Inspired Possibility Blog

In the Stillness

9/7/2022

Waking one morning recently, a beautiful stillness enveloped me. The space embodied something between fully asleep and fully awake. No one moved. No thoughts stirred. No voices or traffic interrupted this bliss. A soft rain fell, amplifying the silence.

Such a beautiful way to enter the day – blissful, almost mystical. Beyond words. Before moving with intention to alleviate the ache in my hip, allowing myself to savor the relative silence. The silence within comforting and soothing my whole being. Feeling open…expansive… receptive. Ready to receive the unfolding of the day. Appreciative of this time before the happenings of the day, the week rush in on me.

Stillness – a solitary momentary sanctuary for the whole being – space for the soul to rest and abide. In this place there is nothing to figure out. Nothing to do. Only to BE. Deep peace, deep contentment wash over me as I feel alive, but gentle. Not activated.

Strong satisfaction here – I can take in and appreciate the beauty of our home, the sweetness of the space we have created. The serenity of this space. I breathe it in. I love this space. It reflects me. It holds and supports us well. I am content here. My soul is happy here. My creativity thrives here.

Today I simply receive this gift. And know that it is enough.

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

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Love IS Tough!

8/1/2022

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Whether it’s love for a child, partner, family member, friend, or ourselves. Staying IN relationship is almost always harder than walking away. Being willing to have the tough conversations, to admit our hurt or misunderstanding, to ask “what happened? What did you experience?” and share what’s going on for us, however imperfectly the words might fall out of your mouth.

Personally, I almost always bumble my words in real time. They don’t come out nearly as coherently or smoothly as they sounded in my head when I am face to face with this person with whom I’m having some kind of struggle. I didn’t grow up learning how to express my anger or hurt or how to ask for what I need.

I grew up hiding from conflict, avoiding it like the plague. Love and anger did not compute – in my mind they negated one another. I couldn’t be angry with someone I loved. If they were angry with me, that must mean our relationship is over. Anger has always been a little scary for me – mine as well as others. The silent treatment riles me up - I sometimes provoke just to get some kind of interaction going, even if it isn’t pretty.

Love, my friends, is tough. It’s so much easier (in some ways) to ice someone out, cut them off, be “done” with them. Walk away and stop trying to mend what’s been damaged or heal the hurt.
It takes effort to be willing to muddle through a conversation when both of you are hurting and/or upset. As we learn to take good care of ourselves it can be hard to figure out how to do that AND stay in relationship, honoring that we both have needs and at times those needs might be in conflict.
It takes learning new ways to wait and new ways to communicate in order to reconnect after there’s been a mishap. It’s painful. It’s often ugly, and may involve some tissues, some big sighs, some exasperated gestures or voices. It’s tricky to stay out of defensive posture, hear the other person, while also sharing our thoughts and feelings.

Self-compassion is also critical, as I tend to beat myself up, imagining what a terrible person I must be if this person I love is so upset. I hate hurting people and would far rather blame myself than someone I love. Self-love can be tough.

If we are wise, we allow time and space for each person to think things through, to look at our own stuff, to feel what’s bubbling within us, before we try to come together. However, in the silence, alone with our thoughts, we conjure up stories that may be far worse than what’s really going on. Someone avoids us or doesn’t take our calls, and we give it all sorts of meanings. How quickly we go from sadness and hurt to fear to “F@#& you!” depends on our own personal boiling point or how often we’ve been abandoned before.

I do not believe in “tough love” as too often prescribed for families and friends of loved ones who struggle with mental health issues like substance use, eating disorders, or other problematic behaviors. No, I don’t. These people are already hurting and misunderstood enough. Trust me, they pile onto their own suffering and adding to it is not going to help them heal or change. Just, no.

But I do know love is tough. Hanging in there in a way that works for you as well as the other person is tough. We fall in love with our babies and our partners so easily, we may not grasp the reality of the work and care required to stay in relationship with these people as we all grow and change.

I am discovering the gift in the relationships that require extensive work. Each time we make it through another round or problem, we deepen our connection. We add to the evidence that we will last. We learn to trust the relationship, and we remember (at least for a minute) not to take it or this person for granted.

Love is tough. It requires a willingness to be clumsy, a commitment to be honest, an ability to show up and speak up, even when it’s uncomfortable. The ability to take a risk because the relationship matters. It requires that we show up fully and authentically – not pretending that all is ok until we somehow get beyond whatever happened. True friendships and deep relationships require honesty and for each of us to be true to ourselves. I am not interested in superficial connections. I want to dive deep with my people. Diving deep is going to get messy at times.

It's tough. And in the end, it is so worth it. As we grow together, we learn more about one another. If I can begin to look at you and really know and accept that your behaviors make sense (based on your history, your personality, your style, your way of thinking and being), I can more easily accept you and make room for our differences. I can appreciate that we are not the same, and that’s ok. Hopefully you will learn a bit about my wounds, my triggers, my reactions, and my messed-up thinking as we talk things out. We will both realize that everyone acts like an ass at times… including me and including you.

I don’t have to take it all on. Relationships are made up of people. Whatever is going on here, we’ve created it together. We may not have meant to – things are often not personal or intentional, but here we are.

How do we find our way back to the surface to begin again? Together. One moment and one breath at a time. Through reaching out and asking or inviting a conversation. Through allowing space and time for that green light moment to reveal itself. Through finding “our way,” which may not be entirely yours or entirely mine. Getting beyond a need to blame or punish – ourself or the other. Remembering our heart connection and coming with deep compassion and an open heart so that we can reconnect.

Love is tough. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows. It requires deep vulnerability, the courage to say “I am sorry. I was wrong. I wish that hadn’t happened. I don’t ever want to hurt you" (but I likely will if you stick around long enough, because, hey… I’m human and so are you).

Love is not always laughter and joy, even when we think it should be. Life is always happening, and in the end, love is tough...so it endures. Love is the way.

**PLEASE NOTE: Not all relationships are healthy or worth fighting for - if you are being abused in any way, please get the help and support you need to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe.**

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Feeling Blah...

