“As a species, we should never underestimate our intolerance for discomfort.” -Pema Chodron

Never has this been more evident than now, when our world is full of fear and suffering – physical, emotional, mental and spiritual.

It is not in our nature to turn on our heel, face fear and say “You don’t have any power over me.”

Instead most of us, to one extent or another, are in full fight or flight. To get rid of this uncomfortable energy, we might attack or blame a person, politician or country for the situation. I suppose attacking offers a temporary release, but then what? We’ve not solved anything, just spun ourselves up even further.

Or we go into full flight mode and find any activity to escape the panic, boredom or fear we’re feeling.

So, we find ourselves standing in front of the refrigerator – again – to the point where you swear you heard the fridge say, “What the hell do you want now?”

Some may have started drinking more frequently, justifying their overindulgence with the excuse, “Who wouldn’t want to drink given what’s going on?”

And others may just shut down, going back to bed (literally or figuratively) wrapped in a gray blanket of learned helplessness that in some twisted way makes us feel safe.

Anything to ease the anxiety.

But other than a momentary reprieve, our boredom, our panic, our overwhelm are right there waiting for us after we’ve come out of our sugar coma, cursed our hangover or forced ourselves to get out of bed because there are kids to feed and work to be done.

If you’re someone who has that mental secret sauce to flex through this chaos and not let it shake you to the core, congratulations, you get the Unicorn Award of 2020. For the rest of us though, if attacking doesn’t kill the feelings or fix the situation, and if escape just makes it worse, then, God help us, what are we supposed to do?

Exactly the opposite of what our fight or flight system is telling us.

When we get scared and then upset at ourselves for being upset, we practice self-compassion. We talk to ourselves like a frightened child: “Honey, it’s okay. I know it’s tough, anyone would be really worried or depressed in this situation. You’re doing a good job coping. We’re going to come through this.”

After we can be loving and kind to our scared self, we can practice compassion toward others – remembering even when we’re rattled or edgy that peoples’ reactions and decisions may be different because everyone is on their own path. That old guy who barked at you for going the wrong way down a new one-way aisle at Kroger’s is likely really scared too, and he’s trying to control something to alleviate his inner chaos.

The hardest thing we can do, but the most effective, is to just sit with the emotion. Fully. Fearlessly.

This is not for the faint of heart. Because your brain will shriek that you are destined to die a protracted and painful death if you allow yourself to fully feel the grief and panic. It wants to you ease that feeling right freaking now, with a fourth cocktail or a pint of vanilla ice cream and a jar of hot fudge sauce.

But in those times, we can remind ourselves, very gently, that we are not our feelings. Our feelings are a byproduct of our thoughts, and we aren’t our thoughts either. Just realizing that we aren’t our feelings or thoughts is enough to bring some measure of relief.

If we go further, and really, really try to become aware of the painful emotion, we can get curious, try to locate it in our body, maybe give it a shape or try to figure out what color it is.

Or we can just sit. For one moment at a time. Until the emotion, like Carl Sandburg’s fog that arrives on little cat feet, arises from its silent haunches and moves on.

One of my yoga instructors shared a fascinating story the other day. Moths are wired to travel by the light of the moon – they fly in a straight line by maintaining a constant angle relative to its light. So, when they fly into your porch lights or even flames, it’s not because they have a death wish, it’s because their internal nav systems are distracted and confused.

We may not share the same DNA, but we do the same thing. Only our celestial light is that which guides us to become the highest expression of ourselves. To do the things that make our soul clap its hands in delight. The things that make us burst with joy — whether that’s writing, parenting, healing others, helping animals or the homeless. Or a million other points of moonlight.

But then, like the poor misguided moth, we lose our way. We veer off course, distracted by some other neon, artificial light. Short term, it might be the synthetic connection of Facebook or Twitter luring us in; long term, it might be the dazzling promise of a big paycheck in a job that is a waste of our talents and our life.

Whatever our artificial source of “light,” it pulls us further and further from our soul’s guidance. And it can be hard to hear or feel that guidance because sometimes our soul speaks so softly that it’s like trying to hear someone whisper in the middle of the MGM Grand Casino.

The solution, then, isn’t to demand that the casino (the world) shut up. We have to learn to turn away the distractions and find quiet, whether that’s contemplation, meditation or prayer. Yes, it’s challenging. Yes, it’s hard to keep a date with ourselves given everyone else’s demands for our time. And yes, it’s really necessary if we want to grow and find not just daily happiness but our highest calling.

