Tiny Buddha

Tag: suffering

  • Why I Don’t Define Myself as a Victim and What I Do Instead

    Why I Don’t Define Myself as a Victim and What I Do Instead

    “The struggle of my life created empathy—I could relate to pain, being abandoned, having people not love me.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    See yourself as a victim and you become one. Identify as a victim and you give your tormentor power over you, the very power to define who you are.

    Statements like this have become commonly accepted wisdom today because they are undoubtedly true. If you see yourself as a victim, you will be one. You will be someone who has been defeated, someone who is at the mercy of another, and that is no way to live.

    And yet, the truth is that many people have been victims. Actually, it’s probably fair to say that everyone has been a victim of something or someone at some point in their lives. So, how can we reject being a victim without denying reality? On the other hand, if we accept being a victim, aren’t we then giving up our own power and independence?

    The answer I think lies in part in a subtlety of language, a small distinction with a big difference. Rather than defining ourselves as victims, why not just say that we have been victimized?

    One thing this immediately does is to describe the act, not the person. It means someone was taken advantage of, mistreated, bullied, tricked, or whatever the offense was. It does not disempower that person thereafter by defining him or her going forward after the event.

    In fact, “victimize” is a verb, and just using it seems to bring a sharper focus on the subject rather than on the object. When I hear the word “victimize,” my first thought is “Who did that?” not “Who was the victim?”

    While that may sound like splitting hairs, the word “victimize” describes a moment in time, not a person. It accurately portrays a reality without turning that reality into a perpetuity by defining someone as a victim. It rightfully places emphasis more on the person who shouldn’t have done that rather than the person who shouldn’t have let it happen, as if he or she had any choice in the matter.

    However, there is a much more important point here than those semantics, which is this: While we don’t want to define ourselves as victims, we also don’t want to erase an important part of our story, a part that may have played more of a role in our personal growth and development than anything else.

    As unpleasant as it may be to experience, pain deepens people. To hurt and to be sick is to commune with all of those people who are sick and hurting and who have ever been sick or hurt or ever will be sick or hurt.

    In suffering, one is given the chance to suffer along with everyone else who is suffering, to be connected with a vast array of people facing innumerable different circumstances. To suffer is to be human, part of a much greater whole.

    When coming out the other side, we have a choice. We can forget our suffering and learn nothing, remaining unchanged. Or, we can define ourselves as a sufferer and collect another sad story to cling to. The telling of that story is what creates our ego, and indeed, for many people, that ego is a victim story.

    While on its face a victim identity is not a happy thing, the victim story does have its allure. It certainly can be a way to avoid responsibility and curry sympathy from others. More than anything, it provides the stability of an invented identity, which is exactly what the ego is.

    That stability staves off the ultimate fear—that of life’s ever-changing uncertainty. But, at the same time, clinging to this stability causes us to fight with life, and hence leads to suffering. It is a rejection of life.

    However, there is a third way, which is to accept what happened to us and learn from our suffering to become a wiser, kinder, and more empathetic person. It is to embrace our victimization without becoming a victim.

    Suffering is the great teacher and the great uniter. There is an ancient spiritual teaching from India which asserts that there are three ways to acquire spiritual knowledge: through experience, through reading books, and through a teacher, or someone who knows about it.

    Unfortunately, if you’ve ever met or read about people who have undergone a major spiritual awakening, or if you have experienced one yourself, it is usually the result of the former, and that “experience” is usually pain and suffering.

    So, when we’ve been victimized, we gain some insight and some power. We can recognize those people who are or have also been victimized, or even who are just hurting, and more readily empathize with their experiences. We are more able to be that helping hand, that listening ear, that open heart.

    This is a lesson I have learned though painful experience.

    A few years back, I was in a cancer caregiver support group when my mom was going through her cancer journey starting just a few weeks after my father passed away. I moved back home from very far away and had served in part as caretaker to both of them—a very difficult experience.

    I stayed in the group until my mom was miraculously recovered and it was time for me to get on with my life, maybe after a period of sixteen months. When someone left the group, different members would go around in the circle a say a sort of little tribute to the person leaving.

    One woman in the group came from a very different set of circumstances than I did. I’m a white guy from the suburbs who grew up in stable family and attended a prestigious university. She was a mixed-race African American and Hispanic woman who grew up in a single mother household in the Bronx and went back to get her degree as an adult.

    She had a confession to make. She said when I first came to the group, I just seemed like a privileged white guy from the suburb where I was born. However, as she got to know me and heard me in the group, she knew there was “something” about me—that I could listen to people and hear their pain and somehow relate to them. I could hold space and give good advice at the same time, and she knew it was from the heart. It was not something she expected of “someone like [me].”

    What she couldn’t tell was that the picture-perfect suburban upbringing I had masked an uglier truth.  Unfortunately, my childhood story was one of frequent abuse—physical, emotional, and even on a couple of occasions sexual.

    I grew up in a family of four children, the scapegoat of the family. It was a relationship dynamic that my parents taught to all of my siblings. Thinking back on my childhood, nearly all of my happy memories took place outside of the home—at school, at friends’ houses, by myself, anywhere but home. I was alone in a house full of people.

    While I’d love to say that ingrained a tenderness in me, an intrinsic empathy for the downtrodden, it didn’t. It hardened me and made me uncharitable. I could tough it out. I could push past it all. Why couldn’t other people? That was my attitude.

    Then, well into my adulthood, I had a crisis—a complete emotional breakdown. After years of illness, a difficult career, tragedies among my friends and family, it all become too much. I collapsed but was reborn. It was at that time, when all my defenses crumbled, that I experienced a total change of heart. Among other things, I found my empathy. It was a bottomless well of goodness that I never even knew was there.

    More than anything, I found myself drawn to the outsider. Deep down my harder self had seen the outsider with contempt, probably because I could recall how painful it was to be the outsider growing up. Now, I was able to empathize with that outsider as I fully accepted and integrated the whole of my experience, including my childhood of victimization.

    And yet, having grown up the way I did and even after the big “shift” caused by my breakdown, I still didn’t really think of myself as a “nice” person. I suppose my outer reserve remained intact because I didn’t think people thought of me that way either.

    What that lady in the cancer group said to me that day was better, more meaningful, and more rewarding than any trophy, award, accolade, or recognition I have ever received. But it was a compliment dearly bought, for without my childhood victimization and the suffering I’d experienced in my adult life, I never would have earned it.

    A victim I am not. For that to be true, I’d still need to be sad or resentful. I’d need to be living in some maladapted way, surviving through coping mechanisms and pain management. Is it upsetting when I think about that innocent, happy, carefree childhood I never had? It sure is. But my past brought me to my happy present and taught me heart lessons that I never would have otherwise received.

    When I look back, would I want to live through it all again? Definitely not, but I’m glad it happened that way and thankful for those experiences.

    But, while being nobody’s victim, I do not reject—indeed I embrace—my victimization. It’s part of my story, maybe the most critical part.

  • What If There’s Beauty on the Other Side of Your Pain?

    What If There’s Beauty on the Other Side of Your Pain?

    “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” ~Albert Einstein

    “I don’t want to live anymore. I don’t want to be here. I can’t do this. It hurts too much. It’s too hard.”

    I’m curious how many times I’ve heard these words over my lifetime. From different people, ages, genders, ethnicities, and walks of life. The words the same, the heaviness no different from one to the next. Hopelessness has a specific tone attached to it. Flat, low, and empty.

    Being the child of a parent who committed suicide, there is a familiar inner fear that washes over me when I hear these words. A hyper alertness and tuning in, knowing it’s time to roll up my sleeves.

    As a psychotherapist, there is a checklist that goes through my head to make sure I ask all of the right questions as I assess the level of pain they are experiencing.

    As a human, a warm wave of compassion takes over as I feel around for what this particular soul needs.

    After asking the typical safety questions and determining this person is not at significant risk of ending their life, I ask, “So what is the end goal here? What do you think happens after you die? Where will you go? How will you feel? What will feel different when you’re dead versus how you feel right now?”

    The answers vary from “It will be dark and nothingness, no feeling, no existence” to “I’ll be in heaven and done with this,” but more often than not they say, “I don’t know.”

    I sometimes question, “Well, if you don’t know how can you guarantee it will be better than this? What if it’s worse? What if you have to relive it all again? What if you are stuck in a dark abyss and can’t get out?”

    More times than not they have not thought this through. They are not thinking about what is next, mostly because what they are really saying is “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

    I get that. We all have those moments.

    Then I dig in further:

    “How do you know your miracle is not around the corner? How do you know relief will not come tomorrow if you allow the opportunity for one more day? What would it be like to be curious about what’s next instead of assuming it will all be just as miserable?

    Since you have not always felt like this, is it possible you may one day again feel joy and freedom?

    If you look at your past, you’ll see you have had many fears and low moments. Did they stay the same or did they change? Most of your fears did not come to be, and if they did, you survived them—you made it through. You may have even learned something or strengthened your ability to be brave.

    If you turn around, you can see there is a lifetime of proof that your world is always changing and shifting. You’ll see many moments when it may have felt like things were not going the direction you wanted, but you’ll likely see an equal number of moments that led you to exactly what you needed. Use those as evidence that your surprise joy may be just around the corner.

    During these conversations, my own curiosity resurfaces. I often ponder if my mother held out a little longer what her life would have looked like. I wonder if another medication would have helped her. Or if the words of an inspiring book may have offered her the hope to keep holding on. Or if the feeling of the sun on her face would have kissed her long enough for her to want a little bit more.

    What if she held on to the curiosity of what was to come instead of deciding there were no surprises or joy left? Would she have felt the bittersweet moment of watching me graduate from high school? Would she have been there to cheer me on when I earned my master’s degree hoping to help people just like her? Would she have held my daughter, her first grandchild, and wept tears of joy knowing she made it?

    Who knows what her life would have been like if she held on for one more day? I will never know, but I am curious.

    I have sat with countless children and adults while they are deep in their pain. I ache for them, cry for them, and also feel hope for them. I wonder out loud what will happen next that we cannot see.

    I’ve seen pregnancies come when hope had left, new relationships be birthed when the people involved were sure they would never feel loved again, new jobs appear out of nowhere at just the “right” time. I’ve seen illnesses dissipate once people started paying attention to themselves, and moments of joy build in the hearts of those who were certain there was no light left.

    The truth is, we don’t know what will happen next, but we know we have made it this far. How do we know tomorrow won’t be exactly what we’ve been waiting for?

    I believe our baseline feeling as humans is peace. The loving calm that fills us when we are in the presence of those we adore. The kind of whole that we feel when we’ve done something we feel proud of and we reconnect to the love we are made of. The way we feel when we are giving love to others and the way we feel when that love is returned.

    I also believe that the human experience is filled with struggle and hardship and challenge. I don’t think we are getting out of it. I believe we are equipped with the power to lean into our pain to let it move through us. To use our experiences as our strength and our knowledge for the next wave of frustration.

    I don’t believe we are supposed to suffer, but rather learn to thrive in the face of hardship and use hope as the steering wheel to guide us through… knowing even though the light may not be right in front of us, it’s just around the corner.

    And the more we employ this faith and our practices that support us, the quicker we are able to return to the peace that lies underneath.

    In the moments of hardship, what would it be like to allow for curiosity? To not only acknowledge the feeling in front of us—and feel it—but to also allow for the possibility of what is to come.

    All of our experiences come with the free will to choose how we will respond to them. With openness and wonder or dismissal and resistance. It’s also okay to feel it all at once. The feelings will pass. They always do.

    The next time you feel stuck in a feeling, or what feels like a never-ending experience, consider thinking: I wonder what will come of this. I wonder what I will gain. I wonder what strengths I will develop and how I will support myself. I wonder what beauty lies on the other side of this pain. Don’t push through it but surrender into it.

    Then allow for curiosity. Be open. You never know what surprises the day may bring. Maybe today is the day it all changes. Or maybe tomorrow. You may not know the day, but you can be ready and open for it when it arrives.

  • Hate Your Life? 4 Ways to Boost Your Happiness

    Hate Your Life? 4 Ways to Boost Your Happiness

    “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” ~Desmond Tutu

    I hate my life. Does this statement ring true to you at all? Do you feel like you’re at rock bottom? The good news is, it might not be as bad as you fear.

    I spent a lot of time feeling afraid of everything.

    I had an emotional collapse, and it made life suddenly seem terrifying. What had happened? Had the town I was living in changed? Had my country suddenly become different?

    No, I had changed the filter through which I saw the world, from one of hope and joy to one of fear and hopelessness.

    My biggest problem wasn’t that I was feeling terrible, but that I had unconsciously bought into the idea that the problem was ‘out there,’ or that perhaps I had lost my mind. It frightened me to experience that level of darkness, where everything looked gloomy and hopeless.

    When We Believe Our Self-Talk and Perceptions of Our Terrible Life

    What had really happened was that, after a series of bad experiences, I got very sad and then a whole lot sadder. I didn’t realize that, after the initial painful problems, I was continuing to create a lot of my upset with my thinking processes.

    I was seeing—through my perception filter—only the darker parts of life. Everything felt greyer somehow. It got gradually worse and I became more and more entrenched in the grip of it.

    Had the bad situations caused it? Perhaps, but the real problem was that they had caused me to change my filter to grey, and I was stuck there. The more I saw the world this way, the more I expected it. The more I unconsciously expected it, the more evidence my senses found for me to confirm my fears.

    Therapists and books, in trying to help me get past my sense of pain and suffering, took me back to the time when the collapse happened, and even back to my childhood.

    I established what the original problem was and ‘worked through it.’ I agree with the necessity to work through old wounds and baggage to a degree, and it is sometimes crucial for mental wellness. However, for me, it was re-traumatizing and mostly just dug up old things I’d already accepted. I found myself back at square one over and over again. Far from recovering, I was in a circle of regression.

    What kept me going back over it was simple: The bad situations I had experienced were long over, and I had done the forgiveness and grieving, but I was still feeling bad. The only reason I could find was that I needed to do more healing work on the past. However, now that I look back, it seems what was really keeping it alive was my own belief that the problem was still there.

    The Wake-Up Call

    Here was a major truth bomb for me: While I’d certainly had experiences that were traumatizing when they happened, I was the one who was now perpetuating my pain. I had a habit of hating my life.

    Did that mean it was my fault? No, I was just doing what we all do. I had practiced feeling terrible every day, and after a month or so it had become habit. I was a professional fearful person.

    Yes, maybe the original upset or difficulties in my life were bad, but they were no longer happening. I kept them alive two ways: 1. Through learned habitual behavior and 2. By constantly picking over them to find out why I still felt bad.

    Don’t Put a Happy Face Sticker Over It

    There’s a lot of talk now of toxic positivity and concerns about putting a happy face sticker over problems. I do get that people sometimes do this. It is irresponsible to run away from a real-life problem, but I do not believe that most people who talk about toxic positivity are really warning about that.

