Gem of peace: doing nothing out of anger

Gem of PEACE for today: A few weeks ago, the contractors restoring our house messed up and didn’t put insulation back into one of our walls.  Here’s how it went down and what I learned…about myself and anger.

I had a feeling they didn’t put insulation into one of the walls they were restoring.  I asked them.  “Of course we did,” they assured me.

But it still bugged me.  Brian and I sat with it over night.  We decided to ask them in the morning to open the drywall again.  If there was insulation, we’d pay for the extra repairs.

In the morning, Brian asked them to cut open the drywall to see.  There wasn’t any.

Brian was there when all this went down as I was at the doctor’s office (remember, I still have a brain injury!).  When he told me, I was livid.  I felt cheated.  I felt taken advantage of.  I was angry that we had been so kind to the workers (feeding them, making sure they were comfortable) and this is how they treated us.

I told Brian I was going to march into the house and talk to the manager. I walked inside and found the head guy.  I said to him, “How could you?!  How could you do this?!  We were kind to you!  We made sure you were taken care of.  We trusted you!”

I wasn’t yelling – and I felt “proud” of myself for this (I’m not proud of this now!).  Until…

The manager apologizes profusely.  He then explained what happened.  It was a mistake.  Nothing intentional.  All the guys on the crew apologized.  One guy cut the drywall and left it there. Another guy went upstairs, saw the drywall in place and just started sealing it up without checking to make sure it was ready to go.  Yes, they are responsible for slowing down and doing a good job.  BUT…

THIS is what sits with me:  I intentionally went in there to talk to the manager knowing I was angry, thinking I was justified and that my story was correct (“they are taking advantage of us!” etc).   I didn’t seek to understand first.  And really…my story was wrong. 

The bottom line is this:

my anger was coming from stress (try having a brain injury and then three floors worth of your home destroyed and tons of pounding and sawing) and from fear (feeling vulnerable — I know nothing about home repairs).  It was also coming from old habitual ways of thinking…past experiences making their way into my analysis of the current situation.

Anger does this — we get a story going in our head.  Our thinking becomes really myopic (“they did this to pull one over on us!”).   We feel vulnerable, taken advantage of, like a victim, and powerless.  We get justified in our anger.  And we act out.

I am learned that even though I was correct in that they did not put in insulation, it didn’t serve me (I felt awful later) or the situation to act out of anger.  I am learning and learning that when we are angry, it is better to do NOTHING.  Don’t talk.  Don’t reply to an email.  Don’t text. Goodness don’t post it on Facebook.  Don’t do ANYTHING out of anger.

Instead…breathe.  Long exhales.

Tend to the vulnerable feeling.

Tend to the feeling of powerlessness.

Treat yourself with the utmost kindness and tender regard.

Soften. 

Wait.

A reaction out of anger is always from fear.  And it holds an empty, short-lived, ultimately deflating sense of power (often then filled with guilt and shame).  It hurts others.  It hurts ourselves.  It disconnects us from others and our own hearts.  It feels sticky, ugly, yucky.  It’s laden with regret.

A response out of groundedness, tenderness, and self-compassion comes from love.  And it holds a sort of power that is spacious, full, uplifting, and EMPOWERING.  A true power.  It connects us to the deep power of our hearts…and this universe.  No matter what the outcome of the situation, there is a sense of peace within us because we are taking action that is aligned with love — ultimately, our true nature…our home.

I may not do this every time.  But I am going to make a commitment to try and do NOTHING out of anger.  Instead, to pause and wait… wait with kindness for my own self and breathe.  If this is humanly possible, I hope you will join me!  Do NOTHING when you are angry!  Wait.

Share with me how it goes for you!

Love,

Lisa

* Thank you for reading these Gems of Delight and being a part of the Barefoot Barn community.  Thank you for being a part of this evolution of bringing more compassion into the world by sharing these Gems with your dear ones so they can live with more delight, compassion, and connection in their everyday lives.  I hope these Gems serve you.  Visit the Barefoot Barn website for other ways that I may serve you with mindful coaching (especially for parents!), psychotherapy, workshops and retreats.  Thank you for sharing your comments — it is always a delight to hear what gems are emerging within your own heart.

