A few weeks ago, the entire staff of the small nonprofit organization I work for took a field trip to a Mindfulness Institute. For two hours, we learned about and practiced mindfulness; relaxing, breathing, being present, paying attention and listening under the guidance of the Director of the Institute. Only two of us on staff had ever practiced mindfulness, so it was encouraging to be there with my colleagues. Some were more open to the experience than others, but that is to be expected.

First we took some time just being aware of our bodies in the room. Many staff confessed they felt stressed by taking two hours out of the work day and couldn’t stop thinking about everything they still had to finish. They were back in their offices, not in the airy, bright space where we were all seated in a circle, and they were feeling worse instead of better. But we practiced focusing on our bodies; our feet on the floor, our butts in the chairs, and we breathed. Our moderator reminded us that there was nothing we could do about the work because we were there in the room, a very simple fact that so often people forget. Worrying is just a waste of energy.

We also practiced mindful movement with several quigong exercises. Quigong is a holistic system of coordinated
body posture and movement, breathing, and meditation used for health,
spirituality, and martial arts training. I’m not a big fan of Quigong or tai chi, which I have also practiced a few times, but I respect their value. 

What was most profound for me was the last exercise we did, an exercise in listening. We all split up into pairs and our moderator began explaining that one of us would be given a topic to talk about and the other was to listen, only listen, and remain completely silent. She continued for a few moments about the exercise and made a point of saying, “And I haven’t told you what you’d be discussing yet because I know you’d all stop listening to me and start thinking about what you’d say.” How right she was. 

I was designated to speak first and my partner, a dedicated volunteer, was to listen to me. At last we were told to speak about something we’re grappling with. For two to three minutes I spoke about my concerns regarding the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and how I don’t really like this time of year. I found that I was talking faster and faster, not to fit more in, but because having this woman’s undivided attention somehow felt selfish, like I was wasting her time. She nodded in agreement and smiled and made other sorts of sympathetic gestures, but didn’t say a single word!

I realized that not being interrupted for two to three minutes and just being able to speak seemed so foreign, so unnatural. Do we really all interrupt with our own thoughts and questions, advice and suggestions, stories and experiences so often that speaking uninterrupted feels… strange?

Next we were told to talk about how we plan to deal with what we’re grappling with, and again I spoke uninterrupted for a minute or two. 

Then it was my turn to listen. I don’t know this woman personally. She is extremely personable and I enjoy working with her, but I realized as she was telling me about what she’s grappling with that I don’t know her at all. I listened attentively, grateful to have been given explicit instructions not to speak because once we were done, I felt as if I had given her a gift, the gift of my full attention and a chance to speak uninterrupted. In return, I felt as if I had been given a gift as well, the gift of her honesty and openness.  

Then she spoke for another minute or two about how she plans to deal with what she’s grappling with. We spoke to one another for no more than five minutes each, but before we went back to our original seats, we embraced. In under ten minutes our relationship strengthened, simply because we spoke and listened to one another. 

Someone once told me that when we interrupt someone, we are saying that what we have to say is more important than what they have to say. It is absolutely true. We want to say something so badly that we can’t just wait. In doing so, we take control of the conversation, like a passenger taking control of the wheel of a car. 

But what about active listening? We talked about that after the exercise as a group. I said, “At no point did I want to make the conversation about me by telling a similar story, or offer advice, but I did feel the urge to agree or ask a question.” Many of us have been told to ask questions to express our interest. It is a social tool we all use to engage in conversation.

The Director’s response to this will stay with me. She explained that when we ask questions, we take control of the conversation. Now the speaker feels obliged to answer our question, redirecting them from their thought process and what they may have said. 

It blew my mind. 

I don’t want to be a crappy listener. Being given the chance to speak uninterrupted about what I was grappling with gave me the chance to formulate all my ideas about what I was feeling. Had my partner asked me a question, I would not have found it rude. It’s what we do. But in answering, I would have switched gears and allowed her to take control of the wheel and steer my thoughts in a direction of her choosing. I understand this now. For now on, I will practice holding my questions until whomever I’m listening to has stopped speaking.  

There was one other thing I took away from the exercise that I’d like to share. It occurred to me that no one in that room raised their hand and said, “But I’m not grappling with anything.” 

We are ALL grappling with something. In practicing mindfulness, I think it is skillful to keep this in mind. Remembering that no one is immune to suffering creates room for compassion and kindness. 

Being that November is National Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), I am hard at work drafting my first fiction novel (it is both daunting and exciting three days in). In order to help me prioritize on that writing, my good friend, Kathy offered to write another guest post.

In my last post, I wrote about feeling stuck and used a metaphorical room as an example. The post stemmed further discussion between Kathy and I and she raised many wonderful points about our need for a safe room when we do scary things, like work on ourselves. Following is her take on being stuck; things that had not occurred to me before, but left me feeling much better about my need for a safe room.

What if being stuck were only a physical condition, and our minds are free? What if the room that we‘re sitting in has no roof? So when I lean back, snuggled up with a soft blanket on a comfy couch, I take a deep breath, and look up at the stars? I need the safety of those four walls many times. Especially when I am doing the incredibly difficult work of self-analysis, growth, and personal expansion.

By Kathy M.

Instead of running away from something or running towards something, what if we just need a room to hang out in? A room that is familiar and safe. A room that allows free expression, as we move furniture and repaint walls and learn to see the new in the familiar?