    I believe that many people who talk about toxic positivity are actually stuck with their filter on grey, and they are arguing for their own limitations.

    There is an increased stigma around the idea of “love and light.” It’s become an almost contemptible topic. I agree that it’s ridiculous to think that “love and light” is the answer to everything. But if you feel stuck in old stuff and find that you feel less than happy about your life, I challenge you to give it a try before disregarding it as naïve or evasive.

    Please remember that even some apparently very wise spiritual and transformational helpers or gurus are still themselves very much stuck in their egos. They still want to be the hero battling their pain and discussing their survival. Just because someone is well-known and well-loved does not make them any less human. Just because they claim to know better, does not mean that they do.

    Positivity gets a bad rap in certain places on the internet, but please remember this idea that we don’t have to dwell in the difficulties is age old and has been supported by mystics and gurus since the beginning of time.

    As the old Buddhist saying states, “Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.” I get that there is a time and a place for facing pain—dealing with circumstances and processing grief is incredibly important. But we do not need to suffer beyond the original pain.

    How to feel the Pain Without Getting Caught in Suffering

    Yes, you’ll encounter difficulties, and sometimes they will be terrible, awful, and shocking. However, once you’ve done the initial processing and the grieving process is well under way, there is a lot to be said for introducing a happy face sticker! Not to go over the wound, but to go alongside it. We don’t need to dwell in toxic positivity or negativity.

    What do I mean by initial processing of difficulties in life? It will be different for everyone and it depends on the circumstances, but what I really mean is this: Allow yourself a reasonable time to feel the feelings and then make efforts to move forward with your life!

    No one would expect you to be happy the day after you witnessed some horrible crime or after the death of a loved one. This is ridiculous and what is really meant by toxic positivity—the notion that you should be happy all of the time regardless of your circumstances.

    But there comes a time when we have to choose to shift our perspective and find reasons to smile, because it only happens if we make it happen.

    Put a Happy Face Sticker Next to it and Start Hanging Out There

    If you really hate your life, you may have gotten to the stage where you have started to believe it will never get better. Take it from someone who knows, this isn’t true. You are awake and breathing now, so there is still hope to turn everything around. I did. I am no more special than you, I have no special skills. If I can, so can you.

    If you are clinically ill, get help, that is a given. If you are unsure, reach out to a medical professional and get assistance and their opinion. This is a must!

    Once you are sure that you do not need medical intervention, be a risk taker and try the much maligned “positive thinking and action” methodology below.

    What I suggest below is what I did, and it worked for me. It has worked for clients. Does this mean it will work for you? No, not necessarily, and perhaps you will do it slightly differently. But hopefully you will be able to understand the essence of what I’m suggesting and give it a try.

    You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

    4 Ways to be Happier (The Not-So-Magic Formula)

    Firstly, suspend the idea of not wanting to buy into “toxic positivity” and try this twenty-minute morning routine for a couple of weeks. I have never had anyone report that it made them feel worse.

    Exercise as soon as you get out of bed.

    Okay, go to the bathroom first! After that, take two to ten minutes to do some stretches, weights, or aerobic exercises. Put on some music and then get started.

    I do fifteen minutes every morning with two little weights and a resistance band. I do five minutes on my legs with the resistance band, five minutes on my core on the floor or with the weights, and five minutes with the weights on my arms. My body looks better, and it gets my good-feeling chemicals pumping.

    Make a few sheets of goals, quotes, or a vision board.

    Put them up in the area where you will be doing your exercises, and read or look at them as you move to get into an empowered mindset. You can include pictures, quotes, or ideas.

    I have thirteen sheets and a load of sticky notes. I don’t read everything perfectly every day, but I read most of it every day as I work on my arms. I have mainly quotes from my favorite transformational authors, as I’m not a massive fan of setting specific goals, but whatever you choose is up to you.

    Gratitude journal.

    Take one minute and list three things you are grateful for. This is a minimum requirement. If you have time, consider writing intentions for the day or listing the ways in which you feel the universe has helped you lately.

    Even if you feel that there are twenty things that you could complain about, if there is one good thing, write about that.

    A great addition to these exercises is to look back over previous days and notice how much you have to be grateful for or how many of your intentions you have met. If you think you haven’t met any of your intentions, remember that isn’t true! If you are writing your gratitude journal on more than one day, you are showing up for you and keeping it up somewhat. A huge number of people will not even get so far.

    Be compassionate with yourself and grateful that you have shown some dedication to yourself, however small that effort may seem at first.

    Listen to something motivational and upbeat every morning.

    I do this while I am getting dressed or doing my to-do list. I watch something that talks about empowerment, what we can achieve, what is right with me and the world rather than what is wrong.

    Is it to stick my head in the sand or deny that there’s anything wrong in the world? No, it’s so that I am pumped and empowered to actually take on the task of living life.

    There is so much free content out there on social media that you can access. Do a social media search and start finding material that uplifts you and gets you thinking positively and with purpose every day.

    No one gets excited about facing pain or the destruction stretched out in front of them. So, even when there are difficult things to face, it’s crucial that we can somewhat reframe it so that we can see it as a positive challenge rather than solely a painful experience.

    When we do this, it is not to be irresponsible or to avoid the reality, but rather to give ourselves the best chance of being able to embrace what we need to do with enthusiasm and a good energy. This way we are more use to ourselves, the people around us, and the world

    Takeaway: Summary of the Plan to Shift Out of the Pain

    You don’t like your life… Okay, no need to panic.

    Take a moment to check if you might need medical assistance. If you’re not sure, reach out to a health professional. Once you’ve done this and are sure you don’t have a clinical reason for feeling so bad about life, ask yourself if you are expecting yourself to feel better before you’ve had a reasonable time to grieve or recover from a recent event.

    If something bad has happened, you will need time to feel it and process it. The world does seem to encourage us to always feel great, and this isn’t realistic. Our minds naturally want a simple solution and to get away from processing a painful experience, but it only prolongs it in the long run. Make sure you are not rushing a sensible grieving process.

    Equally, if you hate your life today, check in with yourself and ask yourself if you are perhaps just having a bad couple of days. No one feels happy all of the time, and it is unhealthy to expect yourself to do so.

    Once you’ve checked for a medical reason and that you don’t have a temporary and reasonable explanation for why you feel so bad, consider trying the ideas above and seeing what a positive start to your day might do for you.

    Do it for a month and see what changes.

    Perhaps starting your day with movement, motivation, and gratitude will not work, but I’d be surprised if it didn’t! Will it solve all of your problems? No, of course not. But hopefully, it will give you a boost of positivity and a sense of hope and show you that you can make changes that can help you to feel better about your life.

    Once you see that small changes can make a big difference, you will get excited about all the other things you can change and improve in your life. It takes you out of reverse gear and into first. It may seem small, but it’s a start, and a very positive one at that!

  • How to Make Sense of the Anxiety That Comes with Being a Parent

    How to Make Sense of the Anxiety That Comes with Being a Parent

    “You must first teach a child he is loved. Only then is he ready to learn everything else.” ~Amanda Morgan

    If I had a nickel for every parent who asked me, “So, if we do (…insert a strategy they have been given…), can we know for sure that he won’t have to deal with (…insert list of problems here …) when he grows up?”

    Sadly, there are no nickels for hearing the question, nor guarantees to offer anxious parent. In fact, parental anxiety exists largely because life has no guarantees.

    Nevertheless, the question in itself is worth considering.

    So let’s look at it. Essentially, every parent wants to know “What should we be doing to guarantee that our child is a ‘successful’ adult who won’t have to experience avoidable pain and suffering?”

    Let that sink in.

    Of course, we want to have this reassurance.

    Of course, we want our children to never have to experience the pain and suffering that we know are possible in life.

    And, of course, we want to do what we can, proactively, to help them avoid the pitfalls.

    But can we?

    It’s September 2020 and as I write this, I am highly aware that my only child was born twenty-five years ago tomorrow. I’m a bit melancholic.

    Twenty-five years ago today, I was preparing for my maternity leave from a workplace I thoroughly enjoyed, providing mental health care to children, teens, and their families. I put in extra hours when it was needed, not out of a sense of obligation, but because it was truly inspiring, meaningful work and I felt blessed for having the opportunity to do it.

    And I had a plan! I would take the maximum six months paid maternity leave, but after that, I would be returning to this wonderfully demanding job. I would find quality childcare. All would be well.

    But that plan changed when I met her.

    Due to complications, I was not conscious for her birth and so, when I met her, two hours later, she was asleep. I couldn’t have been more dumbfounded if I had woken up to a pink, polka dotted dancing elephants in my hospital room.

    She was in an incubator at the foot of my bed, wrapped all in pink with a little pink knitted hat on her tiny head. It was a girl! And I was in awe. And completely in love.

    In that moment, though I didn’t quite know it yet, my plans were going to change. 

    My doctor stopped by on her rounds the next morning.

    “Any baby blues?” she asked.

    “Does crying during the Freedom 55 commercial count? You know the one where they show you that little girl being born, grow up, and then she’s bringing her children to visit her mother?”

    She laughed. “You’ve got more than a few years before you’re worrying about that, Judith!”

    “Ah. Then, no. We’re good,” I muttered.

    But was I?

    In those earliest of days, as I waited for us to be discharged from hospital, my whole experience of who I was and what mattered to me inexorably changed. My only priority was to care for her. And, so long as I was conscious, I could put my arms around her and meet her every need!

    In the end, I took an eleven-month maternity leave and then quit my much loved, but demanding job. I negotiated part-time contract work that was financially and practically workable and did not require “extra” time.  And that was that.

    By the time she was starting pre-school, I turned my career back to working with children because, beyond enjoying working with children, I could learn strategies for “how to be a better parent” through my work. And my experience as a parent contributed to improving the quality of my work with the children and their families.  This was a win-win.

    What came to matter most was making sure my daughter was protected, safe, and had everything she ever needed to be a happy, successful, competent, confident, independent, compassionate, kind, loved adult. My efforts in all other areas of my life were guided by this intention.

    If I took time for meditating, it was to be able to be more present with her.

    If I continued with my music lessons, it was to be an example to her of how leisure and learning are lifelong pursuits and part of a balanced life.

    I read self-help books to help me navigate my role as a parent in the most responsible way.

    I did some things well. Really well! At other times, I messed up and then apologized and made things right.

    I know I will continue to do well sometimes. And not so well at other times. I will continue to be a fallible human mother in a relationship with her fallible human child.

    And now she’s twenty-five years old. She has finished her post-secondary program. She has loving friends and family. She has skills and talents. She has my full support when she wants or needs it.

    And despite everything I know, have learned, and done, I still cannot guarantee that she won’t experience pain and suffering in her life.  

    At this point, like her peers, she is trying to launch into an adult life during a global pandemic.  And it’s hard.  But, as hard as it is for her, it is equally hard for me to witness.  While I can still put my arms around her, I can no longer meet her every need.  And no matter what either or us do, there are no guarantees.

    So, my answer to that golden question is:  No. There are no guarantees that any of the strategies we use will give our children lives free of struggles, challenges, pain, and strife.

    At the end of the day, there is only one thing that will really matter. It’s whether or not we’ve had a healthy relationship with them in which they have felt truly safe and loved.

    A relationship in which they know they can choose to turn to us for love and support during those inevitably painful times in life, knowing we will be there. Holding a safe space. Arms open wide ready to hold them.

    And when we’re no longer able to be in this life with them, that they can have the deep imprint of love through the lived experience of the secure, safe, honest relationship they had with us.

    How do we do this?

    By showing up.

    By getting things right.

    By getting things wrong.

    By making apologies and making amends.

    By creating a relationship in which they feel seen, heard, understood and loved. For who they are. Not for who we expect them to be.

    When I think of my daughter and her upcoming birthday, I immediately see a little bundle wrapped in pink. And I smile. She’ll be okay.

  • 5 Meditation “Mistakes” That Increase Our Suffering

    5 Meditation “Mistakes” That Increase Our Suffering

    “If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything, it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.” ~Shunryu Suzuki

    So many of us come to meditation through our suffering. Nearly everyone who has come to walk the spiritual path can spin a tale of sorrow, frustration, and often devastation. Through our life struggles and difficulties, we become conditioned into habitual patternings of mind that seem to offer us no escape, and often turn to meditation to find relief.

    I always say that anxiety was my first spiritual teacher and it began teaching me at a very young age.

    I spent a great deal of time and effort attempting to control my experience in order to limit my suffering. I’ve now come to see that the illusion of control is the root of anxiety, as our stresses are exacerbated by our inability to accept “not knowing” what will happen in life.

    In my early forties life handed me a situation that would eventually overpower my ability to control life. Over a seven-year span, my son Mark struggled mightily, suffered deeply, and fought gallantly to try to fend off addiction and mental illness.

    Lost within my own mental struggles, I attempted to meet his difficulties through my habitual need to control life. Anyone who has ever had a loved one suffering with addiction knows that we’re never in control of the situation. Nevertheless, I foolishly pressed forward and selfishly tried to control Mark’s experience.

    I can remember the day Mark was diagnosed with schizophrenia. My inner controller had an “I can’t do this anymore” moment and finally came to the stark realization that there was no way for me to control his situation.

    Something shifted within me, and I felt the “controller” release its grasp on me. There was nothing to control. There was just life moving, and life was just meant to be lived as it comes.

    Tragically Mark lost his fight against addiction in 2017. I’ve come to see that Mark was my spiritual guru the entire time, teaching me about compassion, how to love unconditionally, and how to let go of the need to control life.

    Mark opened the doorway to meditation for me by teaching my how to let go. He opened up my heart to accepting what is, as it is and taught me how to start shedding my mind’s old habitual patterns of conditioning.

    I’ve been formally “sitting” for about four years, and although I feel very good about my practice now, I’ve made my fair share of “mistakes” along the way.

    One of the biggest errors I made was trying to use meditation as a means to an end. I wanted to feel better and thought if I sat “well” enough then I would find peace. I initially failed to realize that this mind that was trying so hard to find relief from suffering was the same mind that had created my suffering.

    I spent a lot of time spinning my wheels trying to find the right formula to quiet my mind. I thought if I concentrated hard enough, if I focused on the breath the right way, if I limited external noises and distractions… then my mind would quiet down and I would find truth. The mind was the one constantly looking for the right formula, the right path, the right insight.

    It took me nearly two years to finally realize that no matter what the mind decided, if the method came from the mind, it would actually prevent me from relaxing into the silence beyond the mind.

    This was just one of the many mistakes I’ve made. Putting too much emphasis on how long I sat in meditation, trying to recreate blissful feelings, trying to determine if I was enlightened or not, all contributed to perpetuating my monkey mind.

    If you’ve had similar frustrations with your practice, don’t be discouraged. Don’t stop. There’s no wrong way to meditate, because all “mistakes” only serve to exacerbate our suffering, and therefore increase our earnestness to come back to try meditation again. Life is very good at putting in fail-safes against our own ineptness.