7/13/2022

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I don’t know about you, but I seem to cycle through phases of feeling energized, very on purpose, in flow, and then dropping into “What is the point of it all? Why do we do what we do? What is my purpose? Do I even have a purpose, or is this all for nothing? Who am I?”

It’s pretty unsettling and disorienting in the floundering times that hold such big, heavy questions. I think it’s pretty natural. My counselor says it’s ok, so that reassures me. There will be times of feeling blah, needing to turn inward, to shut out the world, to give more to myself than to others. It’s called nourishment, nurturing, true self care, and it’s vital to our sustainability as humans.

The world is a lot right now. Whatever might be going on personally, we each need to add multipliers to it that are weighing on us, consciously or not. The pandemic goes on, the debate about the pandemic goes on, injustice, violence, discrimination, threats to life and liberty are everywhere. Maybe the world is always a lot. I’m feeling the accumulation of it pretty heavily right now, along with the collective weight of years of personal stuff.

So, there’s been a bit of blah lately. Not a lot of energy or motivation. A strong desire to pull in, to slow down, to quiet down, to say “no” and to not be too available to others. The clarity is strong, and the good news is I’m listening despite the inner struggle that wonders if that’s really ok or if I’m at risk of becoming a hermit.

I teeter between telling myself it’s ok and wondering if that’s really true. Mostly, I’m leaning into only doing what I want, what feels doable and reasonable given my current bandwidth, letting go of, or rescheduling non-essentials, releasing things that feel like more hassle than they’re worth. As I write this it feels like a pretty healthy approach. It just seems that I need this more and more these days, years, months. Didn’t I just give myself a little sabbatical last year? I did. And this year.

And now I need one again in the form I am able to create it – I will gladly see my clients, I will co-facilitate my group, I will continue to write… and I will put off things that do not call to me or do not need to happen. I will cancel memberships to groups I don’t participate in – I feel the low-level pressure when I’m not being honest with myself.

I showed up for yoga class on Sunday and thankfully the theme was tuning into and trusting our inner guidance. Love when that happens! So, as I practiced, I took a few notes.

Here’s what I took away – what I was reminded of:

We all have inner wisdom, inner guidance, inner authority.
When we are depleted, overwhelmed, stressed, or in crisis or survival mode, we lose touch with it.
To connect with it we need to be willing to feel. This may be why we over-busy ourselves or find other ways to numb or distract ourselves. It can be uncomfortable to feel what our inner wisdom is telling us.
Escaping, distracting, and numbing take us away from our natural connection with our inner knowing. Work, alcohol, substances, food, activities, social media, our devices, and over-giving to others serve this purpose. This purpose of protecting us from the discomfort.
Integrity comes from living in alignment with our inner knowing and guidance.
Slowing down, coming into breath and body helps. Quieting down. Connecting to something larger than ourselves through prayer, meditation, or getting out in nature helps. Opening up space, breathing room allows us to hear and see more clearly.
There are going to be these moments when we feel unsure. When we feel like we are flailing, lost, and confused. Times when we release the last version of ourselves and our lives to step into what’s next. In between steps there is often a pause – a time to cocoon in order to transform. It’s not always pretty or comfortable. It’s worth going there anyway.
To fully experience the richness of this human life, we need to be willing to feel it all and to be with ourselves in these moments of not knowing, of discomfort, of questioning. When we can be with ourselves in these times, come home to our heart and soul for guidance, we allow ourselves to grow and become. It isn’t flashy or pretty until it is. Think caterpillar to goo to beautiful butterfly. We too are like this. We just need to give ourselves permission to go into the darkness, to huddle up, to rest, to integrate, to release any need to perform or prove as we become.

The vastness of the ocean, the immensity of a redwood, the expansiveness of a canyon can take us away and beyond our own smallness to help us connect with the sense that something larger is at play. In these spaces we can feel both our own insignificance and our interconnection to all things on earth. We can find our belonging within the Universe and believe somehow that even when we can’t see it, there is a reason we are here. We do matter. We can remember that we are not alone. We matter. We are needed. Our voice, our ideas, our creations… unlike any other.

Whenever you find yourself doubting that, I invite and encourage you to listen to Brandi Carlile and Alicia Keys sing “A Beautiful Noise.” Something in this song wakes me, shakes me, and reminds me to hold on even when I’m not sure where I’m going. It pulls me back to trust that the way will become clear (or at least clearer). It reminds me that I have a voice. I have unique stories to tell, perspectives to share, lessons to teach, invitations to offer, and gifts to give. So do you. Each one of us does.

How are you doing these days? Where is your inner guidance leading you? Talking with a wise woman the other day she aptly noted, “I think people are fried.” I think she’s right. If you’re feeling fried right now, how do you recharge? How do you reconnect with your inner wisdom and guidance? What works for you? Please share with us so that we can add to our own ideas. In the moments of darkness, it can be hard to see a path forward. We forget this current state will, at some point, come to an end. It will.

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The Way Through...

5/31/2022

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The Way Through…
Is with presence. With breath. With showing up. Steadily, consistently, slowly… one moment at a time. One breath at a time.

As long as your heart is beating. As long as you breathe. There is hope. You are here. You can be part of a better tomorrow. In whatever way you are called.

So much pain surrounds us, bombards us, ceaselessly, endlessly, an onslaught of horror and devastating destruction beating our tender hearts. We may even feel numb to it at times – our systems simply can’t take in any more. This is a brilliant, inherent form of self-protection. We are not meant to live in stress 24/7, and yet that is what our world offers us.

Each of us has particular causes that tug at our hearts, keep us awake at night. Many have so many causes pulling at us that we feel stuck, spinning, uncertain of what to do or where to even try to do something that matters.

We may feel guilty that we aren’t doing enough. That we’re not on the front lines, protesting, marching, directly supporting survivors. We look at other people and feel inadequate. We feel the weight of the need and the impossibility of holding it up ourselves. The demand is intense, and perhaps, at times, in our sense of not-enoughness, we collapse. We surrender in defeat and don’t even do the one thing that we could do.