I have learned to recognize the stages of personal growth to include needing that safety room. Needing to remain steady. To remain in a place of what seems like inaction when, in fact, I am gathering strength. I am training for the next big leap. Because growth is HARD. Growth takes energy. Growth is very close to grieving. It can be exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time.

Personal freedom is an interesting concept. A room can feel safe to one person and like a prison to another. What makes the difference? To the outsider looking in, there may not seem to be a difference. And yet that to me is the definition of personal growth. When we have evolved in our thinking, in our processing, when we can see the same situation on a deeper level; we are transforming ourselves.

I believe life situations that spark emotions of dissatisfaction are ripe with opportunity for investigation of one’s self. Asking why. Why is this bothering me? Why am I not at peace? Many times we externalize our pain so that it is the job or the husband or the friend who has made us feel stuck. I believe most of the time we are simply projecting onto someone or something else that which we are not ready to see in ourselves.

Byron Katie supports the idea of questioning, which Jessica has written about before in this link. If a thought or belief is bothering us, we need to sit and examine it. We need to use turn-arounds to help us see what we are not willing to see. A Course in Miracles teaches us that we are all living in our own movie. All of the people in our lives that hurt us or love us, or have something to teach us are only mirrors walking around us, fulfilling a spiritual agreement to help us grow and evolve spiritually. We are not only the star of our own movie; we are in fact the director and the writer. The key is to remember that our suffering is only the projected movie. When we separate from God, the true source and love—we suffer. When we are connected to that source—when we remember we are love; we are at peace.

Oprah recently featured a new series on her TV network called Belief, which explored humankind’s ongoing search to connect with something greater than ourselves. “What do you believe?” she asked at the beginning of each episode in a voice-over to stunning cinematography. The series followed individuals to various countries around the world, with various religions and spiritual beliefs, to uncover the very human experience of how we form our lives around our beliefs.If we believe we are inherently broken, how does that shape us? If we believe we are a blessed child of God, how does that shape our lives instead?

I believe having a support network is vital to any change. Facing our fears and taking action in spite of them is one of the most challenging decisions any of us can make. When we have to take that type of step without a support network, it not only feels utterly frightening, we risk traumatizing ourselves. If we don’t cushion ourselves to have a ‘soft landing’ after experiencing a heart wrenching experience, we can feel even more stuck than before. I have always told friends that as long as we are moving forward, even using ‘baby steps’ as my mother would advise, we are moving in the right direction. And I have always believed U-turns are permitted.

Yet remaining in one place externally doesn’t mean that we are not challenging ourselves; it doesn’t mean we’re not growing or progressing. I think sometimes there’s too much emphasis, particularly from those with privilege (a spouse or family member that can financially support one person following their dream for example) who have access to an audience, to persuade their listeners to ‘follow their dreams.’ Get that divorce, quit that job. I disagree.

Once it’s no longer about the husband or the boss, make whatever decision feels right. However I do believe that until we can come to a place of peace within those difficult situations, we will only repeat our patterns again with a new partner and a new boss.

The lessons that we are meant to learn don’t change over our lifetime. Many times I wish they did. Many times I encounter a familiar cross I have borne with complete and utter despair at recognizing it again. I thought I had that figured out already, I whine to myself. Discovering ourselves and what makes us tick is our life’s work. We all have an onion with endless layers to peel back. Unfortunately, as much as I have wished it, we never do get to trade in our onion for a different one. We simply continue to peel back those layers; sometimes encountering new revelations, many times revisiting lessons which we need to go back to and dig a bit deeper.

I have made dramatic jumps in my life, thinking that it would allow me to follow my dreams and lose my onion for good. This action is generally applauded by others. It can be inspiring for others to watch someone take the leap themselves. I have found after many jumps, bumps and jolts that no matter what we do to run away from our onion, it is always quietly waiting for us once we land.

So how do we believe that anything and everything is possible? Especially if we were not raised with that mindset? Watching the personal journeys through Oprah’s series illustrated the many paths that people have taken to connect with that very concept. For those of us who have experienced any type of trauma in our lives, we have a lot of soul cleansing to do. Love and forgiveness are two practices that can pave the way. Yet they are not singular emotions. To love and forgive anyone who has hurt us is an ongoing process. ‘One and done’ will not work. A Course in Miracles teaches that if an action is not one of love, it is a call to be loved. If we can love our husband as we ask for divorce; if we can love our boss as we hand in our resignation, that is where our own belief in our self grows.

Anyone we are unable to love or forgive is simply a projection of a piece of ourselves that we are unable to love or forgive. When we can recognize that — when we can remember that we are in this movie of our lives, so that we can wake up and discover the peace that already resides in us—when we can love and forgive ourselves; that is when we can sit in our room and feel peace. 
 

We are all story-tellers. The only difference is that some of us write our stories down. But make no mistake about it, we’re all crafting stories in our heads starring the people in our lives, and we’re starring in their stories, too. These stories all have something in common: they are fiction.

I’m talking about the story-telling we do when we make assumptions and project our feelings onto others, or our insecurities onto situations.

He didn’t call me back yet. He doesn’t like me anymore.

Susie & Mary went to lunch without me. They’re talking badly about me. 

He didn’t say I look nice. I’m so fat and gross!

He’s not wearing his wedding ring. They’re headed for divorce.

