The Courage of Compassion

 

Three incidents come together:

1)  The conversation went like this...
I said to Mike, "I don't think I connected with the contractor."
Mike says, "you what?"
Me, "I don't think he likes me; I couldn't connect with him well."
Mike, "I don't even know what that means...you didn't connect with the contractor? What's wrong with you? Why do you have to "connect" with the contractor?" He tells me to "journal about it," his new way to make fun of my overly sensitive feelings. (To be clear, I know how much he loves my sensitivity, so this always makes me laugh).

2) Coming from someone who is fairly clueless about celebrities...I keep seeing something about Will Smith and Chris Rock today. Something about The Oscars which I didn't even know took place last night. I watch the clip of what happened, get a brief synopsis, and feel deeply saddened. Not about the right/wrong of any of it, but just sad for what we humans feel and go through, the rupture and the need for repair, the hurt feelings, the reactivity we all experience that gets us into trouble, the judgement.

3) I'm driving my daughter to rock climbing when we come upon some road work and the narrow, windy, two-lane road becomes one where the cars have to take turns. Clearly it's our turn to wait, but the car in front of me doesn't recognize that ahead of time so he backs up so that the other cars can go first and slowly backs into a car parked on side. I see and hear the crunch. It's the kind of accident that could happen to anyone and unfortunately will be costly. I drive on as he gets out of the car to survey the damage and I feel his hardship." I keep driving and say, "gosh, I feel so sad for everyone today. That guy with the car, Will Smith, Chris Rock, Jada Pinkett Smith, all the people judging them them all, my feeling that I'm not liked. This living is so hard. The feelings and what we go through. I feel sad for everyone." My daughter, like Mike, doesn't know what to make of me. She has a perplexed smile on her face, but I know she knows what I mean because she said it first..."I feel so bad for him."

And this is just small stuff on a daily basis. I'm not even talking about the larger hardships that are happening like war, hunger, abuse, discrimination. Suffering is suffering. When our heart is open we feel the pain of others and compassion wells up. Compassion doesn't get caught in right and wrong, good or bad. Compassion brings us on the same footing. All trying to do the best we can. All making mistakes, (some more costly than others), in our thoughts, words and actions. All of us feeling the consequences. All of us needing to find forgiveness of ourselves, of others...of ourselves again, of others again.

Growing up, my family always said I was too sensitive. "You're such a baby" my siblings would say. Yes, I guess I am. It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. I would much rather be too sensitive if it allows me to love more, if it keeps me humble, if it inspires me to be of service, if it helps me to "connect." It also takes more courage to feel than it does to be armored and thick skinned. If you ever feel too sensitive, I welcome you to celebrate it. We need more of it, not less. Not the kind of sensitivity that blames, judges, or falls apart with worry, but sensitivity that activates compassion for the difficult things that living requires of us.

This week, I invite you to honor the compassion that surfaces in you when you see a mother struggling with her flailing, crying toddler trying to get out of her arms, or when you see someone trip on the sidewalk and they try to stay cool and composed, when you see someone awkward, angry, rushing, frustrated, sad or any other hard human state of being. It's ok to feel it alongside them. Feeling it doesn't make life any less beautiful and wondrous. In fact, it makes it more so.

🌱🌷
Jean

Compassion In A Critical Moment

 

This morning I awoke to the first full day of spring and a beautiful day at that. I also awoke to a heightened inner critic whose opinions can be more powerful than spring. I made my coffee and sat down with a blank page knowing that I needed to show up for this part of me before I went on with the day. My first reaction to her is dread, but then I remember that to meet her with the same energy that she gives out only perpetuates suffering. “Be kind,” I say to myself. “Listen and don’t fix. Breathe with her. Sit with her in this space, in this energy; it’s only energy. Be a friend to this one who is afraid underneath the costume of belligerence and aversion.” And so I do. The day doesn’t feel like sunshine and flowers yet, though they are just outside my door, but I am not fighting, defending, believing and that feels better. 

We all have these moments, these days, these months, or seasons when what we need to lean into is compassion more than anything. Self-compassion is not the most obvious response when we are under attack, but I have found it is the only thing that works and just like meditation, it is something we can practice and a muscle we can strengthen.

