Tiny Buddha

Tag: self-expression

  • How to Start Speaking Up: Find Your Voice and Be Heard

    How to Start Speaking Up: Find Your Voice and Be Heard

    “Your voice is the most potent magic in existence.” ~Michael Bassey Johnson

    In a noisy, crowded world, in a culture that promotes service to others and putting others’ needs before our own, how do we find the courage to share our own voice?

    I’ll admit, I’m still navigating this journey. There are times when a writer can write from a place of knowing. A place where they feel like they have something figured out and want to share it with the world. This is not one of those times.

    This is a sharing of information from a place where I am still figuring it out. What I do know is that this is an important topic, and I don’t want to shy away from it just because I don’t have it all figured out.

    Despite the guilt, selfishness, and fear of disharmony speaking out may cause, the fact is that getting our needs met is fundamental to our well-being, and we can’t get them met without using our voice.

    The Quiet One

    “It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent.” ~Madeleine K. Albright

    Growing up, I was often the quiet one, content to let others speak for me. My mom likes to tell a story of when I was little and my brother would act as my voice, asking for what I (supposedly) wanted or needed, which more often than not was a cookie or some sort of sweet. I’m not sure if I did actually want the cookie or if he did (it was probably both), but nevertheless, he would be my voice.

    As I moved into my teen years, I recall that expressing my desires was sometimes met with skepticism and criticism. My dreams of playing softball were at times dismissed, reinforcing the notion that my aspirations were inconsequential.

    While people were well-intentioned and coming from a place of care for my future, my teenage brain heard that what I wanted didn’t matter and that I should question my wants and needs (especially when, years later, my softball dreams ended up fizzling out).

    These experiences instilled a belief that questioning my own desires was necessary, and self-expression came with the risk of rejection. It’s a mindset I’m still working to overcome. 

    Why Speaking Up Is Essential

    “Self-actualization is realizing personal potential, self-fulfillment, seeking personal growth and peak experiences. It is a desire to become everything one is capable of becoming.” ~Abraham Maslow

    According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, physiological and safety needs come first, followed by psychological needs. This includes intimate relationships, friendships, and esteem needs (esteem for oneself and the desire for reputation or respect from others).

    As we get these needs met, we keep moving up the pyramid toward what is known as self-actualization, or becoming who we are meant to become. However, one of the big stumbling blocks in our relationships and in getting our esteem needs met is our hesitancy to use our voice to express what we truly need or want.

    We hold back. We justify all the reasons why we should not speak up. We feel guilty or selfish. We want to maintain harmony. We don’t think we’re deserving of it. Or we expect others to know what we need and for them to just give it to us. This can lead to exhaustion, resentment, and unhappiness.

    Most of us feel comfortable expressing our needs when it comes to our physical health—I need food, sleep, a walk outside. However, expressing our emotional and spiritual needs feels vulnerable. What if the person in front of us says no, laughs, or dismisses us in any other way?

    The struggle and complexity of this is real, and it goes deep. But, on the other hand, how else can you make your needs and wants known? How else can you truly show up as your most authentic self?

    As the author Edith Layton said, “No one else in the wide world, since the dawn of time, has ever seen the world as you do, or can explain it as you can. This is what you have to offer that no one else can.”

    How to Find Your Voice

    “Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind—even if your voice shakes.” ~Maggie Kuhn

    Maslow outlined several behaviors that lead to self-actualization. Two of these behaviors include listening to your own feelings in evaluating experiences instead of the voice of tradition, authority, or the majority and being prepared to be unpopular if your views do not coincide with those of the majority.

    Taking this into account, I have outlined four steps below that I feel are important in finding our voice.

    Step 1: Get clear on what you want and need.

    You can do this through meditation, contemplation, journaling, and pausing each day to ask yourself: “What do I need right now—physically, mentally, and/or emotionally?” Check in with yourself without judging yourself, knowing that whatever you need is valid. This will help get you in touch with your needs and access that wisdom on a regular basis. 

    Step 2: Reflect on where in your life you can start asking for what you need.

    This might mean asking for assistance when getting the kids ready for school, asking for more focus time at work, or asking a friend for help. Think of one small thing and start asking for it on a regular basis.

    Step 3: Question what holds you back from asking for what you need.

    Reflect on childhood or adult experiences where you didn’t think your voice was heard or acknowledged, and how that impacts your voice now. I know feeling ignored is a huge trigger for me, but I’m starting to learn how triggers point to those places within us that still need healing. Take that information and use it to grow.

    Step 4: Practice.

    Sometimes people will comply with our requests, but sometimes they won’t. Sometimes people will agree with our opinions, and sometimes they won’t. Understand that people don’t have to give you anything and learn how to be okay with that. Ask for what you need, but don’t expect anything. Create a self-love practice that you can fall back on so that, no matter what, you can support yourself.

    And if someone regularly deprioritizes and disregards your needs, consider whether it’s in your best interest to maintain a relationship with them. Although no one has to give you anything, people who truly care will want to step up when they can. 

    Let Your Truth Be Heard

    “Find your voice and inspire others to find theirs.” ~Stephen Covey

    In a world where the volume of voices can drown out our own, finding the courage to speak our truth is a revolutionary act. Each of us holds within us a unique perspective, a story waiting to be told. Embracing our voice is not just an act of self-expression; it’s a declaration of our worthiness, our authenticity, and our right to be heard.

    As you navigate your own journey toward self-expression, remember that your voice matters. Your thoughts, your feelings, your desires—they are valid and deserving of acknowledgment. So dare to speak up, even when your voice shakes. Dare to share your truth, for it is in the sharing that we find connection, understanding, and growth.

    Let your truth be heard. Let your voice resonate with the world. For in doing so, you not only honor your own journey but also inspire others to find the courage to do the same.

  • 5 Ways to Explore the World and Feel Excited About Life

    5 Ways to Explore the World and Feel Excited About Life

    “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”  ~Mark Twain

    In 2022, I wanted to quit my job and didn’t know why. I was about to embark on a six-week trip to a country I’d always wanted to visit—New Zealand—to work in sports TV production. I loved the people I worked with, the company I worked for, and the buzz I got from live TV. Still, it wasn’t enough. I needed to explore these feelings further.

    That word “exploration” was the key. It took me back to 2004, when I was in a hostel in Laguna Beach, an eighteen-year-old girl travelling alone. When I was growing up, I didn’t want to follow the traditional route of going to university just to find a corporate job, climb the career ladder, and retire with a good pension. The perfect path for many was not an option that excited me.

    I was travelling around the U.S. West Coast, hoping to find adventure and opportunities, but I knew I’d need to start seriously thinking about my future and next steps when I returned to London.

    I sat on Huntington Beach and spent some time thinking about what I wanted my life to look like. I wanted to work for a reputable company that could offer me travel opportunities. I couldn’t identify what I wanted to do with any precision, but I knew that was a good starting place.

    A few days later, on July 7, I was awakened in the early morning by a fellow Brit who informed me that terrorists had just attacked London. For the rest of the day, I was glued to the BBC, watching the tragedy unfold. In between the journalism, adverts depicted BBC correspondents working all over the world, and that’s when I thought the BBC might be the company for me.

    Several months later, I returned to London and applied to be a production team assistant for a BBC sister company. To my astonishment, I got the job. I was so excited! A new job, new people, and new opportunities.

    During my first week, I overheard my boss speaking on the phone with a friend in the BBC Sport division. She was preparing to travel to Germany to spend six weeks working on the FIFA World Cup. My mind exploded. That was the job I yearned for. I wanted to work in sports and travel to the most spectacular events on earth.

    I asked my boss if she could find out whom I could contact to get a foot in the door in that department. It wasn’t straightforward, but after several attempts and emails to their senior production manager, I was asked to come in for a coffee and informal chat.