    If you’ve started meditation and stopped, started and stopped, let years go by, started again and stopped, you’re in good company. Everyone gets frustrated and quits a few times before developing a good practice. In actuality, one must stop “attempting” to meditate before one actually begins to awaken to what meditation is all about.

    So let’s go into a bit more detail on these mistakes we want to avoid…

    1. Trying to quiet the mind

    As I touched on earlier, the number one reason we sit in meditation is we desperately want to silence the inane chatter within our mind. Our monkey mind is quite relentless. It’s like the Terminator: “It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are…” spiritually awakened.

    So why shouldn’t we try to quiet the mind?

    The best way to answer this is to ask: Who is trying to silence the mind? Take your time and examine this. What you will find is that your mind is trying to quiet the mind. How could that which is the root cause of the problem also be the source of the solution? It can’t. It won’t listen to our desire to be freed. It’s only interested in furthering its continuity and increasing its own significance.

    Our mind wanting to quiet our mind creates additional inner conflict. This inner conflict provides more fuel to the mind, and so our attempt to meditate and quiet the mind has only led to more struggles and frustration.

    In order to circumvent this dilemma, we must “do nothing.” Just sit and observe whatever comes and goes. Patient, passive, non-reactive observation is your superpower. Whatever thoughts arise, let them come. Whatever thoughts go, let them go.

    It might take a bit of time to settle into observer mode, but once we realize it’s possible to sit and observe the mind from a point of neutral awareness, the mind’s reign of terror is coming near to an end.

    2. Sitting too long too soon

    I think many of us sit down in meditation envisioning a transformation into a Zen Master on day one. We’ve heard that an hour of meditation is a really good meditation, so we decide to sit for an hour.

    Within the first minute we’ve relived every embarrassing event in our life from preschool up until this current moment. We sit and wrestle with our thoughts like a chihuahua puppy tied to a firehose on full blast. We’re tossed around like a rag doll in this mental octagon by our own mind. Beaten to a bloody emotional pulp. Our will is broken…

    We quit after five minutes and vow to never sit in meditation ever again.

    Don’t do this to yourself. Start slow! Meditation is no different than lifting weights. If you try to do too much too soon, you will only end up hurting yourself.

    Do one or two minutes for the first week or two. Add a minute or two every week after that and try to slowly work your way up to at least twenty minutes per day.

    This is not a competition. You don’t get any awards for persevering through harsh conditions or adversity. Enjoy the journey. Take your time.

    3. Quitting too soon

    So we’ve worked our way up to twenty minutes a day. We’ve sat for twenty minutes for two days now and we feel… nothing. Everything feels the same. The mind is still wandering. The monkey mind is still in charge, still kicking us around, and we’re getting frustrated.

    The mind is whispering that this is all a really big waste of time and you’ve fallen for it again! How long are you going to listen to that spiritual guru who is unemployed and has no money? Of course he is at peace. He doesn’t ever do anything…

    Don’t give into the mind.

    Meditation is like walking in fog. We don’t notice much of anything going on, and then we realize that we are soaking wet. If the mind begins to pressure us about sitting without seeing any results, then just observe those thoughts as well.

    There is no set time frame for the mind to settle down, but if you are patient you will begin to experience “gaps” of silence in the mind. These small gaps are a good indication that the mind is getting tired of not getting a reaction out of us. So, be patient. Relax. Take up the attitude that you will sit until your last breath, and having no results is not going to deter you.

    4. Trying to recreate meditative phenomena

    The bliss! Give me some more of that bliss. Can never have enough bliss! Anyone who has come to experience the feeling of euphoric bliss in meditation has definitely tried to recreate it. If you say that you haven’t, you’re lying.

    Anything that occurs within the meditation is phenomena. Bliss, lights, colors, auras, sounds, images, dreams, out-of-body experiences, clairvoyance, receiving messages, full-body orgasmic euphoria, alien contact, angels, numbers, time travel, space travel… It’s all just phenomena and it has no real significance in the grand scheme of awakening.

    If you become infatuated with phenomena, this means that the mind has become infatuated with phenomena. The point of meditation is to relax into the awareness of life moving. Awareness of life moving includes awareness of mind moving. If we “fall into” the role of mind trying to recreate our meditative experience, then we’ve most likely fallen out of the neutral witness role.

    A good rule to remember is to relax and allow whatever comes to come and allow whatever goes to go. Nothing needs to be created. Nothing needs to be removed. Just relax with what is.

    5. Holding any expectations about your practice

    It’s natural to begin a meditative practice because we want to feel better. Our mind is giving us trouble. Our relationships never work out. We are overworked, underpaid, and complete balls of stress. We are grieving over loss. We are tired. We sometimes just want to give up. It’s all too much.

    Again, who wants to feel better? Who is holding this expectation that meditation is the cure all that we’ve been waiting for? The mind! The mind is interested in feeling better, so again, we are creating more inner conflict. The mind doesn’t like the way life is moving, it wants to make life better. We are playing tug of war with ourselves…

    Any expectation of getting something out of meditation delays getting anything from meditation. If you don’t want anything, then you will get something. That something is peace of mind.

    Peace of mind arises with the deepening of awareness of what is. When we sit in meditation without expectation, the mind’s inner conflict dissolves. There’s no fuel added to the mind when we don’t expect to get anything. Relaxation without expectation is how the mind begins to quiet down.

    —

    So, to summarize, even though we may make some or all of these five meditation mistakes, life will continue to use our suffering as a way to bring us back to our spiritual practice and back to meditation.

    Don’t try to quiet your mind. Don’t try too much too soon. Don’t quit too soon. Don’t try to recreate a pleasurable meditation session. Don’t hold any expectations.

    Just sit. Relax and be with what is.

  • Why This Will Be the Year I Stop Running from Pain

    Why This Will Be the Year I Stop Running from Pain

    “One has to accept pain as a condition of existence.” ~Morris West

    This may seem sounds counter-intuitive, but this year I want to let go of trying to avoid suffering.

    It doesn’t mean that I am a masochist and plan to spend the next year being miserable. It’s more a question of learning to accept life as it is—uncertain, full of surprises, and with its full quota of difficult circumstances.

    Our Wish for Happiness

    The thing is that we all want to be happy. There’s nothing wrong with that, but if we fear not being happy, then we have already undermined ourselves. We get so focused on chasing things that we think will make us happy that we forget the bigger picture.

    Parents tend to raise their children telling them they want them to be happy. We are surrounded by advertising images of what a happy life looks like. When we feel down and unhappy, we tend to feel that somehow, we are letting people down, that we are failing in some way. No one wants to feel like a failure, and so we double-up on our strategies to avoid suffering.

    Our Strategies to Avoid Suffering

    We keep ourselves busy so that we don’t have time to sit and reflect. There are a million ways to entertain and distract ourselves. If we get bored, we can surf social media. When we feel down, we can go shopping, watch a movie, go out for a meal—whatever our preferred escape route is.

    When suffering gets past the distraction and forces us to pay attention, then our avoidance goes deeper. We push it away. We pretend it’s not there. Suffering becomes the enemy to happiness and something to be avoided as quickly as possible.

    When avoidance doesn’t work anymore and the suffering is staring us in the face, then we go for fixing it as soon as possible. We talk about putting things behind us, of moving on. Rarely do we give ourselves the time to lean into our pain, discover what it is showing us, and try to act on that.

    Pain is Inevitable

    The very nature of life is that we don’t know what is going to happen from one moment to the next. Everything is in a state of flux, however much we try to pin things down and organize them. Our bodies can be damaged. We grow older, get sick, and eventually die. People change, relationships blossom and then fade away.

    Look into any aspect of your life and see how it is continuously moving and changing. Think back over the changes that have happened in your community just in the time you have lived there. Go back further in your mind—fifty years, a hundred years—small changes, big upheavals are happening all the time.

    In the midst of all this we get hurt. Loss, disappointment, broken hearts, worries, and anxieties are all part of the package. Although we want to be happy and we don’t want to feel pain and suffering, deep down we know it is inevitable. Suffering is part of life however much we don’t want it and what’s more, it happens to everyone.

    My Reminders for Changing my Habit

    This is the basis for changing my habit of trying to avoid suffering. I want to remember that it is simply part of how life is. It’s not a conspiracy against me; everyone has problems and worries. We are all in the same boat in that respect.

    If I spend a lot of time worrying about how something could go wrong or a situation might get worse, then I am already making myself unhappy. What I am worrying about might not even happen. In fact, I could be worrying about one thing and in the meantime another unforeseen problem creeps in.

    Like many people, I want my life to count for something. I want it to have meaning and purpose. If I am honest, much of my deepest learning has come through times when things are hard, and I am struggling.

    In trying to cope with challenges we can be motivated to look really deeply into ourselves. Our avoidance tactics don’t get us anywhere, so we kind of let go and try to understand what is going on. When we can do this, suffering and pain can be our greatest teachers.

    When we are tired and weary with it all, then we can at least try to find a place in ourselves for acceptance. Instead of crying, “Why me?” we simply accept that this is what is happening right now and all we can do is work with it.

    Personally, I find this kind of patience very hard, but I am a meditator and so I can put some distance between a situation and my reaction to it. When it works it brings such relief. It is so much more nourishing than fighting against things and trying to hide away.

    Lastly, perhaps one of the most precious aspects of facing suffering is the appreciation that we gain of how things are for other people. Just as we suffer, so do they.

    If I am struggling to come to terms with a friend who has become increasingly distant, the chances are that there arehundreds, perhaps thousands of other people going through something similar at the very same time. So, with the acceptance and patience come a strengthening of compassion, which can become part of our deeper learning.

  • What Helps Me Put Things in Perspective

    What Helps Me Put Things in Perspective

    “The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.” ~Douglas Adams

    The Buddha famously said that life is full of suffering. While I acknowledge there is much suffering in the world, for my privileged life in the West, I like to think of it more as life being full of challenges. You see, sometimes the suffering part is optional.

    Now again, I’m not talking about war, famine, trauma or other life-threatening or intolerable living situations. I’m talking about your regular developed world problems.

    The hot water stopped working.
    The subway is over-crowded.
    Your child has the flu.
    You didn’t get the job we thought we deserved.
    Your friend isn’t talking to you.
    You can’t afford a new car.

    Those regular sort of problems that we encounter on a regular basis that interrupt our well-being. We get annoyed by them, ruminate about them, and make them bigger than they need to be. Our minds tend to go straight to the negative, and that is usually to beat ourselves up in some way or predict the worst-case scenario.

    Suddenly our temporary irritation becomes a BIG problem.

    I’ll never find a plumber who is reliable.
    I hate this subway ride—I can’t keep doing this.
    How am I going to keep my job if I have to keep taking days off? What if it is something more serious?
    I’ll never find a good job.
    I’m a terrible friend / they’re a terrible friend.
    I need more money.

    Our brains are incredibly unhelpful. We have this negative bias that is designed to keep us safe, a useful characteristic for our ancestors, but not so functional in these modern times. We don’t need our minds to play out to the worst possible outcome and we certainly don’t need it to keep reminding us of our perceived inadequacies.

    I was reminded of this recently when I had a falling out with my youngest child. I kept replaying it over and over in my head.

    What if we never sort this out?
    What if she doesn’t want a close relationship with me anymore?
    Where did I go wrong in my parenting that she could behave like this?
    She hates me!
    I am a bad mother.

    Yep. Over and over again in my head either going to worst case scenario or beating myself up.

    And all the while making the situation much worse than it needed to be.

    And then I remembered: A problem is only a problem when we decide it’s a problem. 

    We could also decide it’s not a big deal.

    It was time to get some perspective.

    I made a choice to get out my own head and take a step back. And then I asked myself the following questions:

    What would my best friend tell me about this situation?
    She would tell me that my daughter is stressed and tends to get emotional when she is stressed. She would tell me not to take it personally.

    What would I tell my best friend if they were going through this?
    I would tell her that her daughter is a teenager behaving like a teenager and we don’t have to go to every argument we are invited to. I would reassure her that this is a small issue that will be resolved quickly.

    What would someone you admire say about this?
    This too shall pass…

    What would a judge and a jury tell you?
    You have a good relationship and this is just a small matter.

    Is this going to matter in five minutes, five days, five months, five years from now?
    Yes, no, no, no.

    Suddenly I felt much better. Putting it into perspective and getting outside views on the situation is so helpful in getting our minds back to the real issues. And removing ourselves from the situation has a way of really allowing us to see what is important and what it not.

    And it allows us to reduce the size of the problem significantly.

    However, to me, that only goes so far.

    I like to keep moving further and further back.

    And I remind myself of the following reality:

    We live on a little blue planet literally in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how we got here but whatever your beliefs, it is some kind of miracle.

    We are the perfect distance from the sun to have temperatures that we can not only survive but thrive in.

    And this planet we get to live on is truly magnificent. If someone asked me to create a planet for humans to live on that was not only life -sustaining but also the most beautiful planet imaginable, I could not create something more magnificent than Earth.

    If that weren’t enough, we get to live in the 21st century. Imagine how much more difficult life would have been for us if we had been born 100 years earlier? 200 years earlier? It’s difficult to fathom the hardships we would have had to go through just to survive.

    And if you’re still not convinced that that is enough, think about this:  If you are reading this you have access to a computer and the internet, something most of the world does not.

    You are probably living in a somewhat developed country where clean water, fresh food and shelter are all in abundant supply.  You also probably don’t have to worry about war, famine or natural disasters on a regular basis.

    In other words, you have won the lottery. The only lottery that really matters, anyway.

    And the opportunities that come with that privilege are mind-blowing. 

    We can do anything we want in this life.

    We are free to choose any life we can imagine.

    I don’t know how we got here or why we are here, but one thing is for sure, I’m going to hang on and enjoy the ride.

    Suddenly the petty distractions of life become even pettier.

    Do I really want to be arguing with my daughter?

    Do I really need to make a big deal out of this?

    And the bigger question: Do we really want to waste this life worrying about things that don’t really matter?

    I know what my answer will always be…

  • Pain, Suffering, Joy, Love—Meditation Helps Me Experience It All

    Pain, Suffering, Joy, Love—Meditation Helps Me Experience It All

    “I know, things are getting tougher when I can’t get the top off the bottom of the barrel.” ~Jesse Michaels

    No one thought I was going to live to see twenty. Including me. In fact, I vividly remember telling my father that it would be miraculous if I saw twenty-five. It wasn’t emotional. It was simply a statement of fact. And yet here I am—mid-thirties, wife, daughter, one on the way, house, job, sense of purpose. What happened?

    I was one of those kids with questions. Big questions. “What does it all mean?” questions. I used to wonder what the point of all of this was. As young as seven and eight I remember lying in bed at night trying to understand the nature of the world. I would examine my family, my friends, my fears, my aspirations, looking for the thread that would unravel the existential knot.

