When it’s not a perfect holiday…

“When we are training in the art of peace, we are not given any promises that, because of our noble intentions, everything will be okay. In fact, there are no promises of fruition at all. Instead, we are encouraged to simply look deeply at joy and sorrow, at laughing and crying, at hoping and fearing, at all that lives and dies. We learn that what truly heals is gratitude and tenderness.”
- Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart, p. 100

This week may not be all that for folks.  Someone drinks too much.  Someone complains too much.  Someone critiques too much.  Someone holds too little, compliments too little, hugs too little.  Too few tender words.  Too many old aches surfacing.  Too many times of going riiiight back into our familiar family roles we learned as children.  And we feel like crap.  We regret.  We get mired in the complicated web of our constellation of emotions.

Maybe. Maybe we’ll have moments like this.

Maybe we are grieving.  And we wonder how no one we walk by in the busy grocery store notices the the big hole in our chest or hears the screams lodged in our throats.

Maybe.  Maybe we’ll have  moments like this.

Maybe it’ll all go perfect.  Perfect turkey. Perfect timing.  Perfect pictures.  Perfect decorations, conversations, and fun-filled moments.  Maybe.

Many of us want these perfect moments, believing that somehow, they held the key to our happiness.  Intuitively we know that perfection doesn’t = happiness.  But STILL, we get caught in trying to make it all perfect.  Or at least wanting it to be DIFFERENT. Then it’d be perfect.

Well, I’m getting DONE with perfection.  D-O-N-E, I tell you.  I see how this habitual pattern of wanting things to be different than they are — trying to GET so and so to be different, say something different, act a different way — is absolutely EXHAUSTING.  It sucks the energy, joy, and life right from me.

Instead, what is soooo much more nourishing is just to be gentle.  Gentle with my own heart and thoughts and judgments and hopes.  Gentle with this moment and the next….however it unfolds.  Truly what heals, as Pema says, is tenderness.

I’m reminded of Lao Tzu’s words:
“Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.”
― Lao Tzu

Soooo…I’m gonna take my husband’s lead and be water, folks. Soft. Yielding. Fluid.

Yielding to “what is”.  Softening judgment.  Softening the desire for perfection.  Fluid with circumstances may arise.  Letting us all be perfectly imperfect.

What is soft is strong.  Ok, so softening!

How to heal by doing very little? Just N.A.P.!

I had a hard day.  You all know how it goes – something doesn’t go as planned, people don’t respond the way you’d like, you were just “off” and didn’t come across as confident or maybe even competent, your child threw up or is having a rough day, someone was critical of you even though you were really really trying to help. We’ve all been there. The specifics don’t matter. (No really, they don’t matter. Keep reading!)

Today, I could feel the sting in my heart, the tightness in my throat, the defeat in my slumped shoulders…all before noon.

I started down the path of aversion and separateness: “Well, I’ll never help them again!”  And judgment: “Who do they think they are?!”

I got into the car.  I sat there.  Tears were welling up.  Not the tears of hysteria and wild emotion, but the quiet tears of defeat.

I knew I needed to hear my own voice. I turned on my iphone (god, I love this thing!), went to the voice recorder and clicked “record.”

I sat there, pausing, breathing.  I know that explaining, complaining, and analyzing don’t do jack to heal us.  They aren’t the healing balm to suffering.

And I wanted HEALING BALM. Not some bandaid B.S.  I am over the “treating the symptoms” kind of approach.  I go for true healing.

So I decided to “go back to the basics” of my mindfulness practice:

I just started naming whatever was in my present moment awareness.

Any thought, emotion, memory, sensation…whatever came into my awareness, I named it.
“Anger.”
“Tightness.”
“Heat.”
“Now this layer of defeat.”
“Now breathing.  Now I am exhaling.”
“Crying….; wet…hot…”
“Now tightness in my throat.”
“Thinking.”
“Now thinking of memories from childhood.”
“Now this layer.  Thought.  Trying, trying sooooo hard.  And being misunderstood.  Feeling like crap.”
“Now breathing.”
“Now tightness.”
“Now ‘old belief’ – ‘I try and no one notices.”
“Aloneness.”
“Quiet.”
“Now regret.”
“Compassion.”
“Softening.”

It went on like this for 20 minutes.  Just naming whatever came into my present moment awareness.  No judgment.  No “going into the story.”  No analyzing the sensation, thought, memory, or emotion.  Only right here.  In the now.  Space.  And Breath.