    Fast forward eighteen years. I’ve travelled the globe to work on the biggest sporting events, from World Cups in South Africa and Brazil to the London Olympics, Euros in Poland and Ukraine, umpteen Formula 1 and Formula E races on five continents, sailing regattas off the coasts of Australia and the US, cricket in the Caribbean and New Zealand. And that’s just a partial list.

    Travel has shaped my life in so many ways. It has impacted my outlook on life, perspectives, relationships, and goals. It has taken me out of my comfort zone time and time again and allowed me to be inspired by new things.

    I have loved my job and still do, mostly, to this day. So it was a surprise to me when I felt the urge to hand in my notice.

    Truth be told, throughout my career, I’ve always been restless. I have consistently sought out new opportunities within the framework of my role. I’ve moved between companies, permanent contracts, temporary contracts, and freelancing. I’ve trained to become a teacher, left TV to work on sports documentaries, returned to TV, become a tutor as a side job, and set up my own business.

    It wasn’t that I was unhappy in TV production. I just love exploring and presenting myself with new learning environments. That eighteen-year-old in me who never wanted to follow the common path society can push us down still lives within me. And I wouldn’t change her for the world. If I’d never explored different paths, I never would have had the courage to create a lifestyle around my passions, purpose, and skills.

    Exploration is one of the greatest purposes of humankind. Everything we know about the world comes from those who explored before us. Discoveries in medicine, science, technology, religion, geography, space, and philosophy have changed the world for the better. They have led to greater equality of race and gender, alleviation of poverty, advances in health and education, tolerance and peace, and preservation of the environment.

    The world is constantly changing and developing because of our need to explore and continue learning, growing, creating, building, making, connecting, debating, and trying new things.

    So, if you’re feeling stuck and want more fulfilment in your day-to-day, it might be helpful to remember there’s a whole world out there to discover. Our time on Earth is finite. Life should be lived, explored, and enjoyed. Through exploration, you might just stumble across that sweet spot that lights you up and creates a new path for your future.

    Here are three reasons why I believe exploring and discovering new opportunities could be the recipe for a more fulfilled life:

    1. Exploration is a natural requirement for humanity.

    It is as necessary as warmth, love, food, and shelter. Exploration has been the driving force behind humankind since the dawn of time because it is at the centre of everything we do. We explore everything we do from the moment we are born through play, travel, work, speaking, writing, experimenting, singing, and interacting with each other. Let alone the preciousness of exploring the world through the eyes of our children.

    From religion to literature, politics to science, and design to philosophy, we are constantly asking questions and searching for new ways to develop our minds and abilities. There is no end to exploration. It is the driving force behind our survival as a race.

    2. Exploration creates more self-awareness, which I believe is a critical aspect of meaningful living.

    It allows people to understand their strengths, weaknesses, and areas for growth. By becoming more self-aware, you can gain a deeper understanding of your passions, values, and goals, and can make more intentional choices about how you live your life.

    3. Exploration inspires us and gives us hope for a better future.

    There is a vast world outside waiting to be explored. It offers adventures to be experienced, endless possibilities, stories to be created, and dreams waiting to come true.

    Having a curious and hungry mind allows you to discover goals and options that will bring you more fulfilment and happiness. You can chase your dreams with the comfort of knowing that it’s possible to understand almost anything. By constantly learning, you see what’s possible for yourself and others and alter your perspective of the world.

    Exploration doesn’t have to involve big steps such as quitting your job, moving countries, or travelling the world seeking adventure. Instead, we can seek exploration in our every day, and the good news is there are plenty of opportunities to explore and seek purpose wherever you are in life.

    Here are five ways you can implement exploration into your everyday lifestyle immediately.

    1. Look at your passions and interests and find a way to get more involved in them.

    Whatever interests you—art, animals, baking, singing, decorating, driving, teaching, embroidery, music, or sports to name a few—find a way to go and explore how to implement this into your daily or weekly routine.

    This could be interning, volunteering your time, picking up a book, subscribing to a podcast, emailing someone who is successful in that field, or taking a class. Getting involved in this area will open up your creative channels. The key is to allow yourself permission and time to experiment.

    2. Be spontaneous and get out of the humdrum routine and predictability of your daily life.

    Play a different radio station on your way to work, choose a brand new restaurant or cuisine on the weekend, walk a different route around your park, order something completely different off the menu, or choose a different vegetable to cook with each week. There are always surprises and fascinations in store for us if we are open to exploring new ways; we never know what we will discover.

    3. Connect with new like-minded people.

    You never know what conversation might spark a new thought or perspective. You can find inspiration from one word, a smile, or an interaction that can change your outlook on a situation. For example, buying from a local business instead of a corporate chain allows you to get to know the owner and the story behind their product. Their story might just inspire your exploration journey.

    4. Even if you can’t pack a suitcase and fly to far-off destinations, that doesn’t mean you can’t transport your mind to them.

    Movies, documentaries, TV shows, and books can all transport you into new worlds and cultures. Next time you settle down with a good book or in front of the TV, why not choose a new genre and be open to learning new things?

    5. Your clothes are one way to show the world what you stand for and who you are.

    Fashion has a huge impact on your mindset, mood, and confidence. Experiment with different clothing, mix and match what you already have, and play around with what makes you feel most confident so you’ll want to get out in the world and explore.

    —

    We can open the door to exploration in everyday life. After all, the reason for your exploration is not to discover your life’s purpose. The purpose of your life is to live it!

    Exploration is a continuous journey toward self-improvement and personal growth that allows you to live a life that is fulfilling and meaningful to you. Don’t give up on exploring what you want and pursuing your dreams. Your life is what you make it, and it’s worth trying to make it what you want it to be. So go! Explore and discover. Embrace the journey and enjoy the ride!

  • Learning to Speak Up When You Were Taught That Your Feelings Don’t Matter

    Learning to Speak Up When You Were Taught That Your Feelings Don’t Matter

    “A proper grown-up communicates clearly and assertively.”

    This is something I have heard many people say.

    By that definition, I wouldn’t have classed as a proper grown-up for most of my life.

    There was a time when I couldn’t even ask someone for a glass of water. I know that might seem crazy to some people, and for a long time I did feel crazy for it.

    Why couldn’t I do the things others did without even thinking about it? Why couldn’t I just say what I needed to say? Why couldn’t I just be normal?

    Those questions would just feed into the shame spiral I was trapped in at that time in my life.

    But the question I should have been asking myself was not how I could overcome being so damaged and flawed, but how my struggles made sense based on how I was brought up.

    Because based on that I was perfect and my behaviors made perfect sense.

    I was the child that was taught to be seen and not heard.

    I was the child whose feelings made others angry and violent.

    I was the child whose anger got her shamed and rejected by the person she needed the most.

    I was the child that got hit again and again until she didn’t cry anymore.

    I was the child whose needs inconvenienced those who were in charge of taking care of her.

    I was the child whose wants were called selfish, attention-seeking, or ridiculous.

    I was the child who was made wrong for everything she felt, wanted, or needed.

    I was the child who was called a monster for being who she was—a child.

    I was the child that grew up feeling unwanted, alone, and entirely repulsive.

    So why would that child ever speak? Why would that child ever share anything about herself? She wouldn’t, would she? It all makes sense. I made sense. It was a way of living. A way of surviving.

    I had been taught that I didn’t matter. That what I wanted or needed and how I felt was something so abhorrent it needed to be hidden at any cost. And I did it to avoid getting hurt, shamed, and rejected. Even when I was with different people. Even when I was an adult.

    That pattern ran my life. I just couldn’t get myself to say the things I wanted and needed to say. It felt too scary. It felt too dangerous. It was too shame-inducing.

    So if you struggle to express yourself and feel embarrassed about that, I get it. I did too. But I need you to know this: It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.

    And yes, life is harder when you didn’t get to be who you were growing up. When the only way you could protect yourself was by being less of you. When you could never grow into yourself because that would have gotten you hurt. When you couldn’t learn to love yourself because that was the biggest risk of all.

