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Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

5/5/2023

4 Comments

 
PictureImage by Dorothe from Pixabay
Nine years ago, I had just begun writing a beautiful little book of healing poems and prayers, or rather I should say I was being woken up by words that compelled me to get up and write them down.  The writing was helping me to process life, and I thought the book was going to be called “Garden of Inspiration.”  About 6 months in, it became clear that that title did not embody all that wanted to be written.  That life was more than just sunshine and rainbows, and people needed to feel not alone even in the dark, horrible, scary, and sad times.  The subtitle for what would become 111 Invitations, “Step into the Full Richness of Life” was born.  It’s a not-so-cute phrase to reflect that sometimes life is horribly painful and sometimes beautifully wonderful and a lot of times kind of just meh… and all of it is part of this human experience we seem to have signed up for.  

Last year after one of my closest friends, Mary Lally, died on Christmas Eve, I wrote about grief, trying to capture the grace and pain of it.  When I wrote Good Grief, Gratitude and Grace and Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief, I thought I knew what I was talking about.  Maybe I did for that particular grief journey.  However, I am learning that grief takes many forms and shows up in surprising and profoundly non-linear ways.  It’s slow, it’s sneaky, it’s exhausting and intense, and it permeates everything at times (much like pepper juice on half a pizza that seeps over and tarnishes the whole thing).  

In the past 14 years, I’ve navigated a journey that has been deeply challenging and has brought a lot of grief, along with a huge amount of deep and enduring love.  That love continues even though on March 29th, our beautiful son, Nate died.  The pain from this loss is unlike any I’ve ever experienced and as many people in my life have reflected, “It’s unimaginable.”  In the beginning the shock carried and protected us pretty well, getting us through the tasks that had to be handled immediately.  And at the same time, the sense of sacredness landed in my heart as a clear truth - we didn’t have to rush to decide about many things.  We could wait to create a service in a way and at a time that felt right to us.  We did not need to conform to societal norms (Nate never did, so why should we!?) despite pressure from several of his friends who understandably wanted to pay their respects and memorialize him in some way.  

Go ahead and do what you will, I told them.  I can’t do this for you, and anything other than keeping my circle really close and small right now would have wrecked me.  I pondered whether there might be value in grieving in community and maybe we should have a service sooner, but we were not ready yet.  Even now, much remains unclear, and we will just take it one moment at a time. 
What I can say with confidence now that I’m living this dreaded life experience, is that the practices and teachings I’ve been living and sharing for the past decade really are working for me.  They have resourced me well and allowed me to somehow keep on going, to show up for life, to live, albeit with a lot of heartache and emptiness.  

I am so deeply grateful I am that we had found compassionate, kind, and loving ways to be in relationship with Nate over the past few years, that we had many honest, deep, and healing conversations.  There is no question for any of us how much love connected us all.  That is in large part thanks to a meditation practice which built the capacity to cultivate a heart that can hold it all,  expanded open-hearted compassion, and taught us to turn toward life as it is.  It’s also in large part a benefit of Recovery Coach training which helped us to understand addiction and recovery differently than we had in the past.  The Invitation to Change approach definitely helped us foster trust and a loving, respectful relationship.  Thank God we had that approach alive and well in our lives.  I cannot imagine the regret that would haunt me now had we not.  

Now to highlight a few of the things that have helped over the past decade (or longer) that continue to resource me now.  It would have been much harder to incorporate these things into my life now had I not cultivated them over time.  I believe they are always helpful and especially when there is one big thing that might consume our lives, whether that’s a child who struggles, work that takes over, a parent or loved one who requires our care.  There are big things that can begin to define us and our entire existence if we’re not aware.  When they do, it’s time to find a way back to ourselves.  

1. Getting Support - Though this list is very incomplete and the things I’m highlighting are interwoven and maybe this aspect couldn’t happen without the others, I think it’s clear to say up front that I could not be doing as well as I am through this grief without so much loving support.  I am glad that I have learned to ask for what I need, so when my sister asked whether she should come to be with me or not, I could clearly let her know that yes, I would like her to be here.  In the past there might have been more self-abandonment in not wanting to impose on her, denying my needs in order to accommodate what I imagined were hers.  

Knowing what kind of support and when I am open to receive has been critical.  If someone offered food or a healing session that I couldn’t accept in that moment, I’ve asked for rainchecks.  When the time was right, I asked friends to set up a Meal Train for us because we still don’t have the energy or focus to think about preparing meals.  People love to give, so I’ve allowed myself to receive and say, “thank you” without too much discomfort that I’m being self-centered and spoiled.  When I hit a wall from too much peopling, I give myself a break.  I’ve had to pace my interactions in order to honor my own bandwidth in this time.  Learning how to respect my own needs and capacity, even as I invite others to walk alongside me has been critical (I don’t think I could have learned it in real-time so I’m grateful for the years of self-care and focus on developing this skill which allow it to kick in in a time of crisis). 

Over the years I have been and seen others be “strong and independent”… putting off the vibe of the outstretched stop-sign hand, letting the world know, “I’m good.  I’ve got this” and then wondering why no one was offering love or support.  We, as a society, have become overly influenced by this idea of fierce independence and self-reliance.  We need each other to walk through life.  We need to open our arms and hearts and let others in when we’re struggling.  We need to understand that vulnerability is not a sign of weakness and that allowing others to show up and lend their service or their listening ear is a gift to you both.  

2. Pause - you’ve likely heard me tout the value of a pause a million times if you’ve been around for any time. The taking of a breath creates space for a supportive pause.  Even that split second gathering can be the difference between a less-than-well-crafted reaction and a more mindful response.  Practicing the pause over many years has allowed me to be gentler with myself in what is a huge pause now - allowing myself to step back and listen within to what I need and for guidance.  It’s in the pause that we access a deeper wisdom.  When we pause, we take life one moment at a time, which is really the only way to go.  When we don’t pause, we are often overtaken by fear which leads to reactivity and chaos.  In the pause, we gain a little perspective, a little space, a little breathing room.  

3. Self-Care is Vital - Renee Trudeau has taught me to slow down, quiet down, put my hands on my heart and ask, “How do I feel? What do I need?  What do I want?”  At first it felt foreign and awkward and sometimes my answer was “I have no idea…”  Over time this has become part of who I am and how I roll, thank goodness.  What this simple inquiry has allowed me to do in this time is to honor the needs and wants of my body, mind, heart, and spirit.  It has allowed me to respond to those needs and wants and to ask for help.  It’s allowed me pace myself, to honor the sacredness of this time and push aside any outside ideas or pressure of how this should go.

Self-care will look different, moment by moment.  Allowing this is critical.  Sometimes what’s needed is a nap, other times a phone call with a friend, a walk in the woods, or a good car scream!  It’s not formulaic, but rather arises out of the ability to tune in and listen to your own inner knowing.  I am deeply grateful for almost a decade of integrating this into my way of being - I could not have learned it in a time like this. 

4. Gentle Yourself - Many thanks to Jenna, a retreat participant years ago, for offering up this phrase and turning “gentle” into a verb.  As soon as I heard it, I knew what she meant.  Greet yourself with exquisite tenderness, kindness, and care - likely the way you would treat a beloved friend or child.  Often, we are most harsh with ourselves and gentling may not come naturally, but it is a profound gift when we can greet ourselves with compassion, love, and respect.  In times of deep grief or confusion, gentling allows us to be ok enough to keep showing up, one moment at a time.  

5. Honoring each Soul’s Journey - My son and I have always been deeply connected and certainly our lives were interwoven, yet several years ago, it became clear that they were also separate.  He had his path and I had mine.  Related, but distinct.  Not dependent on one another for our state of wellbeing.  It’s why I knew with every fiber of my being that I could, actually, be happier than my unhappiest child.  I would not lay that burden on him; I did not need him to be ok for me to be ok.  Thankfully my husband wisely articulated, “Yes, there’s love for him, but there’s also love for me, for us…” meaning we didn’t have to give it all away in an effort to save him.  We needed to live our life even while we loved him, supported him, and walked alongside him the best we could.  

Had my wellbeing been completely linked to his, I may well be totally devastated now, unable to imagine going on.  My heart is shattered, my life has a huge Nate-sized hole in it, and I often feel sick when I imagine forever without him in it.  And, I am going on.  I know I will find my way back to myself and into whatever this new reality becomes.  I will show up to life and live because we still have work to do, because I am determined to make our journey and his life and death matter.  

