Tiny Buddha

Tag: wisdom

  • How to Forgive That Earlier Version of You

    How to Forgive That Earlier Version of You

    “Forgiveness is an action, which your mind can never understand. Your mind’s sole intent is to balance the books. In issues of morality, it only wants to get even. Therefore, practice forgiveness every day if only in trivial matters. This is an excellent way of tempering the mind and empowering the heart.” ~Glenda Green

    Recently, seemingly out of nowhere, I had thoughts about a relationship that ended many years ago. I started to remember some things I had said, emotions I had felt, and things I had done. I cringed.

    What could suddenly make me think of those things now? I pondered it for a few minutes, then put it out of my mind. But when I had those same thoughts a few weeks later, I decided to take a deeper look.

    That deeper look took me back even further to another relationship now decades gone by. And I cringed some more. This time not just because of things I had said or done. This time I winced at the painful experiences I’d endured and the hurtful words others had said.

    Why this unexpected trip down memory lane?

    After much reflection, I concluded that those memories were surfacing now because I was still holding onto that energy somewhere in my body and energetic field. They were coming up now because they were ready to be released.

    For that, forgiveness for myself was required.

    I cringed at those memories because the person I am now, in this present moment, would not have said or done those things. Forgiveness was possible when I realized that the person I was then could not have done any differently.

    Here’s why: Our thoughts and actions are a function not only of our level of awareness but also the sum total of every assumption, belief, and experience we have had up until that moment. That past version of me was at a different level of awareness—one shaped by years of unprocessed abuse, anger, and trauma.

    The years of personal inner work I have done since that time, and the greater awareness that resulted, brought me to this current moment of forgiveness as the next step in my own evolution.

    It’s easy to beat ourselves up when we realize we haven’t completely let something go. I am certainly guilty of this. Many of us have done years of inner work, only to discover that a single issue could have multiple layers yet to clear.

    If we still have an emotional charge around an event or person from our past, we can start by forgiving the fact that we are still emotionally triggered by it.

    We can forgive ourselves for the role we played in that unhealthy dynamic. Then we can forgive that partner for the hurtful and destructive thoughts, words, and actions that occurred.

    Forgiveness does not mean condoning the actions of another. It also doesn’t mean forgetting what happened or putting a superficial coat of positivity on that person or situation.

    Instead, forgiveness is about accepting whatever happened and reclaiming peace for ourselves.

    Forgiveness is a gift we give to ourselves. We can forgive ourselves for not knowing better at the time. We can forgive ourselves for having carried the mental and emotional burden for so long.

    Those things, however unpleasant, happened for a reason. We gained valuable wisdom by having had those experiences. They shaped us as the people we are now.

    So, how do we forgive?

    Simply telling ourselves, “I forgive you” as a thought is often not enough. We need to believe that we deserve forgiveness and then feel that forgiveness, anchoring it in our body. The more senses we involve in this process, the better.

    Here’s a six-step process to release the stuck energy around forgiveness. For best results, go to a peaceful place in nature where you can take a walk.

    Step #1: Visualize the person or event as an energy you’ve been holding in the pit of your stomach. It is a hard, dense energy.

    Step #2: Begin your leisurely walk. As you walk, tune into this dense energy in your gut that represents that person or event that is calling for forgiveness. Feel it.

    Step #3: Now visualize the peaceful, vibrant, and loving energy coming from the natural world all around you—the sun, the wind, the trees, plants, and flowers. Breathe that energy into your body and feel it fill your lungs and nourish every cell. With a few more deep breaths, imagine that the healing energy from nature has filled your heart space as well.

    Step #4: Next, direct that loving, peaceful energy from your heart down into your belly. You can place a hand on your stomach to assist with this process. Visualize the loving energy from your heart and hand softening and breaking up those hard energies housed in your belly.

    Step #5: After a few minutes, as you continue walking, imagine that each step you take loosens the dense energy even more, allowing it to slowly move down from your belly and into your legs with each step. Continue walking until you sense that those particles of dense energy are completely out of your belly and are now at the bottom of your feet, ready to be released.

    Step #6: Find a place in nature to stop and remove your shoes. Place your bare feet on grass, soil, or sand. With your feet on the earth, visualize sending that energy from the bottom of your feet down into the earth, where it is instantly neutralized and composted. Give gratitude to the earth and to your body for assisting in this forgiveness and release process.

    This forgiveness practice is equally powerful—and important—when it is directed at yourself. Rather than bringing to mind a specific event or person from your past, you can visualize the person you once were, starting with ten years ago.

    Recall how you lived your life back then, including how you thought about yourself, about the people around you, and about the world at large. Notice what has changed from who you were then to who you are now.

    Forgive that earlier version of you. You did the best you could given your circumstances and level of awareness at the time.

    Visualize the energy of that former you moving down your body and out the bottom of your feet. Let nature take it for composting.

    Now breathe in more peaceful, healing energy from nature. Let it fill your lungs, your heart, and your belly.

    To conclude the practice, look around you with fresh eyes. Take in your surroundings as if for the first time. Feel appreciation for the stronger, wiser person you are now.