    But today, that risk only lives on within you. In your conditioning. And that’s where the inner healing work comes in.

    For me, that meant getting professional support to help me learn how to safely connect to myself and my truth, and how to banish the critical, demanding, and demeaning internal voice that told me my feelings, needs, and wants were wrong.

    It meant learning to regulate my nervous system so that I could get past my fear and be honest about what worked for me and what didn’t. This was a major turning point in my relationships because I started to represent myself more openly and assertively, which meant that my relationships either improved dramatically or I found out that the other people didn’t really care about me and how I felt.

    It also meant opening up emotionally and learning to understand what my feelings were trying to tell me. Since I’d learned to avoid and suppress my emotions growing up, I knew it would be challenging to truly get to know myself.

    I had the great opportunity of reparenting myself—giving myself the love, affection, and attention I didn’t receive as a kid.

    And that’s what ultimately allowed me to finally feel safe enough to express myself.

    The relationship I had with myself started to become like a safe haven instead of a battleground, and my life has never been the same since.

    Everything on the outside started to align with what was going on inside of me. The safer I became for myself, the safer the people in my life became, which allowed us to develop deeper, more meaningful and intimate relationships.

    So I know that that kind of change is possible. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I know that it is possible because today I am the most authentic and expressed version of myself I have ever been.

    Just look at everything I am sharing here with you. That’s a far cry from asking for a glass of water.

    Today I no longer choke on the words that I was always meant to speak. I speak them.

    Today I no longer hold back my feelings. I feel them. I share them. Freely.

    Today I no longer deny my needs and play down my desires. I own them. I meet them. I fulfil them.

    Today I own who I am and I don’t feel held back by toxic shame in the ways that I once did.

    Back then I would have never thought this was possible for me.

    I hope that in sharing my story and my transformation you will follow the spark of desire in you that wants you to express yourself. To share your thoughts and desires. To express what it’s like to be you. To finally get to meet more of you and eventually all of you.

    That’s what you need to listen to. Not the voice of fear or shame. Not your conditioning. Not anything or anyone that reinforces your inhibitions or trauma.

    You were born to be fully expressed. That was your birthright. That is the world’s gift.

    Just because the people who raised you didn’t understand you as the unique miracle that you are, that doesn’t mean that you have to deprive the world, and yourself, of experiencing you. More of you. All of you.

    It’s never too late to open your heart and share yourself in ways that feel healing, liberating, empowering, and loving to you.

  • How Embodiment Can Make You Feel More Alive (and 5 Ways to Do It)

    How Embodiment Can Make You Feel More Alive (and 5 Ways to Do It)

    “Embodiment is living within, being present within the internal space of the body.” ~Judith Blackstone

    When I was a little boy, I would dance whenever I heard a catchy pop song on the radio. There are photos of me throwing down dance moves, exuding joy and vitality. At some point, though, I lost my ability to dance.

    If I were to guess what happened, I would say that I stopped dancing when I became self-conscious. I was no longer just being; suddenly, I became aware of being someone with a body.

    So a long and complicated relationship with my body began. As a teenager, friends and family teased me for being unusually tall and gangly. As a young man struggling with my queer identity, I objectified my body; I felt ashamed of how ‘it’ strayed so far from the perceived masculine ideal. To make matters worse, one day my lungs spontaneously collapsed.

    Over the course of two years or so, I was in and out of hospitals as doctors struggled to fix my leaky lungs. Undergoing multiple painful surgical procedures, I experienced my body as a source of great emotional and physical pain.

    Life presented other challenges. In time, I concluded that being in a body in this world is inherently painful. I thought that in order to find peace, I had to become free of pain. To achieve this, my mind had to separate itself from bodily experience.

    Seeking a Way Out

    In my early twenties, I was already weary of life. Feeling alienated, I retreated into my inner world of ideas and concepts, where I could indulge in fantasy and philosophy through reading. Most of the time, I was just a head in front of a screen, browsing the internet—there was little sense of having a body.

    I also tried many things to minimize my exposure to pain and fear. Evading social interactions to evade the possibility of experiencing shame was a common strategy of mine. I was deathly afraid of feeling difficult emotions. Being a highly sensitive person, powerful emotions like shame would shut me down, leaving me incapacitated.

    Later, I embarked on a spiritual journey and became drawn to teachings that promised an end to suffering. I poured myself into meditation and became somewhat relieved by a growing sense of detachment. I thought it was a mark of progress, but actually, I was becoming more apathetic. Increasingly, I had difficulty engaging with life and other people.

    Recovering Authenticity and Aliveness

    Living inside my head, I became an observer of life—like an armchair anthropologist. Sure, I participated in the activities that society expected of me, but I always did so at a distance.

    We all come into this world as embodied consciousness. With our body we experience ourselves and contact our environment: we move, communicate, relate, and create worlds. We experience the world’s colors, melodies, temperatures, pulsations, and textures. And it is through our body that we feel joy, sadness, anger, fear, comfort, and love. Through tasting this smorgasbord of sensations, we also discover and bring out our unique expression into the world.

    Life with limited sensation and feeling is like experiencing the world in one dimension only. So, the work I had to do to find myself again involved coming home to my body.

    In a world that sometimes tries to erase or suppress our embodied, authentic expression, coming home to ourselves requires courage and a lot of support. By reclaiming our body, we can rediscover a sense of belonging in ourselves and in this world.

    5 Ways to Begin Coming Home to Your Body

    There are many approaches that can help us come home to our body and feel more alive. If you’ve experienced deep trauma, please find a trained somatic practitioner who can work with you. Here, I’ll just share a few simple things you can try doing more of to become a little more embodied. Make sure to listen to your body in order to discern whether these activities feel right for you.

    1. Breathe deeply.

    Proper breathing is essential to becoming more embodied.

    I learned from a bodyworker that I wasn’t breathing fully most of the time. My Zen practice taught me to breathe into my belly, but now, I wasn’t breathing into my chest much.

    To breathe more fully, breathe in deeply, filling the space in your abdomen as if you were pouring water into a jug. The air rises up to the chest as water rises up a jug. Breathing out, the air releases from the chest and from the belly.

    2. Touch the earth.

    Recently, my painting teacher offered to teach me how to garden. There’s something very healing about touching the soil with my hands. When we touch the earth, we connect with our larger body, which helps us recognize our individual small body.

    Today, so many of us, including myself, spend our days sitting in front of a computer. So I think it’s important to find activities where we can touch the earth. I remember the first time I walked on a beach with my bare feet, I thought to myself, “Wow! I can really feel my legs and feet… I feel so alive.”

    3. Nourish with quality food.

    One of the healers I worked with taught me that what we eat has enormous effects on our psychosomatic system on multiple levels. I’m not a specialist in this area, but from my experience, switching to a healthier diet was a game changer.

    It’s not just what we eat, but how we eat, too. By expressing gratitude for what I am eating and savoring the delicious sensations on my tongue, I celebrate the experience of being embodied.

    4. Move freely.

    Through practice, I’m becoming more aware of how I inhabit my body based on the way I respond to my environment. I may prop myself up to gain respect or walk briskly to keep up with the hustle. Giving ourselves space during our day to move more freely, in an uncontrived manner, can help us discover an authenticity that seems to flow with nature.

    5. Make art.

    When I reflect on the moments where I felt most alive, many of those moments involved expressing myself through art.

    Whether through painting, sculpting, playing an instrument, or dancing, we engage the whole of our being in the art-making process. It is not merely an intellectual exercise but a visceral engagement of our soul with the physical world. In artmaking, we allow our body to express its wisdom, a wisdom that moves us by touching the beauty that lies within.

    —

    Learning to become more embodied is a beautiful process of self-discovery. There never was any separation between mind and body—they are one. By reclaiming the space in my body, and reestablishing myself inside the temple of my soul, I’m learning to dance with life again.