You too are more than the one thread that feels all-consuming. I promise.  Who are you beyond that?  It’s worth the time to explore.  To remember that you were a person before this thing came into your life, or even if your thing is something that’s been a part of you all your life, there’s more to you than just that.  Don’t let yourself be defined or boxed in by any one thing.  Stretch to see what more is here.  

6. Acceptance - NOT as in I’ve reached the (non-existent) final “stage” of grief, and I’ve got this, but rather an acceptance of what is here.  This goes along with #5 and also goes beyond.  Acceptance of what is, not being at war with reality, allows us to meet ourselves and our lives exactly as they are.  When we stop wishing that things were different (and believe me, I’ve never wished that more than these past 5 weeks), we can begin to live here and now with the qualities of truth and presence. This is what is.  Now what?  

Part of the acceptance that has guided me over these past many years was knowing that we could not save my son’s life.  That it wasn’t even our job to do so.  We could only love him as he is for as long as he’s here, but how long that was wasn’t up to us.  Accepting that limitation freed me to love him differently, less desperately.  It allowed us to have more honest conversations where we were each safe to share.  Accepting him as he was meant I didn’t need to impose on him what I thought he should be or how he should do things; at times I was able to consider his perspective, put myself in his shoes.  What I wanted wasn’t necessarily what he did.  I had to try to honor his autonomy and walk alongside him and try to avoid letting my fear throw me into a state of telling or yelling.  Acceptance allowed him to feel seen, heard, loved, and respected and allowed a softening in me toward his life and what the outcome might be.  

For months we’ve been pretty aware that we were watching our son die.  We did what we could to explore better supports and treatment.  We loved him fiercely.  And we also looked at quality of life, honoring that he’d prefer to live on his own, have a job, be able to write and record his music (which he did) than be in an inpatient facility, even if it would keep him safe and alive.  Acceptance allowed me to choose who I wanted to be and how I wanted to show up, even when I was terrified that he would die.  Acceptance allowed us to have a closer, more loving and trusting, open relationship than we would have otherwise.  And acceptance now allows each of us to grieve in our own way at a our time, knowing that we will need and want different things at different times.  Navigating together, but individually.  

7. Cultivating a Heart that can Hold It All - this is a phrase I first heard from Buddhist meditation teacher, Tara Brach, and it’s one I’ve taken to heart ever since.  It’s the idea that seemingly contradictory states of being can coexist in a way that the mind can’t make sense of but the heart can.  It requires us to get away from black and white, either/or, all or nothing thinking and to recognize that even in the most painful times, there is also beauty, peace, and joy.  Making room in our hearts for it all to be there is exquisite, because it’s already all there anyway.  Often, we are just overly focused on one or the other, squeezing one out because it doesn’t seem to fit, adding to our suffering by not allowing ourselves the full richness of this human experience.  

A meditation practice that invites us to sit with the breath, to notice what we’re noticing, but not need to rush to fix or change it, helps us to develop this capacity to be with all of life.  To turn toward even the pain and discomfort, to sit in it, not needing to rush past.  

There are times when I’m sick and tired of this grief thing that has landed like a cloak on our world, and I’d like to just get on, get “back to normal,” but at a deeper level I know there is no going back. There is no normal any more.  I can only go forward into what is next, and as exhausting and uncomfortable as it is, I don’t want to bypass the divinely human experience of a deep grief that reflects a profound loss and a deep love.  

At times I’ve wondered if I’m doing this wrong because I see people look at me, expecting that I will be devastated all the time - how could I not be?  I’ve lost my child.  But I’m not.  I mean, I’m on the verge of tears most of the time, thoughts of Nate and the ache and longing to hold him one more time don’t ever go away, but I can also take in the beauty of a magnolia bloom, laugh with a friend, find comfort in mindless TV, sleep at night, and be grateful for the lack of worry that comes with knowing where he is.  When I think of forever without him, I get punched in the gut with a wave of nausea, I lose my breath… and so I ride that wave.  I allow it to be here (because, as we’ve already acknowledged, it is here) without pushing it away.  If I get sick and tired of saying the same things over and over again (which I do), I allow the sick and tired.  It’s amazing how much our hearts can hold if only we allow them to.  

8. Gratitude - I have been practicing gratitude for at least 12 years now and it truly has changed my experience of life.  (You can check out the research on how gratitude actually rewires our brains).  It hasn’t changed my life circumstances, because most of those are out of my control.  But it has changed how I walk through life, what I focus on, what I notice.  Gratitude is one of the simplest things you can weave into your life.  In any moment you can pause, get quiet, look around and notice what you’re grateful for.  Whether you speak it out loud, write it down, or simply notice, take a moment to breathe it in to your being.  What does it feel like to feel grateful?  Where in your body do you notice it?  

I notice a softening and expansion in my heart, a fullness and deepening of my breath, a broadening of my perspective in that moment of “oh yes… this is here too.”  The more we look for things to appreciate in life, the more it becomes part of who we are.  Every day I take photos of beauty, inside and outside my home.  It’s part of my gratitude.  I also reflect every evening on what I’m grateful for over the course of the day.  Sometimes I pause and reflect in the morning before I get out of bed.  I’m grateful the sun came up again, and I have one more day.  I’m grateful for my tears which give me the natural release for this grief.  I’m grateful for the friends who let me carry on and share my raw feelings with them.  I’m grateful for the birds singing outside my window, the sunlight, the stunning beauty of the sky and sunset, the fresh burst of blooms that remind me of new life, even in the presence of death.  

9. A Huge Dose of Grace and Self-Compassion is always of benefit.  

That’s what I have to offer today, 5 weeks into the most profound grief of my life.  I’m here.  I’m still me even as me is forever changed.  The core of who I am and what I know have been deeply impacted by this loss, and yet they carry me still.   
​
I hope that maybe there’s something here you can bring into your life to help carry you when times get hard as well as when things are flowing smoothly.  I’d love to hear what resonates with you or what challenges you.  Please share in the comments or drop me a note.  I may not reply right away (or even at all) - that’s part of gentling myself right now.  But you reading and responding always matters.  Thanks for being here as we walk this human journey in all its richness.  

4 Comments

Finding Stillness

4/11/2023

2 Comments

 
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Often, we move through the ocean of life as if we’re riding the surface - tossed around, bobbing and rocking with every wave.  We may be floating safely enough, but in this constant churning, we’re also thrown about by life, by people, responsibilities, and demands that pull on us.  We are tossed and turned - at the mercy of things outside of our control. 

Yet, beneath the crashing waves, the dark depths of the ocean offer a place of profound stillness, some distance from the surface turbulence.  Similarly, deep within each of us, at the core, there is stillness available.  The trick is to find it.  Once we’ve found it, we only need to return there, time and again. 

In this space, receive and allow yourself to be nourished and fed.  Life continues at its frenetic pace, but you can find your own agency within it.  In this space, feel both your separateness and your connection with others - not splitting off, but coexisting, maintaining your own steadiness, even in the waves.  We become fluid ourselves as we flow with life a bit more smoothly, grounded and solid in the knowing, the sensation of our own body.

In the Stillness
In the stillness
the answers come,
truths are unearthed,
promises remembered.
 
In the stillness
prayers are answered,
hearts are restored,
dreams fostered,
visions captured.
 
In the stillness
the oneness becomes clear,
connection to self deepens,
universal threads intertwine.
 
In the stillness
the magic lies
waiting for you to visit
and reside here,
for however many moments.
 
© Barb Klein, 2016, from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life
 
What do you think?  What does stillness offer you?  What might become possible or evident if you took the time to find some quiet, some space? 

Lao Tzu asks, “Do you have the patience to wait
                            Till your mind settles and the water is clear?

                            Can you remain unmoving
                            Till the right action arises by itself?”

Such a great and powerful reminder to get out of the chaotic spin, the tendency to react and jump into action without even having fully formed thoughts or ideas about what would be wise, skillful, or helpful to you, to the other, or to the situation. 

Patience - they say it’s a virtue, and I suppose that’s true.  Yet when we’re confronted with urgency, it can be terribly hard to access.  Taking a pause.  Finding our place of internal stillness helps. 

What helps us get to that rich place of stillness?  Pausing. Gathering ourselves up in our own loving presence.  Granting ourselves grace, stepping back, stepping away before needing to take any action at all.  Remembering that rarely anything good comes from the instantaneous fight, flight, freeze, or facade response. 