Three ways to practice self-compassion

“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.”

- Carl Gustav

“You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere.  You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.”

- Buddha

You all know that I am BIG on the fact that foundation of mindful parenting (and living) isn’t focusing on our children’s behavior or even discipline strategies. It’s self-care for mama (and dad).  It’s caring for that beautiful, courageous, tender, loving self of yours.   Self-compassion is the foundation for deeply loving and tending to our dear ones.

But it’s “hard”, right?  We live in a culture that doesn’t support us nourishing ourselves.  I’m talking deep nourishment.  Not the kind that lasts for a split second and then vanishes.  We think we don’t have time.  Our days are busy.  Some of us think it’s too “self indulgent” and we “should” put others first.

But I am finding over the years of being a parent (with mid-night wakings, little sick ones, volunteering at school, balancing work and family life, and running off to soccer practice) that the more I flourish, the more I am able to wisely support the flourishing of my children.  I can more mindfully sense and see their needs without reacting emotionally.  I am better resourced to respond instead of react.

I am also finding that while “girls’ night” is great and I need the community of other women, I need DAILY ways of tending to and nurturing myself so that abundance flows IN me and THROUGH me to the dear ones in my life.  I am also finding that we can weave compassion practices into our daily life.  Each time we pause to nourish ourselves in simple, little ways throughout our day, the effect on our nervous system is cumulative.  We build up a neuropathway that creates a habit out of loving ourselves when we do this little, simple, quick everyday acts of self-compassion.

But it does require INTENTIONAL, deliberate practice.  But just liiiiiiiitttle everyday ways…everyday. One choice.  Then another.

Here are three simple, everyday ways that you can practice self-compassion:

1. Notice the good.  I wrote a post on noticing the good in our dear ones, especially our children and partners.  We can so get into the habit of noticing what’s wrong, especially with ourselves.  What about those things we whisper half-consciously to ourselves in the mirror in the morning or when we’ve “messed up” at home or work?  This negative self-talk has an impact on our mood, nervous system, and actions.

As you go throughout your day, try noticing what’s good about you.  Notice what is beautiful. Notice what is kind.

And pause there for a moment.  Notice how it feels to notice the good in you.

How does your body react?  Do you feel your shoulders relax, your heart lift up, your stomach relax?  Do you smile?  How about your breath – what happens to your breath when you notice the good within you and savor it?

And then as you go about your day, how do you treat others because you have noticed the good in your own self?

2.  Tend and befriend yourself.  As you go about your day and you notice the inner critic roaring her head, pause and see yourself as one of your dearest friends would.  What would she say to you?  How would she encourage you to see yourself and treat yourself?

Maybe it’s saying, “Hey girl, don’t get bogged down in this feeling!  You’ve got it!  It’s ok!”  Or “Girl, let it go!”  Or “Be gentle with yourself!”  Or “Are you kidding?!  You look fabulous (…you are a loving mom, good friend, smart business woman…)”

Hear her words.  Put your hand on your heart, see your goodness, drop the need to be perfect, and tend to yourself like your friend would tell you to.

3.  Practice taking a N.A.P.!  We all could use some more sleep, but what I’m talking about here is learning to name, accept, and give yourself kind presence.  Here is a great post on how to practice NAP with difficult emotions — you know, those kinds of moments when you feel a whole slew of emotions and you can’t identify what in the heck is going on within you and all you know is you are about to cry or scream?  Yep.  Try NAP.
I hope these serve you in your daily loving, living, and being!

Here are some additional fabulous, cutting-edge resources on self-compassion:

Christopher Germer: Mindful Self-compassion

Center for Mindful Self-compassion

Kristin Neff: Self-compassion

Blessings of compassion,

Lisa A. McCrohan

** Need support in self-compassion?  I do mindfulness coaching over the phone.  Visit us at the Barefoot Barn for body-centered psychotherapy, mindfulness coaching, yoga, workshops, and works of art to inspire more delight, compassion, and connection in our everyday lives.++

daring to drop it all to find the miraculous right here

“Dare to drop the perfect and find the miraculous in your everyday life. We are about living courageously right here in the middle of crazy mornings, mounds of laundry-folding, tantrums (ours and our children’s), deadlines, heartaches, and the quietly content moments. How? Cultivating delight, compassion, and connection in our everyday lives.” ~ from the Barefoot Barn

I wrote those words awhile back. Today they really resonate with me. Daring to drop the perfect as I have been home for several weeks now recouping from a brain injury. On the couch. In bed. I’ve HAD to drop the need to make things perfect — our home, how I parent, what kind of friend I am, how I am as a leader and therapist. This is HARD!