I haven’t invited Jessica to dinner because she’s always busy.

My son behaves this way because he knows it drives me crazy!

Any of this sound familiar? What stories are you telling yourself? My overactive story-telling mind has caused me a lot of suffering. The reason being is that I wasn’t aware my stories were fiction. For example, when my husband would break plans with me, I’d tell myself it was because he didn’t want to spend time with me. I absolutely believed this to be fact. My evidence: he broke plans with me. That’s all the evidence I needed. I couldn’t even hear anything else because I was so hurt that he didn’t want to spend time with me. The story was already written. Therefore, whenever we made plans I feared he would break them again (further proving my story). This built up a lot of anxiety for me and a lot of pressure for him. We ultimately stopped making plans just to avoid it all.

All because of the stories in my head. I use this example because I know it is not uncommon.

This is only one of hundreds of the stories I have told myself and believed to be true. As I’ve cracked the nut on my suffering, I have come to learn the difference and to stop writing so many destructive stories in my head. There is a simple question you can ask yourself when you begin believing your own stories.

Is this true?

Byron Katie is the absolute master of story-telling. She asks the question: Who would you be without your story?

“The Work of Byron Katie is a way of identifying and questioning the thoughts that cause all the anger, fear, depression, addiction, and violence in the world. Experience the happiness of undoing those thoughts through The Work, and allow your mind to return to its true, awakened, peaceful, creative nature.”

There are four stages in Byron Katie’s The Work, a simple yet powerful process of inquiry that teaches you to identify and question the thoughts that cause your suffering. It’s a way to understand what’s hurting you, and to address the cause of your problems with clarity. In its most basic form, The Work consists of four questions and the turnarounds, and it is all completely free online. I am going to use one statement and go through the process as an example, but I do highly recommend you read more about it at the links provided. It really is a remarkable and most helpful concept.

I will use the previous example of me and my husband to demonstrate how The Work… works?

This is my thought: When my husband breaks plans with me it is because he does not want to spend time with me.

Step 1 of The Work: Complete the Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet. “For thousands of years we’ve been told not to judge—but let’s face it, we do it all the time. We all have judgments running in our heads. Through The Work we finally have permission to let those judgments speak out, or even scream out, on paper. We may find that even the most unpleasant thoughts can be met with unconditional love.” – Byron Katie

Using my example, statement #1 on the worksheet would read: I am angry with Mike because he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I would continue filling out the worksheet, writing down how I want him to change, what I want him to do, etc. This is the time to let it all out and really think about how this thought makes you feel and be completely honest with yourself about what you think you need and how you feel about the person you are having this thought about.

You only need to ask this one if you answer “yes” to #1. If you said yes, this allows you a chance to dig deeper. Is it really really true?

How do I react when I think that thought? 

Angry, hurt, lonely, abandoned, accusatory, insecure, unworthy of affection, closed off to compromise and discussion (to name a few).

Who would I be without the thought?

Willing to listen, willing to compromise, rational, patient, understanding, secure.

Example: Mike doesn’t want to spend time with me.  

“Until you can see the enemy as a friend, your Work is not done. This doesn’t mean that you have to invite your enemy to dinner. Friendship is an internal experience. You may never see the person again, you may even divorce him or her, but as you think about the person, are you feeling stress or peace?” -Byron Katie

I walked through a brief example of The Work because I truly believe it is a helpful exercise. Byron Katie has so many wonderful videos of her going through The Work with people regarding all different stories: a woman who lost her daughter in a car accident who couldn’t figure out how to say she would ever look forward to losing her daughter again, a man who hates his cancer and cannot figure out how to turn that around, a son who wants his Mom to be happy and has his own thoughts about what happiness means.

The Work is another tool for your toolbox. Be aware of the stories you’re telling yourself. Ask yourself if they are true. Turn them around, and work toward peace.

I hadn’t slept so soundly since I was in Colorado. Perhaps it was the altitude. Or perhaps it was just being away and having no obligations or stresses. No pressing concerns or anxieties sneaking into my dreams causing alarm or restlessness. Three days into a writing retreat in Vermont was the first I had touched my laptop.

Going into this trip, writing was not my priority, however. Recharging was. Also, enjoying a new place. I had never been to Vermont. There was no cell service or wi-fi; we were off the grid. The day I arrived I opened a historical fiction book, The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert. Other than breaking for meals and a 2 mile jog, I read all day. It was a splendid use of time (and p.s. the book is fantastic!). I went to bed and slept for ten hours, without even a cricket’s song to disturb me.

Remember, you can never be doing “nothing.” I did not go away to Vermont and do “nothing” just because I didn’t work nonstop on a novel or blog content. I read, I exercised, I slept, I enjoyed the company of other writers. This time was not wasted – not one second of it. I R.E.T.R.E.A.T.E.D.

Where is your safe place? Meaning, where do you go when you’ve had enough for one day or when you’re depressed, hurt, broken-hearted, angry, or just need a break? For many people, it’s home, but where in your home? Do you have a place where you can shut out the world and be left alone?

Mine was always my bed. For as long as I can remember I have retreated to my bed to eat, hide, cry, scream into my pillow, and most of all… sleep. I can slip into bed at 6:00 pm on a terrible day and not wake up for over twelve hours. I have always been able to do this. Sleeping has been my secret weapon for hiding from people, passing the time when I was young and bored and waiting for a boy or friend to call, mending my broken heart after break-ups, or forcing my brain into an off position to stop relentless thoughts.