Sometimes we need beautiful, vital self-compassion or tender care for our hurting, depleted souls. Understandably, we need a break. Sometimes we stay silent because our voice feels too small, our words ineloquent, our knowledge lacking. Sometimes we pretend we’re ok and we soldier on, because we think that’s what we’re supposed to do.

Often, we don’t ask for help. We forget there are others feeling exactly as we do, and that together we are stronger. Together we are a force that can move mountains. We are impatient and want results right away, so we forget to notice the tiny steps of hope and progress.

We may not even know what to do. So, begin with presence. Allow yourself to get quiet and still so you can hear the inner guidance. Ask a question, “What would you have me know?” whether that’s to Love. God, the Universe, or your own heart or soul. Ask, “What is mine to do?” Is there an action you feel called toward? Whether it feels enough or not, what is part of your mission in this life? What can you offer?

If you are depleted, then first rest. Fill yourself up. You cannot give when you are not abundantly filled. Do this with complete permission and lack of guilt. We need you restored. This rest will benefit everyone. There are many who share your concerns. We can take turns showing up.
The one thing I am certain of is that it is our job to make it through. To find our way to what’s next. I don’t know if there is “another side” to the pain you’re feeling right now, but I do know there’s another day and a natural, messy, complex evolution. I know for certain that things in this moment will change. For better or for worse? I don’t know.

We transform meaningless pain into meaningful pain when we offer our heart’s gifts to the world. Whether the heart touches one other person who needs your words or gentle caress or you touch millions with your words and actions, it does not matter. What matters is that you find your way. Your expression. Your next teeny tiny or gigantic step.

Along the way allow yourself to feel everything that you feel. Sometimes all at once. Our hearts can hold it all. Our souls know how to be with extreme opposites. You don’t need to deny moments of joy in favor of heartache – invite them both in. You don’t need to push down the outrage that is screaming to be unleashed.

You are well-resourced to find ways to feel, to release, to express as part of the healing and growing journey we are each on. When you feel not well-resourced, reach out. Get help. Invite people into your life who can help you find your next breath or your next step.

Let go of expectation. Stop comparing yourself to what others are doing. You have your own way. Your own way of dealing. Your own way of helping. Your own way of healing. And your own way of difference-making.

Some are on the front line, marching, protesting, shouting. Some will run for office. Some will write letters and send money. Some will offer practices that nourish and nurture others. Some will write poems or posts that speak to the hearts of someone else. Some will offer food, shelter, blankets, and clothes filled with love. Others will silently send their loving kindness meditation and their prayers out into the world. Every bit of it matters. Stop comparing and judging. We need it all.

What’s your way through? Where will you begin in this moment? What is it that your heart, soul, mind, and body need right now? How filled up are you? Do you need to step away to be recharged? (We offer our phone that luxury – let’s offer it to ourselves!). Do you need to reach out and connect with someone to help or be helped? In different moments each of these things is a valid response. Each one will feel right at times.

Whatever you do, begin with breath. Begin with love. Come into your doing from the heart, holding an intention of highest and best. Begin with care and compassion for yourself so these are the energies you exude out into the world. If you are not filled with these qualities, you will find yourself burned out, resentful, bitter, and that is what will bleed into even your best-intentioned offerings.

Love, what would you have me know this day? That is the question that’s alive in my heart. This is the place from which I long to be led. And so, I ask.

In response I hear, “My dear, this is a painful time. Your heart is breaking – again. It breaks over and over with every death and every senseless act of violence. It breaks when you hear the despair. Your soul feels the pain of loss, for all the families. Your heart is tender. Care for it and then offer love. Send it out in waves – through your writing and through your prayers. You will know when there is another action to take. For now, let this be enough. I am with you. I love you.”

Here's a meditation "The Way Through" to support you.

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No Pressure. Presence.

5/18/2022

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Right here, right now. This is the only moment I am guaranteed. So, how do I want to live it? Who do I want to be? How do I want to show up? What impact do I want to have on those around me and on some small piece of the world?

(It’s becoming clear why my theme for April’s A to Z Blog Challenge was Question (Almost) Everything! I do love questions and what they open up within us!)

Last week I wrote about Life, Death, and Rebirth as related to what I see happening in the world, particularly in this season of Spring. I wasn’t necessarily thinking about what happens within each one of us.

But, if we are alive, and we are to die (and we aren’t really certain about rebirth, though I have my ideas), how to make this moment, this day count is a powerful, compelling question to sit with. No pressure… simply presence. Awareness. Choice.

Every single one of us knows we will die – that this life will end. And, for whatever reason, we sometimes forget to live with that truth as a guiding light. We act as if we have forever – endless, limitless time.

Your Last Day

What would you do
if you learned you had
one day to live?
No second chance…
this was it.

What changes would you make?
Who would you connect with?
How would you spend your time?
What would you let go of?

Why do we act as if
we have an endless reservoir of time,
so we’ll get to it “some day?”

The truth is, none of us know
when we will leave this earth.
So, why do we wait?
Why are we so out of touch
or careless with our ways
and our days?

We all know we have
limited time here.
Why do we pretend otherwise?
Why wait to forgive,
and love,
and be our full, beautiful selves?

This is so basic
so simple,
so profound,
and so overlooked.

Not wanting to
think about death,
we fail to live
as if life really mattered.

Let’s wake up and begin today
to cherish the people,
the moments,
the perfect expressions of self.
And live as if today,
this moment,
was all we had.

©Barb Klein, 2016 from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life

We put things off or we wait for the big dream to come true before we can be happy. We wait til everything is “just right” before we get married, have a baby, move, or retire. We hesitate, feeling not ready until we take one more class, do one more edit, get one more certification. We fail to hit "send" on the manuscript. Sometimes we wait too long. I’ve seen people retire with grand dreams and die very soon after, before they have had a chance to do any of the things they put off.

So, how do we live while we’re here? One thing I learned from my beautiful vibrant friend, Mary Lally, is to “live your f’in life!” Thankfully, she had a doctor who gave her this advice, even when she was living with the uncertainty of advanced stage ovarian cancer in the time of Covid. She knew that this moment is the one we are guaranteed – take it. Show up for it. This is my intention, no matter what the future holds.