Yet…it’s in the daring to be IMPERFECT and having the courage to be RIGHT HERE in the PRESENT moment that we exhale and see that our lives are miraculous. Imperfect and miraculous. A precious gift.

And it IS quite daring these days to be imperfect — to not be the perfect parent who responds mindfully every single time her child acts up, to not be everything to everyone, to be vulnerable and in need, to not have it all together at a meeting (or on the playground, for god-sake!).

It IS an act of courage to BE RIGHT HERE instead of scattered in a million different directions never really present to our dear ones, let alone our own hearts and bodies. Social media is great. Iphones rock. But…we can get soooo easily addicted to them (myself included) and get lost in cyberworld instead of RIGHT HERE looking at the snow softly falling, the warm blanket wrapped around you, your child’s eyes filled with excitement telling you a story, nourishing food at your table, a warm house.

But I find that the times when I do just allow myself to be imperfect, I create spaciousness. I literally breathe more easily. I find that when I pause and connect to whoever happens to be in our kitchen, my whole nervous system settles. I find that when I notice the goodness all around me, I rest and I smile deeply.

That’s where I’m at right now…in the middle of breathing that wisdom in, letting it take up residence in my heart and body. Open to the wisdom of being imperfect and cultivating compassion for me and my dear ones…and seeing the miraculous in that.

Where’s the miraculous in your life right now?

Love to you all, Lisa

the ways others love us

These days, (now weeks) that I am recouping from a concussion…oh how they are humbling me, bringing me to what is most important, softening me, and bringing me back into the lap of God…to rest, renew, and heal.  Over the last three weeks, with the dizziness and nausea, the excruciating headaches and being off balance (literally), I have been in awe of the kindness others have shown us:

~ Neighbors and friends near and far bringing us dinner.
~ A friend making luscious salt and sugar scrubs and massaging my legs and feet and head…for an hour and a half.
~ Prayers.
~ A friend writing to say that she is running for me today.
~ A neighbor saying even people in her prayer group have asked about me.
~ A grocery bag full of good things.
~ “Check-ins” ….”Lisa, let us care for you.”
~ Offerings of running to the grocery store for us.
~ The gentle presence of dear ones in our lives…just here.
~ Even friends of friends who have had concussions calling and giving their advice!

It was all so much for my heart that the other day, when a neighbor brought over dog food for us (we were watching my parents’ dog..it’s healing to have Blondie here…think “little white and golden cockier spaniel”), I started to tear up.

“I’m so humbled by such kindness,” I said.

Neighbor: “This is testament to how you all care so much for others.  It’s your time to receive.”

It stopped me in my tracks.  My heart was overwhelmed, humbled, full.  Brian and I have oriented our lives around “service” and “community.”  We care for others.  We jump in when someone needs something, we are about sharing our resources, and we offer our home and hands when our presence might lighten someone’s suffering.  It’s weaved into who we are and who we are as a family.  It has been conscious and intentional.  But it’s just a way of life.

We do it because this is how the Divine moves through us.  We do it because we intentionally live with our hearts and eyes open.  Not always.  Not in every moment.  But surely as a “posture” in life.

But when my neighbor said this, I reflected for a moment…

It’s not for thanks or accolades.  That kind of  “service” is surface deep — it trails off easily, it’s short term, it’s “when it’s convenient”, it’s when it’s EASY, it points back to the “giver” rather than the one who is suffering.  No, Brian and I are in to tending to others for the long haul…and in simple, everyday ways, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s noticed or not.

But when our neighbor stood there tearing up with me and reflecting our goodness, I saw before me the life we have created, the life we are living, and the life we are creating.
And I smiled. Deep from within my heart.
And, I praised the divine.
I bowed in gratitude to the divine — in service and humility.
And all that I could say in my heart was, “thank you.”