Despite all that rest, I have grown weary of sleeping my life away. I don’t want a place to hide, but instead a place to heal. I want a true safe place, one where I can go not to pass time or shut down, but to calm down.

For many people another comforting place, albeit very temporary, is the kitchen. That’s where the food is. Perhaps this is why A Course in Weight Loss calls for creating a safe place in Lesson 3. At times of struggle, our deepest desire isn’t really for food, “but for the experience of home,” Marianne Williamson writes. “Your deepest desire is not for food, but for love.” According to her, unconscious eating stems from a starvation of healthy self-love and the struggle to find it elsewhere.

If fear’s headquarters are our beds, kitchens, bars, etc., where are love’s headquarters?

Love’s headquarters exist at our altars, so it is important we create a place in our homes that remind us that love is the true power in our lives. This will provide us with a safe place to go when we are feeling afraid, sad, angry or ready to give up.

To create an altar in your home, consider what area of your home is best – a spare bedroom, a corner in the basement? It should be a place where you can have privacy, set up an altar, and sit comfortably. I am fortunate to have a home office, a room all my own.

Your altar should celebrate and support your willingness to love yourself and be healthy. Try not to get hung up on the word altar. By “altar” I mean only a table or flat-topped surface, such as an end table or board set on books, used as a place of focus for a ritual. And by ritual, anything goes: reflection, meditation, prayer, journal writing, reading…. any acts of love you perform for yourself. For example, my Happiness Jar sits on my altar. It is part of my ritual to write down my happiest moment from every day on a piece of paper, fold it up, and drop it into my jar.

Once you have identified a place in your home and selected your altar, place upon it beautiful and meaningful objects that remind you of the love you hope to bring to yourself and your spirit. Pictures, prayer books, statues, prayer beads, books, fresh flowers, your journal… anything that expresses your devotion to love and a more beautiful life. Nothing negative. You don’t want a picture of your ex-boyfriend here even if you still love him tremendously. This is a place for your most favorite things.

This is my altar and its contents:

My altar is an antique traveling trunk, a gift from my mother when I was a teenager. I store my sentimental items inside it. Atop the altar are scented candles: one was a gift from my brother and sister-in-law, purchased in Morocco, and it reminds me of them whom I love dearly, but also of adventure and travel; one represents love and smells of lemongrass; one is orange, representative of the sacral chakra where I carry the majority of my stress; the salt votive holder on the right is also for aiding my sacral chakra and is on (permanent?) loan from my dear friend, Kathy.

In front are two incense holders carved out of stone into elephants. The holders accommodate cones and sticks and I always burn it when I meditate/pray or spend any time before my altar. (Aromatherapy does wonderful things for the body and the scent of burning incense calms me immediately.) I adore elephants and consider them exceptional creatures. I also identify with them as my spirit animal so they are important to me. One was a gift from a dear friend whom I love very much, and the other I purchased for myself on a wonderful day, so it is associated with a lovely memory.

On the left is a water globe from my husband, which contains orange-hued trees and when you shake it, orange leaves swirl all around. I love autumn; the scents, the imagery, the weather, the foods, and this globe encapsulates all those sensations for me. It is also orange, which again is good for opening my sacral chakra.

In the center is a seated Buddha and to the right is a crying Buddha. The seated Buddha inspires me to be calm and still and to empty my mind, and also to respect the place I have created for myself. As for the crying Buddha, there are several legends and symbols. Common symbolism is that the Buddha weeps for all humankind, suffering from all the troubles in the world so that we do not have to. For me though it is also a reminder that someone even as strong and poised as the Buddha suffers, and it is okay to feel pain and to cry for this world we live in. Life is hard. In front of the crying Buddha is a small little novelty laughing Buddha. It makes me smile. No matter how still or calm I can become, I always want to cry into my hands… but also to laugh deep inside my belly. I also have a piece of rose quartz to trace over my face in times of need. It is said to help nurture and also to inspire love in one’s self and others. At the very least, it is calming. There is also a little angel stone that reminds me of my mother.

Behind the seated Buddha is my Happiness Jar, a collaged and decoupaged pickle jar that contains my happiest moment from every day. My mala (prayer beads) rests to the right of it on a small wooden carved elephant given to me by an employee I managed over twelve years ago. I do not remember her name, but I have kept it all this time. On the far left is my Buddha Board. You write on it in water and the words evaporate so what you write literally fades away, a visual that assists in letting go.

This is what those words looked like after less than a minute:

Although this altar has existed in my home half a year now, I am not in the habit of going to it when I am upset. In fact, I have avoided it at times of distress for fear of contaminating the space I have so lovingly created for myself. I realize only now this is ridiculous. It’s like buying a fancy car and only driving it when you’re dressed up. This space is magical for me and has everything I need to calm me and reinforce love in my life. With the help of Lesson 3 I see now that this is the safe place I have been lacking despite it being right in my home.

Marianne Williamson writes:

On any given day when you feel triggered, when you are deeply drawn to the ritualistic dance of self-hatred that is overeating [or drinking, smoking, etc.], you will have more power to resist if on that day you already experienced the power of your altar.

And if you haven’t already experienced its power, then go to it and allow it to fill you with love.

Also, please consider a donation to Save the Elephants and help save these majestic creatures.