It’s far better to slow things down, find our bearings by finding ourselves in this moment - take stock through our senses.  Notice what we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel in this space.  Awareness anchors us into the present moment.  In that moment we can find and claim the stillness, remembering that even in a hurricane, there is the center of the storm, the eye that is relatively untouched by the raging winds.  When the storms of life are raging, take yourself to the eye.  Find yourself standing firm in the strength of who you are… not rigid, but strong and supple, able to bend and flow as the willow does.  Bending, but not breaking because you are allowing the storm to happen around you, choosing not to step into it or resist it. 

In the stillness, close your eyes, touch your heart, and ask the most important question: What do I need in this moment?  Allow yourself permission to ask, knowing that your needs matter.  Allow the answers to come.  Allow yourself to hear, even if it’s uncomfortable.  And then, from this grounded stance, begin to get curious about the ways you might be able to tend to whatever needs arise.  What could you try?  Who could you ask for help?  What can you let go of?  Is there anything here that is not yours?  What can you turn over to someone else or to God or the Universe?  Are you trying to carry too much?  What can you put down, dear one? 

In the stillness, take stock again.  What do you see, hear, feel, taste, and smell now?  Have your senses opened?  Perhaps now you hear the bird song that wasn’t there in the crashing waves of panic.  Maybe your eyes have softened to notice the yellow wren swinging on the feeder or the warmth of your lamp or even the light within the mostly grey sky. Maybe your heart and breath have slowed a bit.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  What’s true for you? 

The stillness offers us, invites us, into intimacy with our heart and soul.  The stillness washes over us, enveloping us like a warm bath.  The stillness opens our hearts and minds to fresh possibility - to see what wasn’t there before.  To try something maybe we’ve never done before.  Stillness offers spacious room to breathe, to stretch, to grow. 

Stillness reminds us we do not have to rush, and that when we let go of the rushing, we are far better equipped to face whatever challenges await.  It doesn’t take long for this medicine to work its magic.  For it’s not really magic at all.  It is the natural way of being - the essence of who we are.  All the outer busyness and craziness - that’s conditioning, learned behavior from our society.  The sense that we must be on or available all the time, that we must respond in an instant - that’s nonsense.  It makes no sense except when there is an immediate danger, which is fairly rare.

There’s almost always more time than we think, and if we allow ourselves even a few moments of pause, of quiet, of stillness, what will emerge is so much richer, wiser, skillful, effective, supportive, helpful.  So much more likely to be grounded in who we are and what we believe in.  So much more aligned with what really matters to us.  So much more likely to lead to fewer mistake and fewer regrets.

Let’s dive beneath the surface to tap into this deep anchoring of still, quiet nourishment.  Imagine what could be if we all did that a little more often.  Imagine a world grounded in stillness before action. 

Please enjoy Leah Kent's beautiful guided meditation, Anchored Stillness, as a support toward finding your own stillness in this moment.  
 Leah Kent is a book coach and author who helps wisdom keepers and visionaries write and publish transformational books about their work in the world. She’s the creator of the Wild Embodied Writing method, and the author of Awakening the Visionary Voice. To learn more, visit leahkent.net or connect with Leah on Instagram @leahkentco

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Carrying Pain

2/19/2023

0 Comments

 
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Pain.  Fear.  Worry.  I’m noticing lots of us don’t know what to do with these very human, and very uncomfortable experiences.  Many of us have been conditioned to push through pain.  We don’t understand or don’t want to sit with it.  After all, we live in a culture that says things like, “No pain, no gain!” (Which, by the way I call bullshit on!). 

If we allow it, our pain informs us.  It tells us when something is wrong.  It lets us know we need some loving care.  It begs us to rest and regroup - to nurture ourselves until we’re ready to consider what to do. 

We all carry pain.  One of the elements of mindful self-compassion is common humanity, reminding us all humans suffer.  It’s part of our shared human experience, not a sign of weakness and not something that happens to you alone. 

I have found myself living with some really heavy pain mixed with a lot of fear lately.  At times I’ve found myself feeling flat and dull like a cardboard shirt liner.  Some days it’s a slog to simply do the next thing.  Other days I compartmentalize a bit and put the painful stuff aside to enjoy being with myself or with a friend.  One thing I know for sure is the more I’m able to express or share my pain, the less burdened I feel. 

When we try to carry it alone, giving it nowhere to go, no release, no expression, no tears or screams, it eats us up inside.  It comes out - always - just maybe not in a healthy way.  Sideways, misdirected, harmful. 

What Helps
​

What helps me in these times is to talk about it with someone who simply listens without trying to fix or advise.  It helps me to write about it.  It helps me to cry, even if the tears come from an unrelated song or movie.  It helps to get outdoors and look for beauty.  Because what’s scaring me is so outside my control, it helps to find what I can control - picking one small task and seeing it through (I’m talking super small, like getting a load of laundry through the dryer or wiping down one kitchen counter). 

I’m learning to be with my pain, and to not be with it alone.  Give it space.  Give it voice before its pressure builds up and blows, before I become so numb that I hide away and lose myself to the world. 

Where did we learn to believe we have to be OK all the time?  That it’s weak to admit we’re hurting or scared?  Maybe from parents who held it all together as they went through hard times.  Parents who did what they had to do to get through, who weren’t raised to talk about their sorrows or hardships and didn’t know how to care for themselves.  Maybe from a world that feels hard and harsh - a world that instructs us to hide our tears and “get over” our grief. 

                     Pain carried alone is like poison, slowly taking us down. 

What if we faced pain together?  

As we face our scary realities, I wonder what might happen if we can each let down our armor.  Maybe we can be afraid together.  Maybe in that fear, we can break through - maybe shared vulnerability will help us face what we need to in a realistic way.  Maybe.  Maybe if we trusted one another to be honest and open about what’s going on, we can face it together.  Maybe if we stopped pretending we’re OK, maybe if we’d open our hearts to one another, take a breath, slow down long enough to be really real, maybe then we’d get somewhere.  Stop pushing, stop running and let ourselves break down to break through. 

Maybe we need to stop jumping too quickly to problem-solving and let ourselves admit just how scared we are first.  Maybe we can admit we don’t know what’s coming or how things can change, and then uncover some fresh ideas.  What if we could learn from each other’s fears as we share our own?  Can we come together to find a way forward?  It seems worth a shot. 

Hurt people hurt people.  Let’s be people who are healing to help others heal.  It will take some time.  We have time.  It’s always better to slow things down than to try to operate from a place of reactivity.  Our pain and our problems deserve our time, our attention, our love, and our full presence.  Especially when things feel really dire.  In those moments, may we open our hearts to one another, let our whole selves come through, and come together to find our way on.    
 
To the One Who is Hurting
by Barb Klein
 
To you, Dear One,
                The one who’s not doing as well
                as you’d like the world to believe,
I see you
I feel for you
I know what it’s like -
                to armor up and soldier on
                to put on a smile when you feel empty inside
                to feel lost and alone, and oh, so scared
Where do you turn?
How do you let it out     
                so you don’t carry this unbearable weight
                alone?
Please let yourself let down
                some way, somewhere…
Please…
Don’t carry this alone. 
It will tear you up inside
And leave you as destroyed
                as the one you worry about.
Please, find someone -
                let someone walk by your side.
You don’t have to pretend to be OK.
Really.
In each of us there lies a secret pain -
                too big to let out, we fear,
                afraid it will take over the moment it’s revealed
You are not alone.
You are one of thousands of millions,
                pretending to be OK,
                shoving it down, this poisonous pain,
                burying it away,
                hurting and hurting and hurting some more.
Let it out.
Let someone in.
You do not have to carry this alone.
When pain is shared
                it becomes less heavy -
                perhaps.
Perhaps a new possibility might arise…
                if not, at least you can face it -
                together.
It’s too much for one person to bear, this poisonous pain.
I see you
I feel you
I’ve been there (just yesterday, in fact)
I wrap you in a love that reminds you -
                You do not suffer alone
Let’s carry this together
                as we step into this day,
Not pretending we’re OK 
It’s OK
We’ll go on and find our way
Somehow
Some way
We will get through another day
 
Gentle yourself in whatever way you need.  Rest when you need to. Know that pain doesn't have to be pushed through and that it's not weak to ask for help.  Cry.  Scream.  Write.  Whatever works for you to get out any pain you're holding.  Let it out, get it out so that it doesn't tear you up inside. Please offer yourself tons of grace.  Find your own version of what helps.  