I thought about her words: “It’s your time to receive.” And another friend’s word: “Lisa, when you allow others to care for you, you give them the opportunity to do something for you…and that is a gift. They want to do something.”

How many times have I — have any of us — “not received”…because of pride, the need to “have it all together? Or because it was all too tender and we didn’t have the words and it felt too private to let someone in and be in that tender, vulnerable place???

Yet, this is how we love each other. We give. We receive. It ebbs and flows. There’s a season for both.

And here I am, totally humbled by the kindness of others.  Allowing others in.  Being vulnerable.  Being “not all together”. Being broken and admitting that to another. This is hhhhhhhhhard. And yet…this is how we love and learn to be loved.

I’m learning. I’m learning. Imperfectly and without words at times. But I’m learning.

~ What season are you in right now? To receive or to offer?

Everyday Courage

a gem i created!

Sometimes the most courageous thing we do in a day is say, “yes.”  Yes to the mess and the imperfect.  Yes to looking at our children with regard, and softly saying, “You matter.”  Yes to responding to our partners with eyes of compassion instead of reacting out of our habitual ways of closing off our hearts.  Yes to writing one more page in the book we were born to create.  Yes to treating ourselves with tenderness.  Yes to the power of gentleness.

I believe that bravery isn’t about being fearless.   It’s about daring to be our vulnerable, real, not-all-together selves and finding the miraculous right here within us and our everyday lives.

That’s courage. 

To be vulnerable — with our own selves, with each other…to dare to say “I love you” and not hold back, to dare to move closer instead of reacting in our habitual ways by pulling back, to speak up for something we believe in even when our voice is shaky or tears come streaming down.

To be real — not someone else, not what anyone else wants or what society wants us to be…but what we KNOW in our bones is our truth.  To speak it.  To live it.  To be it.

To be our “not-all-together-selves” — imperfect.  To “mess up” and give ourselves a dose of compassion and begin again.

To find the miraculous in the mess right here –  YES.  If we are going to be “happy” then it’s RIGHT HERE.  It has to be found right here.  Not on some Caribbean island or at the bottom of a cookie jar — that’s the mind looking for happiness in the wrong place — outside of ourselves.  Nope.  HAPPINESS is a CHOICE.  And it takes courage to orient our hearts and minds to NOTICING the miraculous RIGHT HERE in our everyday lives — the way your daughter’s eyelashes curl, the mere size and shape of your son’s growing hand (almost bigger than yours!), how the snow sparkles at night, the morning light dancing in through your windows, the softness of a blanket wrapped around you, the delight of running into a friend as you are out and about… THESE are the precious and miraculous of our day.  THIS is what saves us.  THIS is how we choose happiness.

To find the miraculous within us — YES.  WITHIN US.  So so often I hear the harsh things people tell themselves — the daily voices in one’s head incessantly saying, “You aren’t enough,” “Who are you to believe you are worth loving?”, “Why even try?  You’ll mess up”…etc etc.  Enough.  Practice softening.  Practicing being breathed.  Practice gentleness.

It takes COURAGE to live this way.  Why?  Because we live in a culture where this isn’t the “norm.”  We are wired to have a bias toward the negative.  BUT we are also wired for compassion, for empathy, for making wise decisions and enlightenment.  And what do I mean by “enlightenment”?  Union with (however you define) the Divine.

Yes, dear ones, it takes courage to find the Divine, right here in our everyday lives.  But…it is here.  All around us.  I see it in you — your writing, your voice, the way your hair curls, the laugh lines on your face, the boldness of your brown eyes, your aging hands, the stories you tell, the way you come up with these hilarious one liners, the courage you have to get up every morning…and love.

So keep saying YES!  Yes to the mess, to loving, to softening, to the imperfect, to the unexpected, to the joy, to the sadness, to the miraculous…right here.

Love,

Lisa

 

**  Check out this piece from a TED video on GRATITUDE… “if you do nothing else than notice the great gift this great day is…if you learn to respond as if it is the first day of your life and the last day of your life, you will have spent it well.”

 

Eyes of compassion

Today, is it possible to look at all people with the eyes of compassion?  To practice looking at even those who frustrate you, annoy you, anger you, disgust you with softer eyes?  To see beyond the exterior mask they wear?  Some times it’s helpful to imagine them as a newborn baby and how their mother looked at them for the first time.