  • It’s Okay to Feel Scared: How to Stand Up to Fear by Standing Down

    It’s Okay to Feel Scared: How to Stand Up to Fear by Standing Down

    “It’s okay to be scared. Being scared means you’re about to do something really, really brave.” ~Mandy Hale

    When it comes to plane travel, I frequently quip: “I’m not a nervous flier, but my bladder is.”

    In a way, this is true. Aside from brief freak-out moments when there’s a patch of turbulence or when a flash from my catalog of gruesome “what-if” scenarios forces its way into my mind’s eye, I remain blissfully disconnected from my fear. Meanwhile, my bladder takes the brunt of it, with hourly pit-stops to the lavatory alongside a persistent, dull ache.

    While this is physically annoying, my strategy has its utility: it conveniently shifts the blame and shame for my irrational fear onto my bladder so that I don’t have to face up to it. (Otherwise known as somatizing my emotions, if you or my therapist want to get technical.)

    So, as you might imagine, when I recently boarded my first plane flight in two years amidst a still-very-present Covid pandemic, my bladder felt even twitchier than usual. Especially at the abrupt jolt of going from socializing at a distance to being packed like sardines into a confined space with a bunch of breathing, coughing, possibly infectious humans.

    At least, that is, until a little boy said something heart-stopping.

    A Cry for Help

    No more than six years old, the slender boy with a mop of golden-blonde hair had just clambered into the window seat of the empty row in front of me, trailing his white satin-trimmed fleece pillow and blanket.

    While the boy fiddled with his seat belt, I noticed that his mother and grandmother—each equally youngish-looking with lemony hair and tanned skin—were still lingering in the aisle, conversing in hushed tones. As I casually eavesdropped, I learned that they were debating which of them would sit with the boy versus with the rest of the family located several rows up.

    At first, I cursed my luck to be seated right behind a kid too young to be vaccinated or keep his mask up. Thanks a lot, universe, I grumbled internally.

    But as his mother began walking away to sit with her younger child (presumably expecting that her older son was in good hands with his grandmother), the boy wriggled upward in his seat, shoulders tensed, assessing the situation. Then, he called out quite loudly, without a hint of self-consciousness or shame: “Mom, I want you to sit here with me, because I’m scared and I need you.”

    Instantly, the radius of chatter around Row ten fell mute.

    Like a silent lightening strike, the boy’s words charged the atmosphere with an almost electric energy. For two long seconds, they hung there in the air above us, almost too sacred to desecrate with sound. During that time, I swear, you could practically feel our collective hearts opening. Then, a sincere chorus of “Awww”s and “Bless his heart”s rang out, cushioning the silence.

    A Permission Slip

    As I marveled at what had just transpired, I realized that, in one simple sentence, this young boy had done something remarkable: he’d given us permission to be human.

    After all, how many times had many of us felt just as fearful in life yet pretended we didn’t? How many times had we wanted to cry in the midst of overwhelm (if not wail like hell for our mommies), yet told ourselves to “buck up” or “be an adult”? And how many times had we rushed to the side of a friend in need yet readily denied ourselves this small grace?

    Perhaps the reason the little boy’s words stirred us so deeply, it struck me, was that he reminded us of what we already knew yet stubbornly denied: Of the power in vulnerability. Of the courage in asking for support. Of the importance of honoring our feelings, especially our fear—meeting it with acceptance, rather than my preferred method of hastily swatting it away like a poisonous wasp.

    Meeting Fear with Acceptance

    Fortunately, the boy’s mother was much more adept at dealing with fear than me.

    Making a beeline back to her son’s side, she enveloped him in a warm embrace, murmuring, “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s okay, I’m here for you,” (a relational repair that was powerful in itself).

    Spying through the narrow slat between our seats, I watched as the boy’s shoulders immediately unknotted. Seconds later, he began chattering to his mother about the character on his video game player—his fear a seemingly distant memory.

    It was then that I realized something even more remarkable: to the boy, the preceding moment was likely just an ordinary moment.

    Too young to be fully conditioned by our cultural garbage around fear or gender “norms,” he had no idea that he’d done anything profound, much less impacted a plane full of people much older and “wiser” than him. He was simply acknowledging his fear and taking care of himself.

    Okay, Lisa, I told myself. If that little boy can unabashedly proclaim for all to hear that he’s scared, then the least I can do is acknowledge my own fear to myself.

    Especially considering that, the very day before, a beloved teacher of mine had providentially reminded me about the power of acknowledgement. How, oftentimes, just acknowledging our feelings can considerably ease our unease. And sometimes, she claimed, it’s the only thing we need to do.

    Huh, I realized with a wink to the universe. You’re giving me an opportunity to practice this right now, aren’t you?

    And so, I did. Closing my eyes as the plane taxied down the runway, I felt into my fear and whispered: Okay, fear. I see you. I hear you. And it’s okay that you’re here. In fact, it would probably be abnormal not to feel you on my first post-pandemic plane ride after two years of semi-hermitude.

    From there, I stayed quiet and present in my body. I didn’t try to do anything with the fear, other than “stand down” so that its stifled energy could move through me.

    A minute or so later, wouldn’t you know it, the tight ball of yarn that was my bladder muscle magically slackened. Even my abdomen, I noted, no longer bloated out like I was carrying a small fetus. My entire body felt lighter too, as if I’d released a leaden weight I didn’t know I was carrying. Holy moly! I boggled, gazing down at my body in both awe and glee.

    “Alrighty, folks,” the captain’s disembodied voice announced over the PA system just then. “We’re about to head out, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

    Grinning to myself, I silently replied in my head: You know what? I think I will.

    *A Magical Postscript*

    Incredibly, the story doesn’t end there.

    Toward the end of the flight, I tentatively caught the attention of the boy’s grandmother, whose name I’d soon learn was Beverly.

    “Um, pardon me,” I started, “but I’m a writer, and I was so inspired by what your grandson said before the flight that I actually just wrote an article about it!”

    “Oh, really?” Beverly replied in surprise, my unanticipated admission taking a few seconds to sink in. Then, her surprise gave way to delight, as her eyes crinkled into a smile above her mask and she added, “Wow, that’s so wonderful!”

    “I’m happy to email it to you if you like,” I continued, “but I really just wanted to thank your family. For providing such a powerful moment for me—as I’m sure it was for many others.”

    “Well, let me tell you something,” Beverly responded, leaning toward me with an unanticipated admission of her own. “That moment was a bigger deal than you know. You see, my grandson has autism, and for him it was a very big deal to express his feelings like that.”

    Straightaway, goosebumps traveled up and down my arms. Of course, the writer in me couldn’t help but be tickled by the added significance to the story. But the real eye-opener for me was the extent of my own ignorance. That I assumed the moment was important to everyone but the boy. That I assumed there was only one “giver” and one “receiver” in the equation. As if the universe ever worked that way.

    When the plane touched down soon after, tears sprang to my eyes as the full-circle nature of the experience hit me.

    Thank you, universe, I humbly mouthed—this time meaning it.

  • How a Numb, Phony Zombie Started Singing Her Own Song

    How a Numb, Phony Zombie Started Singing Her Own Song

    “Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

    Six years ago, I came across a line from an old poem that punctured my present moment so profoundly it seemed to stop time.

    On an average Tuesday, there I was, sitting at my desk, ignoring the stack of papers I was responsible for inputting into a spreadsheet and procrastinating as usual on the Internet instead.

    At this particular time, Pinterest was my drug of choice—anyone else?

    As I was aimlessly scrolling through wacky theme party ideas and spicy margarita recipes, suddenly, here came this old-school poet Oliver Wendell Holmes with these words that leapt off of my laptop screen and stung me like fourteen different bee stings to the heart:

    “Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!”

    I was floored. It was as if Oliver’s invisible hand had reached into my day and popped the protective bubble of my well-established comfort zone, sending me crashing down to the ground of an uncertain reality that I had so expertly managed to hover above for years.