To live life doesn’t mean you have to do big or grand things. “Small” things count so much and may constitute the majority of our days.

How do I want to live this day? With love. With joy. With hope. Inviting in new beginnings and fresh possibilities. Open. Grateful. Present. One moment at a time. Letting "good enough" be good enough. No pressure. Just presence. Love. Love for myself, for the people I love, and for life itself, however long it may be.

How about you? How do you want to live this day? Please share. Please live. You matter.

Here’s a little musical invitation from the amazing Pink: The Last Song of Your Life.
And a meditation, if you like, with a reading of "A Mystery" from 111 Invitations - Presence.

Please consider this your invitation to live. Fully. Whatever that looks like and means to you.

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"You'll Be Fine..." "You Don't Know That!"

4/29/2022

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Seven years ago, I was scheduled for a needle biopsy. I was scared, and we did not know what the results would show. I didn't care that this was a "routine procedure." I was grateful that not too many people hit me with “You’ll be fine,” because that would have really pissed me off! I was grateful there were people who listened and gave me space to be honest about my fear. It would have felt like a lie in some ways for anyone to say “you’ll be fine.” It would have felt dismissive. It’s a form of toxic positivity. A reflection of their discomfort with my discomfort.

Here's a bit from a post I wrote at the time, “I Know a Woman:” (Hint: I was this woman)
“Right now this woman is having a mini-wakeup call – a small awakening to what could be a new reality for her body. She is so very grateful for the doctor and the people in her life who take time to listen, but don’t venture to offer the false reassurance, “You’ll be fine.” Because we don’t know.  We don’t know what they’ll find. So, please, she asks, let her be in the space of uncertainty, the space of unknowing.

Right now she has a lot of questions.  Does she put her life on hold? Hold her breath till she knows? How does she lovingly support herself through this time? Who can she lean on for support? Who are the people who are really able to be there for her, rather than needing her to comfort and reassure them that she will be “fine;” that it’s “nothing?”

I trust she will be fine one way or the other simply because of her peace, her trust, and her faith that she is living her life as it comes. She will be “fine” because she will face what comes to her with courage, with love, and with the same belief in possibility that she usually has.  And, at times “fine” might include tears, anger, and fear.

…This woman enters these next few weeks of uncertainty wanting to be very real about it, and with as much grace, dignity, and ease as she can muster. She will welcome all of the many feelings and thoughts that may dance through her days.”

How often do we find ourselves not knowing what to say when someone is scared, angry, grieving, or lost? Blurting out things like “You’ll be fine. You’ll get through this. You’ve got this!” Maybe we say these things because we’re afraid too. Or we want to smother the person in comfort, to take away their fear or pain as quickly as possible. Or we want to cheerlead with a strong vote of confidence.

We mean well. We care. We are not bad or insensitive people, and we probably haven’t been taught how to be with uncomfortable emotions. We can do better. Because these messages can leave people feeling even more alone, misunderstood. Sometimes it’s better to do as my friend, Lori, says and take out the duct tape and zip it… just listen. Say nothing. Sometimes there are no words.

When someone you love is struggling or suffering, what would it be like to simply sit with them, allow them to feel what they’re feeling, let it be ok to admit that what’s coming is unknown and scary, and be uncomfortable together?

How do you want people to show up for you in these moments of uncertainty?

Brené Brown has a fantastic short video on Empathy. “Empathy fuels connection. Empathy is feeling with people,” she says. And she highlights what a gift it is when we don’t need to try to make things better.   I highly recommend you take a few minutes right now to watch it and then think about bringing this into your way of being. There are endless opportunities calling for empathy.

This is what the #AtoZChallenge has me wondering about today. What things have people said to you that you wish they hadn’t? What’s been helpful instead? What words or action fuel connection? Which ones leave you feeling more alone?

Want to read another blog about this? I think Kevin Thompson does a nice job in “You Don’t Know that I’ll Be Fine.”

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Let Me Not Miss This Day...

3/16/2022

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I'm writing this on Tuesday, March 8th and this is what the beach was like on this beautiful morning… sunny, warm, blue sky with a dappling of puffy clouds, children squealing with delight as they race into the waves, dogs bounding happily into the whitecaps chasing balls, people biking, walking, sitting or lying on their towels… there's a sense of ease and delight in this space. Yesterday was supposed to be our last nice day before we head back home - the rains were supposed to begin today, but they didn't! Somehow we were granted one more bonus day of natural gorgeousness and blissfully I had absolutely nothing on my schedule til this evening!

So as I reflected on my intention for the day, what came to me was “Let me not miss this day.” Too many times I've missed a day - swept up in fear, worry, regret or anticipation. Anything that carries me into the future, into the past, or into another part of the world takes me away from fully being right here, right now. And so, in an effort to slow the ticking of time, I intend to not miss this day.

Tears came as I felt the sadness of leaving which is coming too soon. Even though it's been a long time already and even though there are good reasons to want to get back home, I am already mourning the transition that is coming. I'm already packing in my mind, beginning the drive, anticipating the travel… but that's not here.

Again, I pause and catch myself. I don't want to miss this day, so I'll remember that I am still here right now. We don't leave for another 5 days. I have time. It just doesn't feel like it. But, I do. There is time to slow down. To breathe in the salt air. To soak in the sun. To love the feeling of soft sand on my bare feet. To smile at the simple joy all around me on the beach. To enjoy one more dinner with my love (in fact, the restaurant that I had tried to call several times to make a reservation just called me back because they had missed my calls! What!? Who does that?? We have a lovely waterfront dinner planned for this evening! That was bonus!!)

I am savoring the sweetness of this day, even though I am also doing laundry and dishes. Those tasks don't take away from the time at the pool or the refreshing breeze off the ocean. As I choose to sit and meditate and write, I am taking in the golf course out my window, the tropical-themed bedspread I am sitting upon. I am drinking in this space as if I could carry it home with me somehow. Longing for my skin to be able to absorb enough warmth to hold me until Spring finally arrives up North, even though I know that's not possible.