Some times we need to imagine our own selves as a newborn in order to see our innate goodness.  Sometimes we need to first see our own selves with the eyes compassion, to see that we are suffering, in some way, when our hearts are closed off.  When we feel connected, safe, resourced, and like we belong, our hearts naturally open, expand, and include.  When we feel disconnected, unsafe, threatened, under resourced, and isolated, we close off, we contract, we judge, and we exclude.

People don’t hurt others when they feel connected, safe, resourced, loved, regarded, and like they belong.

We have all heard: “It takes a village to raise a child.”  What if we looked at all beings as our children?  What if we looked at even those who hurt others as our children, our suffering, disconnected children?  What if, instead of judging, polarizing people into ‘good’ or ‘evil,’ we acknowledge our own grief and suffering inside of us and have the intent to include others in our hearts and prayers who are suffering and act gruffly, annoy us, hurt us?

Such inclusion in our hearts, such eyes of compassion for others does not condone the actions of others.  It does not say, “Do whatever you want to me.”  It does not say, “don’t take responsibility for your actions.”   And actually, when we practice seeing the “other” with eyes of compassion, our ability to have appropriate boundaries and limits expands.  The right action to take arises.  We may decide to end a friendship that is not nourishing, and still have compassion for them.  We may decide to never see a person again, and still not exclude them from our hearts.

It’s a profound practice.  In it, we realize that we hurt our own hearts when we exclude.  We suffer when we close off our hearts.  We flourish, we live with a lighter, more powerful heart when every single person is included in our hearts.

Such inclusion is the ultimate healing balm to grieving hearts.  In time.

So, tomorrow, when we wake up, vow to act with compassion.  And when you don’t, have eyes of compassion for yourself and begin again.  We all have 24 hours to begin again and again and again.  And each time we do, our hearts expand…and heal.

I can’t

Moms.  We are a powerful bunch.  Blood, vomit, skinned knees and elbows, broken bones, broken hearts, lost lovies, middle of the night hugs and holding.  Can’t find your favorite blanket?  No problem.  Want to play basketball this winter?  We’ll get you there.  Gotta do a fundraiser?  Let’s do it.  We make it happen.  We handle it.

But in a world of perfect pinterest pictures and crafts and recipes; in a world where ultimately the buck stops with us; in a world where many of us don’t have the luxury of generations of women with us throughout the day…

…we can feel responsible…for EVERYthing.  How our children act and feel, how the house looks, the finances, menus for meals, making sure our kiddos get enough rest and love and warm clothes and friends and piano practice and exposure to the arts, birthday parties, homemade cupcakes, the right presents…etc etc.

We are the family’s pediatrician, chef, party planner, CPA, soccer coach, chauffeur, social planner, interior designer, hair dresser, breadwinner, school board rep, historian and picture taker…

We get up. We make it happen.  Kiddos are bathed and dressed and sometimes we are, too.

But over the years, though I have felt this ever increasing surge of “at the end of the day, I’m responsible for it all,” I have also found myself saying, “I can’t do it.”

And more and more on a regular basis.

This morning was one of those “I can’t” days.

I can’t stay up till midnight editing family pictures in time for today’s party and get up early and not be exhausted.  I can’t be present to my kiddos when they seem to really just need ME this morning and do the final touches on my presents for family.  I can’t make homemade butternut squash soup, vacuum (at least the main floor!), straighten up, clean the main bathroom, get dressed, get the kiddos fed and happy and off each other, get Christmas cards in the mail, get to mass, get ready for the party at our house WHILE BRIAN IS AT WORK.

I can’t do it alone.

“I can’t do it,” I found myself silently saying to myself as I threw the unbaked butternut squash back into the frig and responded harshly to the kiddos asking for a snack and looked at the disaster of a kitchen.  I called Brian, “I can’t do it.”

A tightness gripped my stomach and spread up to my throat.  I had to admit I couldn’t do it today.

I am not super mom. And though I don’t try to be, I admit, there are times I feel “responsible” as though I were super mom.