And if, in this moment, you're feeling peaceful, relaxed and full of joy!  Great!! Soak that in - breathe it in to your bones so you remember you can find this feeling when you need it.  

As always, please meet yourself with kindness, gentleness, tenderness, and compassion.  And know that you are not alone. 

I offer you this meditation, In Painful Times, as a practice to support you.  

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Learning in the Tough Times

1/25/2023

2 Comments

 
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On a recent visit with my son in the hospital, taking in how serious things were, I did not hide my concern. It showed in the frown on my face and in the tears just waiting to be released. I held his hand and gazed at him…

He didn’t want to talk much about it, because he gets tired of so much focus on him and it.  So, he asked me, “How are you?”  “Concerned,” I answered, not wanting to dodge the seriousness of this time. 

“But, how are YOU?”  he pressed. OK, I'll play.  How AM I? 

It’s a great question, because of course how he is affects how I am, AND it’s not the whole of me.  It’s not my only answer.  At times (and these crises are some of those times), I am more consumed with him and his life than I’d like to be.  It can overshadow my life and take up most of my energy.  At times.  But not all the time. This reminds me of a piece I wrote years ago, “Can You Be OK Even When “Things” Aren’t?” 

So, I appreciated his invitation to reflect on myself.  To check in… I don’t know.  How am I?  How’s my body, mind, heart and soul?  It reminded me where I end and he begins.  I don’t have to morph into his (or anyone else’s) reality.  I get to have my own experience of life.  In this moment, we’re both ok.  That’s all I really know along with knowing I have no idea how long that will last. 

Since then, I’ve noticed how quickly my answer to this question changes.  Within any given 24 hours, my reality is vastly different from moment to moment.  Life moves and shifts and morphs constantly, and it’s up to me whether I keep myself stuck in any given place for longer than I need.  Sometimes when things come at us fast and furious, piling up one after the other, it doesn’t feel like a choice.  And maybe it isn’t in those times.  Maybe then all we can do is get through, somehow, to the other side. 

This morning as I write and consider this simple yet complex question of how I am, I’ll say, I’m tired.  I didn’t sleep well because I was too busy beating myself up for a good bit of the last 18 hours.  My stomach feels queasy.  My head aches because my brain has been way to busy mulling over, and over, and over the events I got myself caught up in yesterday.  I’m pissed at myself for ignoring (no, steam-rollering over) my intuition and gut as they screamed at me, “This isn’t right.  It makes no sense.”  I did it anyway. 

The “what” in this case has nothing to do with my son.  What it is isn’t important - let’s just say it’s one of those things that causes me to feel so many things… all bundled up in a big old ball of shame, embarrassment (I definitely should have known better), and self-flagellation.  Mired in the shitty shame spiral. 

I’m working to move through it.  What’s done is done.  I’ve done what I can to clean up the mess and try to prevent any further problems.  Turning toward what I did and taking responsibility was definitely step one.  It’s still bugging me.  I find I need to keep on talking myself through this.  Reminding myself.  That’s over.  You’ve done what you can, and now you just need to wait and see how it plays out.  There’s nothing more to do right now.  You, as much as anyone else, deserves your kindness and forgiveness.  Last night I offered myself a loving kindness blessing for peace, happiness, safety, health, and ease.  Then I inhaled “breathe in sleep” and exhaled “breathe out stress…” I guess it worked, at least for awhile - until I woke up again too early and my mind kicked into its incessant spin. 

This thing I did robbed me of too much time and energy yesterday.  I really don’t want it to continue weighing me down and interfering with things I need to and want to do.  I didn’t even do the dishes last night after being on a 100% roll for the past week.  When things like that start to slip, I know I’m in too deep to some kind of something that I need to get out of.  And I know that I’m the only one who can set me free.   

Why is it so hard to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving with ourselves?  Why do we latch onto these things that we’ve done wrong, tempted to have them forever define us as “a terrible person” or someone who never gets anything right?  Why do I have these struggles? I don’t know if you do or not! 

Today I get to choose.  Do I keep spinning and swimming in the muck, or do I continue to notice the bad feeling when it rises back up and move forward anyway?  I am choosing - to journal as a way to process all of this, to take a bath and try to imagine this ick washing down the drain, to sing some supportive songs, to go for a walk with my husband and talk about other things, to get on Zoom and write with my co-writing friends. I choose time to practice Tai Chi for Recovery with the amazing, Theresa Knorr - it's a great time to accept the things I cannot change and change the things I can!  Also, Tai Chi always helps me move emotions and energy and helps me to get grounded!  These choices are acts of self-kindness and self-compassion.  They let me know that I am going to show up for myself even when I am really not happy with me.  I don’t need to pile on punishment.  It really doesn’t help in any way.   
 

I choose to reassure my sister, who was deeper in the muck than I was, and encourage her to not let it steal any more of her joy either.  We’re human.  We make mistakes.  It was a big one.  But, no one died.  It’s fixable. And, at the same time, as I talk it through with her trying to help clean up more of the mess, I'm shaking.  The shock is still living inside my body.  We've beeen shaken by this scam... and it's hard to trust anyone or anything right now.  It feels like danger is lurking around every corner.  

What I’ve learned from all of this:

 #1 Do NOT override that inner knowing for anyone’s outside voice, no matter how much they plead.  Do not. 

#2 Slow things down and think it through before I act.  Talk it through with someone I trust if I’m not sure. 

#3 Do not get caught up in the seeming urgency of anything.  Unless there’s blood, fire, or someone is turning blue, there are few things that require immediate action - especially if they don’t make sense. 

#4 Do not act in a state of confusion.  Pause.  Walk away.  Breathe (we need that oxygen for intelligent thinking!).  Regroup.  Reground.  Come back and choose from a grounded place.  Will I still make mistakes or get things wrong?  Of course!  But, probably not in things like this. 

#5 When I F up, face it, deal with it, forgive myself (or at least consider forgiving myself), and move on.  Don’t let it continue to burden me unnecessarily for longer than needed. 

#6 Be kind to myself in all of this.  What would I say to someone I love who’s in my shoes right now?  Offer that same grace, gentleness, and compassion to me.  Remember my messy humanness, my predictable imperfection. 

#7 Let myself move through it, get over it.  It’s just one (very problematic and annoying) moment in the grand scheme of this life.  Look at all I’ve gotten through in the past.  I can get through this too.  In many ways, this is nothing! It will be ok.  Somehow it will be ok. 

#8 Remember how quickly things change.  Internally and externally.  This too will pass.  It’s passing even now, if I let it. 

#9 Call in Enchantment… ask her what more she has to offer me right now.  Here’s what she had to say, “Oh, baby girl, you can bring in gentleness, kindness, and care - always.  When you fall into beating yourself up, stop. Remember that.  Don’t let it spiral into 1500 things you’ve done wrong or let it make you a globally terrible person.  Just own the mistake, name the shame, regret, and anger you feel.  Let it move through you.  You don’t have to continue to carry it or let it darken one more moment.  Let it go.  Move on.  I love you. 

So, I ask you… How are YOU?  How do you deal with these moments in your life?  Or am I the only one who knows what I’m talking about?  If so, thanks for indulging me!  If not, I would love to hear how you get yourself through these tough times.  

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Reflections and Intentions

1/7/2023

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Looking back and looking ahead.  It’s that time of year.  Though it’s really just the turning of a page on the calendar, there is a collective energy around the New Year that we might as well get on board with.  For me it’s not about resolutions (they simply don’t work for most people).  It’s not about goals, because despite being a coach, the language of goal-setting has never resonated for me.  I am much more about reflection, vision, intention, mindful, thoughtfulness as well as opening to possibility, allowing what will come to be revealed. 