Returning to here. Now. This moment. This breath. Don't let me miss this day thinking ahead to North. Right now I am still here in the South. How easy it is to drift away before I've even had a chance to catch myself.

Wishing you a day that you too can savor and be present with. Give yourself to it, and allow it to fill you. What gifts does it offer? What sweetness? Please, don't miss this day.

This week's meditation is Let Me Not Miss This Day, and it includes a reading of “This Pure, Precious Moment” from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life. May it support you in coming into presence for a few minutes this day.

Seeking your input! Blogging A-to-Z Challenge: Looking ahead to April, I think I am going to take on the Blogging A to Z Challenge (which I'm still figuring out)! What that means is that every day except Sundays, I will post a theme-related blog based on the letter of the day. Feels like a fun way to stretch my writing!

The theme I'm considering is inspired by Kate Bowler’s Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved. I thought it might be fun to live into some questions – to look at our conditioning, the stories and beliefs we’ve bought into and why we believe these things. Who taught us to believe this, where and when did we pick up this idea, and what might we choose instead?

So, what’s the theme? Conditioning? Discernment? Breaking down beliefs? I’m not sure, but I think this could be a good one for me given the way I tend to think in questions more than answers! What do you think? What questions do you have that I might explore? What conditioning are you curious about? What belief, cultural narrative, or platitude drives you crazy? Send me a note and let me know, please! I'll need some help coming up with something for every letter!

The blogs will be posted on here on this blog and will only be emailed to people who choose to receive them (you can email me to let me know if you'd like to be added to this list).

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What Does it Mean to "Fill Your Own Cup?"

2/15/2022

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We hear it all the time… “You can’t pour from an empty cup!” And, no one disagrees. But, the problem with these simple pithy phrases is that we all know them, recite them and hear them with a “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know…” attitude, brushing the words off as quickly as they land on our ears. We don’t really take them to heart, and if we do, we think they’re meant for other people. In fact, we probably offer this sage advice without stopping to take a look at what it might mean to us in our world!

This might be especially important if you:
- live in service to others
- tend to over-give your time, energy, resources, and attention away to the point that you are feeling drained and depleted. You frequently give to and do more for others than you do for yourself.
- consider yourself to be codependent
- are grieving. Grief takes time and an enormous amount of energy and naturally saps you of your usual resources.
- live in a situation that brings a lot of chaos and unpredictability (or you’ve had a significant amount of this throughout your years).
- don’t allow others to support you, or even let them know what you need. Maybe asking for help feels too vulnerable or you aren’t even sure what you do need.
- are one of the many, many workers who don’t stop for a lunch break, who don’t really check out from work, even during “off work” hours or on vacation.
- are someone who feels guilty just considering taking time for yourself.
- are immersing yourself in good and important causes (think opioid epidemic, climate crisis, social injustice, anti-racism, to name a few of many).
- find yourself continually worrying and fretting about things that are out of your control or beyond your influence and you find the feeling of powerlessness only adds to your anxiety.
- have been a human on this earth for the past couple of years… yeah, you. This is for you!

Filling ourselves up, regularly and repeatedly, not just a few times a year with a retreat or vacation is critical. With the steady onslaught of anxiety-producing news and information coming at us, we need a consistent way to bolster ourselves up and resource ourselves. Living in a pandemic has exacerbated this need!

Living in a way that is sustainable, realistic, and enjoyable is worth aiming for. Otherwise, we become like a sieve that is leaking energy everywhere.

What will fill you up?
Let’s explore this a bit. Many people, including me, don’t have a lot of ideas. Do you know what is fun, relaxing, nourishing, restorative, or comforting for you?

If not, you might consider this list of Pleasant Activities (disregarding all that clinical stuff at the top – this is just for you!) and see which ones resonate with you. There are more than 130 ideas here, so if you need a kickstart to explore some fresh ideas, give it a go! We begin to be able to make changes when we get to know ourselves better!

When you engage in an activity or hang out with a certain person, does it leave you feeling energized or exhausted?

When you read or listen to something, what effect does that have on you? We have to digest everything we take in, so be sure you’re not adding to your own anxiety or exhaustion without even intending to.

There are 2 aspects to filling up:

Stop the leaking/fill the holes where you’re being drained – getting to know the places where you’re giving away more of yourself than you have to give and/or where you’re taking in stuff that sucks the life out of you (Less is More )
Adding something in to fill up again – we have a vital life force energy within us, this magical elixir of life – it can be replenished so finding practices, people, activities that give us a boost will help with this aspect. (Sometimes More is More)

Stopping the leaking and filling the holes – releasing and letting go:

What can you let go of? Here are a few ideas to get you started:

quiet the outer noise (other people’s opinions, ideas, and thoughts of who you should be and what you should do. Other people’s drama!)
stop ruminating on things that are not yours to fix or figure out. Things that are out of your control
stop feeding worry – if you’re a world class worrier like I am, worry will find you. You can’t control that. What you can control is how long you spend with it and how much you do to stir it up and amplify it.
let go of abandoning yourself… how often do you let your own needs, priorities, boundaries slip away in favor of what someone else needs or wants from you even if you had calendared yourself in? What might it look like to begin to make yourself a priority? Or to just be willing to consider making yourself a priority?

Adding in – finding those things you want more of to fill you with vital energy – asking, receiving, creating:

What might you like to bring in to help you fill up? Here are a few ideas to get you started:

throw a light novel into the mix if you tend to read heavy stuff or lots of personal growth books (not that I know anything about that!)
the arts! Poetry, music, dance, song, paint, write, or create and express just for the pure joy of creating and expressing!
nature! fresh air, sunshine, time with the pure simplicity of nature’s sounds and sights – drink in that beauty
pauses – allow time and space for healing, for rest, for gentle evolution
breath… more breath! And movement. Movement that is pleasurable or enjoyable to you!

I offer this reflection and inquiry with zero judgement and no shame. I am a work in progress in many of these areas myself (I am always writing about what I am learning!). We are all works in progress.