What does self-compassion look like? It might help first to say what it is not. It is not sappy, pitiful, or weak. It is genuine, grounded, clear, and patient. And, yes, we can access it even when the attack is on. Here’s what that process requires:

Being With Our Self-Critic

1. Stopping. If we keep going about our day without stopping to listen to what our critic is unhappy about, then it just gets louder and we get pulled deeper into the swamp. Stopping could look like what I did this morning and journaling a back and forth dialogue, but it could be asking and listening as you take your shower or a walk. 

2. Listening. Asking what our critic is up in arms about, (even if we have heard this one a million times before), we listen again and reflect it back without coming back with fixes, defenses, and without playing it down or trying to talk yourself out of it. 

3. Being Kind & Tending To The Fear. This may be as simple as asking your self-critic, “let’s say what you feel is true about me, what then, what are you afraid of if I am this way?” Whatever you hear in response you respond with kindness and compassion. For example, “I get it. That would be scary. I understand why you aren’t happy with me.” Or, “that’s a hard feeling to have; of course you are upset.” Whatever it is you respond with, let it be your voice, what feels real to you and if you are not used to speaking kindly to yourself, then go ahead and try one of my responses (or someone kind you can call up) until it does feel natural.

4. Breathe. Having listened and gained more understanding, and having responded with care, now you can simply breathe with the energy that’s there. “This feels like this.” Bring your attention to your inhale and your exhale and breathe with the experience in your body. This requires some trust that this process is enough for now. We often think that there should be some greater resolution, but this isn’t the space for that. Resolution comes with space which is what we are giving ourselves by doing this. Space to hear ourselves, to get some distance, to find perspective, to be. Rather than get stuck, it can flow through us.

It’s the end of the day now and I feel the remains of this earlier surge of self-criticism. I don’t know that she won’t be there tomorrow. She seems to be up lately, but I am okay with it, because it will change and it brings me closer to feeling compassion for all beings and what we go through. Being present also slows me down to take in all the beauty that is around me and the love and affection that comes toward me.

Wishing you all a beautiful first week of spring. Enjoy as everything pushes its way through, transforms again, begins again.

🌻
Jean

Holding It All Together

 

In the bathroom, getting ready for the day, I look in the mirror and pause. I am deeply aware that while I blow-dry my hair, across the world there are people in bomb shelters, people without electricity and access to food and water, refugees waiting in foreign lands as their hometowns get reduced to rubble, people fighting and dying. How do we hold this suffering and go about our days as usual? Nothing about this moment in time feels "normal" and yet life here moves at its regular pace. Garbage gets picked up; the kids go to school; we go to work; I think about what to make for dinner. And then I see the images in the news and my heart hurts.

It doesn't feel right to go on as usual and yet, what is there to do? It feels this way when someone you love dies and you walk out of the hospital in a daze as the world moves on around you. No matter how many times I open the New York Times and get updated, the situation is what it is and we are here holding this proximal peace and remote suffering. This is the plain and simple truth of it. We learn to hold seemingly contradictory things simultaneously as we go through life. As odd as it sometimes feels, it does not have to be a problem. If we are having a joyful moment, we don't have to feel guilt or shame and if we are struck by an arrow of pain for those we cannot help, we don't have to fall into overwhelm and deny all joy. Just as in a hospital, on one floor a person dies and on another floor, at the very same moment, a baby is born; a patient gets a terminal diagnosis and another is informed that their cancer is in remission. Joy and pain coexist and we are capable of holding it all. We don't have to push one away to feel the other. We don't have to judge either feeling as more worthy of the moment. We don't have to compare suffering.

If you find yourself emotionally struggling with the balance of your own life with its joys and trials here and what is happening "over there," you are not alone. Many of us are trying to wrap our minds and hearts around it. Our brain tells us we need "to do" something. Of course it does. And yet, there isn't much to be done, but to come together and rest in our "heart of compassion" for all of what goes on, for all of what we are asked to hold. We can let it remind us to go gently through these days and bring kindness to the forefront a bit more, because the whole world could use it.

Wishing you all inner steadiness and peace as we navigate this life together.

🌻
Jean

Hope - A Feeling Found In The Present Moment

 

In the fall of 2019, I gave a talk on hope. Little did we know how much hope we would need in the year to come. Hope is an interesting concept and one that practitioners of mindfulness meet with some skepticism because hope suggests a future oriented desire; something different than what is here.