 

Do you remember your first teacher? Maybe kindergarten or first grade? I remember my kindergarten teacher, who was ancient and crabby and yelled a lot. To this four-year-old, that was pretty scary. And I also remember with love and adoration many teachers after that – especially the ones who unleashed in me a passion for English, reading and creative writing.

As we go through life, though, teachers don’t always stand in front of a classroom. They don’t assign books to read or essays to write, and we don’t get graded. But there are lessons we need to learn.

Sometimes our greatest teachers are bullies or difficult people, whose message is we need to stand up for ourselves, put up boundaries and say “No more” to abuse.

Sometimes our greatest teachers are rejection or failure, which help us build resilience and faith and get us on a better path.

Sometimes our greatest teachers are illness or heartache, which teach us to appreciate all of the million large and small blessings we do have, including the people who mean the most to us.

And sometimes, our teachers are of the four-legged furry variety, who teach us unconditional love and the joy of caring for an animal.

I believe that teachers get placed on our life path for a reason. And they will shape-shift and appear again and again, until we learn whatever lesson they came to teach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been 10 years today since I left a company on the verge of bankruptcy. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever gone through. I felt my identity evaporate, for to that point, my life was pretty much my business card. And suddenly I didn’t have one.

Like many people in the same boat, I held a “poor-me” pity party (no one attended but me). Eventually, I accepted the situation and started down a whole new path of consulting and freelance writing. And I didn’t look back, except in gratitude. Because that one event a decade ago has changed my life in a million beautiful ways.

How many times has something painful or challenging happened to you, and when you look back, you realize it was one of the best things that ever happened for you?

• A job offer that didn’t pan out led you to another company where you found a fulfilling career
• An illness made you take a hard look at your life choices and decide to follow your soul’s call
• A painful breakup (that you were sure was going to destroy you) freed you up to meet your future spouse

So perhaps it’s not “poor me, poor me,” it’s “for me, for me.”

Our times of greatest pain can be the times of greatest growth – not something we want to hear when we’re in the middle of angst. But if we can remember a similar time when we survived, and if we can at least ask ourselves, “what lesson is this experience trying to teach me?”, then we’ve opened the door for healing.

 

 

What do you do when your “Service Engine Soon” light comes on? Do some self-diagnostics or get it checked out? Ignore it? Tell yourself there’s nothing wrong, probably just a glitch that will go away?

How about when your “Service Soul Soon” light comes on?

All too often, we run ourselves into the ground physically with 16-hour workdays, running on too much caffeine and adrenaline, and then too much wine to wind down at night.

We run ourselves into the ground mentally with endless chatter that has us swinging between the shit that already happened and the shit that might happen. Do you ever just want to cry out, ala George Jetson, “Jane! Stop this crazy thing!”

And the end result is we often run ourselves into the ground spiritually because our careers and futile attempts to mentally control things take precedence over any kind of spiritual practice.

What I’m learning though is that’s bass-ackwards. It’s not that we’ll be happy and fulfilled WHEN and only when we get our career right or figure out a way to mold everything and everyone into our model of the world. It’s more that we become happy and fulfilled when we’re aligned with our soul and our highest being. Then, as a bonus, the mental, emotional and physical (and career and relationships etc.) begin to balance and become abundant as well.

Your spiritual practice might be meditation. It might be prayer. It might be staring out at a vast expanse of water. Walking in the grass and digging your toes in the dirt. Being grateful. Reading an inspirational book.

Whatever works for you, the key is getting quiet in some way, shape or form. Because whispers and direction from the Universe can’t get through when we’re playing haunted house in our heads.

When I get the “service soul soon light” there are times I heed the signal and slow down and times when I brush it off and slide smoothly into the pattern of worry or workaholism. But now I know I have a choice, we all have a choice, and I’ve seen evidence over and over again, that when I take the time to trust and listen, the rest of my life arranges itself far more beautifully and effortlessly than any of my striving and pushing could have done.

 

Did you ever feel at some point in your  life that you were capable of anything? That you could kick ass and take names, were on top of the world, and were hot shit (in a totally self-confident way, not an arrogant, preening sort of way). Maybe it was when you were five and you were the center of the neighborhood social circle. Maybe it was when you were 15 and people said you looked like George Clooney or Princess Grace. Maybe it was when you were just out of college and had 12 job offers. Can you remember that feeling?