So, as you get curious, be gentle, come with tenderness, compassion, and understanding.

How might you nourish yourself, body, mind, heart, and soul? In this week of love, how might you weave in some self-love?

All of this boils down to deep, deep true self-care.

Self-care is the foundation upon which a life is built.
Without it, we will crumble from the inside out!

Your Invitation:
Take some time to reflect on any changes you might want to make in your life in order to fill your own cup. Pause and look at the clouds as you consider what it means to you to fill your cup and why it might be worth devoting some time to. Share your ideas and thoughts here! There is power in giving voice to your intention and being witnessed. And, you just might inspire someone else!!

For me… after writing draft one of this and before going on to editing or recording the accompanying meditation, I’m going to get outside, take a walk (because I’ve been sitting for too long), sit in the sun and listen to the birds and ocean waves while I watch the dogs play! I hope you find something equally relaxing!! (thought I'd share with you what I found!)

I invite you to practice Filling Your Cup with this meditation if you'd like!

2 Comments

In This Moment...

1/30/2022

2 Comments

Photo Credit: Renee Veniskey, Immagine Photography

I'm grateful to have reconnected with one of my most favorite self-care practices this week - the practice of being with myself “in this moment…” When (and “when” is the key!) I can remember this and take the time to sit with this awareness, I can bring myself some calm, some peace, some grounding into this body, this breath. I can quiet my very busy and tricky mind. I can soothe the worry, which, no matter how ineffective it is, I often can't stop. I can remind myself of who's here with me, where I am, and that I don't want to miss this moment for fear of the future or by swimming in the past too much.

I have found that in the spaciousness of that moment when I think I'm ready to fall asleep, my mind isn't always on board. It often starts creating a plan, fixating on an upcoming conversation, writing a letter, or imagining all the ways things could go wrong 6 months down the road. It doesn't have nearly enough information, so it gets busy anticipating worse case scenarios. My mind knows me well, so it knows my blind spots and ambushes me with them! However, it forgets my strengths and skills - it forgets all the work I've done and the practices I've established to help me stay present, healthy, and mentally sound. It forgets that I am not the same person I was in the past, and that I'm stepping into what's next with more resources and supports. When my mind forgets and sweeps me away, I too easily get caught up in it.

The tricky thing is when we're not at the top of our game due to stress, overwhelm, or grief, it can be hard to remember that we have ways to bring ourselves back to ground. It is so easy to forget what we know and so hard to tap into our practices!

The other night I found myself in this place where my mind was kicking into its spin cycle. I started with my breath, saying to myself “Sleep” on the inhale and “Now” on the exhale. That didn't really work, so instead I called in the awareness practice of “In this moment…” Silently naming what's true, what I am aware of here and now… “In this moment, I am lying here beside my husband (who is already asleep), listening to his breathing. Perhaps I can sync up with his rhythm to help me drift off. I am safe. I am warm. My bed is cozy. I am in this beautiful place...

"In this moment…there is nothing I can do about what's happening at our little house (though I do hope she's weathering this brutal winter ok). So let that go. There's nothing I can do for my son right now, and as far as I know he's safe in this moment. So let that go. There is nothing for me to figure out about future plans right now…So let that go. This breath. This moment. This body. Right here. Right now." Now I can pair my breath with the phrase, “Be here now (pause)…be here now…” and I can feel my body relax a bit as my breath deepens and slows. My mind begins to quiet as it focuses on the here and now, and all of me settles down enough to where sleep eventually comes.

I know that in order to have my best thoughts and access my most creative ideas, I need my rest! But, if I ruminate on that truth for too long, I can add stress by worrying that I'm not going to get enough sleep (which will undoubtedly assure that I won't!). See how this spin cycle is fed and fueled??
Today I had a yoga class that so beautifully brought me to myself - home to the reality of this body with this breath - that I almost wanted to cry for how grateful I was that I could reconnect so deeply with myself. So grateful that our teacher began the class with this beautiful reading by John Roedel (who is appearing everywhere in my world lately - just sent 2 books to my son and bought one for myself! I love the way he explores and sees the world!). Please check him out! He has a great Facebook page where he shares his writings.

my brain and
heart divorced

a decade ago

over who was
to blame about
how big of a mess
I have become

eventually,
they couldn't be
in the same room
with each other

now my head and heart
share custody of me

I stay with my brain
during the week

and my heart
gets me on weekends

they never speak to one another
- instead, they give me
the same note to pass
to each other every week

and their notes they
send to one another always
says the same thing:

"This is all your fault"

on Sundays
my heart complains
about how my
head has let me down
in the past

and on Wednesday
my head lists all
of the times my
heart has screwed
things up for me
in the future

they blame each
other for the
state of my life

there's been a lot
of yelling - and crying

so,
lately, I've been
spending a lot of
time with my gut

who serves as my
unofficial therapist

most nights, I sneak out of the
window in my ribcage

and slide down my spine
and collapse on my
gut's plush leather chair
that's always open for me

~ and I just sit sit sit sit
until the sun comes up

last evening,
my gut asked me
if I was having a hard
time being caught
between my heart
and my head

I nodded

I said I didn't know
if I could live with
either of them anymore

"my heart is always sad about
something that happened yesterday
while my head is always worried
about something that may happen tomorrow,"
I lamented

my gut squeezed my hand

"I just can't live with
my mistakes of the past
or my anxiety about the future,"
I sighed

my gut smiled and said:
"in that case,
you should
go stay with your
lungs for a while,"

I was confused
- the look on my face gave it away

"if you are exhausted about
your heart's obsession with
the fixed past and your mind's focus
on the uncertain future

your lungs are the perfect place for you

there is no yesterday in your lungs
there is no tomorrow there either

there is only now
there is only inhale
there is only exhale
there is only this moment

there is only breath

and in that breath
you can rest while your
heart and head work
their relationship out."

this morning,
while my brain
was busy reading
tea leaves

and while my
heart was staring
at old photographs

I packed a little
bag and walked
to the door of
my lungs

before I could even knock
she opened the door
with a smile and as
a gust of air embraced me
she said

"what took you so long?"
~ john roedel
link to post on facebook
To anyone who loves this author's words, he has written several books! Check out his website at https://www.johnroedel.com

Ahhh… this I know. And, the visuals of moving from one internal place to another and resting in the lungs with the breath, where this is no yesterday or tomorrow… this really helped me to find this place. What a welcome resting place. A beautiful respite that (if only briefly) interrupts the ruminating, plotting, scheming, obsessing, fretting, sadness and fear. The breath can hold me. The body is right here - no past or future for it either. I know this. And, I forget this regularly. When I remember and return, I am once again filled up, nourished, held.