Gradually, I noticed this:

life returning
a sense of resiliency
an okayness within me
no desire to change what was
letting go of blame, hurt
opening
expansiveness
a sense of connection

Gradually, there was less gripping.  My heart felt restored.  My body — calm.  My emotions — soft, even.

I thought of Lao Tzu’s words: “Can you wait until the mud settles and the waters become clear?”

The water was becoming clear.  Settled and clear.

NAME.
ALLOW.
PRESENCE.

That’s all I did.  I took a “N.A.P.”

This is what heals. This naming “what is.” This spacious allowing. This kind presence. Too often we get caught up in the weeds of our emotions and thoughts, when, really, all we have to do to become untangled from them is to look up and breathe in the expansiveness of the sky.  We get caught up in the waves of our thoughts and emotions instead of allowing them to just rise and and fall on their own…instead of remembering WE ARE THE OCEAN.

REMEMBER WE ARE THE OCEAN, as Tara Brach says.

Bitterness.  Confusion.  Gone.

In their place:  a gentle, compassionate, spaciousness for holding the deeper hurt within me – holding and regarding what longed to be seen within me.

But had I not just “allowed” and softened and breathed and named whatever it was that came into my awareness and held it all with gentle, gentle presence…but instead got caught up in the “weeds” of judgment, blaming, separating, I’d still be feeling like crap.  Maybe I would’ve called a friend and they would’ve been like, “Oh that bites, Lisa.  Wow.  They don’t know what a good thing they got!  You are an incredible………….” And I would’ve felt “better.”  For a moment.

But what was needing my attention most WEREN’T the particulars (the waves, the weeds) of what happened.  It wasn’t OTHER people’s reactions or behaviors that needed my attention.  IT WAS ME. The parts of me in need of some healing balm.

So I found myself THANKING these experiences of today – and all the people.  They woke me up to tend to ME.  I found myself BOWING to life and the SIMPLICITY and the ease to which we can suffer less.  Just a bit of spaciousness, naming, allowing, and gentleness.

Doing very little.  And yet healing a lot.

I didn’t change my experiences (or the people around me!). I changed how I related to them. And THAT cultivates peace. THAT is what, as the Tibetans say, brings on the lion’s roar: the capacity of heart to be with whatever arises.

I did call a friend. Well, she happened to call me. And I sat there telling her NOT about the particulars of the day but rather this process and the clearing and the CALM within me now. She gets it. We said very little. Still tender, I went home, lighter, softer, whole.

Three ways to mother ourselves

hold a dear one

We all have them. Parts of ourselves that we try to avoid looking at. Parts we deny are there. Parts we get furious with for being “weak” and “wanting attention.”

The angry, guilty, ashamed, resentful, judgmental, rage-full, needy parts.  How about the “no way in the world will I tell anyone about this” part?

We tend to try and push these parts to the side or get ride of them.  Other times, we get consumed by them.  Most often, we judge them – and ourselves.

We could all use a dose of gentleness and kindness.  The energy of trying to keep at bay those parts of ourselves is like trying to hold down a beach ball under water.

It’s exhausting and takes a lot of focus and energy. What inevitably happens? Yep – we lose touch on the ball and it shoots right up.

There’s another way.

Three Tips to Mother Yourself

1. Allow those painful parts to be seen. Without reacting to them, pushing them away, getting lost in their “story.” Just let them be.  Say to them, “I see you,” with kindness and regard.

2. Breathe. Take a sacred time-out, and just feel yourself being breathed.  For just a moment or two.  This creates a sense of spaciousness as you continue to say “I see you” to that part and give it kindness.

3. As our beloved Thich Nhat Hanh says, treat them as a ‘dear one,’ as a mother holding and tending to and embracing her little one.   Yes, that’s right.  The parts you have been trying to push down for years, maybe decades, you embrace them and hold them like a mother holding her child.  And notice how you soften. Notice how these “dreaded” and feared parts of yourself lose some of their power as you hold them with kindness and in spaciousness.

And you don’t have to DO anything, mama!, to make those ashamed or painful parts go away or stop. You just hold them as if you were holding a little one in those beautiful arms of yours. This is RADICAL ACCEPTANCE. And a sense of lightness arises.