But somewhere along the way, many of us lose that belief in ourselves, who we are at the core, that we’re special and infinitely capable. We get subsumed into the opinions of everyone and everything around us – college professors, well-meaning relatives, reality TV, advertising for the latest diet, potion, perfume, purse or makeup fad (eyelash extensions or tattooed eyebrows, anyone?).

And slowly, that inner cheerleader gets quieter and quieter, drowned out by all the external opinions and criticism, eventually falling silent. Meanwhile, we try harder and harder to measure up, but it never works, no matter how relentlessly we push ourselves. Frankly, if we ever spoke to anyone else like we do to ourselves, our mothers would wash our mouths out with Lifebuoy soap. Twice.

It’s time to bring back that inner cheerleader. Someone who screams wildly at your victories and continues to root loudly even when you miss the field goal and feel like crawling under the bench. Someone who urges you on, who believes in you NO MATTER WHAT.

So, dust off those pom poms and become your own biggest fan again.

 

We all get a choice today.

We get to choose whether to feel upset when something or someone doesn’t meet our expectations. Or we can accept that things are just the way they need to be in this moment.

We get to choose whether to doubt ourselves based on some silly story we internalized at age 10. Or we can hug that 10-year old and tell her you’re moving on.

We get to choose whether to go through the day full of anxiety because our heads are firmly planted in next week or next year. Or we can reel ourselves back to the present moment, where we’re perfectly safe.

We get to choose whether to keep revisiting the past in the hopes that just one more visit might change what happened. Or we can let yesterday float away, taking with us only the lessons we learned.

We get to choose whether to make time for spiritual growth, exercise, meditation, service and love. Or we can continue to fixate on distractions, worry and fear.

We get to choose whether we focus our energies on controlling other people. Or we can have faith that those people are on their own path, and our input is not required.

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like we have a choice, right? Because our behavior and thought patterns can be powerful – the ones that tell us we need to control others, or that everything is fine as is, even if it’s really not.

But they’re just patterns. My patterns aren’t me. Your patterns aren’t you.

And we have a choice to move beyond them. So much freedom awaits.

 

 

There is an old story about two monks who were traveling together. At one point, they came to a river with a strong current. As they prepared to cross the river, they saw a beautiful woman also attempting to cross. But she was afraid of the water and asked them for help.

Without hesitation, the older monk picked up the woman, carried her across the river, placed her gently on the other side and resumed his 
journey. The junior monk was horrified, given their strict vows forbidding physical contact with women. An hour passed on their journey, and neither spoke.

Two more hours went by, then three, with the younger monk growing increasingly agitated. Finally, he blurted out accusingly, “As monks, we are not permitted to touch a woman, how could you carry her on your shoulders?”

The older monk looked at him and replied, “Brother, I set her down on the other side of the river, why are you still carrying her?”

This story is a great reminder of how much we can carry around if we’re not careful. We wouldn’t go around lugging a backpack full of rocks, but we think nothing of dragging around bitterness, judgment and resentments for years or even decades.

I remember in seventh grade, a popular boy said something derogatory about me, not realizing I was behind him. I was so ashamed. And that shame was seared into my subconscious for decades. Until I realized I had been dragging this memory around, and understood his comment said way more about his insecurity and far less about my worthiness. So, many years later, I let go of a resentment that never served me.

What are you carrying around?

If a boss or coworker didn’t treat you well, can you forgive them? If you didn’t get the job you really wanted, can you try to see how the result was even better for you? If you failed to stop a loved one from making a bad choice, can you accept they’re on their own path and you are powerless to control it?

It can be hard to do this. The lure of resentments is strong. But the resulting freedom from dropping the rocks out of your backpack is so worth it – and necessary – for your growth and peace.

 

 

 

I had a discussion the other day with a potential editor, and while she was pleasant and respectful, the conversation didn’t go the way I expected. Cue the story: But I don’t want to approach the project that way. I’ll never find anyone to help me. I’ll never write that book. I’ll never fulfill that dream.

Sound familiar? Maybe you go on a date, and the other person doesn’t seem interested. Or a client is stoic and doesn’t seem to warm up to you. And you make the discomfort and disinterest about you.