I really am doing ok. It's also true that I have been really sad and scared lately. Learning to reach out for support and help (which is the topic of a whole other blog, I'm sure! Learning a lot more about this thing which I teach!). Deeply grateful for the people who've given me permission to call on them at any time and allowing myself to believe them.

So, next time you find yourself feeling out of sorts, getting caught up in the spin cycle of life, pause. Find yourself here. And talk yourself through the reality that “in this moment” is here. See if it offers you any sort of peace, comfort, or calm. And let me know.

Thoughts? Reflections? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below. Let's grow together in this practice of mindful presence.

Want more exploration into In This Moment, you can read the post I wrote 4 years ago almost to this date... apparently this is the time of year this concept comes alive strongly for me!

If you know others who are grieving, please share my blog. Invite them to subscribe if you enjoy my writing. Share my resource page with those who could use some free support. I have lots of resources specifically for grief as well living in tumultuous times, mindfulness, and living with substance use disorder.

This week I have two meditations to offer you! Try one or both and see what resonates with you. This Moment. This Breath . (19 min.) and In This Moment (8 ½ minutes) - both offer a chance to meet yourself where you are today and to create a sense of groundedness and presence. Meditation continues to strongly support me through my darkest times as it strengthens my ability to be with what is. It's why I stay with it and why I share it with you.

Please visit my library of meditations and choose what will support you day by day.

2 Comments

Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief

1/18/2022

6 Comments

I intended to write a blog last week. I wanted to.   I intended to record a meditation. I wanted to. I did. And, I just didn’t have it in me. Somehow time went by and I hadn’t done it, day after day. That’s what’s true. I wish I could have pushed through and maybe even inspired myself in the process, but I just didn’t feel like it. I am trying to be gentle with myself with this thing that has inhabited my being for the past few weeks, surprising me with how and when it hits in a way that just takes me down.

I was going to write about moving with grief, living with grief, being with grief… because that’s what I felt like I was doing last week. I had the good fortune of tapping into a gift practice that Paul Denniston of Grief Yoga had shared with his email list the day before Mary died – Grief Dancer.   I practiced two days in a row (surely, that’s enough, right!?)… I cried, I laughed, I looked at Mary’s picture, I said her name out loud, I dedicated the practice to her and I let myself sob and bring up what had been pushed down. I felt like I was doing a pretty good job being with my grief in a world that doesn’t do this well. I talked to a couple of people who I hadn’t already burdened with my story, because I don’t want to weigh anyone down with hearing the same thing over and over, when there’s nothing new to say.

One Day of Grief (Yesterday)
Damn, this grief stuff can be very lonely. I wish I lived in a community that knew how to grieve together. I wish I had people I could spontaneously call and just cry or vent with. I probably do, but when I feel like this it’s hard to find the energy to figure out who that might be or to have the resilience to deal with needing to schedule a time, with voice mails or unanswered calls.
And so I turn to my writing… because reliably and consistently this is an outlet for my heart to express what’s going on. To discover this myself as it pours itself onto the page. I know there isn’t a person out there who can really hold this with me in a way that will feel satisfying because there are no words to describe the ache within.

I tried to sit down to meditate, and I wanted to explode. My whole being was way too agitated… being still wasn’t what I wanted or needed right then, but I didn’t really know what I wanted or needed so I headed outdoors to take a quick walk in the brisk wind. I talked out loud to Mary, risking appearing to be a crazy person talking to myself. I told her how pissed I am – not at her, but at so many things (and everything right now because that’s just what’s brewing in my belly and heart). I’m pissed at the people downstairs who yell at their screaming kids all day and night. I’m pissed at myself that I skipped yoga to take a phone call that didn’t even go well. I’m pissed that the cookie didn’t make everything ok. I’m pissed that my husband can be in the guest room and laugh with a friend while I’m locking myself in my room and going through 4 tissues (even though yesterday I tucked myself away for several calls where I did laugh).

Today I feel a little jealous. And I feel sorry for myself. I hate feeling sorry for myself. I want to jump out of my own skin, but of course I can’t get away from me. Can you see all the #@^& that I’m swimming in?? I’m pissed that I can’t call Mary. I’m pissed that I feel so alone and don’t know where to turn to talk through the hard things coming my way. I’m pissed at systems that are so messed up. I’m pissed that so much is uncertain in the days and months ahead. I’m pissed at Covid and how it impedes my desire or ability to plan. I’m just pissed.

Only it’s not just pissed because I’m also sad… really, really sad in a way I don’t remember feeling before though I’m pretty sure it’s familiar. Probably times I’ve blocked out of my memory. Sad in a way that leaves me feeling lost and not caring that I’m lost. Sad in a way that buckles me and takes away the light. Sad in a way that just leaves me feeling flat and like I just don’t care… but that’s not true. I care very much about so many things and people.

“Grief can have a quality of profound healing because we are forced to a depth of feeling that is usually below the threshold of awareness. “ – Stephen Levine

It’s confusing, this grief thing… It eats away at me at times and other times it’s a silent resident, letting me live a more normal life. I can play cards, eat meals, go to the beach and enjoy the playful dogs, I can talk with my husband and friends. At times I can even get out of my own stuff and listen to them. But not always. And I worry about being a burden. I worry that no one wants to hear this. I worry that they’ll dread my calls or texts. So, I keep it to myself until someone asks and then it comes leaking out or gushing out – depends on the day. Put me in a space with a tender loving heart, and I lose it. If someone could actually hug me, I don’t know what that would do – melt me, support me, or break me. It wouldn’t break me, but I might just have a big old ugly cry for a long, long time. If I actually had the space to do that.