  • Empathy Without Boundaries

    Empathy Without Boundaries

  • Sometimes Loving Someone Means…

    Sometimes Loving Someone Means…

  • How to End Problem Drinking: The First Steps

    How to End Problem Drinking: The First Steps

    “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” ~Marcus Aurelius

    It’s 3:00 a.m. I lie awake knowing I have a busy day ahead of me, but my mind is racing. I had a few drinks last night, and I know that this is why I am awake at this ungodly hour. “Why did I drink when I knew I had to work today? You are a fool. You are weak. You are useless.”

    This is how I used to talk to myself most mornings, perhaps with riper language, and the process would repeat itself when I had to get up and face the day.

    I wasn’t anything like a bottle-of-spirits-a-day drinker, but I knew that even a couple of beers and a glass of wine with dinner would ruin my sleep and leave me feeling well below par. And it all added up over the week to a level of consumption that I knew had long-term health implications.

    Then six o’clock would roll around, and I would talk myself into having a drink again—I was stressed and needed to relax. Heck, I deserved it, didn’t I, after such a busy day?

    This is the cycle that keeps so many of us trapped in a drinking habit. That negative self-talk is a manifestation of the internal conflict that is going on inside our heads, which psychologists call cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance arises when we encounter a situation where we have conflicting beliefs and attitudes or exhibit behavior that contradicts those beliefs and attitudes.

    When we experience cognitive dissonance, we feel discomfort or stress and will try to find a way to reduce that. Our choices are to change our behavior, change our beliefs and attitudes, or come up with a story that papers over the cracks and hides the disagreement in our minds.

    As someone who had been drinking all my adult life, I was terrified of changing my behavior. I was caught in the bind that most regular drinkers face—the barrier to change seemed very high because of how many times I had tried and failed to moderate, but worse, I didn’t even want to become a non-drinker! I thought life would be boring, socialization would be impossible, and I would be miserable.

    As I write this, six years after my last alcoholic drink, this mindset seems bizarre, baffling, and illogical. As L. P. Hartley wrote: “The past is another country; they do things differently there.” My life is now infinitely more rewarding and less stressful, and I don’t miss alcohol in the slightest, but my past self would never have believed it!

    Habitual drinkers know that changing their behavior is hard, but most of them don’t know why or are in denial about it. The reason why moderation is difficult is simply because alcohol is an addictive substance, and if we have been drinking for long enough, the reward pathways in our brain are exerting pressure on us to get the stimulus the brain has learned to crave.

    So not only do we suffer from cravings, but when we drink, the alcohol passes through the blood-brain barrier and suppresses the prefrontal cortex, which is the part of the brain that cares about the long-term—our health, our relationships, and that good night’s sleep we need before we go to work the next day. So the effect of alcohol on our brain makes the single drink we have promised ourselves turn into a few.

    For this reason, problem drinkers find it difficult to change their behavior and must find another way to resolve the cognitive dissonance by telling themselves stories.

    I used to downplay the health risks because I had read an article that said a glass of wine a day is good for you (conveniently ignoring the fact that I had a lot more than a glass of wine a day) and downplay the risk to my relationships caused by drunken arguments. After all, alcohol helps us bond, doesn’t it?

    Another story I would tell myself was that drinking was the lesser of two evils; life without alcohol would be boring and stressful, so it is better to put up with all the downsides of being a booze hound.

    The problem is that, on some level, we know this is BS, so we constantly feel the stress of cognitive dissonance. Of course, there is a quick fix for this, which is to have a drink. That immediately scratches the itch of the craving, and soon the alcohol will have a sedative effect and subdue the conflict in our minds. And so on to rinse and repeat the following day.

    The other thing I found was that not only was this negative self-talk keeping me drinking, but it was also seriously damaging my self-esteem.

    Shortly after I became alcohol-free, I went on a yoga and fitness retreat. There were some great workshops, which I enjoyed, but I started to feel uncomfortable whenever someone would mention “self-love.”

    Not only did I not love myself, but I also didn’t even particularly like myself. Years of calling myself every name under the sun and beating myself up every day had left me believing my inner voice—I was worthless, weak, and pathetic.

    If this sounds familiar to you—and it might be for some other habit than drinking—then you might benefit from what I have learned about fixing how we talk to ourselves.

    1. Treat yourself with compassion.

    The first step is to put down the weapons of blame and shame we have been using against ourselves. They haven’t worked in the past and won’t work in the future. You know this because if they worked, you would have this under control by now.

    The first step is to treat ourselves with compassion and understanding. We have a problem. We might wish that we didn’t, but that is not the world we are living in. We’ve fallen prey to an addictive substance, just like millions of other people in every culture and from every possible walk of life. We are taking responsibility for solving this problem, but we are not going to keep blaming ourselves for being in this predicament.

    Just take a moment to think about how you talk to yourself. If your best friend spoke to you like that, would you stay friends with them? Would you talk to your friends like that? I hope not!

    Once you have noticed how you talk to yourself, try to catch yourself when you are being unkind and replace what you said with a more positive frame. For example, if you drank last night and you want to beat yourself up for it, try something like, “OK, I drank last night and I said I wasn’t going to, but that’s OK. I recognize that I have a problem, and I am doing something about it. There are bound to be some bumps in the road.”