Today, this morning, I am tired and cranky and alone mom.  I am  frazzled mom.  I am in-need-of-a-nap-and-some-help mom.  I am in-need-of-breakfast mom.

I couldn’t and I didn’t.

Unknowingly, my dear friend and neighbor happened to call in the middle of it all.  “I’m going to the Common Market, do you need anything?”

God bless you!  “Yes, I need twine!”

“Twine?”

“Yes, twine.  To wrap the cards I made for the girls in my family.”

“I’ve got some.  It’s in tangled in a ball — the kiddos got to it and….”

She didn’t even have to explain.  I got it.  And she got me!

My five year old, who is always spot on and honest and an extrovert who shares, “Mom, you’re kind of like Aunt Petunia this morning (the awful aunt in Harry Potter).  What gives?” And he gave me a hug.

So Brian came.  I slept.  He made the soup, put Clara down for a nap, and straightened up enough.  And from upstairs, I heard…nothing.  And it was beautiful.

I received their kindness today.

We’ve all heard, “Tis better to give than to receive.”

Nope.  It’s harder to receive.  When you give, you are in control.  You are “on top.”  Often someone feels indebted to you.  You get a warm, fuzzy feeling and often a warm and verbose “THANK YOU!”

When you receive…you are brought to the vulnerable raw, helpless, needy parts of yourself.  You are humbled by your own weakness and often times…brokenness.

It’s hard to be in that place.  God forbid we admit being needy and vulnerable and unable to “make it happen.”

Over the years of having kiddos I have been brought to my knees many times — in prayer, sleep deprived and exhausted rocking and nursing, to the toilet vomiting (mine or my kiddos), the floor wiping up god knows what spilled, and into the arms of my Brian saying, “I can’t do it.”

It’s hard to admit that.  But I can’t.  I can’t be present to my kiddos and get a million things done.  I can’t be on the PTA, our CPA, FB, or…some other acronym…and cook homemade meals, blog every day, work, write, do yoga, meditate…..blah blah blah.

So I don’t.

But I can do a few things. And do them with love and attention and kindness.  And that’s what my life is about — being mindful of slowing down, of noticing what really matters, of being ok with not having it all together.  That’s what parenting is teaching me.

I…we all..can do one thing in a moment instead of mulit-tasking and busying our lives and doing a crappy job at it.

We can sllllllllow down.

Leave the dishes.  Forget nicely wrapped presents.  Slow down and receive the moment.

Receive…

This breath.

This hug from your little one,

this Grace,

this help,

this kindness from others.

And so, this morning, my “act of kindness” was to myself (and ultimately, my family!).  I took a nap so I’d wake up as Lisa. Not Aunt Petunia.  Lisa whose eyes smile tenderly at my little ones. Lisa whose can greet family and make folks feel welcomed and loved.  Lisa who can handle a new marble game all over the floor.  Lisa who can hold Little C all afternoon.   Lisa who can read another chapter and another and another of “The MAgic Tree House” to my son.  Lisa who can say, “Thank you” to Brian at the end of a beautiful, humbling day.

Acts of Kindness #5: notes to our son’s teachers

Our son started kindergarten this year.  He’s five and a half.  FIVE AND A HALF.  Just about the age of the children who died in Sandy Hook.  I have only been able to look at their beautiful pictures for a few moments at a time.  I see the same sense of delight and awe and cleverness in them that I see in my own little one at this age.  I can’t take it in quite yet.

What I can “take in” right now is how the teachers – those who died and those who survived – protected their students, their children, with such a sense of “giving themselves over” to them…literally.

I can resonate with that.  I can understand that.  I can sense in every muscle, fiber, tissue, sinew of my being how a woman would do that, how a mom would do that (men, too, I’m sure.  I’m speaking from my own sense as a mom and woman).  It’s instinctual.  Now I don’t know if I’d think clearly in a situation like that, but I know the laser-like, clear prompt to protect a little one.

We’ve all tapped into that, haven’t we?  On the playground, in the parking lot….

So I have been thinking about the teachers.  I have been thinking about my own son’s teachers.

Ms. M. takes the time to greet each child in the morning.  She goes to each one, bends down, extends her hand, tenderly looks them in the eye — with her eyes and mouth smiling, and she says, “Good morning, …….  I am so glad to see you today!”  EACH CHILD.  EVERY MORNING.  She lingers for a few seconds, though when we are being truly “seen,” when you are being truly regarded, time stops.