“Clearly recognizing what is happening inside us, and regarding what we see with an open, kind and loving heart, is what I call Radical Acceptance…When we practice Radical Acceptance, we begin with the fears and wounds of our own life and discover that our heart of compassion widens endlessly. In holding ourselves with compassion we become free to love this living world. This is the blessing of Radical Acceptance; As we free ourselves from the suffering of ‘something is wrong with me,’ we trust and express the fullness of who we are.” – Tara Brach

Blessings of Delight,
Lisa

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Tips for Everyday Mindfulness #13: The “So do I” practice

Tom Goddard and Rezvan Ameli teach Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction at the National Institutes of Health (NIH).  They also lead mindfulness coaching groups and post-MBSR groups to support your practice.  Here is one of their latest “mindfulness nuggets”.  If you’d like to receive this nuggets, visit Tom’s website:

There is a practice called “so do I.”

It is not a defense of what others are doing by saying that I am doing it. It is merely an acknowledgment of the truth of our shared humanity.

It might go like this:

I notice a colleague fearfully protecting turf.
I say to myself, “she is defending her livelihood, her ability to provide for her family.So do I.”

I notice a family-member gossiping about another.
I say to myself,“she is gossiping about another. So do I.”

I learn, as I did this morning, that a friend has died.
I say to myself, “Chris died. So do I.”

Tom Goddard, April 5, 2012

*********
Such a practice reminds us of our common humanity.  In doing so, we soften — our judgment, our bodies, our hearts.   We recognize that we are not alone. And we also recognize our morality.  This further makes us tender and alive and embrace our life again with vigor, a soft smile and a warm, open heart.

The path of a liberated heart

To be mindful of what is happening within you
in this very moment;
to deny nothing;
to accept “what is;”
to welcome each part of yourself, saying
“Ahhh, there you are, dear one.
I see you.  I see your light,”
with breath, tenderness, and compassion…
this is the path of a liberated heart.

The path of a liberated heart. It sounds so simple.  And it is.  But it is not easy.  That’s because we have a lot of old baggage we are carrying — old beliefs and stories about ourselves and this world — that come into play in situations where we are triggered.  But this is how we liberate ourselves from these illusions.

To be tender with ourselves.
To be gentle with ourselves.
To accept whatever we are experiencing, whatever is happening…with breath and compassion.

What happens?

We lighten up.  We embrace ourselves.  We smile.  We open to others.  We offer ourselves to others – our compassion flows out of us in a powerful way….a way that maintains our integrity and honor AND is kind to others.

This is the path, friends.  This is the path that calls me back when I get mired in the lie that I am not worth calling myself a “dear one” and treating myself with compassion, when I get angry and am seeped in fear, and when my ego says to be harsh and disconnect.

And when I get back on that path….ahhh, my whole body rises — from the back of my heart, I breathe and open.

But we need community!  It is often hard to do this “inner work” along. We need the presence of soulful friends to remind us of our goodness and wholeness, so that we can SEE ourselves and go “within” to then come back out in the world smiling with the face of our True Self and the hands of our True Self offered to the world.

So today, say something kind and tender to yourself. Encourage a fellow soulful friend. Tell them that you see them, you see their light. Say something kind. Let your eyes communicate compassion. And see how liberating your heart feels.

Blessings of Delight,
Lisa

** If this post resonated with you, check out the Barefoot Barn’s website. Join the growing Barefoot Barn community of soulful folks on Facebook.

Don’t fake the joy.

I read something the other day that made my stomach turn.  A blog chastising moms to “love it all” and “enjoy every minute of it.”

There are plenty of moments in parenting that just plain bite.

There are plenty of moments when I am not joy-filled as I clean up squashed and crunchy food on the floor, separate my two kiddos as they bug each other…for the upteenth time…that hour, look down and realize that I have strawberry stains from little hands on my ONE (ONE!) NEW cute, stain-free t-shirt, and think about how in the world am I going to get to the Y today?!

It’s in those moments when jumping in to being “joyful” would be to deny what is present right here, right now.

Yes, I get the whole “self-talk” thing and “positive thinking” thing and the “you have a choice in every moment” thing.  While there is a place for “embracing the positive” and “choosing joy”….

…there is also a crucial first step that we CAN NOT skip.  Whenever we deny what is present — anger, rage, sadness, loneliness (you name it) — we cannot embrace true joy.  I’m not talking about getting all mired in the emotion (that doesn’t help either!  Then we are hijacked).  I’m talking about not chasing after joy, clinging to it, and believing that it’s a permanent feeling.  We set ourselves up to feel awfully guilty if we believe we should be joyful every moment and we deny what is currently present within us.