    I loved to learn, and I was frequently drawn to the sciences in a way that I now see as continuing to look for answers to the big questions. When my friends were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, they gave the common answers—policeman, fireman, professional athlete, etc. I think someone said “Batman” (it might have been me…).

    When it came to me, I would usually say, “paleontologist or astronomer.” (I later amended this to astrophysicist, but I hadn’t heard of it yet, and further, didn’t have the math skills.) It was clear to me that this world had a rhyme and a reason, and I wanted desperately to understand it. And then, at twelve, I discovered the answer.

    I became a drug addict and an alcoholic. It was beautiful. It did not give me any answers; it simply took away the questions. It shrunk my life to the “one-pointed mind” that I would rediscover later in another context.

    Addiction is an all-consuming activity. I compounded this problem by developing a number of co-occurring mental health problems—rage, depression, anxiety. A continuous cocktail of hopelessness and loss.

    This spiral was only arrested at the nick of time by the intervention of a loving family and a supportive community dedicated to service to those struggling with addiction.

    In the decade and a half since, I’ve watched many friends die, go to jail, disappear, and I have often wondered what the difference between them and me is.

    I have heard the “some have to die so others can live” theory and the “they just weren’t ready” platitude. I have heard the “at least they’re not struggling anymore” and the “God must have needed them” explanations. I reject these utterly.

    While these statements offer some degree of emotional and psychological comfort, I can’t imagine the reality of what they seem to imply: Some of us are “chosen” and some of us are not.

    I think about a friend of ours who died Christmas Eve morning from an overdose. I couldn’t conceive of going to his grief-stricken family and saying, “Bummer about your son, guess he wasn’t chosen.” I’m sure that would’ve helped lift their Christmas spirits every year.

    I have been to seventeen funerals in the past few years, all for people under thirty and most under twenty-five. Each time I have asked myself the same question: Why them and not me?

    I don’t pretend to have an answer. Furthermore, I don’t think there is an ANSWER (capital letters intentional). When I discovered my spiritual and meditative practice I was strongly drawn to the fact that these practices openly admitted they had no answers, only a means to investigate the questions.

    Meditation doesn’t give me any answers. It doesn’t allow me to sidestep grief or pain or rage. It doesn’t make good times better or bad times suck less. It doesn’t offer me a way to disassociate from my very real human experience. Although, for the record, I have tried to use meditation to do all of these things.

    So what difference does it make to me?

    The meditation practices that I employ bring me face to face with the pain and hurt and fear and rage. The pain of losing my friends; the hurt that no one could help them, not even me; the fear that I very well could fall victim to the same delusions; the rage at the utter injustice of why beautiful, talented men and women at the beginning of their lives are lost to us.

    In not trying to avoid the pain, I get to experience it and learn from it.

    I have repeated the negative and destructive patterns of my life not because of lack of will or lack of desire to change, but merely because I didn’t see them. I’ve looked away from my pain and my trauma, and so it’s had no choice but to reemerge over and over again.

    Sitting “on the cushion” has given me a stable and safe place from which to step into the sea of suffering, find the part of me that needs comfort and compassion, and try to bring it into the light.

    My practice has shown me that the answers we look for are whatever we want them to be. Meaning is not an inherent quality. Things happen, and we, as human beings, assign them meaning. Sometimes the meaning is that we “live for them” (the people who have past). Sometimes we “make it matter.”

    I once asked out a girl in one of my graduate school classes because I had just helped bury a seventeen-year-old kid who I realized would never get to ask a girl out again. So what the hell? I asked her, thinking maybe Danny would give me an assist from wherever he was. She still said no. I swear I could hear him laughing at me.

    Sometimes we use things to reinforce the negative story that we tell ourselves about ourselves and the world we live in. We create our own victimization and tell ourselves it’s not our fault. The world is terrible. I did this forever, reinforcing the story of my own victimhood until it almost killed me.

    Meditation helps me examine all of these storylines. It helps me embrace the things that make my life better and discard (almost always with assistance) the things that are detrimental to myself, that cause pain to those around me.

    It offers me the opportunity to “turn the volume down” on the rage and anxiety and depression. It brings me back within the bounds of experiencing these without them becoming the monsters they used to be.

    It also helps me accept reality as it is. Nothing is supposed to be happening. It’s just what is happening. Embrace it or fight it, it makes no difference. It will, has, and does happen exactly as it’s happening. I only need to adjust to conditions as they are, not how I would wish them to be, to be truly content. Meditation helps me see things closer to how they really are.

    I write this having attended a funeral last week for a twenty-three-year-old man who was my student and my friend. I am selfishly grateful in a strange way that his death was accidental and not related to any substance abuse. I’m not sure if that matters, but it feels different.

    I loved and will continue to love Josh. He was amazingly talented. I met him when he was fifteen and couldn’t play a note. By the end of our time together (I was a music teacher then) he could play four instruments well and a few poorly (harmonica is tough). He had interned at a local music festival during high school and eventually parlayed that into a full-time gig at one of our local venues. I am so proud of him.

    His service was packed. Friends, family—he touched so many lives. The greatest gift that my practice afforded me is that I was there. Really there. I cried. I laughed. I hugged people. I snuck one of my medallions into his casket when no one was looking. I thought he’d like that, both the medallion and the sneaking. (We share a bit of an anti-authority streak.)

    I didn’t run—from his death, from my feelings, or from the people around me. I hugged his dad and told him how much I adored his son and how grateful I was to have helped him along his journey. I stood with my friends and offered a shoulder when they needed it and received one when I did.

    I am so deeply moved to have been able to be there, without a buffer, to help send off my friend. I can be uncomfortable and be okay with being uncomfortable. Pain and sorrow are my teachers. So are joy and love. Meditation brings me to the place where I can experience all of it. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

  • Understanding the Cycle of Pain: How to Transmute Anger into Empathy

    Understanding the Cycle of Pain: How to Transmute Anger into Empathy

    “When we get angry, we suffer. If you really understand that, you also will be able to understand that when the other person is angry, it means that she is suffering. When someone insults you or behaves violently towards you, you have to be intelligent enough to see that the person suffers from his own violence and anger. But we tend to forget … When we see that our suffering and anger are no different from their suffering and anger, we will behave more compassionately.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    There is so much to be angry about every day because life is unfair.

    My own situation right now is infuriating. I left my job and my home country in large part to return back to the US and help my mom care for my father. During that time, my mother’s frustration with her role as caregiver, along with the emotional stresses and practical limitations it placed on her, often boiled over into rage directed at me. This situation persisted for ten months.

    Immediately after that, she herself became terminally ill, and now my role is caregiver. My whole life plan has had to change as a result, so my hopes of going back to my old life now need to take a backseat to my mother’s illness, which was brought about by her own behavior (smoking). For so many years I had asked her to quit, to which she reacted—you guessed it—angrily.

    When it was clear she wasn’t doing well, I encouraged her to see a doctor. She got angry with me.

    While in the hospital, she was frustrated at being confined to a bed. She took her anger and frustration out on me for that too.

    Now, faced with difficult treatments and limitations on her lifestyle, she lashes out at me every day or two. Me—the only one at home with her, and the only one of her four children who has the will and/or ability to care for her in this way.

    I’m not going to lie—it’s difficult to refrain from reacting in kind, and sometimes I do just that.

    In my cancer caregiver support group, I found this is a common thread—people are angry, and they have difficulty directing and dealing with that anger.

    One woman has a husband whose blasé attitude toward his cancer puts him in a lot of dangerous situations. This completely stresses her out because she is in a constant state of worry about his health and safety. But, rather than expressing these sentiments, she has internalized them, allowing anger to slowly fester.

    It was a significant and therapeutic step for her to actually admit that she was angry. Her way of coping thereafter was to withdraw from her husband in order to preserve her own emotional well-being.

    Another woman was angry because her husband, sick on-and-off with cancer for nearly twenty years, was also depressed through his illness, leaving her as the sole caregiver and breadwinner. Needless to say, her marriage was far from the storybook version she’d originally had in mind. Her way of dealing with her anger was to be productive—to be the best mother and caretaker she could be—and occasionally vent or break down to some trusted friends or our group.

    There is nothing wrong or shameful about either of these two approaches. Both women have shown incredible fortitude in the face of difficult situations. Furthermore, their reactions were certainly much more constructive and peace-promoting than simply popping off and reacting temperamentally.

    However, I have found it helps take me to an even more peaceful state to remind myself of the cycle of pain.

    In this cycle, as succinctly described by Thich Nhat Hanh above, people act out in negative ways (e.g. aggressive, uncaring, etc.) as a result of inner pain. Even if that pain is difficult for us as outsiders to understand, it is there as a matter of fact.

    Though it may help to intellectually understand the specific causes and dynamics of the individual’s pain, in most cases that isn’t possible because you cannot get inside someone else’s head. But we can still accept that the other person is in pain. Once we accept this, we can relate it to our own and therefore feel empathy.

    This is very difficult to do in the moment. What helps me when I feel the flush of temper is to take a deep breath and close my eyes. When I take in that breath, I imagine myself “breathing in” the other person’s pain, which appears to me internally as smoke or pollution.

    I then imagine in my head what they are going through. That is why it helps to understand what the pain is. In my mother’s case, it’s the fear of her disease as well as the discomfort with suddenly having to deal with the restrictions it places on her time and activities.

    I imagine them dealing with that pain, and as the breath comes in I feel a sensation permeate my body. I then let out the breath, which I imagine to be a vapor of peace. I feel lighter and calmer.

    I call this alchemy for the soul—transmuting anger into empathy.

    When I expressed this in the group, I was met with crickets, except for the woman who was angry about her husband’s careless attitude about his condition. She had two comebacks.

    First, she said although that was a “nice” sentiment, she needed to take care of herself at this point and not worry about her husband’s emotions. After all, as the cancer sufferer, he was receiving all kinds of sympathy from every corner. Fair enough.

    Secondly, she said that it takes a lot of energy and effort to “suppress” your feelings when you’re already feeling exhausted from being the caregiver. I understand that too.

    At that point, I dropped the matter, firstly, because I sensed her slight agitation and secondly, because I thought it might strain the dynamics of our safe place if I came across as a preachy teacher in a group of equals.

    What I wanted to say was that this is not about her husband’s feelings. In fact, quite the opposite—doing this would be all about her emotions.

    To hold onto anger and need to direct it somewhere, to me, is draining. I need to carry it around and find where to put it. I need to put effort into not blowing up at someone. To me, this exercise of alchemy for the soul feels like the opposite of “suppression,” whose Latin origin literally means to “press down.”

    When I perform my little alchemy ritual, the feeling is much more of a lightening up or dissolving kind of sensation. Rather than doing someone else a favor, I feel like I am treating myself well, which allows me to treat others well too (and not begrudge them for it!).

    Even when someone else is clearly the “cause” of your anger, it helps to remember that it isn’t really him or her—it’s his or her suffering that is at the root of the hurtful actions. Yes, they are responsible for what they do, but it helps to remember that it’s human to sometimes act out when you’re hurting.

    If you feel that this thinking lets the person off the hook too easily, remember that however hurtful someone’s actions are, no one can “make” you feel a certain way. Ultimately, how you react internally to someone’s actions, what you choose to focus on and how you think about it, is your own responsibility. To blame another person for how you feel is to give him or her power over you.

    To be clear, I’m not making excuses for bad behavior. If someone does something cruel or thoughtless or aggressive to you, it is his or her failing for doing so. But however hurt you may feel in the moment, that person does not have the power to make you carry that hurt with you in the form of anger.

    Once again, this has nothing to do with you being a saint and deigning to give that person compassion or forgiveness; it’s about you taking care of yourself by stopping the angry chain reaction that can lead to all kinds of hurt and unfortunate behaviors.

    Why not just allow yourself to just be angry and make up a sad story about what was done to you in which you are cast as the victim? In a sense, you’re totally justified in doing so, but where does that lead? How does that help you? The truth is, you very well might have been a victim of someone’s aggression in that moment, but only you can make yourself remain a victim by carrying around the negativity.

    When you help yourself by letting go of your anger, you help everyone else around you too.

    This is a practice that has very much helped me, but it’s not the only way to deal with anger. I’m always in search of new strategies myself, so please feel free to tell me what’s helped you cope.

  • 3 Things That Are Helping Me Deal with Stress, Pain, and Loss

    3 Things That Are Helping Me Deal with Stress, Pain, and Loss

    “Being on a spiritual path does not prevent you from facing times of darkness; but it teaches you how to use the darkness as a tool to grow.” ~Unknown

    Life has not been kind lately.

    My aunt passed away in October. She had been suffering from cancer, but her family kept the extent of her illness to themselves, and hence I did not have a chance to see her before she passed away. I felt bad about that.

    My father followed her a month later, just after Thanksgiving. He had been ailing from Parkinson’s Disease, but his death as well was not expected when it happened.

    Two weeks after him, a friend of mine who lives abroad informed me of her diagnosis with a rare form of incurable cancer. She has since passed away before I had a chance to visit her. She was not yet fifty years old.

    Right after that happened, the veterinarian diagnosed my dog with heart failure, and his days too are numbered.

    In mid-January, my mother, who had been depressed after my father’s death, collapsed with a seizure. A tumor was discovered in her brain. Though easily removed, it was traced back to her lung. She too has a rare form of aggressive cancer and though outwardly healthy, her life will probably be limited to months or a couple of years.

    The whole ordeal until diagnosis unfolded over the course of an extremely stressful month, and the future is both frightening and terribly uncertain. Because of this uncertainty, I have needed to change my life plans—I had been ready to relocate and change jobs.

    In the last two weeks, I have had another friend in her forties diagnosed with advanced cancer with a poor prognosis, and my sister’s marriage has come apart.

    Every week it seems brings some new tragedy. As just about everyone who knows me has said: “It’s a lot.” It certainly is.

    I can’t put a happy face on this. Life has just been awful, and I wake up each day praying for no more bad news. There has been such a procession of misfortune that I feel more numb than anything else.

    And yet, I haven’t been destroyed. I’m not depressed. When someone is depressed, whether it’s situational or clinical, they often become self-obsessed and turn just about any event, however positive, into a negative commentary on their life. I’ve been there before, and this is not depression.

    I’m scared, but I feel strong. I know I can handle this. And, I’m very thankful—thankful for what gave me the strength to endure these times: my spiritual journey.

    In 2012, after a years-long series of illnesses, bad romantic relationships, frayed friendships, work drama, and general instability in my life, I had a total breakdown.

    By “breakdown” I mean the whole nine yards—massive depression, professional psychological help, medication, and inability to work or even function normally. However, following this breakdown came the clichéd spiritual awakening.

    This spiritual awakening taught me so many things, most of which you’ve probably already read about, for example: the ego, the importance of being present, the power of vulnerability, etc.

    It was such a fragile period of intense learning and growth built atop a well of deep suffering. It felt terrible, but I learned and changed so much. Though it’s unlikely that I will experience such drastic spiritual growth in such a short period of time again, I realized that I had embarked on a life-long spiritual journey with no end.