    When I landed inside of the truth of my life for the first time in a long time, here’s what I saw:

    A recent college grad whose dad had died in the first few weeks of her “adulthood,” who took a job in the marketing department of a reputable company because it “looked good,” who spent her time outrunning looming fears of growing up and grief by seeking refuge in extraneous purchases, greasy slices of pizza, late nights under laser lights, and the bottoms of bottles of wine.

    A numb, phony zombie in red lipstick who had forgotten her own song.

    As a little girl, effortless music oozed from my pores. I could laugh, cry, dream, question, create, and believe in magic, and other people, and myself, with such abandon; it was like I was a tiny conductor leading a spontaneous orchestra of full self-expression, always unrehearsed and totally freestyle.

    And I didn’t just speak, I SANG! And I didn’t just walk, I DANCED!

    Had I put no soundproof walls up around my being then? I could recall what it was like to feel that free. But the memory of my smaller, wilder self marching proudly to the beat of her own drum felt so distant from where and how I was living.

    So instead of continuing on with the endless spreadsheet that I was responsible for completing that afternoon, I decided to take a break. A long break. I found a sunny bench outside of my building where I could go to sit and think.

    Then suddenly, The Little Mermaid swam right into my stream of thought. I closed my eyes and saw the scene where Ariel trades in her powerful voice to the evil sea witch, Ursula, for a pair of legs. She is so certain that becoming a part of the human world is more important to her than speaking her own truth and singing her own song. And I wondered…

    In what ways am I living at the expense of my own inner music? 

    I began to examine the situations in my life where I found myself exchanging an authentic piece of who I was out of fear, in order to achieve a particular outcome in the world. Here are just a few places in my life where I discovered this was so:

    I’d sacrificed my passion, by accepting a job I merely tolerated, because I was afraid of failing and wanted to give the appearance of being successful.

    I’d pushed down my grief, numbing it with shopping, food, and alcohol, because I was afraid of breaking down and wanted to give the appearance of being “fine.”

    I’d sacrificed authentic connection for toxic friendships because I was afraid of being lonely while I found the right friends and wanted to give the appearance of being liked.

    I’d sacrificed my authenticity and ended up living a small life because I was afraid of vulnerability and wanted to give the appearance of being in control.

    That was the moment when I decided I was ready to ditch the legs—everything that was just about appearances—and dive deeply into my own true passion, grief, and longings for connection and authenticity.

    I quit my job and enrolled in a spiritual studies certification and celebrant ordination program.

    I hired a therapist to help me heal and a coach to help me dream; these two women would become some of the fiercest advocates for me and my inner music that I’d ever meet.

    I started taking courses in personal development, joined a business mastermind, and got myself into as many meditation circles and yoga classes as I could.

    I began to play around with my expression again, belting my favorite songs from my childhood, wearing colors that sparked aliveness in me, scribbling lines of poetry till I fell in love with my own heart’s language again, and dipping my fingers in rainbows of paint without a plan.

    It felt so good to seek for the sake of seeking, and to create for the sake of creating!

    I finally started to let some of the people that I loved and trusted in enough to really see, hear, and hold me.

    And I got present, like really, really present, slowing down for long enough to fully inhabit whatever moment I was in. From that place, it became so natural to tap into the very real magic that had always existed within and around me.

    I recognized the miraculousness of my two feet on the ground, the blessing of my breath, and the rhythm of my heartbeat. I started to notice the sound and sensation of my full-body NO and YES. This new level of awareness polished my lens of perception, allowing me to see my life through my child self’s eyes once again—from a place of curiosity, excitement, imagination, and hope!

    My dive has brought me to terrifying places where I’ve wanted to sell myself out to the sea-witch over and over again, but still, I keep on swimming.

    For my song cannot be silenced, and neither can yours, though both of us will spend months, if not years living in fear of what it will take to truly sing.

    There is so much music inside of you and me. And to be the highest expression of who we are here to be, we’ve gotta sing our songs and sing em’ loud! But to live like that, we’re going to have to give ourselves permission to feel, say, and do what’s true.

    So, maybe owning your truth doesn’t look like finally quitting a job or grieving the loss of a loved one. But I challenge you to really take some time to stop and scan through your life with no judgment, just wide-open eyes and a loving heart, and ask yourself:

    What do I desire? What fear arises in the face of my desire? Where am I selling myself out to run/hide from my fear? And what must I do to express the full potential and possibility of achieving my desire?

    Do you remember the fierce and fearless drive that you had as a child to learn and grow? Can you imagine how many times the little you tried and failed and tried again at mastering the skills you needed to really engage with life—walking, reading, writing, using your words to ask for what you want, feeding yourself, tying your shoes, wiping your own bum, etc.? Where does that invincible tenacity go?

    The answer is: YOU’VE STILL GOT IT!

    It has been and always will be within you. You and I have the capacity to thrive in any and all areas of our lives. How? By becoming brave enough to stop and listen to our own music, then allowing ourselves to be truly guided by it as we go!

    Belt out your song like your life and the lives of future generations depend on it, because they do. And if you miss a beat or sing a note or two out of tune, don’t be afraid to own it. It’s all just a part of the dance. 

    If you’re looking for me, I’ll be here, diving deep into the depths of my being, tuning into my own music, swimming through fear, and daring myself to sing. Over and over and over again until my very last breath.

    And you? It is my hope that you will have the courage and the willingness to go deep and begin unleashing the divine music that only you were born to sing.

  • How Letting Go of the Need to be Special Changed My Life

    How Letting Go of the Need to be Special Changed My Life

    “Our society has become a conspiracy against joy. It has put too much emphasis on the individuating part of our consciousness—individual reason—and too little emphasis on the bounding parts of our consciousness, the heart and soul.” ~David Brooks

    When I was in elementary school, I avoided group projects like the plague. When given the choice to work alone or as part of a team, I always chose to work alone.

    When I joined a new class, club, or sport, my parents inquired how I measured up against the rest.

    “So what do you think, Hail?” Dad would ask me. “Are you the fastest on the team? Did you get the highest grade?”

    In the years that followed I formed clubs, climbed to leadership roles, and sought only the most competitive opportunities.

    Later, I became fully self-employed as a coach. I had no colleagues—only clients. In my mid-twenties I moved to the Pacific Northwest in the name of novelty and exploration, leaving behind a thriving, New Jersey-bound network of extended family.

    I received a great deal of positive feedback for these decisions. I was succeeding, bucking social convention in favor of self-discovery, and family and friends described me as “brave,” “inspiring,” and “motivated.” I operated by a set of values that included fierce individualism and self-expression.

    This tale is as old as time among members of my generation. We’re the generation of digital nomad-hood, “Van Life,” and working from home. We value mobility. Wellness blogs laud alone time as the pinnacle of self-care. We spend hours each day on social media, seeking validation of our uniqueness and our worth.

    In The Second Mountain, NYTimes Bestselling Author David Brooks posits that this individualistic ethos is a backlash against the moral ecology of the 1950s, which emphasized group conformity, humility, and self-effacement. Since the 1960s, our culture has increasingly pushed back against collective identities, labels, and experiences, opting instead for boundless self-actualization.

    On one hand, I’m viscerally grateful for our culture’s modern emphasis on individualism. Women, especially, have waited centuries to receive cultural support to pursue our dreams and self-actualize. Likewise, as someone in recovery from codependency, I understand the critical importance of honoring my needs, my desires, and my choices. After all, it took years to break free from the shackles of people-pleasing and self-censorship.

    However, at a certain point, hyper-individualism stopped serving me and began hindering me. When my own specialness became the orienting principle for how I saw and interacted with the world, I lost touch with the belonging, trust, and community that culminate to form a rich and meaningful life.

    Individualism Gone Too Far

    As children, our caregivers and teachers celebrate us when we win awards, place first, and stand out. These celebrations become proxies for love—a love we have to work hard to earn.