The message of “you matter,” “I care for you,”  “I see you,” communicated, repeated EVERY DAY begins to take up residence in a little one’s soul. He begins to believe this message.  She begins to carry it with her — in her thoughts…about herself, the world.  He learns how to see others.  She learns how to love others…

…Just from an everyday, seemingly insignificant moment of pause.  Repeated.  Every day.

Mrs. A. has the wise, grounded, loving presence of a grandmother.  Her steady patience with a small group of children at a table learning to read or do math creates a sense of safety…to investigate, to make mistakes, to take time, to be with and in the struggle, to celebrate the moments of “Ohhh I’ve got it!”

So I made them cards.

I told them how appreciative we are of their presence,

the way the care for all our children,

their mindful attention,

their true regard and compassion for our little ones.

Our teachers are with our children five days a week, 6-7 hours a day.  Who they are matters.  How resourced they are matters — how supported they feel by administration and parents, how much they are paid, how much time they get to plan their day, how much time they get in a day to nurture themselves.  All of this matters.  They are the protectors of our little one’s — their physical bodies, their emotional and social bodies, and their growing sense of self.

Let’s be about resourcing our teachers.  Because how they love and the presence they have with our children matters…for a lifetime.

A Forgiveness Meditation: why and how

We have all been hurt and we have all hurt others.  We all have a few things that we have done that we regret and we hold on to.  We could all use a dose of gentle forgiveness…to lighten our daily life and to live and love more fully.  To live without regret.  To love without holding back.

Today I led a group of Gtown faculty and staff in a sweet forgiveness meditation.  It was beautiful to see how people looked different – literally looked different – at the end of the hour.  Faces were relaxed.  Eyes were softer.  Mouths were smiling.  There was a quietness to the group and at the same time, an aliveness.  There was a sweetness and the softness was palpable.

This is the power of following that Taoist adage: “When in doubt, do less.”  This is the power of OPENING to our present moment experience – even if there is pain and suffering in this present moment — and STAYING.  BEING with the suffering rather than pushing it away or getting swept away in it.

As I looked around the room right before we finished up, I found myself in awe of the courage each of the participants had to show up and be willing to meet their suffering…and stay.  To gently go to the places of hurt and be a gentle, loving presence.  I teared up.  Such courage gets me every time.

I am amazed again and again how LITTLE we need to “do” in order to heal.  Our bodies innately know what to do to heal.  Like when we get a cut on our hand.  We don’t “will” our hand to heal.  We do our part to gently clean the wound and dress it.  Then we wait for the body to do what it knows to do.

The same goes for the wounds of the heart.  We can do our part to gently tend to the hurts there…and then, to forgive.

How?  Here are a few pearls:

-  Recognize that forgiveness is a process.  It’s not a “once and done” deal.  Just when we think “Oh I’ve ‘arrived’!  I’m done with that hurt”…it shows us another layer.  Instead of beating yourself up with, “I thought I was done with that!  Why can’t I get over it?”, forgive yourself!  Be gentle with yourself.  Say to yourself, “Ahhhh, so this is another layer!”  Greet it with kindness, with the gentleness that you’d show to a child who just skinned their knee and is coming to you for comfort.  Don’t push your own self away.  Befriend him or her.

-  Recognize that forgiveness is about opening, allowing and receiving rather than doing or forcing.  Our intent to forgive + Grace (from the Universe, from the Divine) = forgiveness.  The process isn’t about “doing” anything — thinking about it, going into the story again and again about how your mom hurt you or how you hurt  your ex-husband, and analyzing it.  We can’t will it.  We show up.  We offer our mustard seed of intention to forgive — ourselves and others.  And then we just say, “I’m open to Grace.”  And we wait.  We allow and we wait

- Drop the story.  I used to think that TALKING about “it” healed the wound.  While “sharing our story” has a place in every culture, the type of “story sharing” we often do is anything but healing.  We call a friend and complain and complain.  We go into the minute details of the story – “…can you believe….?!”  While we might get a momentary sense of relief, that relief doesn’t last long.  The wound is still there.  Check in with yourself.  See if this rings true for you.  Healing isn’t in the story of he-said/she-said and talking about it over and over and over….  Instead, see the next pearl.