    Along the way, there have been fewer but no less rewarding “Aha moments” and new realizations made possible by the consciousness I had gained. Furthermore, there have been many spiritual tests, and each time I worry that I will fail to live the lessons I’ve already internalized, I surprise myself and come through.

    And now I’ve reached an objectively extraordinarily difficult time. This is not a crisis of egoic drama or hurt feelings but real pain—physical suffering and death for so many people who I care about in a matter of months.

    While the spiritual journey is a continuum with multiple themes that are difficult to unravel from each other, there are a few concepts that are sustaining me through it all:

    1. Presence and the now

    The weight of all of it has pushed me into a very intense NOW. I try not to hope because hope has let me down a lot recently, but perhaps more importantly, hope is focused on an unknowable and largely inalterable future. Though in the context of a lot of terrible events, rarely is there anything wrong with this very moment. Despite the pain of recent events, right now there is so much going right.

    Choosing to focus on the good isn’t delusional—it’s an accurate reflection of reality.

    My mother is dying. We don’t know when and there isn’t too much we can do, but thinking of that future is enough to ruin every day. And yet, with our time together now so valuable, I have no choice but to be fully present with her as much as I can.

    I have experienced so much loss recently, but bitterly clinging to that loss will distract me from the precious time I have left with my mother and friends, and it will do nothing to bring back my dad, my aunt, or anyone else.

    However, there isn’t much wrong with right now. My mom isn’t suffering, I’m lucky to be free from work to be with her, and my family has come together in support of each other. The birds sing each morning, the weather is fine, and the forest near our house is beautiful. That’s all real too, and there is much joy to be had in each moment.

    Should something arise in the moment, that’s when I’ll deal with it. While I do occasionally find myself worrying over the future, that serves no purpose and only spoils the now.

    2. Boundaries

    In times of extreme stress when so many things are going wrong, it is critical to exercise self-care; you cannot be a positive force in the world if you’re falling apart inside.

    Boundaries are key to protecting your time and energy, which are particularly challenged in very difficult times, from behaviors that drain them. However, most of the time life is much easier, so we allow people to skate by and “go along to get along” as not to be difficult. After all, we don’t want to seem mean or selfish or unforgiving. We aim to please.

    However, while the importance of boundaries is particularly stark in times of crisis, even in normal times they play an important role in self-care and building healthy relationships.  This is clear when we see what can happen when we don’t enforce boundaries.

    Oftentimes, trying to be nice and agreeable, we allow someone to repeatedly cross the line with no repercussions. As our resentment builds, we may act out in retaliation, doing nothing helpful for ourselves or the world.

    A relationship of true intimacy and mutual respect should be able to easily withstand one party making his or her boundaries clear. If the other can’t handle that, then how deep of relationship is it anyway? In fact, establishing a level of trust with someone to feel comfortable enough to discuss boundaries is in itself a sign of a strong relationship.

    Enforcing boundaries involves a level of honesty that can deepen relationships.

    During my mother’s time in the hospital, frustrated with being confined to bed, she unleashed a stream of vitriol at me that were without a doubt the most hurtful words anyone has ever said to me.

    As difficult as it was to do with her health in such a fragile state, I felt I had no choice; I had to enforce my boundaries. If I am to be her primary caregiver, I couldn’t endure a situation in which she directs her frustrations at me—it wouldn’t work for me, and it wouldn’t work for her. Unfortunately, it was a repeated behavior of hers over many years.

    Without getting into the details, we had a very frank discussion about this, and to be fair, it’s something I let her get away with for a long time by not enforcing my boundaries.

    While initially very painful, this talk led to me sharing deep dark memories and thoughts I never would have otherwise said and clearing a lot of what stood in the way of our relationship as mother and son. That very likely would not have happened had I not stood firm, and I never would have established that open a relationship with her.  However long she has left in this world, I know that this issue, my past hurt from her actions, won’t stand between us again.

    3. Having an open mind

    When faced with a diagnosis as dire as what my mom was given, unless you completely give up, keeping an open mind is often the only way to find good news that you would have otherwise overlooked.

    For example, in beginning my research on this type of cancer, I was dismayed to learn that there has been no material change to the standard of care in about forty years. All of those recent breakthroughs in cancer treatment you’ve heard about, they don’t apply to this one!

    However, rather than declaring defeat right away, I did decide to dig a little deeper. What I found was that there actually are a lot of clinical trials going on in our area for this type of cancer, many of which may provide a good second-line treatment option. Moreover, one of the trial drugs is very likely to get FDA approval in the next year, giving us some options where before there was none. Taking advantage of these would require changing hospitals, so these are developments I never would have learned about had I given up.

    I’ve been reminded to keep an open mind about people too. My mother, typically pretty volatile, has faced this all with amazing strength and equanimity—certainly more than I’ve shown! For someone totally uninterested in spirituality, she has shown a remarkable perspective on all of this in the context of her life, with which she is very satisfied.

    My sister, also going through marital problems while taking care of her baby and usually very emotional, has coped perhaps the best of any of us and has exhibited some very healthy habits for staying even. My brother, on the other hand, himself a doctor, has probably been the most scattered and emotionally crippled by the recent events.

    The point is that whatever you think you know about a person, it can change any day, any time. People can surprise you, for better or worse. While it’s totally rational to make judgment calls about people’s strengths and weaknesses, abilities and attributes, you must always realize that you can be wrong, or that the person might change—in fact, people are changing all the time!

    Spirituality is not about finding a happy hiding place insulated from temporal concerns. It’s quite the opposite—it’s about moving through life with eyes and arms wide open to whatever happens. It’s the way we get down in the mud and go through the wringer and remain who we are.

    Spirituality is a muscle. It gets stronger with exercise, and exercise causes discomfort. But once recuperated, you find you’re able to lift even more weight than before.

    I’ve never had to deal with such a painful series of events, and hopefully I never will again. But however insignificant what I’ve already been through seems in comparison, that past started me on a spiritual journey that prepared me for this present time. Whatever happens, I know I’ll emerge stronger from this too.

  • How to Make Anxiety A Lot Less Painful

    How to Make Anxiety A Lot Less Painful

    “You are not a mess. You are a feeling person in a messy world.” ~Glennon Doyle Melton

    Anxiety can be hardwired and genetic. It can be passed down from generation to generation. It can be a result of trauma and high-stress scenarios, including divorce, moving, and death. These things are out of our control, and can be really challenging to work through.

    But, anxiety can also come as a result of certain behaviors, lifestyle choices, and beliefs that you have about yourself and the world. And that, my friend, is always within your control.

    I want to challenge the way you’re thinking about anxiety. Take a moment to ask yourself the following questions:

    What thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors are leading to my anxiety? How can I address these behaviors and change the beliefs, thoughts, or emotions that create the anxiety to begin with?

    I used to have really extreme experiences with anxiety. I would wake up feeling this pit in my stomach, like something really terrible was about to happen at any moment. Except… everything was fine.

    I had a good job, I was making a decent amount of money, I had a nice apartment, I was in a seemingly good relationship, and it seemed like everything was working out in my favor.

    On the outside, I seemed fine, but on the inside, I was dreading getting out of bed in the morning. Sometimes I literally couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. I would call my manager and tell her I was having a rough start to the day (again) and would be in as soon as I was “back to normal.”

    My breath would become choppy. My heart would race. My palms would sweat. My hands would shake. My thoughts would bounce between “What the heck’s wrong with you?” to “Why can’t you just suck it up and go to work?” and from “Am I going to have a heart attack?” to “Do I need to go back to the doctor again today?”

    I had anxiety, and I felt so pathetic about it. I felt guilty for not being more appreciative of all the things that were going right in my life. I hated myself for feeling anxious. I hated myself because I thought there was something really wrong with me that would never get better.

    It wasn’t until I realized that I had the whole situation backward that I was able to start making changes.

    I realized that it wasn’t the anxiety itself that was causing me to suffer—it was the way I was thinking about and engaging with the anxiety that was the issue. 

    Here’s the thing: Anxiety is a normal human emotion that serves an evolutionary purpose. It’s a feeling that we get when something is threatening us. Anxiety is an emotion that serves as a trigger to activate our fight-or-flight response in response to a dangerous situation. So it’s normal to feel anxiety, and just because you may feel anxious doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.

    How we think about our anxiety is what will create our relationship to the emotion itself. 

    If every time you feel anxious you think negative thoughts about yourself, then you send yourself into a downward spiral of guilt, shame, anger, depression, and even more anxiety. You feel more anxious just because you’re anxious.

    But if you can reframe your thoughts to come from a place of positivity and love, everything changes. Instead of feeling like you’re broken or there’s something that needs to be fixed, you start to recognize that it’s natural to have an emotion like anxiety, and that you don’t need to engage with it in a negative, self-hating way.

    You can simply acknowledge its presence, try to notice what caused it, and non-judgmentally let it go. 

    Once we become conscious of our limiting beliefs and fears around anxiety, we can choose to see things differently.

    We can train our brains to know that anxiety is a part of life, and that it doesn’t dictate our worth as a human being.

    We can choose to reframe our beliefs to become more positive, accepting, and loving, in order to go easier on ourselves when we do experience anxiety.

    And we can take action steps toward living a life that is in more balance, with less anxiety and stress, and more happiness every day.

    By becoming aware of our thoughts and beliefs around anxiety and fear, we can consciously choose which beliefs are empowering and get to stay, and which are blocking our growth so that we can release them. Because here’s the bitter truth:

    Your thoughts about anxiety can cause you to suffer more than experiencing the anxiety itself.

    A while back, I got really interested in anxiety and my mindset overall. I started working with a coach who helped me understand on a more practical level the lessons I had learned from all the books I’d read: that your thoughts create your reality, and you are always in control of your thoughts.

    I started to reframe my thoughts about anxiety and shifted the lens through which I see the world from one of lack/fear to one of abundance/love.

    My life hasn’t been the same since.

    I still experience anxiety and fear—OMG, I experience so much fear! Running my own business feels approximately like: 50% singing in my shower and dancing around my apartment to Katy Perry and 50% wanting to hide in a cave for the rest of my life and never emerge again. But my relationship to anxiety and fear has changed, because my mindset has changed. I no longer see my anxiety as a crippling force in my life that I desperately want to get rid of.

    I now see anxiety as a gift, as a sign from the Universe that something is off balance in my life, and I feel grateful for having all of the tools I need to get back into balance. It is now my mission to help you do the same.

    So when you feel anxiety, check in with yourself on what your thoughts and beliefs around anxiety are. Do you talk down to yourself for feeling anxious? Do you judge yourself or criticize yourself? Can you be more compassionate instead? Do you believe you are an anxious person? Can you be willing to see yourself as something different?

    By becoming aware of the stories we tell ourselves about how we are and how the world is, we can consciously choose which stories serve us, and which need to be rewritten. You have the power to rewrite your anxiety story. The question is: will you do it?

  • How Feeling Shame Freed Me from Suffering

    How Feeling Shame Freed Me from Suffering

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

    It was October, 2012. The U.S. Presidential Election was around the corner. I was paying an unaccustomed amount of attention to political news on TV and to political discussion sites online. At one site in particular, I was eager to become part of the community, to make a good impression, to build a reputation.

    To put it mildly, that didn’t work out well.

    One evening I was watching an interview with a politician whose name I recognized, but I didn’t know much about him. I thought he was making some cogent points about the topic at hand. I went to the online discussion site to see whether anyone had mentioned this interview yet, and when I found no one had, I hastily composed a post praising the politician and suggesting that others should watch the interview.

    The reaction was fast and fierce. How could I have anything nice to say about this nincompoop, who was renowned far and wide as a hypocrite? Where was my sense? Where were my ideals? Where was my head? What did I think I was doing there in the first place?

    I was mortified. I, who had always prided myself on intellectual acumen, had totally failed to do my homework. I hadn’t done even the most cursory research to learn anything about the politician’s history.

    I felt I’d made an ass of myself. I was so ashamed that I didn’t even visit the site for weeks. I was genuinely in pain.

    Now I’m going to have to briefly flash back in time so the next part of the story will make sense.

    At that time, in 2012, it had been almost ten years since a beloved spiritual teacher had died. I had shut down my spiritual life to a great extent after his death. You might say it was a long freeze. Or maybe “fallow period” would be a better description. Later events would make that seem like a good way to look at it.

    While I was ashamed and hurting in the aftermath of my online blunder, I recalled something I’d heard my teacher say more than once, something like this: “When you see a tack on your chair, sit on it.”

    That may sound enigmatic, but I think the metaphor is straightforward. What it meant to me, anyway, was that we should not flee from fully allowing an experience that might impart an important point. We should sit on the point, not avoid it.

    I made a vow then. I promised myself I wouldn’t avoid my intense sense of shame. I wouldn’t brush it under the rug. I wouldn’t cover it or deflect it with distractions, entertainments, excuses, or rationalizations. I would experience it fully, let it do its work, and see what happened.

    I’m not pretending that I had any specific practice beyond that. I’ve since learned some that I’ll mention a little later. But at the time, I simply stuck to my vow. Whenever the feeling of shame came to visit, I didn’t shoo it away or distract myself. I allowed myself to experience it.

    It’s not even that I was inclined to turn toward TV or eating or any other concrete distraction. What I mean by “distract myself” is subtler. It’s a small mental move of avoidance, of turning the attention away from something uncomfortable. Its opposite is mindful awareness, facing experience head-on come what may.

    Everything began to change within a few weeks. There was no one moment when the painful sense of shame evaporated, leaving nothing but clarity and peace. No, it happened gradually over a period of weeks. Each time I welcomed shame as a visitor, it lost some of its sting.

    What finally became of it? All I can say is it was transmuted. It dissolved, and in its place arose a sense of peace and a new, calm engagement with the truth of being.

    I recognized that whatever arises in experience is always already present by the time we can react. Whether it’s comfort or discomfort, joy or distress, calm or chaos, it can be witnessed with equanimity.

    I began to notice old friends posting on Facebook about spiritual teachers and teachings they liked. I looked into some of them and found I liked them too. The long freeze had given way to a thaw. The fallow period was coming to an end. I felt a sense of regeneration, of reawakening.

    How does this work? If it seems counterintuitive to you that diving into pain is a good idea, that amplifying discomfort can be helpful, consider this simple question: What are we doing when we feel that we’re suffering? In other words, what mental activity are we engaging?

    It seems to me that above all else, the answer is we’re actively refusing ourselves compassion. When faced with discomfort or pain, we try to resist it or deny it. We’re judging ourselves, chastising ourselves for the feelings that arise spontaneously. Most of us wouldn’t do it to another, certainly not to a loved one, yet we do it to ourselves. That’s the suffering right there.

    In this instance, the active mechanism was a kind of a thought loop. It went something like this:

    • That was really stupid, what I did.
    • How could I be so dumb? I’m smart, not dumb!
    • I humiliated myself in public.
    • I can never show my face there again.
    • (Repeat forever.)