To look back on 2022, I have to take out my calendar.  I can barely remember what I did yesterday, so to think back to last January is a stretch.  One thing I know for sure is that last January/February I was immersed in a grief so strong it swallowed me whole.  On Christmas Eve 2021, one of my closest friends of all time, Mary Lally, died.  The grief that rushed in was similar to what I felt after losing my mom.  Except this time, I had the time and space to really let myself feel it… to be with it… to see how it moved me and moved through me.  It was intense, and it’s not over.  Grief doesn’t end.  It just changes and surprises us from time to time with its energy.  (read Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace or Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief if you want to see what was brewing in me then)

2022 was a year of Heart Evolution, Heart Revolution.  My heart opened.  My heart shut down.  My heart exploded in many different ways.  I am forever changed.  (my second post about Heart Revolution is here)

What I intended to but didn’t do…
Recently I saw a post from Cheryl Strayed that shook me in a beautiful way. She had been transcribing her journals and came across a list from 10 years ago - a list of 10 things she had intended to do, but hadn’t in the prior year.  What a fascinating reflection!  In the midst of so much celebration and acknowledgment of “this year’s highlights,”  I don’t know that I have ever seen anyone take the time to notice and call out what they didn’t do. 

So, I decided to play with this in my own way, which includes a bit of what I did do instead…  I didn’t do this, but I did do this… or an inquiry into what the not doing shows me about myself.  What might I learn or discover as I look at these things without judgment, just seeing them as truthful observations. 

So, I’d love to share a bit of this with you and invite you into your own reflection and inquiry. 

I didn’t lose the 10 pounds that I sometimes say I need to.  But I did gain 10.  I went up a size or two, and have been grappling with whether this really matters to me or not (and if it does, why?)   What do these numbers represent to me?  Why do I care? Does it matter that I added an X to my L?  Does it change who I am or the value I bring to the world?  Do I care or is that just part of the story I’ve bought into and told myself?  How might I learn to love the body I have at this phase of life, appreciating what it has done for me over all these decades?  I am learning to move with flesh I am not used to having, getting to know the body that is mine in this time of life.  This isn’t an exploration I’m finished with or comfortable with by any means.  I’m still in the thick of it (no pun intended) trying to figure out what’s really true for me.  I wrote a bit about this during my April A to Z Blog challenge (my theme was Question (Almost) Everything - Bodies, Bumps, and Bulges, Oh My!)

I didn’t finish writing my second book, a companion for families in recovery from the effects of a loved one’s substance use.  I wanted to have this done by Spring, before our lives would change in a significant way and I feared I’d lose the time, energy, or maybe even mindset to keep writing. 

I did, however, decide to slow it down with the process so that I can write the best book I possibly can at this time.  This feels really good and right.  This book deserves that level of care.  I have also taken moves to step all in to life as a writer, first and foremost.  It’s scary and exciting and wonderful all at once.  This book inspires me.  My writing supports and fulfills me.  It feels like the main way I want to serve right now. 

I didn’t get to see Brandi Carlile at Red Rocks, even though I had put the dates on my planner as if that would somehow magically solidify that we could get tickets.  We couldn’t.  And, it’s ok.  Maybe it’s better to hold on to the epic memories of our 2021 trip rather than trying to repeat it.  Maybe I’m justifying not being able to get tickets (or at least not being willing to pay the resale price). 

I DID add in a lot more live music and choose to add in more fun with friends as a priority.  We went to see Dar Williams locally, we joined the Avett Brothers in Chautauqua for the rocking-est show I’ve ever seen them perform in a space that seemed to have them billed as folk.  We did get to see Brandi at Woodstock and in Madison Square Garden.  I cherish these special times with Tom and with the friends who join us for our road trips!!  We even got a personalized Christmas video from BJ Barham from American Aquarium, thanks to our friends, Jenny and Bill!  That was fun!  I’m finding epic moments come in many shapes and sizes - not always what we have planned or think we would like, but there they are!   

I did not continue on with Soul Care, a group I’ve been offering in some form or another for the past 8 years.  This was a tough decision because I loved this program and the women who have gathered in it.  In many ways, it got me through the toughest parts of the pandemic as we amped up to weekly calls just to have that extra space of authentic, open-hearted connection.  But it was time for a change.  This move taught me what it means to have an integral ending, to allow space for goodbyes and all the feelings they bring, to allow for sadness and disappointment and do it anyway, because it’s time. 

I did not spend the summer boating on our lake, pausing often to rest on the waves and just hang out and read.  In fact, what we did do was sell our boat right before the 4th of July holiday weekend… nothing I would have expected.  As we often do, we got swept up in a spontaneous decision and let it go.  It fell into the realm of several things this year: “If it’s more hassle than it’s worth, let it go.”  The bi-annual maintenance, finding someone to help us launch and take out every year, finding someone to wrap it for the winter… and just not using it as often as we’d like, often feeling the burden of it looking up at us on a on a nice day, feeling like we “should” go out…  that’s not the energy we are looking to hold onto.  And so, we let it go.  It was a surprise and a relief. 

On our final spin around the lake, I cried, as I felt both the gratitude for having fulfilled this lifelong yearning of mine to own a ski boat and the longing to keep it, “just in case…,”  and I let myself feel the sadness, the gratitude, the joy of that moment itself, and the relief of unburdening one more thing calling for our limited time and energy.    

I didn’t bathe in grief all year long, I didn’t curl up into a ball and disappear, despite any number of reasons I could have.  I did allow the grief to come (did I really have a choice?) and go as it did.  I immersed in it and let it take me over.  I worked with practices and practitioners to help me in moments of intensity.  I wrote about it.  I nurtured myself the best I could and I allowed others to support me.  And I continue to meet these moments as gently as I can, accepting what is the best I can, bringing love and compassion with me. 

Some other reflections to play with:
I surprised myself with
I learned ___ about myself
I noticed
I let go of
I welcomed in
I returned to
Fresh perspectives I’ve gained or considered
I fell in love with
I was supported by
I supported
I discovered (or it discovered me)
How do I want to feel in 2023? 

What do I want to breathe life into this year?  (Ooohhh, thank you, Abby Wambach for that one!  You can hear the We Can Do Hard Things podcast on this theme of reflection here)
Is there a word that might support me, at least for the first quarter?  (I’m considering the possibility of having multiple words this year… not entirely sure yet, but I know they will make themselves known to me in time!)
All of this leads me to step into 2023 with

Your turn…   Pause.  Lovingly, gently, with compassion, look back on this past year.  Feel into the coming year.  What do you notice as you reflect on your year?  What you didn’t and did do?  What you’ve learned and how you’d like to move forward into 2023 a little more intentionally?  

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The Gift of Presence

12/29/2022

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This Christmas I had the opportunity to experience the gift that mere presence brings.  What’s possible when I shut my mouth and just listen.  Listen with an open heart and open mind, setting aside my own ideas and agendas. 

Presence like this opens doors, builds trust and safety in a way that allows others to come forward - to open up and give me an idea of what life is like for them, what is going on inside of their experience. 

When I stop nagging, badgering, interrogating, and lecturing (which, let’s be honest, NO ONE likes!  It is never helps connection or makes anything truly positive happen), love enters in.  Hearts open to one another.  We can relax into being together and be a little more real… 

It comes down to who I want to be and how I want to be.  This is where I have agency and choice. I am not pre-programmed or unable to control my own behavior and words.  Based on my values (what really matters most to me), based on my story of who I say I am, it’s up to me to do more than just pay lip service to what I say I’m all about. 

It’s up to me to actually BE the way I aspire to be.  I can also bring in lots of compassion and grace when I slip up (which I most certainly will!) - this is not about perfection.  It is about generous compassion for all. 

When I step back, silently, and allow myself to observe and see what’s going on, I might recognize the struggle someone is having.  I realize that it’s not their fault or choice.  They don’t choose to be in this struggle.  I can have compassion.  I can offer a calm presence for someone who’s feeling a little jangly to regulate with rather than adding to the angst or presenting something to fight against or feel bad about. 

I can simply offer my truly loving presence.  This allows me to hear how surprised someone is by how well they’re doing. I can hear the self-doubt that lives so close to the surface.  I can hear how little they believe in or trust themselves.  How they’re finding their way, tentatively beginning to form a new story.  Inviting, allowing them to soften to me - to trust that I am a safe place to land.  That I won’t use their admissions against them.

I can look for what’s going right, what there is to celebrate, rather than focus on what is missing or what could be.  I can follow the rhythm and flow of this group I’m with in this time… not impose my idealized story of what “should” be. 

Over the years I have ruined many special events for myself and others by letting my expectations or ideas of how things should be cloud the reality of what and who is here right now. 