When I first started this blog and wrote of my desire to be gentle and compassionate, I only had others in mind. I wanted to be a nicer and more loving person to those around me. Nowhere in that sentiment was I expressing an interest in being kinder or compassionate with me personally. I completely overlooked myself.

It wasn’t until I was well on my journey that I realized the need for self-compassion. The old adage that we cannot love others until we first love ourselves has validity. It is this love and fulfillment within ourselves that inspires others. It is also what enlightens us to our interdependence, making us willing to share ourselves with the world. On my best day, the day after I surrendered my negative emotions in my release ritual, I radiated love and kindness and people responded to it beautifully with smiles and light of their own. It was incredible to witness. Unfortunately, I could not maintain the vibrancy inside of me and it soon faded like the energy of a stadium once the crowd is long gone.

I continue to struggle with compassion, particularly toward myself. Without compassion, we do not feel the pain of the world, so we are unwilling to help it. There are times I hurt myself emotionally, inflicting pain like a gangster threatening a a witness tied to a chair. I am unwilling to help, instead barraging myself with negativity, high expectations, and hurtful words. It doesn’t even occur to me to save or defend that whimpering version of myself, just to wield my power over it.

I am completely willing to stand up against people who hurt me, but am still unwilling to stand up to myself when I wrong me. Thankfully, compassion is a muscle that can be strengthened with practice and use. I have become more compassionate since I started on this journey. I fail at it, don’t get me wrong, and can still be insensitive and hurtful, but I have also impressed myself with my ability to be loving and kind. Now I need to start extending some of that compassion to myself.

In keeping with the theme of New Moon in Cancer, self-compassion and love, it’s a better time than ever to practice some compassion strength-building exercises. But just like when you redeem your complimentary personal training session at the gym, they first need to assess your fitness level. So click this link to test your self-compassion. Go ahead and take the test (tests are fun!), reading each statement carefully. This should only take 4-8 minutes.

How did you score? My over-all score is a 2.91 and indicates I am moderately self-compassionate. I scored highest (meaning least compassionate) when it comes to self-judgment. I am very hard on myself and do a lot of horrible name-calling. My lowest score (meaning most compassionate) is in the subcategory of isolation. When I was a teenager I thought everyone had it better than me and was having more fun than I was. I now know beyond the shadow of a doubt that is absolutely untrue and I know that every single person is battling something. I know I am not alone in my suffering. That being said, I found the test to be quite accurate.

Now that we know how strong (or weak) our self-compassion is, lets work on strengthening it. Dr. Kristin Neff, who created the assessment, lists some useful exercises and guided meditations on her website here.

I am a big fan of Exercise 1: How would you treat a friend?, but with one difference.

Imagine a child in your life: your son or daughter, niece or nephew. I am thinking of my dear friend’s ten year old daughter, whom I adore.  

1. First, think about a time when this child felt really bad about him or herself or was really struggling in some way. How would you respond to that child in this situation (especially when you’re at your best)? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you typically talk to this child.    

My favorite 10-year old has an adorable little pot belly that I am certain she will grow out of (she is very active and LOVES fruit). Since my weight seems to have become an accidental theme here as of late, I will stick with this example. It is breaking my heart in the worst way that this young girl has begun to feel self-conscious about her weight. She’s too young! Although she hasn’t spoken to me about it (my friend has filled me in), this is how I would respond if she did: I would kneel down to meet her at eye-level and place my hands on her shoulders or take her hands in mind, and in a gentle, soft voice I would tell her that she is BEAUTIFUL. I would also explain to her that all that matters is that she is healthy and happy and she has power over her happiness, so if losing a few pounds would make her feel better, then she should, but that she should view it as a gift she is giving herself rather than a sacrifice she is making or a chore she is taking on. I would also remind her of all of her amazing qualities and how wonderful a person she is. 

2. Now think about times when you feel bad about yourself or are struggling. How do you typically respond to yourself in these situations? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you talk to yourself.

When I am self conscious about my weight I am heartless. My tone inside my head is stern and condescending. I call myself names like “fat fuck” and when something doesn’t fit and I am frustrated I say things like: “you’re so gross you shouldn’t even be allowed out of the house.”

3. Did you notice a difference? If so, ask yourself why. What factors or fears come into play that lead you to treat yourself and others so differently?

Yes, there is a difference. My 10-year old friend is innocent and is too damn young to have these insecurities. I really do believe she is beautiful and amazing. I do not believe that about myself. I don’t believe I shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, either, but I take my frustration out on myself. I want to hurt me because I am the source of my frustration. Also, I now know that I was treating Thin-me and Not-thin-me as two different people. I know now that I need to integrate them.

4. Please write down how you think things might change if you responded to yourself in the same way you typically respond to a close friend when you’re suffering.

I think love, gentleness and compassion would go a long way. Adding pain to an already painful situation is madness! It achieves nothing! I think I could feel safe if I could respond to myself the way I would to my young friend. If I felt safe, I wouldn’t walk around afraid, which piles on to my problem of seeking comfort and safety. It is cyclical.

Now it’s your turn. Take some time to reflect on these questions. Break out a journal and get to work.