    Each of those thoughts reinforces a sense of emotional pain, of suffering. They whirl around and seem to amplify each other. It feels as if there’s no way out. I kept beating myself up.

    That’s exactly what it was. I was beating myself up. I was pummeling myself with those ideas. I was treating myself entirely without compassion and empathy, as if I hated myself, and I didn’t seem to know how to stop.

    Notice that by this point the nature of the original mistake didn’t matter. It could have been as trivial as cursing out loud or as serious as committing a felony. The thought loop of suffering was running obsessively on its own momentum. It was no longer about the original offense. It was self-sustaining.

    It reminds me of an experience years ago. When I was a teenager, I was admitted to the hospital for an appendectomy. In the recovery room, as I slowly emerged from the anesthetic fog, the room seemed filled with loud screams. I barely had time to wonder what they were about when I noticed that I was the one who was screaming! I stopped immediately. There was pain, yes, but no need to make it worse by screaming.

    It’s an imperfect analogy, but I see a significant parallel: I had to notice the self-defeating action before I could stop it. In the instance of my shame it happened that by keeping my promise, by sitting on the tack, by diving into the pain, somehow I created a space where I had an opportunity to notice what I was doing and to stop it, gradually. I began to see an opportunity to embrace myself with kindness and compassion, and I took it.

    Practices

    As I mentioned, I’ve learned some specific practices to take advantage of the opportunity, to enhance and deepen the process.

    Metta (lovingkindess) meditation

    I find that this traditional meditation opens the heart and helps to cultivate compassion towards oneself and others. My version begins with visualizing the warmth and love I feel when seeing or meeting a loved one. It could be a spouse, child, parent, dear friend, or even a beloved pet. Then I say to myself:

    • May they be safe from harm.
    • May they be truly happy.
    • May they be free from suffering.
    • May they be loved.

    Then I picture myself at my most open and vulnerable, when I’m hurting and in need of that same love and compassion. And I say to myself:

    • May I be safe from harm.
    • May I be truly happy.
    • May I be free from suffering.
    • May I be loved.

    I can then extend that to my circle of friends, to the planet, and to all sentient beings everywhere. Practicing this regularly deeply affects the feeling nature.

    Ho’oponopono

    Based on a traditional Hawaiian practice for community healing, the modernized version I use resembles a variation I heard from Scott Kiloby. Here’s how I engage it:

    • When I notice a feeling that seems distressful, first I simply sit quietly with it, acknowledging it and allowing myself to feel it.
    • I ask for the stories surrounding the feeling to reveal themselves, and I allow hearing the stories to intensify the feeling. The thought loop I mentioned is a perfect example of those stories.
    • I dive into the feeling with naive curiosity, looking to sense all its aspects. I’m not trying to soften it or push it away, but at this stage it may begin to soften.
    • I say to the feeling: “I love you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” The important thing is that I have to mean it. I have to be prepared to live with it indefinitely, to welcome it indefinitely. After all, it’s part of me. It is me.

    In retrospect, what I did by sitting on the tack of shame was closest to practicing Ho’oponopono.

    For me, the whole experience emphasizes how important it is to include the heart in our practice, in our lives. When we find ourselves relying on mental analysis, it’s often judgmental and hurtful, especially to ourselves.

    Both aspects can be useful, but the heart never judges, never condemns, never excludes. It knows how to heal us and make us whole.

  • License to Hurt: What We Really Need When We’re in Pain

    License to Hurt: What We Really Need When We’re in Pain

    “We’ll light the candle together when she’s ready. For now I’ll trust the darkness for us both.” ~Terri St. Cloud

    Over breakfast one morning recently, Jeff and I started reminiscing about past years, and something was said that brought back a painful memory for me. My boss at the time had been unimaginably small-minded. He had hung me out to dry. “I still can’t understand why he did that,” I said.

    Jeff looked at me levelly. “You need to get over it, Jan,” he said. “It was years ago.”

    Wise advice, without question. The only problem was that I didn’t want it just then.

    Why is it that we are so seldom allowed a few moments just to hurt? After a serious heartbreak like the death of a loved one, sure, we’re given all the leeway we need. But the run-of-the-mill slights and small, persistent sorrows are treated as something we should quickly move past, even when they’re deeply painful.

    Jeff, poor guy, was just trying to help. I couldn’t fault him. I knew I was being a bit ridiculous. But what I longed for was someone to acknowledge my outrage, let me sit with it, live into it for a few moments—and then gently remind me that it’s time to get over it.

    A few hours later, after I’d licked my wounds and was feeling better, I began to wonder: Might I also be failing to honor the sorrows of others?

    Everything I’ve learned in the past eight years, since the death of our son, has pointed me to the same lesson: The most important thing we can give each other in times of pain is compassion, a simple, “Oh, I bet that’s really hard.” We should offer that before—or instead of—advice on how to cope.

    Even worse are the times when we immediately turn the conversation to ourselves: “I know just what you mean. I’m going through something like that too.”

    I catch myself doing this way too often. My intent is to signal to the person that we’re partners in pain and can support each other. But the comment shifts the focus away from my companion’s heartache to mine.

    Or we may inadvertently belittle our friend’s sorrow with stories of how we’ve overcome the same challenge.

    Recently I overheard a conversation between two elderly women. One was talking about how emotionally wrenching she was finding it to give up her home and move to a retirement facility.

    “Oh, you won’t miss it a bit once you get settled,” the other woman said.

    She had already been through the experience and knew without question what lay ahead. I wanted to break in and hug the first woman. When we are in pain, the last thing we need is someone who knows without question what lies ahead.

    Many of us find it deeply uncomfortable to be in the presence of suffering. And no wonder. We live in a culture where we’re taught from childhood to hide our hurts, to buck up and get over them. We don’t want to display them, and we don’t want to see them in others. Yet unspoken pain is all around us.

    I’m talking here about a way of caring for each other that hews a fine line, because I in no way want to encourage my friends and loved ones to wallow in their sorrow. I want to honor it for what it is but never give it the power to rule my life.

    It’s true that others may be able to benefit from what I’ve learned—but not immediately after suffering the same kind of hurt. And it’s entirely up to them whether or not they want to learn from me.

    To show love for another in sorrow asks more of us than empathetic gestures. It asks us to try and understand exactly what the other is feeling, and even to risk getting a taste of that pain.

    At a retreat in Maui in 2001, Ram Dass drew a clear distinction between empathy and compassion.

    “Compassion for somebody else is that you are one with them and you hurt with them. That compassion comes out of the oneness of your heart, the oneness with all beings . . . ” He continued, “It’s not just empathy. It’s not one person feels empathy for another person. It’s got to be one person.”

    How will I ever reach the point where I can feel as one with someone who’s hurting? In this I’m like a child learning to walk; I can only stumble and try again.

    I’ve lived most of my life cultivating the image of myself as a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone’s help. Reid’s death showed me how wrong I was. My task now, I think, is to be present for others who are hurting, because I know what suffering means. This knowledge is a bittersweet gift that’s been given to me by life. I’m trying as hard as I can to use it.

    I do not always succeed.

    This is what I know for certain: I can’t tell others how to heal. All I can do is sit with them—and when they’re ready, help them light a candle to find their way out of the dark. Doing this kindly, without giving voice to how I think they should move forward, is a practice I will struggle to follow the rest of my life.

    One last thing: A few weeks ago, when I had another setback with work, my dear Jeff came to me and enveloped me in a hug. He held me close, hurting with me. And only then, after several minutes, did he remind me that it wasn’t all that important—that in fact I had plenty of reasons to let it go.

    I responded by giving him the biggest, longest kiss I’ve given him in years.

    Photo by mhx

  • Choose to Shine: Your Smile Is More Powerful Than You Think

    Choose to Shine: Your Smile Is More Powerful Than You Think

    Beautiful black girl with her chalked drawing

    “Shine like the whole Universe is yours.” ~Rumi

    I had a revolutionary experience at a grocery store. Yes, a grocery store. I’ll never forget that day.

    I believe that some of the most mundane and unimportant places I’ve visited have been the bedrock of my spiritual growth.

    There is so much to witness at a store: people frantically trying to load up for the weekend, elderly in their motorized carts, people in line glued to their smart phones, and then of course the workers that 90% of the time seem achingly miserable and sad.

    It was like any other day as I stepped foot into my local store to pick up up a few essentials.

    I was walking in with the intention of getting some food for the week and ended up walking out with so much more.

    Once inside, I saw a man standing at the front of the store with the biggest smile on his face. It was as bright as the sun. It was the kind of joy that you could easily tell was radiating from within.

    I did what I habitually do: looked him in the eye, smiled, and called him by his name. As I grabbed my cart and glanced back up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

    I had a huge rush of awareness: No one was noticing this man. Not a single person in my ten-minute stare down paid attention to him. No one.

    He waved, with a big ole grin, to every single soul that entered the store. You see, his job was to acknowledge every person that walked through the front door. He was the “greeter” at a local store, and the best darn one I’ve ever seen.

    This immediately fueled anger inside of me. It was as if he was invisible.

    Why was no one seeing this man? Why didn’t they wave back—say hi, and enjoy his presence?

    Why? Why? Why?

    I wanted to stand right up there with him, get in people’s faces, and make them see us. But instead, I took a breath and allowed myself to get calm and centered before I did anything.

    I decided to shift my attention to the entrance to actually see who was walking inside.

    First, I noticed a businessman that kept glancing at his watch; it looked like he was in a real hurry. Who knows—he may have been late picking up donuts for his next meeting (that he was running).

    Next, I observed a mother who had a cart full of kids that were kicking and screaming. She was rummaging through her purse; I bet it was hard to find that grocery list while managing to keep “all arms and legs inside of a moving vehicle.”

    She may have even been a single mom, and her only option was to take them with her (hardest job in the world—I watched my mom raise five).

    I then witnessed a couple who seemed to have been so in love that even if the greeter was standing there with a sign that had their names in bright red, they still wouldn’t have seen.

    They encapsulated my attention all together. I just love seeing love, and my heart skips a beat seeing others that love each other so much, they live in worlds of their own. Smiling into one another’s eyes, how could they possibly have noticed him?

    Soon after I stopped watching, I turned my attention back to the greeter. He was an unbelievable man.

    It didn’t matter who walked through the door, or what baggage they were bringing with them—he treated each of them the same. He was so awake to life, so kind and conscious to the real meaning of love (little did he know).

    His arms were open, ready to pour into anyone, no matter who they were. Even though he was being ignored.

    I learned an incredible lesson that day, or lessons, I should say. And I’ll never forget these simply yet mighty realizations that are now imparted into my everyday life.

    On days when I find myself judging others, and when my patience is awfully low, I think of this man. On days when I feel unappreciated and unnoticed, I think of him too.

    I remember that he gave of himself, without any expectation of return. I remember how his smiled wasn’t dependent on if others smiled back.

    I think of how his joy radiated from the inside out and how others, including me, were still affected by his actions, even if it didn’t seem so.

    So that “greeter” is perhaps the embodiment of truth. This is what life is about: giving others the benefit of the doubt, because you make mistakes too. Understanding other people’s suffering instead of judging them, because you have suffered also.

    I would encourage you to wake up to the world around you and realize that people are simply doing the best that they can. They really are.

    Next time you feel the temptation to judge others for what you can only see on the outside, try seeing it from another angle.

    Attempt to contemplate what they may be going through or the suffering you may not be able to see on the surface. Pass a silent blessing onto them and try to see yourself in them.

    This will happen to you. You will show love and get nothing in return. You will smile and not get one back. You might even be completely ignored. You’ll open your heart and people will pass you by.

    At the end of the day, it’s not about how others receive you or what adversity you may face; it’s about one thing and one thing only: choosing to shine your light anyway.

    I truly believe that the Universe can be ours, if we can see things from the whole and complete oneness. In a world that seems to be full of hate, rage, and anger, we must never forget that we are all in this together.

  • Thoughts Aren’t Always Truth

    Thoughts Aren’t Always Truth

    Much suffering

  • 4 Ways We Resist Life and Cause Ourselves Pain (And How to Stop)

    4 Ways We Resist Life and Cause Ourselves Pain (And How to Stop)

    Peaceful woman

    “When fear wakes up inside, and there is no place to run away or hide from it, consider it a gift. In all the glory of that discomfort, know there is refuge in surrender.” ~Erin Lanahan

    When I was a freshman in college, I had a wise English teacher. Through everything he taught, he would always circle back to the theme that “life is a constant cycle of tension and release.”

    I heard him say these words over and over, but I didn’t really listen. I wasn’t ready to yet. Still, this simple message always stuck in my memory.

    I used to suffer from anxiety, and trying to predict and control my environment seemed like a viable way to eliminate most, if not all, of what made me anxious.

    I used to experience a great deal of anxiety about being accepted by others. For as long as I can remember, I’ve harbored this painful idea that I am distinctly different from everyone else; and I felt like my differences would hold me back from truly connecting with others and gaining their acceptance.

    Though my anxiety stemmed from the fear of not being accepted, I didn’t realize this consciously. When I was in a bout of anxiety, I felt fearful about everything.

    Since I didn’t feel safe in the world, I tried to manipulate my environment in an attempt to reduce my pain, but the world wasn’t the problem. I wish I had known then that there was nothing I could alter outside of myself that would heal something inside, but I naively tried to do just that.

    In order to keep my anxiety at bay, I would make sure I always had some form of an escape route so I could temporarily slip away from the pain of being myself. I used distraction in the form of television, surfing the Internet, or reading to distance myself from my anxious thoughts.

    I would even get neurotic about things like the amount of light in the room I was in, or needing to be in open spaces. I thought the conditions of my environment dictated my safety.

    Because of this, I would avoid situations where I could not take the steps I wanted to control my environment. Because I developed such strict standards for deeming my environment “safe,” I missed out on a lot.

    I use to avoid social situations. Being around others made the critical voices in my head much louder. I would interpret other people’s silence as disapproval, and I hated having nothing to distract me from this pain. The more I avoided social situations, the harder it became to cope with being around others. Even just going to class could trigger a panic attack.

    Attempting to control my life and to eliminate all painful situations did not cure my anxiety. If anything, it made it worse. So often the dread of doing things I didn’t want to do was ten times more painful than the actual task itself, but I was too caught up in my suffering to realize this.

    The more I tried to push out the bad things in my life, the more I reinforced that they were intolerable, and the worse things began to seem. Slowly, this avoidance trap made my life smaller and smaller. Things became more and more painful, until I felt uncomfortable even at home.

    When my anxiety was at its worst, I began seeing a therapist. She asked me to try to lean toward the things I was afraid of instead of away from them. She told me to accept my pain.

    She helped me understand that the feeling of fear is much worse than the things we fear themselves. She asked me to study the painful thoughts and feelings that I would always try to push away. She told me to accept and just ride the wave of rising and diminishing discomfort.