I’m the one who still feels the pang of guilt over how ungraciously I responded to my sister’s massively generous gift of a handcrafted framed Holly Hobbie needlework (50 years ago!).  I was too young to appreciate what it meant for her to pour her heart, soul, and time into this beautiful piece just for me.  It wasn’t a toy. I was a brat.  And. I responded with the appropriate bratty pout for the rest of the day. 

I am the one who hit my friend, Steven. when he gave me a beautiful Breyer horse for my birthday.  The gift was more than I could bear.  Pretty sure that was the same year - 8-year-old me had some issues… 

I am the one who often feels let down after the holiday is over - the days and weeks of build-up falling hollow when everyone leaves.  Wanting more.  Wanting different.  Regret at what wasn’t. Disappointment. 

Not this year.  This year I chose differently. 

I reminded myself in my journaling and asked my husband to help me remember to appreciate what’s here.  I stayed present to the miracle we were given in being able to all be together for 2 nights and 3 days, sharing one house, sharing meals, visiting, talking, laughing till bedtime.  Wiggling through the tense moments but not blowing them up into more than they needed to be.  Staying kind even when I had to have an uncomfortable conversation.   Resting gradually in each other’s presence.  Honoring the rhythm and flow of this family.  Noticing when the “what should we DO now?” anxiety temporarily poked at me… allowing things to unfold organically rather than forcing a reading of The Grinch, a making of the gingerbread house (that is still waiting patiently in its box for when the right time), watching an old holiday show that no one but me enjoys.  Let that go.  Open to what they want.  Invite everyone into something new.  Just breathe.  Just be.  Play the kids’ Christmas music rather than my mom’s old playlist.  Be playful, lighthearted, enjoy.  Them.  For who they are.  As they are.  As we are.  In this moment. 

That way of being opened up something in me that still touches my heart.  I can almost cry as I soak in the deep appreciation for this precious time with my husband and grown sons.  There wasn’t anything too profound in our being together except that it was all profound.  To witness the initial discomfort and awkwardness melt away as we settled in to being together. To relax into noticing and allowing each of us to have our own unique ways and needs.  To hug, smile, laugh… to really stay in a place of appreciating what was, what is, what’s here, what’s true, what’s real, what’s good and wonderful.  Holding back judgment or inclination to offer unwelcome suggestions or unkind observations.  Allowing others to find their own way in life in their own time. 

Letting love guide the way, be the true foundation for our time together, for our life.  The generosity of presence is the truest gift we can offer another being. It is the greatest gift we can offer ourselves.  To listen deep within, to remember who we want to become in this next iteration, to show up to what we say we want to create with others, to be sincere in our efforts and digging in to show up in that way.  Not expecting it to be easy, perfect, or even comfortable, but allowing the unfolding. 
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This Christmas I was given the gift of connection with my family, getting to know them in a way I had not before.  Together we created the gift of presence.  My heart remains full.  ❤


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Out of the Darkness & Into the Light...

12/21/2022

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As I revisit and revise this post, originally written for MomPower in 2020 and then re-written for this blog last year, I am feeling into what's alive for me at this moment. I am grateful to re-read this message and take it into my own heart as I sit with myself with tears streaming down my face. I offer it to you again with love.  

​Today marks the winter solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere.  On this darkest day of the year, the pivotal moment between dark and light, it is the perfect time to honor the darkness that has come into our lives.  It is a time to honor those who have been lost and to remember them with love.  It is a time to honor the struggle and the perseverance of those who are on a challenging journey and to honor ourselves and other loved ones who have also found a way through the darkness. 

In honoring the darkness and in grieving the losses we have endured, we bring those moments into the light.  When we bring them into the light, they are no longer hiding in the shadows, lurking in shame, or hidden in silence.  We claim and name our experience.  We see it for what it has been.  We presence it. 

When we do this, we are able to step forward into the light.  Just as the days begin to get longer with a bit more light from tomorrow on, we too can begin to bring more light into our homes and our beings. 

Addiction, cancer, mental illness (to name a few) are painful diseases, as you undoubtedly know.  They affect everyone in their wake and can take down entire families with the weight of suffering. 

However (and this is a big however), the journey into darkness does not have to take us out forever.  It is possible to find hope, joy, peace, love, and to create a brighter tomorrow, even when we have been impacted by a loved one's disease. 

If you are reading this, you are alive, and for that fact alone there is reason to celebrate.  You have been given the opportunity to live one more day.  What will you do with this one precious life you have been given?  How will you set your soul free to express itself?  What is uniquely yours to do?

Is there some way to honor your journey up to this very moment--the good, the bad, and the ugly, the full messiness of it all?  The painful, the joyous, the fearfulness, and the hope?  Whatever it’s looked like in the past, today marks a new day, albeit a short one.  Tomorrow offers the light of fresh possibility, as each day does.  How do you want to step into tomorrow? 

If we are able to find a way to turn our pain (or darkness) into possibility (or light), we can transform these heavy experiences into something that serve and support us and others.  We can show up for life more fully.  We can become who we were born to be. With each loss I experience I also experience a fresh resolve to live this life even more fully. 

Let’s face it, the past 3 years have carried a full load of darkness, collectively, along with anything that you might have experienced personally. 

For many the holidays are emotionally-charged times and may bring in a healthy mix of emotions… sadness, joy, celebration, loneliness. I know I will be feeling both sadness for those who are not with us during this holiday season as well as joy and gratitude for those who are. 

There is room for it all.  When we allow ourselves to feel it all, to allow our hearts to carry this messy mix of what makes us human, we are able to move through it. 

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” ~ Brene Brown
 
So, let this pivotal day be a day that marks the honoring of both the dark and the light.  Let us take a step back and look at the big picture of our lives and recognize that our experiences have not been all good or all bad, but rather a mix of both. 

These diseases can entomb us with their heavy cloak of darkness if we let them, but we can choose to lift up the corner of that cloak and peek outside.  We can lay down the heaviness and step into the light.  We get to choose. 

We may well prefer the moments of lightness, light-heartedness, and light in general, but there is also a gift to receive during the dark and challenging times.  We must be willing to sit with this part of our reality if we are to truly enjoy the light. 

I have found that it is in the dark where I have grown the most.  I wonder if that might be true for you as well.  I offer you this poem for consideration.  

The Places We Grow
It’s in the dark,
in the shadows,
where we stretch and grow.
 
We face ourselves
and see a new or forgotten aspect,
a piece we’d rather ignore or deny.
 
But there it is…
staring us down,
daring us to change,
to find a new way,
or to simply come into acceptance.
 
Sometimes it’s about overcoming
or adjusting.
Finding a way to do this with
love, compassion,
and gentle communion.
 
Honoring the self…
who I am,
where I am,
what I need,
what my baggage is.
 
And stepping into a deeper layer,
excavating and shifting,
allowing new light in,
and new hope out.
 
These are the places we grow –
often watered
and nourished with tears.
 © Barb Klein, 2016, “The Places We Grow,” from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life
 
Where and how can you nourish yourself today?  How might you allow some new light in--to your being, to your life?  How can you allow a little more hope to shine into the world? 
 
Begin by greeting yourself exactly where you are--gently, with tenderness, care, and compassion.  Offer yourself the space and grace to feel into what’s alive within your heart at this moment.  Ask your heart what it needs at this moment to be truly nurtured and nourished.  Then respond accordingly.  You deserve your own loving care.
 
We are on the cusp of a new year and we can only hope that 2023 is bringing with it new possibility, hope, and fresh beginnings.  Today let’s pause.  Let’s look at our lives and our loved ones with reverence. Let’s honor this journey where we have walked, crawled, and stumbled while we look ahead to the light of new creativity.  Let’s let this darkest day of the year—December 21-- be a personal pivotal moment for us to enter an illuminated future.  
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Mind Your Business

11/30/2022

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I’ve heard this said a number of ways from the not very nice “Mind your own business!” to a gentler reminder to “stay in your lane, in your boat, or in your hula hoop.”  I’ve come to take it as sage wisdom, not a harsh rebuke.  A “prescription for peace” as my friend and colleague, Joanne Richards, calls it. 

When we love someone with substance use disorder or other mental health issues, we can find ourselves in their business a lot.  They aren’t doing well.  Things don’t add up.  The stories we’re getting or what we’re observing don’t compute with what we’re being told, so we’re going to get to the bottom of it. But, can we, really?  We’re not in the other person’s head or life, so we won’t truly know what’s happening unless they share it with us.  We can only make up our own stories.  Stories which often lead to more wondering, more worrying, more distress. 