Lots of the time I feel numb and flat. Not sad but not happy or inspired. Just here. Existing. Getting by. Taking one step at a time – left foot, right foot, as my friend Steve says. And maybe that’s all we can do in this world called grief. Keep on slogging forward, feeling alone, but knowing we’re not because we know there are others grieving along with us. We try to find inspiration. We try to find healing. On my way back from my chilly walk I picked up the mail – Healing Through Yoga: Transform Loss into Empowerment by Paul Denniston is waiting for me. I smile wryly at my ongoing pattern of thinking someone else has an answer for me – thinking it’s “out there” in some book, podcast, social media group, or program. I keep searching, even though I know that this is a time when the real work is an inner journey. There is no magical anything out there that will make this any easier or quicker.

I know there’s no easy fix. I know that the only way to heal is to feel. I know I have to move through this, one icky bit at a time. And I know it sucks. No one can take this pain from me and maybe I don’t even want them to. I don’t know what I want. I want my person back. Beyond that… I just don’t know.

Joyful Ease(?)
Today I had signed up for a workshop on Joyful Ease – I log in even though I’m not feeling it. Maybe I’ll get a little something. Mostly I don’t. I can’t really connect with the idea of joy so coming up with a plan for how to bring joy in each day just doesn’t land. I’m tired after those 90 minutes. So, I lie down. I close my eyes and give the weight of my body to the bed… this feels nourishing. I rest but don’t quite sleep. It’s weird because I can feel the relaxation in most of my body yet inside there’s still an energy that feels like a trapped wild animal. I want to scream until I have no voice, but I am aware that there are people around. I could scream into a pillow… and I can’t even gather the energy to do that. So, I lie here… I rest. I take a break and I do relish a brief period of peace and quiet. Momentarily the furnace muffles the ticking clock. Blessedly the screaming kids and yelling parents from downstairs go away for a while. I can breathe. The hours have ticked by and somehow, I’ve made it through another chunk of time. Another day is almost over. I feel wrung out. And, somehow, I did it. I made it. One moment at a time. Maybe I did find some degree of joyful ease within the pain.

Stages of Grief
The “stages of grief” aren’t something we move through in a linear way. They are not things we can experience once and check off the box. They come in and out and overlap. My husband came to talk with me while I was in the midst of all of this today and together, we looked them up and tried to identify where I am in this moment… seems like I’m swimming around in denial, bargaining, depression, and anger right now according to this chart. The first week as I learned the end was near the denial was intense. There have been moments of acceptance, but not peaceful acceptance. Acceptance as in, “OK. I know she’s gone. I know I can’t pick up the phone and call her. I know there are no more days ahead when we will laugh or play together.” But not acceptance that comes with ease.

Today…
All of that was written just yesterday – less than 24 hours ago. That’s important to note because it highlights impermanence – the truth that nothing lasts. Nothing. Not the way you feel right now. Not the way you see the world. Not the weather. When we stay awake and aware we can remember that and lean into it with confidence. Not as a panacea, but as a gentle reminder to hang in there when it feels like we can’t.

Today I woke up feeling some of the residue of yesterday’s slog, but not nearly the heaviness that I was carrying then. The sun coming up each day sometimes annoys me, because it feels like the world should stand still when you’re facing a loss such as this; mostly it reassures me by reminding me of the natural rhythm of things, of one thing we can count on day in and day out. Today it reminded me that I could begin again this day.

I get to choose how to greet each moment. I set my intention to be gentle with myself. I get to choose to not skip yoga, but to do the recorded version so that I can talk to my son when he calls and then finish my practice which feels like the best of both worlds.

Today I can talk with my son about what I didn’t like about yesterday’s conversation, what troubles me, what I need us to do differently going forward. Today we can talk it through, and I can hear his perspective that wasn’t nearly as dire as mine.

I can see that it wasn’t any one thing that set me off yesterday. It was a collection of many things. Missing my boys and wishing we could talk more easily and often. Missing my friends and the ease of being together. Grateful for Zoom, but so tired of this way of having to be together. Remembering that Covid has put an ongoing level of stress and feeling unsafe on all of us as it’s added a layer of complexity and contemplation that makes daily life exhausting. Grief. Loneliness. Angst. It all came together in a perfect storm. And, I was able to ride it out in my own imperfect way.

Today I can see all of the many things I could have done yesterday to help me cope better or maybe to move through all of the struggle more easily. I have a ton of practices and tools that support me. And I see that I didn’t want to use any of them. On some level I knew that I needed to wade through the swampiness yesterday. I needed to cry. I needed to rest. I needed to let myself be miserable. It was part of my healing. It was part of the journey. I knew I was ok even as much as I didn’t like it. It reminds me that I can live through moments that feel unbearable. It reminds me of the ground upon which I stand that knows it’s not about jumping over the hard stuff to get to the good feels again. I don’t want to go for the silver lining or even relief too soon. Yesterday there was no comforting me, and that’s ok.

Together
I don’t even know if I should share this with you. I worry that you’ll worry about me or think I’ve fallen apart beyond repair (I can say with confidence that I haven’t). After talking with a lovely colleague yesterday about the value of being REAL, I’m going to hit “publish” in hopes that maybe it will resonate with someone. Maybe someone out there needs to hear one little bit of this. Maybe there’s some value in what I have to offer. I know there’s value for me in getting it out of my head and being able to take it in in black and white. Maybe one grieving heart will connect with my words and feel a little less alone or misunderstood. Maybe, just maybe, we will grieve together for a moment. If this is you, I’m sending love your way. You do not walk alone. We are in this messy human life together.

Want a little further reflection on grief? I invite you to read my last post, Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace.

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In the Stillness

Love IS Tough!

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The Way Through...

No Pressure. Presence.

"You'll Be Fine..." "You Don't Know That!"

Let Me Not Miss This Day...

What Does it Mean to "Fill Your Own Cup?"

In This Moment...

Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief

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