    This realization made me wonder how much I was unnecessarily suffering.

    How many things in life was I making worse than they had to be? If life really was a constant cycle of tension and release, was I intensifying my hard times by psychologically resisting them instead of just surrendering to them?

    I thought on this and realized that there are some negative things in my life I have control over. For example, if I feel like someone in my life is treating me unfairly, I can choose to speak up and voice this feeling.

    In situations like these, I can take action and make my situation better, but this won’t always be the case. Some situations will be beyond my realm of control. I will never be able to control being stuck in traffic, when I’ll come down with a cold, or whether or not my car will break down. I knew I had to change my relationship with these types of situations.

    I learned that one of my biggest points of suffering came from resisting unexpected things that used up time I’d intended to use in other ways.

    I used to get myself so worked up on nights when I would unexpectedly have to work late and miss out on what I had planned for that evening. Then, not only would I have to deal with tackling the unwanted task(s), but also my self-inflicted pain from thinking how terrible my situation was.

    I really couldn’t control the situation, but I could control my thoughts.

    It wasn’t fun having to change my plans, but it wasn’t worth the stress headache and dismal mood.

    I decided I would start practicing acceptance when life gave me lemons, just accepting where I was on life’s cycle of tension and release. In doing so, I knew one of my biggest challenges was going to be staying aware, so I decided to look for patterns that would help me do this.

    Below are four things signs that I am resisting my life, causing myself to suffer unnecessarily. If you’ve done any of these, as well, recognizing these patterns can help you suffer a lot less going forward.

    1. Self-victimization

    When things don’t go your way, do you feel bad for yourself and dwell on how unfair things are? This is a surefire way to get stuck in a negative feeling. I know; I’ve done this quite a bit.

    When I get dealt something I really don’t want to deal with, I often default to self-victimization. I start thinking, “Why me?” Or, “This always happens to me.”

    I notice myself feeling like negative things happen more to me than to other people. Logically, I know this isn’t the case, but this is a seductive escape that allows me to wallow in self-pity instead of tackling the challenge of acceptance.

    2. Blame

    When something comes up that you don’t want to deal with, do you find yourself blaming others? Do you become less compassionate for the people around you and amplify their faults?

    When life hands me lemons, I start blaming everyone around me who I think contributed to the problem. I think of what else others could have done that would have prevented me from being in the unsavory situation.

    It’s self-centered of me, and in doing so I overlook everyone else’s suffering but my own. I blame others instead of accepting that sometimes things just don’t play out the way I wanted them to. Blame also keeps me stuck in negativity instead of challenging myself to just surrender to what is.

    3. Rushing

    When I find myself rushing, there’s a good chance I’m resisting my reality. Sometimes when I rush it’s because I’m short on time, but more often, I rush when I find a task particularly unpleasant and I’m trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

    Sometimes I rush because I am trying to make sure I have enough time to relax. I often fear if I don’t get enough time I won’t be able to recharge and handle the stress of the next day. I’ve found that sometimes I don’t get enough time, but I always seem to make it through regardless.

    When I rush, I deny my task the proper amount of time it requires to be done well, and my quality of work is quite poor. Rushing also puts me in a bad frame of mind and stresses me out unnecessarily.

    Try to notice the next time you’re rushing. What are the circumstances? Do you need to be rushing because you are actually short on time? Or are you just trying to spend less time in an undesirable circumstance?

    4. Holding my breath

    Think about the last time you were doing something you really didn’t want to be doing. How were you breathing? Were you breathing freely and deeply? Or shallowly and strained?

    Checking in with my breath has proven to be a great way of keeping myself aware. Nine out of ten times, when I am resisting what is, I start to hold my breath (literally), or at least I don’t breathe as slowly and deeply as I would if I were relaxed.

    Taking deep breaths is great, because it tricks my body into thinking I’m in a relaxed situation, and over time I start to feel like I am in one. This makes settling into acceptance a little easier.

    —

    When discomfort arises in our lives it is counterintuitive to do nothing, but not all struggle is a question to be answered. If we view life as a cycle of tension and release, being in a period of tension isn’t that bad because it’s promised to be followed by a period of release.

    Like a Chinese finger trap, the harder we try to get away from the bad things in our lives, the tighter their hold on us becomes. When we surrender to reality instead of wrestling with it, it frees up our energy to be used in better ways.

    When our minds aren’t tied up complaining about how bad our circumstances are, we can shift our awareness to the good in the situation. We can focus on being in a comfortable environment, we can be grateful for the opportunity to practice acceptance, and we can think about what good things await us after the tense period comes to a close.

    Giving up the urge to try and control my life has really been a wonderful experience. I’ve given up my rigidness in trying to force the bad out of my life. In doing so, I’ve invited the unpredictable bad in, but this has also enabled me to invite in the unpredictable good.

    I’ve come to accept that my life will never be predictable, the good or the bad, but really, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  • Why Things Happen as They Do

    Why Things Happen as They Do

    Why things happen as they do

  • Finding Freedom in Illness: A Guide to Suffering Less When Sick (Interview & Giveaway)

    Finding Freedom in Illness: A Guide to Suffering Less When Sick (Interview & Giveaway)

    Sick

    UPDATE: The winners for this giveaway include:

    • Naomi
    • KC
    • Lisa Pellegrino
    • Caroline Létourneau
    • Viktor Dmitriv
    • Kristin Kollinger
    • Heather S
    • Erica Lombard
    • Christine
    • Bridget Howe

    If you’ve ever been sick for a prolonged period of time, you understand how physically, mentally, and emotionally draining it can be.

    Maybe you don’t know what’s causing your illness, or how to treat it, and you’re tired of searching for answers.

    Maybe you blame yourself for repressing emotions, not exercising, or otherwise potentially causing your condition; or maybe you don’t hold yourself responsible, but fear that others do.

    Maybe you can no longer do the things you love; or maybe you can do them, but it’s much harder, and therefore, far less satisfying.

    While I’ve never struggled with a long-term physical illness, I’ve watched loved ones grapple with serious challenges; I’ve sympathized with their feelings, fears, and frustrations; and I’ve wished I could do something to help.

    Going forward, I will point them to Tiny Buddha contributor Peter Fernando’s new book, Finding Freedom in Illness: A Guide to Cultivating Deep Well-Being through Mindfulness and Self-Compassion. 

    Having struggled with various chronic illnesses through the years, Peter knows what it’s like to live a life that’s full of challenges and losses. He’s experienced prolonged periods of darkness, despair, desperation, and discomfort—and yet he still believes he’s lived a wonderful life.

    Why? Because he chooses to see his illnesses as spiritual teachers. And though he admits he would not have chosen them, he’s learned, through them, to free himself from the mental suffering that comes from judging the present.

    Profoundly insightful, Finding Freedom in Illness explores how anyone can free themselves from their suffering and access the liberating power of here-and-now awareness. Though the book is clearly intended for others dealing with physical conditions, anyone can benefit from the teachings related to mindfulness and self-compassion. I know I certainly have.

    I’m grateful that Peter took the time to answer some questions about his book, and that he’s offered ten free copies to Tiny Buddha readers.

    Finding freedom in illnessTHE GIVEAWAY

    To enter to win one of ten free copies of Finding Freedom in Illness:

    • Leave a comment below
    • For an extra entry, share this interview on Twitter or Facebook, and post a second comment with the link

    You can enter until midnight PST on Monday, May 9th.

    *Winners in the US will receive a print copy. Winners outside the US will receive a gift card to order a free digital copy.

    THE INTERVIEW

     1. Tell us a little about yourself and what inspired you to write this book.

    I’m a guy in his late thirties who was a Buddhist monk in his twenties. I’ve been living with various health conditions for most of my life, and bodily challenges have been a huge part of the path for me. I teach meditation in Wellington, NZ with Original Nature Meditation Centre, and run an online course, A Month of Mindfulness.

    The book arose of out conversations I had been having with other folks on the spiritual path, people who also have been living with illness—and a sense of the disorientation, distress, and confusion that can ensue when faced with such challenges and limitations. So, the main inspiration was wanting so share some love!

    On another level, my own situation has highlighted the difficulty in attending retreats or groups on a regular basis, and a need for a home-based practice that is tailored to the specific issues, emotions, and challenges that accompany the experience of being physically unwell.

    For example: When you can’t sit up for long periods of time, how do you meditate?

    When you are exhausted, how do you open your heart and find a real sense of kindness for yourself and others?

    When you are in pain, how do you find a place in yourself that is still okay?

    So I wanted to share some of the practices and perspectives I have developed through trial and error since my twenties, with the hope that they will be useful for folks in similar situations.

    2. I really appreciated your opening chapter, as I think a lot of spiritual people blame themselves for their physical ailments. Can you talk a little bit about the mind/body connection and the difference between taking responsibility for our part in healing and blaming ourselves for being sick?

    This subtle difference has and (continues to be) a central piece of living with illness, for me personally. The bottom line, I think, is don’t beat yourself up for being ill.

    Shame and guilt are so destructive and painful, and yet can easily follow theories of being absolutely responsible for being ill or healthy. Whatever makes you feel ashamed or guilty isn’t going to lead to well-being in the long run.

    From the perspective of the mind that wants to understand our illness (and of course, be as well as we can, on all levels), there is another key piece, for me: any belief is just a belief. It’s not experience.

    So the belief “I’m creating this illness—it’s my fault” is just an idea, right now. The belief “My mind has no bearing on the state of my body” is also just an idea.

    If there are certain mind-body connections that are contributing to our illness, they can only be known by us. Not through a theory, a doctrine, or even trying to mimic someone else’s healing journey. Of course, they are all useful as hypotheses, but not as fixed beliefs about what is going on.

    Awareness practice, on the other hand, takes us right into our own experience, where we begin to know directly what effects certain mind states have on the body, and what effects they don’t have.

    We become curious, and even innocent in our exploration. We don’t have to have a fixed belief in anything, which allows the tendency toward shame or self-blame to relax, and is also where the feeling of freedom begins to emerge. Curiosity and genuine interest in our mind, body, and heart, in this moment, is where the power lies.

    What the process of paying attention reveals about the mind/body connection is different for everyone. There may be one, and there may not be—that’s just how it is.

    Many enlightened teachers have died following long illnesses, such as the teacher of my teachers, Ajahn Chah. Many uptight and stressed out people live physically healthy, outwardly successful lives.

    So the only touchstone for what is real is our own experience, our own body-mind, in the intimacy of awareness. No shoulds, no guilt-trips, and no identity of being a failure. To me, that is what taking responsibility is about.

    3. How does mindfulness help us cope with physical illness, and what’s a simple mindfulness practice anyone can do daily?

    Mindful awareness helps us cope in every way possible! Without being aware of our reactions to pain, loss, social isolation, or fatigue, those reactions will take over.

    When we are aware of what is happening in the present moment, with an embodied awareness, there is a natural inclination to abide in states of being that feel good, and to relax those that don’t.

    If we don’t see them, they take on a life of their own and can become our entire identity, rather than the momentary arising of emotion or perception that they actually were.

    A simple practice I do daily is to stop, close my eyes, and take stock of what’s going on in the mind and heart, for five minutes. No agenda or desire for a specific outcome—just a real curiosity.

    I ask, “What am I doing, right now, in my heart?” And then, “Is this kindness to myself, or is it something else?”

    This is the gateway to authentic mindfulness, in my opinion. To me, an open, kind heart is an essential part of mindful awareness. Attending to its presence or absence goes a long way in tracking the quality of the mind throughout the course of a day.

    4. In chapter 3, you talk about the stories our minds tell us about the present, the past, and the future. Can you elaborate a little on these stories, how they keep us stuck, and how we can start letting them go?

    The word “stories” is a kind of shorthand to refer to the psychological narratives that arise in the mind’s eye, with regard to “Who I am, what others think of me, what I will be, what I was,” and so on.

    They are the first indicator of underlying heart-drives or emotions that are stirring in us. It’s important to say here that the word doesn’t refer to functional stories, which we need to survive. These are useful, when imbued with creativity and wellness of heart.

    Our psychological narratives, on the other hand, are habitual and don’t come from a sense of choice—they are knee-jerk reactions, often with deep historical roots, that take us into some form of stress, suffering, or emotional stuck-ness.

    The habitual, seemingly out-of-control nature of these is their defining characteristic. Starting to let these go is a process that requires sensitivity and patience, in my experience. It’s easy to say, “Just be present,” but to actually do it requires a journey into our own heart. Otherwise, it can become dissociation or avoidance, which doesn’t lead to well-being.

    For me, there are always three stages to the process. The first is mindfulness: seeing what is happening, with objectivity, rather then being caught in it. It’s a kind of stepping back. We realize we can see the mind, not just be caught in it. This is the miracle of mindful awareness, really.

    But seeing a story is one thing. Freeing attention from its grip is another. So the second part of the process is a receptive awareness, feeling how the energy feels in the body.

    This is more than seeing—it’s sensing, which requires a kind of awareness we may not be used to. So we can begin experimenting with it.

    When we feel what’s going on, we can then pan out to recognize that a story is just the branches of a core root feeling.

    For example, the story “I’m going to have a terrible time seeing my friends tomorrow” could just be the root energy of fear. Knowing it as such makes the story seem less personal, and we recognize that these are forces at work in the present, not realities that will happen in the future. It’s all happening now.

    The third stage in the process is relaxation. When we feel the root of a story we can consciously incline toward relaxing around it. Relaxation is another word for letting go. When we relax around an emotion or an energy, it begins to calm. It also has less power to solidify into a full-blown story. We find we can be with instead of be in. Life frees up as a result.

    5. In chapter 4, you wrote, “openness is courage.” Can you expand on this?

    Being open to what is here is perhaps what is most scary for us as humans, I think. Our lives are geared toward distraction, intellect, and ideas—so much so that sitting somewhere without checking our phone, for example, can feel disorienting and uncomfortable.

    It feels uncomfortable and scary because it means being open to what is actually here—including the body and mind and emotions, just as they are. So cultivating that ability is a courageous act.

    When it comes to illness, the stakes are even higher. We’re not just cultivating an openness to “boring life as it is,” but very often to unpleasant sensations, depleted energy, and physical pain.

    Trusting that our own compassionate awareness can meet that, too, is always an act of courage. Sometimes we just can’t, which is okay. And sometimes it’s just not the right thing to do—especially if it heightens the discomfort in the body or the stress in the mind.

    But when we feel resourced enough to rest in awareness, and be with the pure experience of this moment, we gain vistas into new worlds of possibility. If we remain there for a period of time, we may be surprised by a quiet sense of peace and ease that begins to emerge.

    6. In the section on meeting our dark emotions, you wrote that we need to stop judging anger, fear, and despair as “bad.” What do you think is the key to embracing these feelings without getting lost in them?