So what do we do?

Before running after joy, “shoulding” ourselves in to it; before getting mired in our emotions…… we pause.

We notice whatever is present. 

We say “Ahhh, I see you, dear one” with tenderness.

We put our hand on our heart.

We allow whatever arises space to be.

We accept.

We allow.

We breathe.

Without clinging or pushing away — anything.

And what happens?  We soften!  We relax.  We create spaciousness.  Insight arises.  We embrace the next right thing to do…which may be mom taking a “mama time-out” or hugging and saying sorry…and going outside to play and buy something from the ice cream truck that comes down our street riiiiight around dinner time.

Ironically, as we accept WHAT IS — without denying anything or forcing ourselves to ‘be joyful’ – joy naturally arises.  A deeper joy that sustains us.

So don’t fake the joy.  Create the space for it to rise on its own.

B-bye Guilt, Hello Goddess

Drop the guilt. Be the goddess.

Guilt.  Mama guilt.  Wife guilt.  Whatever kind of guilt you got — let’s let it go!  Let’s encourage each other to drop the guilt.  We can be awfully, awfully hard on ourselves.  Our “Oh I did a bad thing” or “I should be doing such and such” or “A good…… (mom, friend, wife) does such and such” can quiiiiickly turn in to “I’m bad.”  Then we’ve got shame.  Guilt and shame — touch combo.  They paralyze us.  They get us believing a story that takes us far away from our original, natural state: our tender, confident, bold, soft, powerful, loving, compassionate heart.  Call it being “Christ-like” or being a “Bodhisattva” or embodying “Shakti”– our natural state is one of believing in our goodness and acting with compassion for ourselves and each other.

Ok, so how we do drop the guilt and embrace the goddess?

First, encourage each other! Encourage your fellow goddess.  When you notice your friend is caught in the illusion of guilt and shame and is “going down that path…fast,” look her in the eyes, place a hand on her arm, and tenderly say to her, “Friend, I see you.  And I see your light.” Smile at her!  Smile at her goodness…and her goddess.

When you wake up and notice you are “shoulding” all over yourself, in that moment of awareness, put your hand over your own beautiful, tender, powerful heart and say, “Ahhhh, sweet love.  I see you.  I see your light.”

Try it.  See what happens.  Right now!  You softened – didn’t you?  Even if you felt silly – you probably laughed.  You lightened up.  Maybe you even started to ask the question, “So what would it look like for me to embrace my goddess instead of my guilt?  What does ‘being a goddess’ look like for me?”

B-bye guilt.  Hello to our light.  Our tender, powerful, creative, sweet, compassionate goddess.

Tips for Everyday Mindfulness #10: Yes to the Mess

"Yes" to open.

What if we met any experience, feeling, or thought with total, radical acceptance? What if, instead of pushing away pain and fear, we invited them in? To sit down next to us. To have tea. Or, in my case, sit on the street curb with me. What if we treated them as a friend? Even a dear one?

What if we said “yes” to the mess of emotions, old stories, distorted beliefs, disdained parts of ourselves? Instead of trying to get rid of them, judging them, pushing them down, reacting to them…we simply let them be?

What if we just breathed, honored whatever wants to rise up within us to do so…and we just felt the sensations of pain, fear, sadness, grief, and shame?

I am convinced that we do not heal from trying harder, dissecting our inner thoughts and landscape, or making our “demons” our enemies by pushing them away or trying to get rid of them or crush them.

Tara Brach, a renowned Buddhist teacher with the Insight Meditation Community of Washington DC, in her book Radical Acceptance proposes that, in the moment of intense emotions or confusion, we ask ourselves: “What is happening right now? What inside me most needs my attention?”

And notice.

And say “yes.”

Yes to the knots in the stomach. Yes to the fearful thoughts, the judging thoughts, the shameful thoughts. Yes to the tightness in our jaws and throats. Yes to the hole in the heart. Yes to the grief gripping our ribs. Yes to the anger volcanically erupting from the depths of the belly.

Yes to the whole mess. Yes to breathing. Yes to connecting to EVERY EVERY single part of us, ostracizing not one part, and saying, as Thich Nhat Hanh would suggest, “Ahhh, there you are dear one. I see you. And that is why I am here.”

A welcomed dear one, sitting next to us.