Self-Compassion Break

Now, put your hands over your heart, feel the warmth of your hands and the gentle touch of your hands on your chest. Say to yourself: May I be kind to myself.
You can also ask yourself: What do I need to hear right now to express kindness to myself? Is there a phrase that speaks to you in
your particular situation, such as:

• May I give myself the compassion that I need
• My I learn to accept myself as I am
• May I forgive myself
• May I be strong.
• May I be patient

This practice can be used any time of day or night, and will help you remember to evoke the three aspects of self-compassion when you need it most (via Dr. Kristin Neff).

Friday night I performed the release ritual I referenced in the post Brick by Brick: Tearing Down Your Emotional Wall, and it was incredible. I had a genuine spiritual experience and I feel… different. I feel lighter, happier, and most of all (and hardest to describe) I feel love, like I received a shot of warmth straight to my heart. Now I fully understand the importance of creating our own rituals to heal ourselves.

As a reminder, I have been working my way through lesson #1 in Marianne Williamson’s A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever. I wrote in a notebook all the things that I feel resentful, guilty, ashamed and angry about; my fears and burdens, reasons I feel inferior; 18 emotions in all in an effort to rid myself of excess emotional waste. Once everything was written down, the book provides a prayer and visualization to surrender it to God (or a higher being). The release ritual was all my idea. I wanted something more involved, something a little more noteworthy and deserving of so much emotional shit. I wanted it to be an event. I’m a planner and I like things to be elaborate.

What is a ritual?

My husband teased me, referring to my ritual as voodoo and offered to bring me home some chicken bones. There’s something about the word “ritual” that makes people think of sacrificial offerings or dancing naked around a fire. Although rituals are often rooted in religion, they are solemn ceremonies or behaviors consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order. Rituals maintain tradition and offer closure; their formality is comforting. Sunday Mass and funerals are well-known rituals. To some degree so is surrounding someone with a cake in front of them and singing Happy Birthday.

Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat, Pray, Love that we do spiritual ceremonies “in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don’t have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down.” That was precisely my plan with this release ritual. This is why people lovingly design intricate scrapbooks to contain their precious memories, or burn photos in an effort to move on after heartbreak.

My release ritual

The morning of the ritual I thought I would awaken excited, but I felt agitated all day, apprehensive, not unlike a child who has done something wrong
and is equal parts defensive, ashamed, and afraid of punishment. I had been hiding from God for a while and I was nervous to speak to Him.

Later that night I sent my husband out so I could have total privacy. I lit candles and incense on my altar and settled in with my notebook seated on my zabuton and zafu (Japanese cushions used in meditation). I turned off the lights.

After a nervous and awkward start, I was soon spilling open aloud to God, sharing every negative action, thought, and memory. I sobbed and excused myself to blow my nose as if seated across from Him in a therapy session. Things began to make sense in a way they hadn’t when I wrote them down. After every emotion I felt a calm. Before turning the page, I would say: “Dear God, I surrender my (insert emotion here) to you. Please take it from me. Amen.”

When I was finished with all 18 emotions the book says to visualize a brick wall comprised of all the suffering and pain I had been carrying around, then ask God to help me break it down, brick by brick. I settled in to a calm meditation. It took some time to form a mental image of the Big Man, but when I did, He resembled a mix of Albus Dumbledore, Father Time, and Jesus Christ.

I won’t share all the details, but let me just say we had fun breaking down that wall together, karate chop noises and all. Afterward, we stood over the ashes of the obliterated brick and talked. It was the easiest conversation I ever had. Afterward, I recited a prayer from the book.

Next in my ritual I had planned to write each of the 18 emotions on my Buddha Board as one last visualization of watching them fade away (you write in water and as it evaporates, the words literally disappear), but I suppose God had other plans for me. I wrote something else, which I think I’d like to keep to myself (sorry!). I’m not sure if the words were His to me, mine to Him or mine to myself… I think perhaps all three. But they were the most perfect words.

Lastly in my ritual I ripped out the 18 pages from my notebook and headed outside with some lavender and a box of matches. I set the pages onto the fire pit, and sprinkled lavender on top. I thought those words would burn quickly, but I was wrong. The emotions, pain and suffering did not surrender easily. Rather each page seared and burned slowly from the corner back, one at a time as I repeated: “Dear God, I surrender these emotions to you. Please take them from me. Amen.”

I looked up, and was surprised by the number of stars burning over me. I did not head back inside until every ember burned out below me, concluding the ritual.

Marianne Williamson writes that “to spiritually surrender something is to surrender our thoughts about it. What we put on the altar is then altered.”

I literally placed my pain and suffering on the altar. I am now altered thanks to feeling empowered to create my own ritual.

 

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Last week I confessed I am an emotional over-eater. The support and understanding I received after that post was inspiring and heartwarming, and I thank you all. Some of you shared your struggles with me privately and although it saddens me to know so many of us are suffering, I also find it encouraging: we know we’re not alone and we’re talking about it.

Admitting you’re powerless over a problem is the first step in commonly known 12-step programs. For many people, food is just as addictive as alcohol or narcotics. You may not understand this or believe this could be possible, but it’s true. That’s why programs like Over-eaters Anonymous (O.A.) exist. And remember, we all need food to survive. An alcoholic can stop drinking. A drug addict can stop taking drugs and detox. A food addict cannot stop eating. They must learn to manage and live with their addiction.

I am not taking a 12-step approach to my emotional over-eating. As I mentioned earlier, I am working through the exercises in A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever by Marianne Williamson. I just think there is an opportunity to practice compassion and to reserve judgement toward overweight people. An overweight person at an ice cream parlor is not that different than an alcoholic sitting at a bar. Some empathy could go a long way.