    2. Be honest with yourself.

    As you notice the way you talk to yourself, also become aware of the stories you are making up, like the ones I mentioned earlier, that alcohol wasn’t bad for my health or my relationship with my wife. When we do this, we realize that we have been lying to ourselves.

    Deep down, we know these stories we have created to justify our drinking are complete BS, so we may as well admit it to ourselves openly. By doing this, we start to untie the knot of cognitive dissonance we have tied ourselves up in, and our stress starts to unwind.

    One of the most powerful things I did when I was deciding whether I wanted to quit drinking was to make two lists: all the benefits of drinking versus all the downsides. I can tell you that the first list was much shorter than the second.

    I also challenged the listed benefits to see if I was 100% sure they were true. For example, I had put down that I needed alcohol to socialize. While it was true that I had often used it for that purpose, I thought about the times that I had enjoyed the company of others without alcohol. Also, it was undeniable that some people have relationships and social lives without drinking.

    I found that nearly all the benefits could be challenged, or at least qualified. For example, I noted that I liked the buzz I got from drinking, but when I paid attention to that the next time I had a few drinks, I noticed that I enjoyed the buzz for the first half an hour or so, but then I would be chasing that high with more alcohol that just made me fuzzy and distant from the world.

    3. Tackle the underlying problem.

    Once I had seen through my own stories and understood the harm that I was doing to myself, I found that the answer was obvious—I needed to quit. However, even though I could see that this was the only way forward, it still seemed daunting to face forever without a drink.

    My experience was that I would quit for a few weeks, and then I would have a wobbly moment, like going to a gig and trying to do it sober, and I would go back to drinking. I did this three times over a period of a few months until the last time when it stuck.

    Here’s where I would recommend doing things a little differently than I did, which is to get some support. That will look different depending on how much you drink, how long you’ve been drinking, and what works for you. If you’ve been a heavy drinker for a long time, you need to take medical advice, as withdrawal from alcohol can be very dangerous.

    As well as getting support, I recommend giving yourself a defined period without alcohol rather than saying it’s forever, which feels scary. Try taking a month or two and see how you feel, but be aware that the full benefits of going alcohol-free may take several months to become apparent.

    For example, I found I had so much extra time once I had stopped drinking, and it took me a few months to find ways to fill that time. Now, I am incredibly fulfilled by my hobbies in fitness and music production and am rarely bored, but that was not the case in the first few months.

    Becoming aware of how I talk to myself has been seriously life-changing for me. I now have much better self-esteem, and the relief from getting rid of all that cognitive dissonance about drinking has been immense. So be nice to yourself—it might well change your life.

  • I’m Not Crazy

    I’m Not Crazy

  • Children Do Not Experience Our Intentions

    Children Do Not Experience Our Intentions

  • I Will Never Hate Anyone

    I Will Never Hate Anyone

  • It’s Okay to Feel Overwhelmed

    It’s Okay to Feel Overwhelmed

  • Reframing My Job Rejections: A Beautiful Period of Growth

    Reframing My Job Rejections: A Beautiful Period of Growth

    “When we are kind to ourselves, we create inner conditions that make it possible to see clearly and respond wisely.” ~Dr. Kristin Neff

    Searching for a job can feel like an unrelenting test of resilience—a labyrinth of rejection, silence, and self-doubt.

    When I embarked on my journey to apply for 100 jobs in a single month, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Each application felt like a precarious act of hope, sent into the void of an indifferent system. Every click of the “submit” button came with a flicker of anticipation, a brief moment of optimism that maybe this time, someone would see my potential.

    Yet, amid the uncertainty, I discovered something unexpected: a way to reclaim my story. This wasn’t just about finding work; it became a practice in resilience, self-compassion, and redefining professional worth. What began as a desperate attempt to secure stability turned into a transformative experience that reshaped the way I saw myself and my place in the professional world.

    Each application felt like a small act of defiance against a system that renders workers disposable, transforming professional aspirations into a landscape of cold indifference. My previous attempts to find full-time work had often been met with silence—an absence more profound and dehumanizing than outright rejection. That silence had eroded my confidence, leaving me questioning not just my qualifications but my intrinsic worth.

    As I ventured deeper into the process, I realized that I wasn’t merely searching for employment. I was navigating something much larger: the contours of the contemporary labor struggle. Job boards became my terrain for resilience, a place where I could declare, with every submission, “My skills, my experience, my potential cannot be erased by institutional indifference.”

    Tracking my applications became more than administrative work. At first, it was a way to stay organized, to ensure I didn’t apply to the same position twice or miss a follow-up deadline. But as the list grew, it took on a deeper significance. It became a form of personal documentation—a way to transform passive job searching into active narrative reclamation.

    Two-thirds of my applications disappeared into digital voids, with no acknowledgment or response. Initially, the silence felt unbearable, like shouting into a canyon and waiting for an echo that never came. But over time, I began to see the act of tracking itself as a quiet form of resistance. The spreadsheet wasn’t just a list; it was a testament to my determination to persist, even when the system seemed designed to break me.

    Reframing became my most powerful tool. I wasn’t a desperate job seeker; I was a skilled professional documenting my own resilience. The act of reframing shifted my perspective in profound ways. I began to see the job search not as a series of defeats but as evidence of my ability to adapt and persevere.