My date last night should have been perfect – we have so much in common. But he seemed bored. Kept checking his phone. It’s me. He didn’t find me attractive. I knew I should have Botox-ed those crow’s feet. I was too quiet. I should have been more conversational. The blouse was all wrong. Not enough cleavage.

Or:

That was the best work I’ve ever done. But the client barely said thank you. They must have found something wrong. What did I miss? They don’t like me. Now they’ll be looking for another agency. I’ll lose the account. I may lose my job!

And on and on. Before long, we’ve lost confidence, and we’ve become hopeless and depressed.

But what if we were to stop the story before it got rolling? Instead of the long-drawn out self-flagellation, the conversation goes something like this:

I expected my date last night to go much differently, given our common interests. But I just didn’t feel any alignment with him. Time to move on.

I know I did a great job on that project. Not sure what was going on with the client that day. If I need to follow up I will, but in the meantime, I’m going to continue to expect future work, which I will execute with my usual impeccable standards.

Period, end of story (literally).

Doesn’t that feel different? More freeing?

We don’t always get to choose who we interact with.  But we do get to choose whether we activate the story.

 

Do you ever feel like your mind is like some of those places American Pickers visit? So full of stuff you can’t walk through them much less add something new?

There’s the old wooden propeller missing the rest of the model airplane, the rusted, paint-peeling jack-in-the-box that doesn’t open anymore, a box of Dewey-Warren campaign buttons.

Oh, and don’t forget the gatekeeper named Bubba in faded overalls who stares lovingly at his rubbish and tells Mike and Frank: “No way. I can’t sell y ’all this jack-in-the box – it may not work, but I love it just the same.”

Much like we hang onto physical items way past their prime for sentimental reasons, we cling to useless or unhelpful behaviors – not because they serve us but because they’re familiar and comfortable.

And if your behavior patterns are well ingrained through years or decades of practice, they can feel like a part of your identity (I’m just a crabby guy; I’m just a “nervous Nellie”).

Often these patterns can become a problem – maybe your anger is disrupting your relationships, or your social anxiety is preventing you from enjoying life, or procrastination is landing you in the hot seat at work.

So, you decide it’s time to change.

But then you quickly discover you can’t go from a rage-aholic to the Dali Lama in 24 hours. And you can’t go from being panicked in crowds to a social butterfly by throwing yourself in the middle of a 300-person cocktail party. And you can’t change the procrastination habit by ordering yourself to just sit down and finish the damn project.

We humans are not equipped to embrace sudden and significant change, thanks to that little part of our brain called the amygdala (often called the lizard brain). It’s the on-off switch for our fight/flight/freeze response and is wired to see major change as major danger. It often tries to stop us any time we stray out of our normal, safe routines or behavior patterns.

The problem is our lizard brain doesn’t know the difference between deciding to venture into saber-toothed tiger territory or trying to change a strong pattern of worrying or social anxiety.

But that doesn’t mean we have to remain a prisoner of our patterns. To make lasting changes, you may have to outsmart your lizard brain by taking small steps. Tiptoe toward transformation, if you will.

Let’s say you were given an urgent project at work. Lots of moving parts, players, and, of course, career-ending consequences for failure.

If you tell yourself you’re going to work 18 hours straight, take no breaks and get the damn project done today OR ELSE, your lizard brain will kick up a dust cloud of fear, your creative/thinking brain will go on holiday, and you’ll sit at your desk getting increasingly frustrated and suddenly decide that organizing your drawers sounds like a splendid idea.

But, if you know that getting overwhelmed or paralyzed by a big project is one of your go-to patterns, you can:

• Write down every task that needs to be completed (always critical to get things out of your head and on a list so they don’t continue swirling around like Hurricane Irma)
• Ask yourself who you can leverage to help
• Work 20 minutes on the project (or 10 or 5 if 20 is overwhelming)
• Take a break. Stop if you feel anxious.
• If not, work 20 minutes more
• Rinse and repeat

By this time, you feel some momentum and motivation from the progress, even if it’s just a little bit.

In the same way, someone who’s very anxious around other people would do much better at changing by first calling one friend and having coffee, and then maybe lunch with two friends, instead of attending a party with 400 people she doesn’t know.

Changing embedded emotional responses and behaviors can be difficult. But they’re habits, albeit mental ones, and they are not permanent.