-  It’s about BEING with the sensations that arise in you when you recall how you have been hurt or the pain you have caused yourself or someone else.  Yes, BE IN THE BODY.  We have to feel it to heal it.  The “feeling” I’m talking about here is FEEL the SENSATIONS in the body.  Learn to stay right here and breathe, practice remaining open (literally in terms of your posture — heart and solar plexus open), practice staying with what arises.  And, you will notice…things shift.  Nothing is static.  Our inner constellation of emotions, thoughts, and sensations is always changing.  And over time, you’ll notice that you just don’t get all emotionally bent out of shape when you recall something that used to really stir you up.

-  Remember that you are not alone.  When we are suffering, our world can become quite myopic.  We can think that we are the only one suffering.  This loneliness breeds more sadness, more hurt.  Put a prayer out into the universe saying, “May every person who is experiencing this (anger, sadness, disappointment, grief) be free, be comforted, feel loved.”

Our fullest gentle and compassionate attention is our deepest expression of love and healing.  True healing arises out of “being with”, softening, and remaining.

Ask yourself, “Am I holding back?”  In my life, in my affection for another, in my regard for myself.  If a “yes” crops up, we are holding on to something…and in need of forgiveness.  This holiday season, give yourself that gift of full, gentle, compassionate presence.  Life will be sweeter, lighter by Spring. 

Many blessings to each of you.

The perfectly imperfect

Here’s our 2012 family photo.  It was taken by our nine year old neighbor. Let me tell the story…

My son and daughter were outside playing up at the playground behind our house.  As it often happens, some neighbors joined us.  Maybe were all thinking the same thing:  enjoy the warmer weather before it gets really cold.  There we were, all playing and chasing each other in freeze tag.  I saw Brian back at home getting the xmas lights out.  I said, “Hey kiddos, let’s go over and see dad.”  He was working in the side yard putting lights on our three tiny crate myrtles.  If there’s anything in our yard that makes my heart softly smile, it’s these three trees.  Given to us by Brian’s parents when Clara was born, I cherish them each time I look out our kitchen window (which, can be a LOT when you are feeding what seems like an army of kids under five!).  So we all ran down to our house, our two neighbor friends and all.

I remember watching as these two girls jumped right in, just like family, and said, “Can we help?”  I remember thinking, “It’s not even their yard and they are putting their whole selves in to doing this!”  I stood there, watching them, wondering how many times we I give of myself so completely to another person’s project that is not mine at all — I’ll derive no benefit from it, no reward, no …anything – like these two girls were doing right in that moment.  My heart swelled with gratitude for these two girls — all but seven and nine years old — for showing my what true “gifting” is.  I started to tear up.  I breathed in the moment — “this is perfect,” I said to myself, as I watched my five year old son waving his Harry Potter wand around, my two year old whispering a spell under her breath, two neighbors helping string up lights, and my patient husband in the middle of it all.

I happened to have my camera that late afternoon.  I began snapping a few pics.  The nine year old asked, “Can I see your camera?”  I thought, “Why not?”  And I showed her how to take a picture.  And then I had an idea.  I asked her, “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”  She said, “I’d love to!”

And this is the picture she took.

2012 family photo

I love it.  Not because it’s perfect – -it’s not.  I’m out of focus just a bit.  We all don’t match.  I’m not wearing a cute outfit.  My daughter isn’t looking at the camera.  You can’t really see what the kiddos are sitting on (our Step 1 slide given to us by my cousins who outgrew it).  Our son is in his Harry Potter jacket (barrowed from another neighbor who knew he loved Harry Potter and brought it over to him the week of Halloween).

But it is PERFECT.  Why?

Because it will always remind me of how one innocent moment of generosity can make hearts weep.   It will always remind me of how spontaneous shots JUST AS WE ARE capture how it really is with us — Harry Potter, Wonder Woman, uncombed hair and all.  It will always remind me of how I get what I ask for, long for – maybe just not in the way I envision it: neighbors being about each other, helping each other, with no reason or reward except it feels good to be doing it together.   And that makes the imperfect quite perfect.