    When I looked at my spreadsheet, I didn’t just see rejections or unanswered submissions. I saw proof that I was showing up every day, putting myself out there despite the challenges. Reframing wasn’t about denying the difficulty of the process; it was about choosing to focus on my capacity to keep going.

    Interviews emerged as spaces of radical authenticity. Early in the process, I felt the pressure to perform an idealized version of myself. I spent time (and money!) trying to craft answers with interview coaches that would make me sound confident, polished, and perfect. But those attempts often left me feeling disconnected, as if I were trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t mine.

    Eventually, I decided to approach interviews differently. Instead of trying to present a flawless persona, I showed up as my complete, nuanced self. I shared my genuine thoughts, admitted when I didn’t know the answer to a question, and focused on building real connections with my interviewers.

    Preparation shifted from trying to memorize the “right” answers to reflecting on what truly mattered to me—my values, my experiences, and the unique perspective I brought to the table. This approach didn’t guarantee a job offer, but it made every interview feel meaningful. It reminded me that my worth wasn’t tied to whether or not I got the role.

    Each small win became a form of self-care. In a process filled with uncertainty, I learned to celebrate the moments of progress, no matter how small they seemed. A well-crafted cover letter. A thoughtful follow-up email. An interview that felt like a genuine conversation rather than a performance.

    These small victories were more than steps toward employment; they were acts of personal and professional dignity. They reminded me that the effort I was putting in mattered, even if the results weren’t immediate. Celebrating these wins helped me stay motivated, turning what could have been a demoralizing process into one of empowerment.

    By the end of the month, I understood that this journey was never just about landing a job. It was about challenging the systemic barriers that render workers invisible. It was about creating alternative narratives of professional worth—ones that extend beyond traditional metrics of success.

    The process taught me that resilience isn’t about never feeling defeated; it’s about finding ways to move forward even when the path is unclear. It’s about reframing rejection as part of the journey rather than a reflection of personal failure.

    To anyone navigating precarious labor landscapes: Your worth isn’t determined by employment. Your resilience, your capacity for adaptation, your ability to maintain integrity in challenging systems—these are the true measures of your power.

    Progress isn’t linear. Institutional systems aren’t designed for our collective flourishing. But our capacity for reimagining our own narratives? That remains infinite.

    The job search, in all its messiness, taught me to be kinder to myself. It taught me that showing up is an act of courage, that persistence is a form of strength, and that my value exists regardless of external validation.

    When I look back on those 100 applications, I don’t just see a period of struggle—I see a period of growth. It was a time when I learned to navigate uncertainty with grace, to reclaim my story, and to find dignity in the process. If you’re in the midst of your own search, I hope my experience reminds you that you are more than the sum of your rejections.

    Because at the end of the day, resilience isn’t about what you achieve—it’s about how you choose to show up, again and again, no matter the odds.

  • Never Admire Someone Quietly

    Never Admire Someone Quietly

  • Healing Childhood Wounds: A Journey to Love and Connection

    Healing Childhood Wounds: A Journey to Love and Connection

    The drive on I-95 from the New England coast back home to Washington, D.C., was harrowing— construction zones, accidents, and rush-hour traffic. I was glad my husband was at the wheel.

    After spending the weekend visiting our daughter at college in Connecticut, I was ready to check out, so I scrolled through social media on my phone to mindlessly pass the time. But when I paused on a post from my favorite self-help influencer, Cory Muscara, I got something very different from the relaxation I’d been craving.

    I started following Cory several months before, after a friend had sent me a post of his about navigating significant life transitions. After my daughters left for college, I faced an empty nest and was about to turn fifty. To help with the changes, I immersed myself in all the self-improvement content I could find.

    Cory’s striking blue eyes and calm, steady voice captivated me. He was a former monk, inspirational speaker, and teacher of all things zen. In the post that caught my attention in the car, he filmed himself walking through a forest, a green hoodie pulled over his head. Since my husband was busy with work calls, the sound was muted, and I focused on the captions.

    One word caught my attention: fireball. I continued to read, engrossed with the step-by step instructions to overcome stored pain, break free from destructive patterns, and achieve freedom and inner peace.

    I’m great at following directions, but the concepts of letting go or surrendering frustrate me. I’d love to, but how? I hoped that Cory was about to deliver the answers.

    I was told to connect with my heart. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the space my heart occupied in my chest. Next, I was to identify a barrier or obstacle I had been struggling with, something preventing me from achieving what I truly desire: love and connection.

    When I discovered the barrier, I should then imagine my heart flowing toward it, softening it, and then, as the barrier began to soften, I was to observe it unravel. At the very bottom of this would be a fireball.

    In Cory’s vernacular, it was the core wound. Google defines this as a deep emotional wound that can be traced back to a significant event in childhood. It can be caused by suppressed pain or emotions and can lead to a belief system about the self. Core wounds can be a result of unmet needs and can include messages like “I am not enough” or “I am unworthy of love.”

    Cory warned me not to get distracted by the fireball and to move toward the pain, look at it, and acknowledge it. I felt emotional pain as a memory took hold and began to replay over and over in my mind. And he was right: it was a fireball.

