and to emerge with more perspective.

    But you don’t have to go through this kind of tragedy to figure out how you really want to spend your time. You have a choice, right here, right now. Make it count.