    Oh, good question! It’s a fine line isn’t it? For me it always comes back to the Buddhist maxim of the “Middle Way”: that poise in the middle of indulging in destructive emotions on the one hand and repressing them on the other.

    My tendency has been more toward the latter, so learning how to actually feel and un-shame them has been a big part of my own journey. However, if one’s tendency is to feed them, get lost in them, and rail against illness, some discernment and wise discrimination can be really useful.

    But most of us have a default setting that judges dark emotions and tries to push them away, to some extent. We believe this is what being “strong” means.

    From the meditative perspective, we are looking for strength in presence, not just strength of will, however. When presence, grounded in the body, meets a force like anger or fear, there is a transformation that can happen. Through not indulging the story, and not trying to push the energy down, we feel what is here, as just so.

    In Buddhist teachings, this is the essence of the third foundation of mindfulness—mindfulness of the heart. Through this poise, the primal energies of dark emotion begin to dissolve, and transfer their energy back to our core presence. They relax and calm without being pushed away. It’s an alchemy of sorts.

    Of course, sometimes we need to push them away temporarily, just to function. The above isn’t an absolute statement about what we should always do.

    But when we gradually train ourselves in the skill of meeting dark emotions as just so, and feel them in the body, we discover a new place in ourselves that can handle their intensity without resorting to self-judgment. This makes living with illness much easier in the long run, in my experience.

    7. Why do you think so many of us deny ourselves rest when we’re drained or unwell, and what mental shift do we need to make to start taking care of ourselves in this way?

    I think it’s something to do with the way we are conditioned to value ourselves. Modern society puts most value on doing, achieving, and “being somebody,” it seems, and very little on “just being.” So we get hooked into it.

    Rest means relaxing an identity of being useful or productive, which can be scary. If our identity is entirely dependent on value-through-doing, then it can feel intolerable to really rest and take care of ourselves. We believe it’s lazy, or self-indulgent, or that we are a failure and there are other people somewhere out there judging us.

    From the perspective of inner well-being and harmonizing with the limitations of our physical condition, however, we can find a different way of viewing conscious rest.

    On the level of the body, it just feels good, so that’s one thing. On the heart level, we realize that it actually reminds us of our real value rather than takes us away from it.

    Our deepest value is just in being us. When we feel that in our hearts, and relax the need to prove ourselves, be approved of, or the opposite sides to that coin, then paradoxically, a new kind of value emerges. It’s one that feels peaceful and meaningful through just being here.

    When we get a sense of that, it becomes much easier to feel confident about consciously resting.

    There’s always a bit of friction involved in changing gears, particularly if our lives are very busy, but it lessens the more we can tune in to the deeper kind of value that comes through letting go of the need to always be someone doing something useful. And weirdly, when we do that, energy to do useful things, within our capacity, often comes back quite naturally.

    8. Can you tell us a little about the difference between pain and suffering, and how we can suffer less?

    Well, that’s a huge topic, with a lot of subtlety involved, I think. For myself, the Buddhist teaching around the difference between painful or unpleasant sensation in itself, on a sensory level, and the existential dis-ease that usually accompanies it, has been very potent.

    Basically, the teaching says that they are two different things. We tend to think they are one in the same, but when we attend carefully and with sensitivity, we begin to notice that while physical pain or discomfort very often conditions suffering in the heart, it doesn’t ultimately have to. So, it’s a freeing teaching.

    It doesn’t mean liking pain, though, or trying to be fit into some kind of equanimous ideal where we never suffer in the face of it. As an ideal, that doesn’t go very far.

    The journey to suffering less around pain involves meeting exactly what is here, including our reactions to it. But by being curious about them, we discover how to relax the heart-contraction around pain.

    Very often, relaxing the contraction (and the stories, judgments, self-images, or predictions that come with it) can lead to more space opening up in our awareness. In this space, physical pain doesn’t have the same hold over the mind. We suffer less.

    9. It’s easy to get down on ourselves when we feel we’re not at our best. What has helped you stay out of this trap?

    Well, it’s a trap I am very familiar with, and definitely not free of! But it’s something I have gradually learned to relate to rather than be completely identified with.

    For myself, self-compassion has been the guiding light in this regard. I first used it as a concept, which, in itself, was very powerful. It’s a radical shift from the default position of inner-tyranny many of us live within. On the conceptual level, it takes a bit of reflection to come alive.

    I remember feeling like it was indulgent or selfish to be compassionate with myself, in the beginning. But it slowly started to make good sense, particularly when I saw directly that it actually increased my ability to relate to others in the same way.

    Then on the heart level, it’s been a cultivation—creating space around the identity of the me who is “wrong” in some way, and really holding that sense with a sense of great warmth and kindness.

    In this space, I began to feel what tyrannical mind actually does in the present moment: it generates pain. Compassion began to arise when I started being aware of this pain in a very direct but tender and patient way.

    It started to teach me. It was like, “Oh, okay. When I hold on to these self-images, this is the result. Wow—that’s really painful. Maybe I could start to relax that?”

    So the heart began to learn, naturally, when I took the time to bring awareness to bear upon what often seemed so real and true that I never questioned it.

    10. What’s the main message you hope readers take from this book?

    I think the main message I would like to communicate is that being physically ill doesn’t mean we can’t have a rich inner life. There are ways of living with the limitations of illness that can open us right into the magic of this existence.

    We don’t need to feel like we’ve failed, we are wrong, or there is no hope. The real treasures are right here underneath the surface—for all of us, healthy or not.

    FTC Disclosure: I receive complimentary books for reviews and interviews on tinybuddha.com, but I am not compensated for writing or obligated to write anything specific. I am an Amazon affiliate, meaning I earn a percentage of all books purchased through the links I provide on this site. 

    You can learn more about Finding Freedom in Illness on Amazon here.

  • Overcoming General and Social Anxiety: There is Hope

    Overcoming General and Social Anxiety: There is Hope

    Happy Woman

    “F-E-A-R has two meanings: ‘Forget Everything And Run’ or ‘Face Everything And Rise.’ The choice is yours.” ~Zig Ziglar

    “Face everything and rise.” Good advice, but how do we do that when we feel incapable? Well, I recently discovered an effective tool that we can rely on whenever anxiety comes for a visit. And I just can’t describe how grateful I am for that discovery!

    For over ten years I’ve been suffering from general and social anxiety. People who don’t know me well would be surprised to hear that, since I became a master of hiding my feelings. But when I found myself in certain social situations and could not hide those feelings anymore, they would erupt and turn into panic attack episodes, which caused me a tremendous amount of suffering.

    From the outside, one could say my life was as good as it could be. I have supportive parents, a loving girlfriend, a good, steady job, and a house. Unfortunately, my only brother and I are not in touch, but I guess this can happen in the best of families.

    I became a prisoner of my own anxiety. My fear generated physical and emotions symptoms, which generated more fear; it felt like an endless cycle. The weight on my back was so heavy that, despite accepting life, I had lost faith in it.

    After trying several types of treatments, I finally discovered meditation and then went on a ten-day Vipassana retreat. I decided to do this for a few reasons:

    • Evidence shows that this technique has helped prisoners, and I guessed that they had even bigger issues than me. At the start of the retreat, during an introductory event, they showed a movie about how the Indian government introduced Vipassana in jails due to its tremendously effective results.
    • The retreat was donation based, so I knew that no one was taking advantage of my weakness.
    • Deep inside, I knew that I was the person who could best help me. I wanted to learn about myself and understand what was bothering me so much. And the best way of learning, in this case and in general, is by experiencing

    In Vipassana, you learn how to disconnect from the outside world and to connect to your inner world—to experience your sensations and understand that, either good or bad, they will eventually pass. You learn how to become the observer rather than the participant, so you stop reacting to sensations and, therefore, learn to relax.

    Why sensations? Because everything we experience in life through our six senses—sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch, and the thinking mind—causes different types of sensations in our bodies, which we automatically label as “good” or “bad.”

    For example, hearing the birds singing in the morning will cause good sensations. On the other hand, hearing the barking of angry dogs would probably cause bad sensations. And those sensations instinctively generate a reaction—one of craving and clinging (we don’t want the beautiful melody to end) or aversion and hatred (we wish that the scary barking would stop).

    We fall in the trap of getting attached to the sensations, and over and over generate a reaction. Reactions of all types: fear, anger, sadness, judging, dependency on things or other people, hurting. All those bring us suffering.

    And here’s where Vipassana can help us. The whole technique is built on three types of meditation:

    1. Anapana (observing respiration)

    Observe the sensations in the nostrils area; breathe in and breathe out. Soft or strong, short or long, calm or agitated—it doesn’t matter, and we don’t need to control it; just observe it and let it be the way it is moment by moment.

    It’s been said that respiration is the bridge between our bodies and mind, the path to our unconscious mind. By observing it, we can reach its deepest levels and turn agitation into calmness.

    Use Anapana as your shield against anxiety! It works. It allows you to consciously take a breath when you drown in the sea of anxiety, and you can do it anytime you need it. Bring your mind back to focus and calm it down!

    2. Vipassana (observing sensations from head to feet and vice versa)

    Once we are trained to observe our respiration, we are ready to start observing other areas of our bodies. So we start from the head and go down to the feet, through every single part of the body. Side by side and eventually also from feet to head.

    Sensation will vary from part to part; they can be soft or strong, good or bad. But whatever they are, the common thing between them is that they will arise and then eventually pass. By understanding that, we can stop reacting to the sensations, keep our focus, and become the observer. We learn that through experiencing.

    3. Metta (wishing the end of suffering to every living creature)

    When we reach the point of inner peace, we become ready to share this peace, love, and harmony with everyone around us.

    —

    No doubt, Vipassana was the biggest present I could give myself, and it’s changing my life. I feel I have been reborn. The benefits are not just limited to the way I deal with anxiety now. It’s actually way more than that.

    As a result:

    • I have gained the ability to focus more on the present, and less on the past or future. As a result, I enjoy more of what I’m doing at every single moment.
    • I’m more accepting and tolerant of others, with no judgment. I’ve started donating and volunteering. I understand love better and am much better able to show it to my dearest ones.
    • I’m more efficient, able to make choices quickly and stick with them (in work and life in general). I’m learning to enjoy but not to get attached.

    My parents told me the other day that I’ve started to smile with my eyes again, something I used to do when I was a kid. True, the heavy weight on my back has now become much lighter. I’ve regained my faith in life!

    Vipassana is universal, courses are offered in most countries, and it has no connection to any religion. It’s pure science of mind and matter, so everyone, from any background, can do it!

    The best tip I could give to those of you interested in practicing Vipassana would be to contact the closest Vipassana (taught by S.N Goenka) center in your country and register to a ten-day course so you can learn the technique properly, under the best conditions.

    Those conditions include the best guidance, a supportive environment, and minimal distractions, all necessary to achieve results. And results will come if you are open to working and embracing this wonderful experience. You might have just made a life-changing discovery too!

    You can watch an introduction to Vipassana Meditation by S. N. Goenka here.

    Photo by Moyan Brenn

  • A Simple Sentence That Helps When You Feel Overwhelmed

    A Simple Sentence That Helps When You Feel Overwhelmed

    Woman Hiding Under Pillow

    “Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    Days after the initial divorce from my ex-partner, I wanted to meet two very close friends in the city. I knew they would be loving and supportive and that the experience would be good for me. But I was so grief stricken and overwhelmed with emotion that even leaving the house felt like a monumental effort.

    Sitting on the edge of my bed, picturing all the steps it would take me from where I was now to where they were seemed insurmountable. Normally, I would have jumped in my car and traveled to them with ease. But I wasn’t at home; I was staying with my family and I didn’t have a car.

    Being in unfamiliar territory, there was the challenge of working out the public transport timetable (not one of my strongest traits even at the best of times), the fear of breaking down on the bus, and a general air of vulnerability and shame.

    Weeping silently, I considered simply staying at home. But the idea of being alone brought a fresh wave of pain. The thought of spending the morning by myself in an empty house was too much to bear.

    I was caught between two painful ideas: stay at home alone with my grief or face the anxiety of traveling in a fragile state.

    Thankfully, my years of meditation practice came to the rescue and I heard an inner voice say, “Focus on the very next step.”

    A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I realized that I didn’t have to travel all the way to the city to meet my friends. I just needed to do the very next thing.

    I gave myself permission to only focus on what was in front of me. I didn’t have to go anywhere I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want.

    All I had to take was the very next step, without thought for what came after or commitment to a particular outcome.

    First up, get dressed. I didn’t think about the fashionable choice; I simply focused on the process of dressing. One leg in the pants, second leg in. Pop the t-shirt over my head. Breathing deeply each time and moving slowly but surely.

    This simple act was enough to undo me. A fresh flood of tears ran down my face, as the pain and shame hit me. I couldn’t do this. I should be handling this better. Why couldn’t I just go and meet my friends like a “normal person”?!

    Drawing deep on all my training, I put one hand over my heart and one on my belly. I felt my breath moving in and out, my belly rise and fall. Sinking into this feeling of presence, I practiced a little self-compassion.

    Recognizing that I was experiencing a moment of suffering, just like a “normal person,” I was able to send some kindness to my tender heart. Just as I would have comforted a hurting friend, I soothed my nervous system with gentle thoughts and deep breaths.

    Once again, I heard the voice: “Focus on the very next step.”

    So I did. I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Not so I could go and meet my friends all the way in the city, but simply to experience the sensation of brushing my teeth.

    Next, I placed each object into a bag that I may need if I was leaving the house. Not that I was necessarily leaving the house. It was simply a task of placing objects, one by one, into a bag. Keys, wallet, phone…

    Then, a short investigation. What bus would take me from the house to the city? A simple act of curiosity. Information gathering. Just a little research.

    I repeated each task in this same fashion. Slow, deliberate, present. Without focusing on the reason or the end result of each exercise, I was able to complete each one with full attention. This presence helped me feel calm and secure throughout the entire journey.

    Breathe, walk out the front door. Breathe, wait at the bus stop. Breathe, watch the suburbs roll past the window. Breathe, walk step by step to the meeting place.

    I made it all the way to the city and fell into the arms of my friends. There were tears of relief as I realized I’d completed the “insurmountable journey” by taking it one step at a time. The time we spent together was nourishing and healing. The sense of quiet pride at making it this far was restorative.

    When I focused on the very next step, I was able to overcome the devastating emotions and inertia. And in the weeks to come, although I faced many difficult days, this mantra went on to help me overcome overwhelm each time.

    If you’re facing a challenging transition, it’s easy to feel swamped by a tidal wave of emotions and thoughts. So when you’re feeling overwhelmed, let go of the myriad of decisions and actions that you need to take. Simply focus on the step that’s right in front of you.

    You may not know all the steps you need to take—and that’s okay. You don’t need to know the end before you start. You simply need to take the immediate action that is required right now and that will lead you further down the path.

    If you focus on the very next step, you’ll be able to release overwhelm and get through any transition you face.

    Woman hiding under pillow image via Shutterstock