    I was around fourteen, and it was the end of a school day. I remember walking with my friends, heading to the bus stop. And then, I saw my mom in the carpool line. She had never picked me up from high school; she was driving her new red sports car.

    Growing up as an only child and a latchkey kid on the outskirts of a small town in Northern Arizona, my afternoons were often spent alone at home. My parents were involved in their careers and were active members of the community, often not returning home until late in the evening. My neighbors were mostly retirees, and the distance from town made it difficult to hang out with friends.

    I often wondered why my parents didn’t want to spend time with me. Was I unlovable?

    With all the pain and insecurity I felt every day, the sight of my mom waiting for me in the carpool line filled me with joy. Seeing her there, in her new car, I felt something I rarely felt: special.

    My heart surged. I couldn’t believe she had surprised me. I stopped in my tracks, not believing she was actually there. I told my friends I had to go and then ran as fast as I could to the car. I was out of breath when I climbed into the passenger seat.

    “Thank you for picking me up!” I said.

    My mom turned to me. “Oh, I’m not here for you, Jennifer. I’m picking up a client.”

    Before I could respond, she added, “I’ll see you at home.”

    Mom was a therapist, and the client was a student.

    I remember how I swallowed back tears and feelings of rejection.

    I walked to the bus stop. It felt like the longest ride of my life, and the walk home even longer.  Angry with myself for getting my hopes up, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

    When Mom returned from work that evening, there was no mention of the incident.

    And now, thirty-five years later, I sat in the car and cried as I recalled this painful moment. I had found a fireball, and I was told to stay with it, but then what? Did I have to be stuck with the pain of this core wound, unsure of what to do next?

    This is when I realized that the girl on the bus so many years ago needed an adult to soothe her. I closed my eyes, imagined seating my fifty-year-old self next to her, and held her hand. I asked her to tell me what was wrong, and I listened with compassion. I sat with her until the pain subsided. Until our pain subsided.

    When I opened my eyes, I realized that an hour had passed since I had started watching Cory’s post. I was surprised my husband hadn’t noticed the tears that I had been too distracted to wipe away.

    I felt a mix of disappointment and relief. I felt sad that he wasn’t aware of my tears sitting so close to me, but the experience felt so personal that I didn’t want the burden of explaining it to him at that moment.

    Following Cory’s instructions had proven more effective than my past two years of therapy. In this short time, I had not only taken care of myself but had also become aware of the needs of that fourteen-year-old girl. I knew exactly what she needed to hear.

    It was up to me to heal her wounds.

    The girl on the bus couldn’t understand why a mom would dismiss her daughter so easily, but I was able to explain. I could see from what my mom had expressed to me about her childhood, growing up with an alcoholic mother and a traveling father, that she was so traumatized that she felt compelled to fiercely protect her heart.

    She didn’t allow herself to be curious about my emotional needs because she was conditioned to protect herself. My mother wasn’t capable of empathizing with me, not because she didn’t love me, but because of her own deep-seated wounds.

    I’ve tried to discuss this incident and others from my past with my mom, but every time a painful childhood memory resurfaced, she would inevitably ask, “Did I do anything right?” It’s clear that these conversations are not ones she is open to having with me.

    It took me a few days to tell my husband what had taken place during that ride. I told him about the wound and how it no longer felt painful, but I was still feeling raw, and I was worried that I wasn’t accurately explaining. However, as I described Cory’s steps and how I processed the memory until the fireball was extinguished, I became animated and excited to share this new tool.

    He was taken aback and said, “I can’t believe you had that experience in the car!”

    Then, I asked him if he had noticed my tears while sitting next to him. He responded, “No, I was focused on the road.”

    The truth is, much like my mom, my husband isn’t as attuned to my emotions as I would like. However, healing this childhood wound has empowered me in my relationships with him and others. I now have the confidence to express my emotions, and if I don’t feel heard, I make sure to speak up.

    Throughout this journey, I have come to understand that the solutions reside within us. We possess the ability to nurture the younger parts of ourselves and acknowledge our inherent worthiness of love. Perhaps, like me, you will experience healing by spending time with your younger self and addressing their pain.

  • I Don’t Force Them to Grow

    I Don’t Force Them to Grow

  • We Rise, We Heal, We Overcome

    We Rise, We Heal, We Overcome

  • The Magic of Mindfulness: It’s Never Too Late to Find Peace and Balance

    The Magic of Mindfulness: It’s Never Too Late to Find Peace and Balance

    “If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.” ~ Amit Ray

    On December 12th, 2019, I found myself in a hospital undergoing an exploratory heart catheterization, a wake-up call I could no longer ignore. My health had reached a critical low. I was battling high blood pressure, high cholesterol, prediabetes, and obesity.

    At just fifty-five years old, my long career in automotive manufacturing, with its relentless deadlines, high-pressure demands, and long hours, had caught up with me. The stressful grind had become unsustainable, and I had to make a choice: continue the same path or reclaim my health and happiness.

    That moment in the hospital marked the turning point in my life.

    A Career of High Pressure and Its Costs

    For decades, I poured everything into my career. The industry demanded perfection, quality, efficiency, profitability, and strict adherence to schedules. It was a high-stakes environment that left little room for personal well-being. My mantra of “work hard, play hard” defined me, but over time, the cracks began to show.