Admitting to myself I have this problem, and then admitting it publicly here, has made a tremendous difference. Two weeks ago I went for blood work to have my thyroid checked – that was the extent to which I denied my overeating. My thyroid is just fine. There was no denying it anymore. Yes, I was active. Yes, I ate right the majority of the time. But yes, when I messed up, I messed up big, and that was why I couldn’t lose weight.

So now that I finally know this, and you know this, I can get to work on fixing it! I am finding that most often any lesson in anything can be applied to various areas of life so please, don’t stop reading just because you may not be an emotional eater. Surely, the following exercise can benefit all.

“The weight on your mind, and thus on your body, is the weight of your own emotional shadows that have not yet had a light shone on them. They might be unprocessed feelings, negative thoughts, or fear-based attitudes and personality traits.”

Our systems are built to process waste; that includes emotionally and mentally. But when we hang on to excess emotional baggage, we do not allow it to dissolve. We all have unprocessed emotions, but we all express it in different ways: over-eating, drinking, violent outbursts… “The form of dysfunction is not particularly relevant; what matters is that we address the unprocessed suffering behind it.” 

That involves a willingness to be real and honest with yourself about emotional issues, and then a willingness to release them.

On a journal, I wrote various emotions in thick marker on the top of each page: GUILT; ABANDONMENT; FEAR; JUDGEMENT; BURDEN; 18 words in all.

I got to work writing down my experiences that are true for me, those that have resulted in these negative emotions.

Don’t go unconscious! With each paroxysm of shame, my instinct was to try to shake the memories from my mind, those that make me wish I could go back in time and not do whatever shameful or embarrassing thing that I did at age 10, 15, 20, 25, etc. Those things that still have the power to make me cringe and seek cover under a blanket.

But I didn’t shake them off. I forced myself to remember and then found words to convey the harsh realities, articulating that which was never said out loud, let alone written on paper. Flipping from page to page, emotion to emotion, forwards and backwards as thoughts occurred to me, the most unexpected thing was that it became easier as more truths poured from my hand.

I felt lighter.

Now that I have this notebook full of my deepest, darkest emotions, fears, judgements and most shameful and embarrassing moments (I hid this thing like it was MY JOB), it is time to release it all. I am going to offer it up and away, ask for all these emotions to be taken from me, ask for forgiveness, and do some forgiving myself.

I am going to sit with my notebook a few more days, making sure I’ve captured everything as I also finalize plans for my release ritual. I feel that this act is worthy of a special ceremony. Everything that has happened to me has shaped me. I want to properly acknowledge all of it, properly express gratitude where appropriate, and properly say goodbye… to the shame, to the people who hurt me, to my guilt over things long gone, to my thoughts that I am inferior, to my judgements, to all the stories in my head associated with those 18 words.

These sorts of release rituals are not unheard of. Writing on balloons and releasing them in celebratory fashion is a common one. Shredding the pages of my notebook will not be enough. This is an exercise in letting go. I want something final. I only want to do this once. I want something worthy of my lifetime so far.

I am excited. I am ready.

If emotions are weighing you down: guilt, burden, unforgiveness of someone who hurt you, then do this exercise with me. What do the bricks around you say? Write it down. Get it of your head and out of your heart.

And then let it go. Let’s all our souls become lighter, together.

Greetings from Colorado! I am currently on vacation, my first in well over a year. I am enjoying the fresh air, change of scenery, and catching up with my brother, Joe.

Time off and down time are very important to me. I am writing this post one year from the day I graduated Saint Joseph’s University. I will never forget the stress of how busy I was while working full time, going to school full time, writing, and co-editing a collection of short stories. It really scarred and changed me and never again will I allow myself to take on so much at once.

There definitely seems to be a glorification of busy in our culture, as if prizes are handed out for those who work the most hours or go on the least amount of sleep. If you’re not busy all the time, then somehow that seems to imply negative things about your character, like you’re not motivated or successful. When asking someone how they’re doing, how often does the response include the words ‘busy’ or ‘tired’ or some variation of both? I hear it all the time. I know that I was busy and tired for two years. My prizes were depression, frustration, weight gain and complete and utter burnout.

This year I have made a conscious effort to limit my use of those words. It hasn’t been that difficult because I no longer feel tired and busy all the time. Sure, there are pockets of stress and times when a lot is going on, but my perspective is different now. I still keep busy, but everything I do is by choice and the deadlines are self-imposed and I am in control over what I do and when. Doing things out of obligation is stressful, but doing them out of choice is passion. It makes a world of difference. I was explaining to my oldest brother the other day how I am keeping busy, but I wished there was another word for it. He said, “Full. Your days are full.” “Exactly!” I said.

So many people fear or look down upon doing ‘nothing’. But it is impossible to ever be doing nothing! There is this sense of shame and regret in doing ‘nothing’, but even if you’re laying on the couch, vegging out, marathon-watching Netflix, you’re not doing ‘nothing’. You’re resting – giving your mind and body a break. We don’t say we’re doing ‘nothing’ when we practice meditation, sitting in silence, trying not to think. Reading a magazine or napping are forms of meditation for some people. It recharges you. Sitting around chatting isn’t doing ‘nothing’, either. I needed to remind my brother of this last night when he said he wished there was something we could do. I was having a good time doing what we were doing.