We can do this with friends and other loved ones too - they haven’t called or replied to a text.  What’s that mean?  Are they mad?  Did I do or say something wrong?  Are they ok?  What’s wrong?   People are complex, so we never know what may or may not have upset someone.  We don’t really know what’s going on for them unless we talk to them directly about it.  Our mind masterfully, effortlessly, and unknowingly dreams up disaster scenarios in the blink of an eye.

How do we know when we’re out of our business?

Here are some of the common ways we might find ourselves out of our business and into someone else’s. Read through with gentleness and without self-judgment.  Maybe some familiar to you too. Great!  You’ve just raised your awareness!  Now you get to choose what to do with that! 
  • Finding ourselves wrapped up in fear, struggle, and resentment. 
  • Spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about this other person.  Checking the phone for calls or texts or checking in with them repeatedly.  Monitoring their activity and whereabouts.  Believing you need to know what’s going on with them.  If you don’t hear from them, you worry if they’re all right.  
  • Lying in bed, mind drifting into sleuth mode trying to piece together bits of stories or observations to figure out what’s really going on (at least in a way that makes sense to the mind).  Looking for inconsistencies, trying to make sense of what’s unknown.  When we don’t know the truth of what’s real, we make up all kinds of stories so our mind has something to hold onto. 
  • Seeking answers to the unknown, forgetting that we can never really know the future.  
  • Losing sleep grasping for control in any way we can because things feel so out of control.  
  • Wandering throughout the day aimlessly during unscheduled times.  Unsure what to do, nervous energy carrying us from one thing to the next… doing a little of this and a little of that, but lacking the focus to dive deeply into any one thing for any length of time. 
  • Eating for comfort rather than for hunger or nourishment.  “Stress eating” is a real thing… and I am very, very good at it!  Eating our feelings… it happens!  
  • Connecting our sense of peace and well-being directly to someone else’s.  Unless they’re doing well, we can’t be either. 

How do you know when you’re out of your business and into someone else’s?  What are your clues?

Why does it matter?

This is particularly important for those of us with whom mental health is at play or substance use is in the field because chaos and frenzy can easily become the norm, and it can consume you. 

Finding ourselves out of our business matters because in those moments we are not honoring our peace and well-being.  We are sacrificing them to concerns that are out of our control.  We may be adding on to the suffering by beating ourselves up for doing this because “we know better.”  Knowing and doing are not the same thing, turns out!

Byron Katie talks about “your business, their business, and God’s business.”  Much of what we worry about falls in the latter 2 categories, so when we can rein it in and come back home to this being, to our business, we can relax a bit.  If we accept the reality of what we can control or even influence, we will see that it’s very little of our world.  Maybe then we can give up trying… In a really healthy way. 

When I find myself out of my own business and fretting about someone else I can actually say to myself, “OK, come back here… right here.  This breath, this body, this being” and feel myself relax into the true moment I’m in. 

What can you do differently?

Here are some ideas that have worked for me.  YOU are the expert on you.  See what resonates with you and what you might like to try.  What do you know to do but have lost track of or gotten out of the practice of doing? (It happens to all of us!)

Begin by shifting the focus back from the other person to yourself.  To your self-awareness, personal growth, to your peace, your joy, your desires, the core of who you are. 

Shift your focus from what’s wrong to what’s right or good in your life.  Recognize that this is not an either-or proposition.  We live within the whole of it.  There is always beauty and goodness to be found.

Find simple tasks that have a start and finish to them (or break larger tasks down into small chunks) - that sense of completion can be very satisfying. 

It takes practice to come back to ground, back to center, when you live in never-ending chaos.  To come home to yourself requires self-awareness in order to even know that you’ve left yourself.  It takes a willingness to break the cycle of spin. 

It takes a desire to honor your peace and well-being.  We say we value these things over and over, yet how often do we de-prioritize them in favor of something else, consciously or unconsciously?  How often do we push them away, choosing to swim in fear and despair instead?  How often do we forget that we really do have choices about our own behavior?  Where do we begin? 

Begin with a PAUSE.  You’ve likely heard me say this a million times, because this is the number one tool I know for getting grounded.  Take a breath.  Take a step back.  Observe yourself - what are you doing?  Where is your mind going?  Get into your body and feel your breath moving in and out of you. 

Rather than push away the worrisome thoughts and feelings, allow them to be there (they’re here anyway, and we really can’t stop them from coming).  Meet them gently, with love, with understanding, with compassion and care.  Feelings come whether they make sense or not.  The thoughts you have probably do make sense, especially if past history has shown you what could happen.  When we stop fighting with them or beating ourselves up for having them, they may just dissolve on their own.  Likely they will at least soften.  Put your hand on your heart or give yourself a gentle hug and just tend to your own precious being.

Also, get curious.  Question your thoughts - are you certain that they’re true?  What happens for you when you let go of or stop repeating a distressing story?  When you stop spinning it over and over in your mind or telling it to others?  Notice what you feel in your body, heart, and mind.  What’s different in your energy and presence?

Once you catch yourself solidly in someone else’s business, find the practices that support you in disengaging and realigning with your true self, getting solid within your core. 

How can you give yourself a break?  How might you take some time and space away, for yourself?  Putting the phone on Do Not Disturb, turning it off, or putting it away is one of the greatest things we can do for our own mental health these days.  This little device can pull us out of the present more quickly than anything I know.  It breaks connection with the person right in front of you (even having your silent phone out can do that - if it pings or chimes even more so). For more on that, check out Omega's article, "Put Down Your Device & Pick Up Your Life." 

Also, if and when it makes sense, connect.  Reach out.  Listen to what’s up for the other person.  You can share your concerns if there’s an opportunity to do so in a loving (non-lecturing) way, but it may be more valuable just to get together and listen, really listen. 

Give yourself time for your own nourishment and nurturing. Are you eating in a way that truly feeds you, body, mind, and spirit?  Are you getting the sleep you need?  Drinking enough water?  These are some of the basics, so start there. 

Then, stretch a bit… when was the last time you just let yourself have fun?  Played for no reason at all?  Laughed out loud so hard you thought you’d pee your pants?  Lazed around doing whatever you wanted for more than 5 minutes, without guilt or apology? 

Nourishing our bodies, minds, hearts, and spirits is a worthwhile endeavor.   Unless and until we take care of ourselves, we’re going to keep showing up to life in a way we don’t like - frenzied, frantic, scared, angry, yelling… 

Tune in to who you want to be and how you want to be, especially in this relationship. Do what you can to reconnect with that version of you.  

Send out a prayer or light a candle for a person you love who you’re concerned about.  Send love out through the airwaves - this fills you both up with this beautiful energy. 

Send loving texts of support and don’t wait for or even expect a reply.  Stop asking questions you don’t really want the answers to or won’t believe anyway. 

Breathe and ease up.  Consider that things might be ok (because maybe they really are).  Let go of being the 911 operator, and maybe don’t be available for all the crises when they arrive.  Stop being the one who thinks they have to connect all the dots. 

Continue to learn and practice healthier, more effective, more intentional ways of being.  Allow yourself to be imperfect and awkward as you try out things that might not come naturally.  Discover the payoff for yourself. 

What if?

What if things are working out in a way you can’t see or imagine?  They might be.  Isn’t it as possible as the disaster scenarios the mind so skillfully devises? 

Permission to hope, to dream, and to remember that miracles happen all the time.  You’ve heard the stories.  Why couldn’t they be true for you or your loved one? 

Remember to catch moments and appreciate the beauty that they offer.  Lean into enchantment over fear.  Rest into good enough and stop doing too much.  Gentle yourself through the hard times.  Remember, you are most worthy of your own love.  And know that you are most certainly not alone in the struggles. 

Thoughts? 

How does this land with you? What are the ways you get back to your own business, your own center when life pulls you off?  Please share in the comments.  We learn together.  We grow together.  We find new ways when offered a fresh perspective.  

And, if you would like to join Joanne Richards for her next (free program) Prescription for Peace on Saturday, December 10th, please register here.  I find her offerings invaluable, and will be there!  Maybe I'll see you!  Who couldn't use a little more peace at this time of year?  

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Catching Moments

11/25/2022

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Picture
It struck me recently how easy it is to miss the simple, little moments that make up most of life, waiting for some grand event - either a catastrophe or a wild victory.  Which got me thinking how important it is to slow down, to pause much more regularly, in order to notice. To not miss what’s right here. 