    Deadlines left me sleepless; stress fueled poor dietary choices; the constant push for productivity eroded my ability to relax. Though I achieved professional milestones, the cost to my health was staggering.

    Turning to Mindfulness to Heal

    After that fateful day in the hospital, I overhauled my lifestyle, not just physically, as many would do, but mentally and emotionally. While I embraced changes in diet, exercise, and sleep, one of the most transformative practices was mindfulness.

    Mindfulness taught me how to slow down and be present in a fast-paced world. Through meditation and yoga practices, I learned to quiet the mental noise, find stillness, and reset my perspective. This became a lifeline, helping me navigate stress, reduce cortisol levels, and foster resilience in the face of challenges. It wasn’t just about managing stress but about fundamentally reshaping how I experienced life.

    I leaned into the simplest practices, ones that felt natural and sustainable:

    • Breathing deeply: A single, mindful breath calmed my nervous system and reminded me to stay present, no matter how overwhelming life felt.
    • Noticing the now: I focused on what I could see, hear, or feel in the moment, anchoring myself in my senses rather than being swept away by anxiety.
    • Practicing gratitude: Even in life’s storms, there were small moments of light, a kind word, a peaceful morning, or the chance to rest. Finding and holding onto those moments kept me grounded.

    These lifelines weren’t about perfection or rigid routines; they were about creating space for calm in the chaos. Every breath I took reminded me that change was possible.

    Lessons Learned

    Looking back, I recognize that had I incorporated mindfulness earlier in my career, my journey might have been different. The tools I’ve since adopted could have buffered me against the relentless pressure.

    If I had stayed the course without change, I likely would have been on endless medications or facing even worse outcomes. Mindfulness gave me a way out, a healthier, happier path that prioritized my well-being without sacrificing my ambition.

    From Automotive to Biotech

    Today, I am thriving in a new career in biotech, where my passion for innovation is matched by my commitment to maintaining balance. At sixty, I am medication-free and healthier than ever. Mindfulness has become a cornerstone of my daily life, and I’m proud to share its benefits with others as a certified meditation facilitator.

    I share my story because I believe in the power of change at any age. Whether you’re in a high-pressure career like automotive manufacturing or simply feeling overwhelmed by life’s demands, mindfulness can offer clarity, calm, and control.

    It’s never too late to reclaim your health, happiness, and peace of mind.

  • How to Reclaim Your Inner Gold

    How to Reclaim Your Inner Gold

    “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” ~Joseph Campbell

    “Our deepest calling is to grow into our own authentic self-hood, whether or not it conforms to some image of who we ought to be. As we do so, we will not only find the joy that every human being seeks—we will also find our path of authentic service in the world.” ~Parker Palmer

    When I was young, I was creative, independent, and assertive. My days were spent climbing trees, building forts, and catching water striders in creek beds.

    My best friend Rita and I were raised by strong feminist women (also best friends)—who laughed loudly, smoked cigarettes, and rolled their eyes at waiters who dared to call them “ladies.” We roamed our neighborhood unsupervised, stood our ground alongside our older brothers, and marched with our moms for equal rights and pro-choice. Life felt boundless and alive.

    But midway through fourth grade, my family moved to a more conservative, upper-class town, and suddenly, I felt out of place. Gender roles were more traditional, the people preppy, their houses spotless, and I—with my dirty nails, shabby clothes, and tomboy energy—didn’t fit in.

    I began to feel awkward, gruff, and insecure in this new environment. I realized that my directness and assertiveness were seen as “unfeminine,” and my expressiveness made me “stick out.” So, I tried to suppress those parts of myself.

    I started trying to be less opinionated, more agreeable, and quieter. I even tried to dress the part, though my limited clothing budget betrayed me—it’s hard to pull off “preppy” when your wardrobe is from Dress Barn. Despite my efforts to fit in, something within me pushed back—and that resistance eventually grew into rebellion.

    By middle school, it took the form of an eating disorder—a self-destructive attempt to gain some sense of control. By high school, my rebellion had evolved into a party-girl persona, seeking validation and freedom in ways far removed from the carefree, confident child I once was—even though my behavior may have appeared carefree and confident on the surface.

    Marshall Rosenberg, the founder of Nonviolent Communication, once said, “Never give them the power to make you submit or rebel.”

    Both submission and rebellion are reactions to external expectations, not authentic expressions of who we truly are. In either case, we allow our conditioning to shape our behavior, dimming our true light. I refused to submit, but my rebellion took its toll, causing me to lose touch with the vibrant and authentic parts of myself.

    I’ve been on a long road of healing, gradually reclaiming the qualities I once rejected and learning to see them as strengths. So, I was surprised recently when a good friend described me as “direct,” and a wave of shame washed over me. Though he intended it as a compliment, that simple moment reminded me of how deeply I had internalized the belief that my directness was “bad.” It brought me back to the years I spent silencing parts of myself that once felt so natural.

    This experience made me reflect on how, as we grow, so many of us lose touch with our unique gifts—those innately radiant qualities that make us who we are. We unconsciously resist embodying these traits, hiding our power to fit in, avoid judgment, and protect ourselves from rejection.