    In adulthood, I hoarded my specialness, terrified that being “one among many”—in my career, in my lifestyle, in my heart—would leave me purposeless. I vested great effort into my hyper-individualism because I subconsciously believed it was the only way to feel seen and valued.

    I rarely fathomed the benefits of being a contributor, a member of a group, or a vessel for a greater moral or spiritual cause. I balked at “teamwork” and “service” because they threatened to rob me of my self-assigned elevated status. In fact, I judged those who advocated such ideals. These people have no identity, I scoffed. No dreams of their own. 

    Though my hyper-individualistic life had many socially sanctioned perks—I developed powerful leadership skills, special occasions found me swollen with pride, and my Instagram following climbed—I grappled with:

    Isolation. When I singularly prioritized my personal goals, personal time, and personal life, I didn’t have any allies. I was a lonely team of one. Though I made commitments to people and causes, I could be unreliable, self-centered, and flighty when better opportunities arose. I assumed that others would be the same. This left me with a sense of loneliness and skepticism that underscored even my most treasured connections.

    Detachment. A life dictated by hyper-individualism is a life detached from true connection. I often felt like a free-floating satellite, certain that no community—geographical, political, artistic, you name it—could give me as much joy as the pursuit of my goals.

    Anxiety. When our identities are based on being special, life is a relentless uphill climb. We will never be enough; we must constantly strive to be better, try harder, and achieve more. Under such circumstances, self-compassion is a distant possibility. Instead, anxiety becomes our daily companion, the soft whisper that erodes opportunities for peace and contentment.

    Finding Balance

    Throughout my years of hyper-individualistic thinking, I never realized that when we devote parts of ourselves to others, we benefit—really benefit—in return. The benefits of service and community aren’t just fluffy incentives for inspirational posters. Purpose, belonging, and a deep sense of trust arise when we willingly commit ourselves to other people, other causes, and other definitions of a meaningful life.

    I began to understand this truth when I befriended members of a group whose guiding principles espoused service, humility, and community. Upon first exposure to these ideals, my entire being revolted. These were the contrived, sing-song “values” that I’d spent my life trying to avoid.

    I spent months in a state of schism. On the one hand, I didn’t see how an other-centered life could serve me; I wasn’t taught to. I could only imagine how it would crush my identity and distract from my dreams. My ego was terrified. I wanted to hightail it out of there.

    But something kept me there, bearing silent witness to my discomfort, eyeing this community with curiosity. My new friends seemed anything but identity-less. In fact, they seemed embodied, peaceful, and genuinely happy. Their lives were not dictated by the ever-changing highs and lows of daily successes. They emanated groundedness and seemed to lack the existential woes that plagued most members of my generation.

    In retrospect, I believe I stayed because a part of me—a deeply hidden and deeply human part—was lonely, tired of the narrowness of my world, and craving something more.

    One night, something happened. My desperate, exhausted ego relinquished its grasp on my hyper-individualism. It was as if a switch had flipped within me. I felt a sudden, fierce desire to entrench myself in commitments to communities, to people, to a moral philosophy I could call my own. I felt like a wide-eyed, open-hearted child asking, “What now?”

    I don’t know exactly what happened that night— but since then, my values and philosophy have shifted with no effort on my part. Here’s what I’ve noticed:

    I feel more deeply connected to the people around me.

    Before, I spent most interactions with others noticing our differences. Disparities in age, experience, privilege, and values felt as palpable and prohibitive as walls. Now, I find myself noting similarities and relating more deeply to others’ experiences. Their stories penetrate the walls of my heart because I’m not hyper-focused on myself. My eyes well with tears at narratives of tragedy and stories of joy. Rich wells of empathy have taken up residence in me.

    My anxiety decreased dramatically.

    I no longer spend my days driven by the compulsion to overachieve or “prove” my value. My worth no longer depends on being special—and it’s liberating! Instead of being swallowed by a self-referential whirlwind, plagued by decision fatigue and perfectionism, I’m able to slow down, interact deeply and meaningfully with others, and relax into the comfort of my communities.

    I’m more curious.

    When specialness was my orienting principle, the only information I wanted to consume was related to my personal growth and my goals. Letting go of hyper-individualism allowed me to feel more a part of the human race and more a part of this Earth.

    Now, information of all kinds fascinates me. I get a kick out of watching Blue Planet, going to lectures on helicopter parenting, and reading memoirs by Midwestern farmers. None of this information is directly relevant to my experience, but it doesn’t matter. I’m intrigued by what the world has to offer.

    I know that everything’s going to be okay.

    Relinquishing my hyper-individualism helped me understand that I’ll never be truly alone. Now that I’m willing to commit myself deeply to others, I experience newfound depths of intimacy, trust, and safety. Even if I suffer a tragedy or loss, I will have a thick web of people to support me. I know this to be true because I would do the same for others.

    When I began this journey, I was certain that if I let go of my fierce individualism, I’d become amorphous and mundane. Instead, I became more deeply entrenched in the world around me. It has been an incredible gift.

    We tend to understand self-actualization as learning how to feel our feelings, comprehend our values, pursue our dreams, and express our highest selves. I believe that that’s true—and I believe that there’s more. Once we feel embodied in our own identities, I believe that the utmost manifestation of self-actualization is commitment to something greater: love for other people, overarching values, or warm communities.

    Letting go of the need to be special allowed me to see, with clear eyes, the abundance of connection, compassion, intimacy, and community all around me. It helped me begin to experience the world in its fullness—not as a leader, a facilitator, or a director, but as a member, participant, and recipient of its daily miracles.

  • Create More, Consume Less: How to Feel More Excited About Life

    Create More, Consume Less: How to Feel More Excited About Life

    “Creating means living.” ~Dejan Stojanovic

    We live in a consumer culture. We love to eat, drink, and be merry—while binge watching whatever’s trending on Netflix and getting a dopamine hit for every item added to our cart on Amazon Prime.

    We love to take it all in—information, entertainment, status updates, news reports, substances, and an endless array of stuff. There’s never a shortage of things we can consume, often to keep our minds distracted and our feelings silenced.

    Now don’t get me wrong. I love a good meal, a Jim Beam or two, and an afternoon spent zoned out on my couch, Penn Badgley haunting me hour by hour as his stalking escalates from creepy to criminal.

    And I’m all for staying educated and updated, on issues both important and inane. I’ve spent hours obsessively researching all things health-related, and I’m embarrassed to admit that my search history reveals more than a healthy number of celebrity websites, if such a number exists.

    I also understand the instinct to shut down for a while. Our minds can get intolerably loud, and sometimes, external demands can be overwhelming. A little disengagement can be a good thing in a world that often requires us to be on.

    But there needs to be some kind of balance. If we spend our whole lives ingesting information and scarfing down an assortment of stuff meant to soothe us, we’ll never have the time or space to connect with ourselves and create the things we want to create.

    I’m not talking just about artistic expression, though I personally feel more alive when I’m bringing some type of creative vision to life. I’m talking about filling the void inside with our own curiosity, passion, and awe instead of constantly stuffing it with external pleasures.

    It may not seem like it in the moment when our shows, social media, or shopping carts beckon, but often the greatest pleasure stems from actively working toward a life that excites us.

    What are some things we can create?

    1. A mission statement

    Many of us go through our days without a sense of purpose. We have no idea what we value or what we stand for. We have no idea what we’re really doing with our lives, or why.

    Nothing feels exciting when nothing is fueled by passion or intention.

    In order to feel alive, we need to be connected to what matters to us most individually. I’m not talking about a specific career direction, though that could be a part of it. I’m talking about creating a blueprint for how you want to show up in the world so you can be the person you want to be and make decisions that feel right for you.

    For example, my current mission statement is:

    To live with wonder, courage, compassion, and integrity, prioritizing family, freedom, adventure, and creative expression.

    Knowing what I value, I’m better able to decide which opportunities to pursue and accept and which ones to politely decline.