We need this down time. Napping, vegging, reading for pleasure, hobbies, laying in a hammock watching the clouds even though there are dishes in the sink and you have 50 unread e-mails is important. So many of us put the things we really want to do at the bottom of a massively long to-do list and consider them our reward for finishing that list. But if you’re like me, there have been many times that by the time you got to the bottom of that list you were too tired to do what you wanted to do just for you.

Resting is not a form of laziness. It is necessary. In fact, I would argue that rested people are more productive. I consider myself very productive with a balanced work/home life. I am the happiest and most fulfilled I have been in a very long time.

My advice to you, coming from someone who knows, take downtime. Let’s stop the glorification of busy and feeling guilty about times when we aren’t producing. We’re not machines. There is so much pleasure in looking up from work and obligations. It’s time we realize that almost everything in life can wait a day or at least a few hours, so that we can take a few hours for ourselves.

Make yourself a priority on your to-do list. Remember, it is impossible to ever do nothing.

Last May I was reading for pleasure for the first time in ages. The book, Kook: What Surfing Taught Me About Love, Life, and Catching the Perfect Wave was a graduation gift from a friend who knew I wanted to spend the summer surfing. The story took place mostly in Baja. While still reading it, I was having a meeting with Reading Glasses co-editor, Amy Holiday, who said she hoped we could wrap up the project before she went to Baja the following autumn.

“Baja! Wow, what a coincidence. I am reading a book that takes place in Baja right now. Who are you going with?”

Amy wasn’t going with anyone, so she invited me. I could hardly believe it. I asked if she was absolutely certain at least a dozen times and then dragged her out to my garage where I asked my husband, Mike if I could go, pulling that famous of kid tricks of asking your parents permission in front of your friend to increase the likelihood of a yes response. Amy’s presence or not, there was no denying my excitement that the Universe was in line and I was meant to go surfing in Baja! Mike gave me the go ahead and I bought my airfare the next morning.

I was finally going to see the Pacific. I was going to Baja. It was a sign that this really was the summer of surfing. The experience belt was getting another notch! My dreams of travel were being realized. I daydreamed about it for the rest of the summer.

Then, on September 15, Hurricane Odile ravaged the Baja Peninsula. The resort we were to stay in the following month was damaged and our reservation was canceled. I was crushed, but there was no denying that it just wasn’t the right time…

When it came time to adjust my airfare, the resort still hadn’t reopened and Amy couldn’t reach anyone about rescheduling. I had ten days to change my airfare or forfeit the $600 credit, and I had no idea where or when to go. I had to go somewhere by June 1, a year from the day I purchased the tickets. Reluctantly I changed my international airfare for the most domestic (and safest) location I could think of with no set plans or confirmed travel companion: Florida.

All the long winter, sunny Florida remained on the horizon, an uncertain trip in my future that gave me anxiety and slight heartache whenever it crossed my mind. The timing was bad for my husband to join me and I could think of few things more depressing than going to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter alone. It’s just money, I convinced myself. So I decided to forfeit the airfare credit and go somewhere where being alone made sense and wouldn’t be depressing. I decided I would go on an R&R retreat at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Western Massachusetts, my own little adventure and birthday treat.

And yet it never moved past the idea phase. A little over a week ago I realized I needed to get a move on with these plans. I still hadn’t canceled my flight or booked my retreat. I began second guessing everything. Manhattan, the shore, Vermont… What did I want to do? Where did I want to go? I had my first week’s vacation in well over a year coming up and I had no idea what to do with it, and I was still torn about throwing away $600 worth of airfare. I even looked into flying to the retreat just so I wouldn’t waste it, but transportation from Albany airport was impractical.

The June 1 deadline was breathing down my neck. Wherever I went, I had to go soon and decide fast. Laying on the floor, irritated by my dilemma, staring at the ceiling and talking out loud, my husband interjected. “Why don’t you go see your brother?” I sat up, squinting as my brain processed this idea.

“That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?” Within 48 hours I changed my airfare for the third time in almost exactly one year. I would go to Colorado and visit my brother, Joey, who was surprised and excited to have me. We would have our own adventure and I would get to see new things and I wouldn’t be alone. It was a win all around. I leave this Friday.

This trip was a year in the making, and involved a lot of uncertainty and a total lack of enthusiasm. Now, things are certain and I am excited. When I explained my plans to my friend, Kathy who knew how much this had all been bothering me, she smiled. “You had to sit with it for a while,” she said. And I was reminded that things happen when they are meant to, and some stories take a long time to develop.

I thought the Universe had given me a crystal clear sign with Baja, but the longer I sat with it, the more it shifted and evolved. It’s like when someone smiles at you, and that first impression is wonderful, but then they sit near you and you realize they smell bad and the spell is broken. You want to get up and leave, go sit somewhere else. But then they explain they were helping a stranded baby seal and can’t wait to take a shower, so your opinion changes again.

I will get to Baja when the time is right. Or maybe I’m meant to go to Bali instead… The Wizarding World of Harry Potter will still be there next year. Right now, it’s time to go see my brother. I would not be going if it wasn’t for this cancelled trip to Baja and who knows how many more years would have gone by before I’d see him. If everything does in fact happen for a reason, then all is right in the Universe.

I just needed to sit with it all long enough to hear the rest of the story.