    Jungian scholars often call our hidden positive qualities—our untapped potential, creativity, and strengths—the “Golden Shadow.” While many associate the “shadow self” with darker impulses, the shadow encompasses all parts of ourselves that we’ve repressed or rejected, including our inner gold.

    As children, we absorb countless messages from family, society, and peers about what is acceptable and what is not. Over time, we internalize these messages and suppress the aspects of ourselves that we perceive as undesirable.

    Being direct, assertive, and expressive didn’t align with the ideal feminine image I thought I was supposed to embody. Even as I adopted a more rebellious persona—one that supposedly didn’t care—I still felt deep shame about these qualities and continued to reject them.

    But the positive traits we disown are often the very ones that, when reclaimed, lead to greater agency, wholeness, and connection. Interestingly, we tend to resist these traits more than the ones we view as negative because stepping into our power and potential demands a new level of responsibility—and that can feel intimidating.

    In my journey, I’ve learned that embracing qualities like directness and assertiveness has made me feel more empowered and impactful. I now have greater clarity, am more authentic, and can better support others. But it took years to overcome the resistance and shame these qualities once elicited.

    Embracing our radiant qualities requires stepping into the fullness of who we are, even when it feels uncomfortable. It’s through becoming comfortable with this discomfort that we unlock and express these hidden aspects of ourselves. It all begins with the willingness to look within, acknowledging the qualities we’ve disavowed or projected onto others.

    Here are a few exercises to help:

    Look at What You Admire in Others

    The traits we admire in others often reflect those we most wish we could embody. The next time you feel awe or envy toward someone, ask yourself: What about them draws you in? Are they confident, creative, compassionate, or direct? These qualities are likely part of your Golden Shadow, waiting for you to reclaim them.

    Ask the People Around You

    Reach out to friends and family and ask them what they see as your strengths. Pay attention to the traits they recognize in you that you may not. Sometimes, we need others to reflect our brilliance because we’ve learned to hide it so well.

    Reclaim Through Reflection

    Take moments throughout your day to notice when you feel especially capable or proud of something you’ve accomplished. What strengths were you embodying in those moments? Was it creativity, assertiveness, or perhaps empathy?

    Visualization and Integration

    Once you’ve identified these qualities, bringing them into conscious awareness, you can begin integrating them through visualization. Imagine yourself fully embodying the qualities you’ve rediscovered in your Golden Shadow.

    Notice what emotions come up—embarrassment, fear, self-doubt—and allow them to be present. Welcome those feelings and let them know you are ready to embody these new traits, no longer held back by shame.

    You can also practice a future-self visualization: Picture yourself living out your potential, embracing these golden qualities. Visualizing in vivid detail helps anchor these traits in your mind and prepares you to step into them in real life.

    Take Action

    Start small. Identify one quality from your Golden Shadow that you most want to bring into your life. Take a small step each day toward expressing this quality. For example, to reclaim your directness, practice being straightforward and honest in your communication, even in small interactions. Gradually, it will feel more natural.

    The journey to reclaim our inner gold is one of self-discovery and integration. What parts of yourself have you hidden away? What positive qualities are you ready to embrace, even if it feels uncomfortable? The world is waiting for you to shine in your fullest, most authentic expression.

  • Live the Way That Feels True to Your Heart

    Live the Way That Feels True to Your Heart

  • Count Your Blessings Without Denying Your Problems

    Count Your Blessings Without Denying Your Problems

  • Lifequakes

    Lifequakes

  • The Growth That Happens When You’re in Between Chapters

    The Growth That Happens When You’re in Between Chapters

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

    When one door closes, another one opens, or so the saying goes. From experience, I know that the new door doesn’t always open right away. Often you spend some time in the hallway, the state in between what has been and what will be.

    About two years ago I decided to quit my job. While I was in the process of making big decisions, I decided to give up my apartment and go abroad for a period. I didn’t have a super thought-out new plan, but I just felt like it was time to move on.

    When my loved ones expressed their doubts about my plans, I waved them away, certain I would figure it out. And to be honest, I kind of expected the new plan to just happen to me as soon as I made the decision.

    For most of my life, the phases between jobs, relationships, and living spaces followed each other neatly. I fully expected this time to be no different.

    You can imagine my surprise when this time the new phase didn’t start immediately. Answers, opportunities, and big synchronicities didn’t just fall at my feet. What I got instead was a lot of confusion and self-doubt.

    In the middle of all this, my long-term relationship ended, which added another element of uncertainty to my life. I was in the hallway, and it felt like I was waiting for the door to appear.

    One way or another, most of us spend time in the hallway during our lifetime. The hallway is that phase between two chapters of life when nothing seems to happen. This in-between phase can take many shapes and forms.

    Sometimes you end up there by choice, like when you take a sabbatical or choose to spend some time focused on yourself. Other times the decision is made for you: perhaps your physical or mental health forces you to take a pause. Maybe you are let go from your job, your business closes, or your partner chooses to end your relationship.

    There is also the space between where we think of something we want to bring into our lives—anything from a business to parenthood—and where it comes into fruition. That period can also feel like an in-between phase, where we are not yet where we want to be, but we are very focused on getting there.

    We want to be there and forget to enjoy that we are now here. Rather than enjoying the journey and all the little steps along the way, we focus on where we feel like we should be.