    This doesn’t have to be set in stone. Mission statements change over time as we grow and evolve. So write, revisit, and revise, as often you deem necessary.

    2. Art

    This is the low-hanging fruit for this list. Yes, art is something you can create! Big shocker! But it clearly has a place here nonetheless.

    Especially if you’re tempted to consume to avoid your feelings, why not channel them into a creative project instead? Creativity is not only calming and healing, it’s a journey back to the simplistic joy of childhood—when you had countless Lego castles, doodle-filled pages, and chalk street art masterpieces to show for your time. And the possibilities are endless.

    You could color, sketch, paint, sculpt, sew, crochet, knit, make jewelry, build something, or write a poem, short story, or song. You could art journal, scrapbook, create a magazine collage, try origami, or make something with unconventional materials (duct tape, wine corks, doll parts from your childhood).

    If you tune into your feelings and curiosity, you’ll find endless inspiration, and if you look around, you’ll find endless materials to use and recycle.

    It’s worth noting that quite frequently, consumption fuels creation. I can’t tell you how many scripts I read and films I watched when preparing to write my first screenplay. Every movie helped me learn and sparked ideas for my own story and its execution.

    Though it’s also wonderful to enjoy art for the sake of it, there’s something thrilling about consuming with a purpose. Not just to be entertained but also to be inspired—so you can create something personally meaningful to you that will hopefully move and inspire other people to live and a love a little louder.

    Little feels more exciting than chiseling a piece of your heart into something beautiful that will endure, while simultaneously motivating other people wake up and live more fully.

    3. A medium for self-expression

    We live in an exciting time for self-expression. No longer do gatekeepers get to decide whose words deserve a platform. Anyone can start a blog, vlog, or podcast to share their thoughts and views with the world.

    The beautiful thing is, it’s not too hard to get started. You don’t need a fancy site or special equipment to get going—though those things are nice to have, and they’re things you could always acquire in time, if you like the medium you choose and decide to see how far you can take it.

    With a little googling you can easily find a way to get set up today, for free, so you can move out from the shadows and share what’s in your heart and on your mind.

    Not only will you give yourself an opportunity to express your feelings and feel truly seen, you’ll likely also help other people through your honesty and vulnerability. Yes, you.

    If you think your voice doesn’t matter, consider this: a blog can reach only one person, and yet be the one thing that saves or changes that person’s life. You never know who you’ll help or inspire by finding the courage to speak up.

    4. Memories

    At the end of it all, when we look back on our lives, we won’t take a mental inventory of the dollars we earned, followers we gained, or items we checked off our to-do list. What we’ll see is a mélange of moments—times when we loved, connected, got outside our comfort zone, and engaged with the world with wonder and enthusiasm.

    These moments generally don’t just fall into our laps. We have to actively create them. And sometimes that means stepping outside the realm of our routine and actually doing the type of things we daydream about.

    There’s a scene in the movie Stepmom (spoiler alert!) where Susan Sarandon’s character, Jackie, knows her cancer is getting worse and her time with her family is limited. So she does something out of character and beautifully touching: She wakes her daughter Anna in the middle of the night and takes her horseback riding, in the snow.

    Anna says she’ll never forget this moment, and how could she? She’s nestled close to her dying mother, on a horse, in nature—when the night’s at its most peaceful and she’s usually asleep and unable to see it. Together they feel completely present and alive in this magical moment of connection and awe.

    We can all create these kinds of moments. We can create magic for ourselves, someone else, or both, if we’re willing to prioritize it and put in the effort.

    5. Possibilities

    I suspect a lot of us feel pretty discontent with our lives. Perhaps Thoreau conveyed it best when he wrote “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

    Most of us merely survive and think of thriving as a luxury unavailable to the majority. I’m not going to lie; it’s easier for some to thrive than others. Some of us are born into more ideal circumstances, and some get more advantages.

    But perhaps the problem isn’t just that not everyone gets the same chances, but also that not everyone takes the same chances.

    If we settle into a pit of discontentment and do the same things every day, nothing will ever change.

    The only way to make our lives any better is to find and seize opportunities instead of waiting for them to come to us.

    Make the call. Send the email. Sign up for the course. If you can’t afford it, research scholarships or free or cheap alternatives. Do something to create a new possibility for your life, whether it pertains to your work, your hobbies, or your relationships.

    Then the next purchase you make might be something you need for this exciting new path, not something you want because you’re miserably unhappy with the status quo of your unfulfilling life.

    6. New connections

    We live in an increasingly disconnected world. We spend more time holding devices than hands and look into more screens than eyes, as the Dulce Ruby quote suggests. This is such a lonely way to live. But it doesn’t have to be like this. Not if we prioritize forming and maintaining relationships.

    Of course this isn’t easy. It can be challenging to pull ourselves away from our usual indulgences, get outside our little bubble of comfort, and get present in the world beyond our own door. But it’s oh so worth it.

    One day last year I was a feeling a little down about my limited social circle where I live near LA. I’ve moved a lot, I travel a lot, and I work from home; and I haven’t done a great job prioritizing relationships where I live.

    As I was scrolling through my Facebook feed on this afternoon, trying to distract myself from the sadness in my heart, I decided to do something different; so I navigated to a group for Highly Sensitive People, that contributor Bryn Bamber had actually recommended in a post about sensitivity, and introduced myself, asking if anyone lived near LA.

    Several people responded, including one who’s become a great friend—someone I can relate to on a deep personal level. Someone who gets me, who I get back. And not only did I make a new soul connection, I also opened myself up to new possibilities: because of her, I began volunteering at a nearby community theater, where I hope to volunteer again in the future.

    It can feel awkward to initiate conversation with someone new. Or at least it feels that way for me. But as Frank told Don in The Green Book, “The world is full of lonely people afraid to make the first move.” Make the first move. You just might change two lives.

    —

    In the words of Ferris Bueller, life goes by pretty quickly. Friendships evolve or fade, jobs run their course, kids grow up—and before you know it, we’re looking back at our years, either feeling proud of everything we created or wondering how and why we squandered our time.

    I don’t know about you, but I want to prioritize the things that truly matter to me and fill my hours with purposeful actions that fill my heart with peace, passion, and excitement.

    I want to make beautiful things, share empowering ideas, and collect more moments of awe than there are grains of sand on the beach.

    I also want balance.

    I want abundant movie marathons, occasional retail therapy sessions, and Sunday morning mimosas.

    I want trashy magazines in the tub, an endless rotation of used true crime books, and a full Netflix queue that seems to scream, “I know what you like, Lori. I get you.”

    But I want to consume those things intentionally. Not to avoid or escape anything, but just because they’re fun.

    I think that’s a reasonable goal for all of us. To be a little more intentional, a lot more engaged, and in the end, far more excited about the lives we’re living.

  • How Expressing Myself Helped Me Release Chronic Pain

    How Expressing Myself Helped Me Release Chronic Pain

    “Live life as if everything is rigged in your favor.” ~ Rumi

    It can be frightening to experience physical or mental pain. It’s not something anyone wants to deal with; nobody wants to race against the clock hoping that some future experience will take away their pain. Nobody wants to question the purpose of anything, like seeing a friend or even traveling, just because they feel their pain will ruin it.

    During my freshman year at college, I woke up one day with horrific nerve pain in my legs and in my pelvic area. What was this? My instinct told me this would go away in a few days, and when it didn’t, I took to Google to diagnose myself. According to Google, I had hundreds of different diseases and infections. That only kicked up my anxiety.

    I started seeing doctors—neurologists, urologists, and pain management specialists as the time went by. Over the course of few months, the pain not only spread but also got more difficult to deal with. The doctors were stumped. I was stumped. No MRIs or nerve conductive tests had any conclusive results. A spinal tap came out clear. I didn’t have any type of autoimmune disease.