I am sitting on a street curb. Much like we’d do when we were young, hanging outside with friends. I am saying, “Welcome” to fears that have gripped me and influenced my reactions to people and situations. They are calling my attention this Lent, this Spring. The thought of this brings up anxiety. Ok, so I’ll feel the sensations of anxiety. And then notice what happens next.

Ok, my dear ones. Come sit with me.

100th Post: Love Heals

This is my 100th post. Some may reach that marker in a month. It took me over two years. And that’s just perfect.

I’ve been writing since I was in third grade. Books of tall tales, mysteriously missing christmas presents, flying love bugs from outerspace, and friends who make you smile. I started a “blog” on my old website long before I knew what a blog was. My soul softly smiles when I write a poem for a dear one. It’s in my bones that I’ll write a book someday. And if I don’t, my kiddos might (with all the journals I’ve left them!).

Here’s the thing: I used to put undue stress on myself with “shoulds” and deadlines about my life’s work. There was this urgency in me. The kind that originates from fear. Fears that hide themselves quite well within you and disguise themselves as allies of your “becoming.” I wanted to write books and books and books. I felt CALLED to, divinely inspired to.

But fear ALWAYS comes from ego. Not from the soul.

I am still called to write. I am still inspired to share the truths that rise up from within me, breathed by the Divine-in-residence of my soul. I am still called to lead – movements and meditations that connect us to our Selves, each other and the Divine. Every time I turn around, it’s as though God breathes this knowing in me.

BUT. HOW I go about what I do has shifted. The urgency – well, I sat with it. Loved it. Gave it room to be held. Craddled it.

And underneath that laid my fears. Fear of (and I’m being quite honest here) not “being” anyone. Of not “doing anything special” before I died. Fear of “not being remembered” long after I was in the grave. So I held those, too. Loved them. Craddled them.

I didn’t do this alone. My “tribe” of dear ones, my beloved Brian, my children — my greatest teachers — their love for me has wrapped itself around every raw bone in my body until my bones remembered the Truth we all know long before we are born: we are beautiful, safe, protected, adored, and so so loved.

And over time, not in one fell swoop, not in a magical wave of the wand, I sensed a peace taking up residence within me. Where there used to be fields of anxiety, now seeds of contentment blossomed. No rush. It’s all perfect. Just. As. It. Is.

And that seems to be the voice I hear now when the old storyline of fear creeps up. I am exactly where I am to be in this moment. Holding my little ones, being with Brian, leading a meditation at work, or writing a poem. I am reminded of Hafiz’s words,

“The place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.”

Now when I sense an urgency in me, it’s the fire of LOVE rather than the chains of fear. And my exhale reminds me:

“in the end, what matters most is:

how well did you love,

how fully did you live,

how deeply did you learn to let go?”

- Buddha

Let go. Of all plans. Ego. And, yes, even dreams.

Because, really, what any blog post, article or book I’ve ever written or will write comes down to is this:

Love heals.

And if I can breathe that Truth into the moments I am with my children, my husband, my dear ones, my colleagues, I have done enough…whether I never write a book or I write a hundred.

And I hope my final words with my last breath are: “thank you.” Because love has truly transformed me and healed me. I am forever grateful. And I am grateful for the movement within me to offer that love as the poetry of my heart to the world.

fully present and delighting

when I’m not grateful

There are days, I embarrassingly admit, that I am not grateful.  I don’t want to be grateful.  I pull away.  I don’t express what my heart wants to say and do.  I tense up.  I refuse to look at the goodness in my life.

I’m beginning to realize that that is ok.  Like EVERYTHING else, I can give that ingratitude permission to just be.  Give that “I don’t feel like being grateful” feeling space.  Instead of trying to change it.  Or force it along with a tyrannical “should.”  IT’S ALL OK.

And then…I find…that out of such spacious acceptance…some grace lands right in my face.

It’s like, ‘WHAM!  Here ya go!”

I am am humbled.  And, organically, gratitude rises up from within me and fills every cell of my body.  It’s as though light mixed with softness and boldness and sweetness sweeps through me.

I turn toward.  I soften.  I exhale.  Life embraces me.  And I hug back.

Allowing + Spaciousness + Grace = Gratitude.  In my book. 

 

It’s these eyes that are, most often, my Grace.  So on this day of mindfully recalling what we are grateful for:  thank you, my beloveds, for seeing me with adoring, loving, “let’s begin again,” and “you totally rock, mom” eyes.  Thanks for being my grace.