    Most of us don’t want to spend time in the in-between. It can be a highly uncomfortable time, as there is a lot of uncertainty involved.

    It can feel like being stranded in the middle of the desert: Everything looks the same, and nothing orients us in any direction. We don’t know how long the period will be or where we will go next. It can make us doubt everything we thought we knew and believed in, and that can be unsettling.

    There are different strategies to take in the in-between phase. I know, because I have tried all of them, with mixed results.

    You may choose to frantically knock on all doors until one of them opens. The problem with this strategy is that, while understandable, this is a fear-based approach. Rather than deciding from a deep sense of trust in yourself and life, you become attached to the door that opens.

    There’s also the option of lying on the floor and waiting for the door to present itself. While that works at times, it is not the most empowering strategy. It is also a slippery slope into a bit of a victim mentality when things take longer than you expect.

    And then there’s the option to see this period as an opportunity. A chance to get to know yourself better and become familiar with your own fears and doubts, hopes, and longings. If you let it, this phase can bring you closer to yourself and allow you to move forward in a more authentic, aligned way.

    It took me a little longer than I care to admit to move from strategy one and two into the third, but when I finally did, these were some of the lessons I learned.

    1. When you lose something that feels essential to your self-worth, you learn who you are without that part.

    Most of us feel quite attached to certain parts of our identity, whether it is our job, relationship, or an idea we have about ourselves. The more we attach our self-worth to a door that has been closed, the more uncomfortable this phase will feel. And the more we probably need this time.

    The in-between phase gives you a chance to see who you are without all the things you thought you were. In that process, you are invited to recognize that your worth is so much more than those identities.

    I had always seen myself as someone who followed her intuition and was courageous enough to follow her own path. In my relationships, I had taken on the role of encouraging others to do the same. When I felt neither certain nor courageous, I learned that I was still a caring friend and family member. Opening up about my feelings made other people feel safe about sharing their deeper feelings as well.

    No one is meant to take on one role; we are all multifaceted beings, and all of our parts are valuable.

    2. A period of uncertainty gives you the chance to become more resilient to fear.

    At times, your biggest fears come true in this in-between phase. And that is truly frightening. But it’s also a great opportunity. When what you deeply fear is happening, you have a chance to integrate that fear so that you are no longer so controlled by it in your day-to-day life.

    It gives you a chance to process it rather than just simply hoping it never happens. And with that, it can give you great freedom. If this happens, and you can handle it, then perhaps you are capable of more than you thought.

    When I was in limbo, I realized I had this deep fear that my life wouldn’t really go anywhere, and that I would never be able to live up to my potential. It made me feel deeply afraid of failure and rejection, as I felt that these experiences would confirm my core fear.

    In the process of creating a new path, I faced my share of failure and rejection. Initially, the feelings that came up would overwhelm me, and I would want to give up trying. But gradually, as I learned to process these feelings, I found a deeper sense of safety within.

    As uncomfortable emotions come up, learn to feel them in your body. Become familiar with the sensations and just breathe. Implement tools to calm your nervous system—like deep breathing or listening to calming music—so that you can regulate yourself back to safety.

    The more comfortable you become with uncomfortable emotions, the more resilient you become to them. You then no longer have to avoid the things you fear, which could potentially bring you great happiness.

    3. An in-between period is a chance to move forward in a different way.

    There is usually a paved path in relationships, career paths, and life in general, with a logical next step to take. So often in life we take that next logical step, rather than reflect on whether that aligns with our deepest longings.

    It is challenging to go off that paved path and into the wilderness, but it is greatly rewarding as well. An in-between period forces you to make a conscious choice: Do you want to keep going as you did before, or are there changes you would like to make moving forward?

    As you learn to find safety in the uncertainty and let go of your attachments to things that weren’t quite right for you, you open space to move forward differently. With a newfound trust in your resilience and a deeper knowledge of yourself, it becomes much easier to make decisions that are deeply aligned with you.

    4. Change is often gradual and can only be seen clearly in hindsight.

    There are moments that propel you into a new stage of life from one moment to the next. But often, there is not one big earth-shattering moment that changes everything. The hit-by-lightning breakthrough moment where you suddenly know exactly what to do does not always come.

    Rather, change is often a gradual process that you can only fully see when you look back on it. It is a combination of lots of little steps and lessons and a gradual integration of the emotions that the change brings up. When you fully embrace that, it is powerful.

    It means that you don’t have to dig for answers or figure everything out at once but learn to trust that the things you do every day matter. Life has natural rhythms and seasons, just like nature does. Some seasons are big and exciting, while others are slower paced.

    Looking back now, I can see that I learned to gradually replace my fear-based choices with options that felt more aligned. It started with seemingly small things, like my morning routine and the recipes I cooked, and evolved into starting my own business and deciding to move closer to the ocean. In the stillness, I learned to sit with my feelings and take tiny steps towards sustainable change.

    And so perhaps, as we move toward the door that will inevitably show up at some point, we notice that the hallway isn’t just a space between the two doors. It is a room all by itself, a necessary and fruitful phase of life. We learn that we are never in-between, as we are always growing, evolving, and simply living.

  • If You Stay Too Long in a Bad Situation

    If You Stay Too Long in a Bad Situation