Fear... so adaptable...  
I’ve also noticed how freaking adaptable fear is… it doesn’t go away.  It just morphs from one thing to another.  Once an issue feels pretty stable or secure, fear goes looking for what to worry about next. 

And that’s why it’s important to pause from time to time and get some perspective.  To say to yourself, “Self… would you have worried about this a year ago?”  If the answer is “Hell no! This would have been better than anything I could have ever imagined…” well, then, we need to remind ourselves to notice what’s good and right in this moment.  To appreciate it.  To not miss it. 

Will there always be things to be afraid of and worry about if you have that tendency?  Sure!  And, is it possible to keep the fear of what might be from getting in the way of the beauty of what’s right here?  It is.  With a lot of awareness and ability to take a step back. 

That’s what I’ve been doing a lot lately.  Finding myself getting caught up in a frenetic spin, checking myself with a sweet, “hey now, wait just a minute…”  and reflecting.  Seeking that perspective.  Remembering how things have been much worse.  Remembering that I have no idea what the future holds.

Coming into this moment and appreciating it for what it is. 

Finding Beauty... 
Cheryl Strayed shares her mother’s sage wisdom to “put yourself in beauty’s way.”   What does that mean to you?  To me, it means looking for beauty each and every day.  Beauty in the physical world and also beauty at the heart level - beautiful interactions, small, simple moments - a shared hug, a shared tear, a shared laugh, or a quiet moment alone.  All beautiful in their own way. 

And in Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change, Maggie Smith shares how she and her children regularly call out to one another for “beauty emergencies!”  Come see the sunset before it’s gone.  Catch the eagle in flight!  Take in the beauty of the snow softly falling.  Let everything else wait and come here right now.  This is an emergency!  I love it!!

To me all of these reminders call me back to my quest to live life while I’m here.  To not miss the things that matter - saying yes to invitations and opportunities to be with people I love.  Prioritizing the things and people who matter most to me and to my heart and soul.  Finding gratitude - each and every day, no matter my mood, no matter the circumstances, it’s there waiting for me.  Finding it helps to balance perspective even on dark, sad, scary days. 

Finding One Good Thing...
This month my friend, Christine Callahan Oke proposed that for the month of November we share One Good Thing per day - #onegoodthing - and it’s been great.  Knowing that every day I will find something to share that is it for me that day.  Seeing what others are noticing and appreciating.  I think I may just keep it going even beyond November.  Why not?  It’s these simple practices that help us build our resilience, our appreciation, and our presence in life. 

Life is made of many moments.  Sometimes the simplest are the sweetest.  Let them be enough.  Let go of waiting for the grand event or the grand finale. It really is the steps along the way that create the journey that is our life.  


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Enchantment

11/1/2022

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PictureAutumn Trees
Last time I wrote on September 7th, it was from a place of stillness…that magical place of contemplation and inner reflection.  It was right before I went into the studio to record 111 Invitations audio book!  I am thrilled to let you know that it is now finished and became available on Audible on October 19th (the anniversary of my Mama's passing)!!   It feels really good to bring to completion a project I've dreamt of for about 6 years! Sometimes these things take time. How cool that this post is going up on 11-1!?
 
Sometimes it's a matter of finding the right people or allowing enchantment and magic to do their thing… in this case, I had no idea who could help me, how much something like this would cost, if I even had the rights to do it, etc… then all of a sudden, I connected with just the right person (Jennifer Collins - more about her later) who connected me with another “just right” person - Linda Mazur (also more about her in a bit - the 3 of us, plus Linda's husband, Jack, are cooking up some special goodness in November which we hope you'll join us for! Keep scrolling for all the details!).  
 
Both of them connected me with Scott Fitzgerald of RocVox Recording (who I already sort of knew about because he records another friend's podcast…) and things came together super easily and super quickly! The studio location?  Um, the very same office space where I held my very first Discovering A New Life Direction workshop many moons ago!  I love those times of synchronicity, flow, ease, allowing things to unfold and come together with just the right amount of effort but very little force!  
 
There’s a little touch of enchantment in that!  “Enchantment…” a word that has awakened and enlivened me since Liz Gilbert offered an opportunity to know our enchantment in a virtual retreat.  She shared that enchantment is the part of you that likes things… it’s where you get that warm, yummy feeling inside.  Things like warm cinnamon vanilla pudding or a double rainbow or a baby’s giggle are laced with enchantment.  Enchantment lives in each of us…  
 
In a time of so much disenchantment it’s more important than ever that we find ways to connect with this vibrant energy.  That we ask it to tell us what it likes, what it hates, who it wants to be around and what it hopes we never do again.  Liz invited us each to write a letter to ourselves from our enchantment using the prompt “Dear _______,  I am your enchantment and this is what I want to tell you.”  
 
In 5 minutes, I had a letter that let me know so many truths about what I’m longing for, what I need more of in my life, what I need to let go of.  For those who know me, you know I am captivated by sunsets on a daily basis… doesn’t matter that they happen ever day. They take my breath away. Same with full moons, golden leaves, puppy dogs, and hot fresh-baked cinnamon fried cakes!  My enchantment loves to dance and sit by the fire.  She loves being with people I love and making time for deep connections and playful ones too.  She hates when I overwhelm my schedule with too many things or when I compare myself to others.  
 
As other people in the group shared their letters, we heard common themes and saw that enchantment doesn’t cost millions of dollars or require a lot of time. It only requires that we stop to notice… it often lies in simple things like nature or other people.  It exudes beauty.  It’s readily accessible.  It awakens our spirit and carries hope.  It lives in fun and play.  
 
Since that day in mid-September, I have added a bit of communing with enchantment each day in my morning journaling.  I ask it what it’s got for me today.  I notice my interactions with it are more playful than even my gratitude or when I was asking Love what it would have me know.  With enchantment it’s more of a light-hearted banter.  She reminds me to lighten up and not take things too seriously, while also encouraging me not to miss the most precious moments.  I’ve turned to her on hard, sad days to see how she might accompany me even then.  She reminds me what matters most and to not be too hard on myself.  
 
She often reminds me, “Have fun!  Don’t take it or yourself too seriously! Play with it!  Have fun with it!  Let me dance through it… let inspiration come…”  On particularly hard days she holds me with “Be brave.  Stand up for you.  Don’t back down or hurt yourself to make someone else happy.  Not for one minute.  Don’t do it!  Do not abandon yourself! Let yourself breathe and live and be who you are.  Claim your life.  Claim your joy.  Love yourself.”  Another time she offered, “Thank you for finding me again.  I want to play with you.  Bring me into everything - let me be a guiding light.  It's so much more fun that way!  Let me lighten up the dark and heavy times and add sparkle and juice to the fun ones!”  She’s pretty wise, very loving, and has a great sense of humor!  
 
My invitation to you: 
Give it a try!  I invite you to take 5 minutes and write yourself a letter from your enchantment.  Start with Dear____ and see what enchantment would call you (it might be a playful nickname!), I am your enchantment and I want to tell you…   See what it likes, what it hates, who it wants to be around and with whom it doesn’t feel it can come out at all.  
 
Let this energy enliven your days and ways.  I could feel it coursing through my veins for about a month til I lost touch with it a little in the daily grind.  I’m re-connecting now and am very grateful to do so! I invite you to let enchantment light up your days.  
 
Meditation
Our meditation this week, Autumnal Walk Guided Meditation, is led by guest meditator, Laura Gavigan, Founder of Mindful Matters in Rochester, NY.  It is the perfect accompaniment for theme.  Laura guides us on a sensory-rich autumn walk.  I hope you enjoy it and that it brings you the peace and calm it brought to me. 
 
My SoundCloud library has a wide variety of meditations - check it out and see which ones call to you.  

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    About me...

    I am a writer, coach, and teacher, and I love capturing life's many moments through writing, whether that be journalling, blogging, poetry, or essay.  I have always found the written word as a natural way for me to express what lies within.  

    This is the space where we get real.  I will write about my life experiences and things that I find my clients encounter in their daily lives.   

    What's real for you? What would you like me to write about?  Feel free to share with me topics you would like to see discussed and please join in the dialogue through the comment section. Your engagement makes the blog a much richer place to hang out!

    Thank you for joining me on this journey!!    

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Barb Klein
Inspired Possibility
585-705-8740
barb@inspiredpossibility.com