    During the course of all this, I was extremely depressed. It was difficult to leave my bed, go out with friends, and enjoy the simplest things. I loved learning and I was in the midst of very exciting classes, but I identified with my pain—I believed I was pain and I was hopeless—so I cut out anything that interested me or could bring me happiness or joy.

    I was eighteen, young, and adventurous, but my pain caused me to fear the future. What was going to happen in next six months? I was convinced I would never get better. 

    It seemed the only thing I could do to escape the pain was release anger and tears and do different drugs. Though I had this new pain and was now a different person, I could not accept that and let go of the person I’d been before it happened.

    I finally had a breaking point when I was studying in Greece but couldn’t enjoy myself because of all the negative, terrifying thoughts my mind could produce. I kept fantasizing about life in the future, in situations that didn’t exist and situations that could “save me”:

    • I’m going to move to New York one day and then I will be fine, and I will be so happy.
    • This pain won’t stop me from meeting someone and gaining a beautiful partner, and I’ll be saved.
    • One day my writing will be published, I’ll be famous, and I will be so good!

    What I now know is that I was just feeding my ego. None of those scenarios were going to stop my pain or save me.

    The following year I decided not to go back to school. I had to ‘fix’ my broken self. It started off with many psychological TED talks. Many books on Eastern Religion, then meditation books, books on medicine and illness. It wasn’t always easy to find the motivation to research and read, but some part of me knew that it was the only way to free myself.

    After so much reading and many different books, I had to jump to action.

    I started meditating because I’d heard that it could help you tune in and listen to your body. This opened up a new world to me, and after some time, I realized my pain could have purpose and could be managed with meditation and other meaningful activities, including: 

    • Journaling
    • Creative expression

    Creativity has always been a passion of mine, and I had fiddled with meditation in the past, but not in a serious manner. All of these activities not only helped me deal with physical pain, but also helped me discover more about myself and my interests.

    I realized when there isn’t a cure for your chronic pain and the medications prescribed only make you feel worse, you have to take responsibility for yourself. And that’s what I decided to do.

    Journaling freely with no restraints took the focus off the pain and put me in the present moment. It helped me realize I could create my own reality, my own narrative.

    Through journaling, I was able to see how much I had to be grateful for. I was able to develop my intuition, let go of the day’s anxieties, and keep track of how my choices affect my mood.

    I recognized that I kept writing “I am pain,” and “I am depressed and scared” in my journal. It brought me the awareness that I am not pain, nor am I my depression. I was aware that I was in pain and I had feelings of depression, but I would no longer identify with those feelings.

    Journaling unlocked a new world. I physically felt the anger around my heart. I felt the pain in my legs. I felt my migraine. So, I wrote about it. I started writing directly to the areas of my body that hurt. “Dear Legs…” I asked my pain specific questions. I was ready to learn from the pain. It had to have a purpose, and I had to become present with it in order to recognize it.

    Journaling allowed me to see the repetitive patterns in my life. The things I was writing about were the same things I was worrying about two years ago. The same issues that I never took the time to actually acknowledge. Could it be that these issues needed attention so badly that they had to manifest physically within my body? The more I journaled, the more I started to believe that was true.

    I wrote, and hours went by, and eventually, I was writing about my childhood. I was writing about book ideas, TV ideas, I was creating characters. I was writing about how much I love to learn.

    And I didn’t put any pressure on this creative expression. I didn’t tell myself, “This has to be a bestseller!” and “This has to be the next Hamilton!” I just began creating. It made the time fly by, it was productive, and it took the energy away from my pain.

    While writing, my pain and mind transformed. It was as if each word written took a little bit of pain with it and transported it onto the paper. My writings became deeper and more creative, and my pain became less villainous and distracting. The more I journaled about the pain, the more I discovered about myself.

    Meditation was another form of journaling for me. I was able to watch my thoughts, and on days when I experienced heavy pain, I could see how they could change quickly and violently.

    On days where my pain was mild, my thoughts were filled with hope and excitement. I wanted to get out of bed and go out and see the world. However, if five minutes later aches came, my thoughts completely changed. I would glue myself to the television, waste my day, and fantasize about those “one day” experiences I would have: New York, a partner, fame.

    When I noticed this pattern, I stepped back and laughed. It was insane to witness how fast thoughts can change. How much easier it was to identify with a depressed mindset rather than a happy, hopeful one.

    I realized I had a choice: I could feed into the negative thoughts or choose to view the world optimistically. I decided I was not going to follow the negative, depressive narrative my mind provided for me. I was going to choose to identify with a more positive, open, and loving mindset.

    Meditation revealed that I am more than my pain. I was aware that I was in pain; I was seeing my thoughts. How could I be those thoughts if I was aware of them? And more importantly, if I wasn’t my thoughts, I couldn’t be my pain either!

    All of this, in time, helped show me that I didn’t need to be fixed, because I was already perfect. Sure, I was still messed up and my body didn’t feel right, but I was more than my physical body.

    Regardless of what would happen in the future, I had the tools my pain had brought me. I had the awareness to start creating my own reality. I knew I was bigger than whatever pain I would face.

    For a long time, I thought I had to achieve the maximum level of consciousness possible in order to free myself of pain completely. I had to be perfect.

    However, I soon realized that that my pain may never fully be gone, and I may never have complete Buddha nature. But that didn’t and doesn’t matter.

    An extraordinary life is not a pain-free life. An extraordinary life resides in the in the ordinary of the everyday. There is no need for perfection.

    I came to realize that I always was and always will be whole and complete. Regardless of where I live, regardless of my relationship status, regardless of my health.

    Nothing—good or bad—could define my life anymore. The only thing I could be from here was authentic and mindful to what I needed.

    I believe my pain needed expression; my inner child, the neglected being I had shut off for so long needed a way out, so it manifested in pain. All the times I listened to music I wasn’t into to impress others, all the times I spent hiding my sexuality from others and myself, the times spent stuffing my feelings down because of a large ego, I was neglecting my inner child.

    Not getting the right amount of sleep, going on ten mile runs and having a bag of Doritos for dinner, never drinking water but constantly drinking Gatorade and other sugary drinks—I hadn’t even provided the basic necessities for a child to thrive, let alone given that child love and expression.

    So that’s where I had to start. I had to start giving my inner child proper hydration and sleep, and much, much love. As I did with my pain, I had to sit down and talk to my inner child. I also started to spend time with my present self. Taking myself out on a date to a movie I wanted to see, going out to dinner with a nice book, taking long walks without a phone and other distractions. I had to show my inner child and myself unconditional love.

    I realized that previously, I was scared to be unique. I was afraid of expressing myself. What would people think? It was much easier to neglect, suppress, and resist feelings rather than be wrong or be judged.

    Gratefully, I was able to curb my pain and take it down many levels. It seems the more I discover about myself, the more I express my authentic self, the more I free myself.

    Now I make sure I do something every day to connect with my true self. Writing. Meditation. Sitting in nature. Having a cup of hot tea, focusing deeply on the present moment. In the present moment, you are truly saved.

    It’s still hard to wake up in pain and believe the Universe is rigged in my favor, but the experiences my pain gave me, the people I met through it, the maturation I developed from it, confirms that it is the truth.

    Meditation, journaling, and expressing myself awakened me from my pain. It provided more insight and compassion to those around me because we are all in some type of pain. Pain cannot be compared, because pain is a lesson constructed for each of us. The best thing we can do is make friends with our pain so we can understand what it’s trying to teach us. To meditate on the normal anger that arises with pain and sympathize with it.

    Ask your pain questions. Give yourself a hug. When it’s one of those days, be there for yourself. In the end, all you can do is surrender to the Universe and choose to graciously learn from it.

    It’s not always easy, especially when the pain takes control. It’s hard to step back and look at everything through a lens of positivity, but it is possible. All you can do is keep breathing, keep encouraging yourself to focus on the moment—the breath—and like everything in life, the pain will pass.

    Illustration by Kaitlin Roth