Many great teachers have wise things to say about hope. Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh says that hope "can make the present moment less difficult to bear," but can also take us out of living in the present moment. In the Tibetan tradition, Pema Chodron shares a slogan, "abandon all hope." Brother David Steindl Rast defines hope as "openness for surprise." I've always loved that one. Brené Brown defines hope as a cognitive process that involves goals (I'm over-simplifying this). I am sure there are many other insightful takes on what hope is and how it can be beneficial or not. I think we can take something from all of them. We can also keep it very simple and say hope is found in the present moment.

In light of many world hardships, the war in Ukraine being at the top of my list, I am seeing the need to contemplate hope, once again, and I thought I'd share where I am finding it in this moment of time:

• The coming together of countries, corporations, and people everywhere standing up for and supporting the people of Ukraine.
• The current emergence of spring with its warmer weather, shoots of flowers emerging from the soil, robins boldly making their appearance  (even if there is some snow in the forecast)
• The recognition that all things change. There is hope in impermanence.
• My friend has an exciting interview this week
• Another friend has a new book of poems about to land on my doorstep, fresh off the press
• The declining Covid-19 cases 
• The fact that a contractor actually called me back!
• A blank page in a journal at the start of a new day
• The sound of kids playing in the distance
• Being able to connect with you through this email 
• Remembering I can always choose kindness in any moment, over all else (this includes kindness toward oneself).

Hope, to me, is a feeling found in the present moment. I don't have to look ahead for hope. It shows itself daily in a felt sense of awe, possibility, wonder, joy, connection, support, love and kindness. My invitation this week is to take moments of stopping to look around and take in what is good, what is emerging, what is changing. While there is suffering, there is also growth and beauty everywhere. We can't have one without the other, but when we pause to appreciate, we spread the seeds of goodness. We can water ourselves daily with hope by defining and feeling the gifts that are right here.

🍀
Jean

P.S.  Hope is also found in beginning something new. A Beginning Meditation Series starts on 3/22 if you want to start a practice or get renewed in yours.

How To Be In A Time Like This

Dear Friends,

It feels like the whole world is watching and waiting. I certainly have that feeling. This morning when I awoke I was aware of the fact that so much of humanity is showing up to support the people of Ukraine. It feels like a tremendous relief and a restoration of faith in our goodness. Though the struggle has been going on there for years, it has turned a corner and crossed a costly line to which our hearts are responding. Thank goodness. If you feel compassion, or heartbreak, or the desire to help, this is a very good thing. It means you are awake and very much alive. 

This morning I also awoke to a blue sky and sun here in New Jersey and am reminding myself that beauty and suffering co-exist. We don't have to miss the good amidst the pain. When we forget this, all there is is suffering and we can't be of service to anyone. In these times, when we are across the world in relative safety and the goings-on of our lives appears relatively normal, it can feel like we are not doing anything, that we are helpless. But we are always making choices that affect those around us and those across the globe from us for years to come. Choices in what we consume, what energy we contribute to the world, what seeds we water in our thoughts, words, and actions. Though this may seem insignificant at this very moment, it is not. What we do right now in our everyday is what creates this world. We impact our children and generations to come in our behavior and interactions right now. And so, when we inevitably feel powerless in these moments when a war is underway, we can take refuge in our practice. We can practice staying calm, grounded, compassionate, peaceful, grateful. We can practice kindness, appreciation, joy. We are powerful in this way. We do what we can to help the people of Ukraine, to show our support, to share our resources, AND we deepen our commitment to living mindfully and spreading peace. Living mindfully takes time and we need to make it. As Thich Nhat Hanh would say, we work now to stop a war many years from now.

My invitation this week is to commit to the practices you engage in that help you to feel steady, clear, present, and those activities that bring you a sense of connection. If you have the resources to give, here is a list of organizations that are are helping Ukraine. Two others: Nova Ukraine and Care.

May the people of Ukraine be safe. May the people of Russia be safe. May all beings everywhere be safe. May all of our leaders be filled with a reverence for life. May we all be free.

🌻
Jean

P.S. Not sure how to stay calm, how to practice? Weekly drop-in meditations are by donation and are open to anyone. Simply follow along. For more instruction, a Beginning Meditation Series starts on 3/22 or reach out and we can have a discovery call to see what is right for you.   

The Things We Attach To

This week's pause is from the talk I gave on Sunday night, February 20, 2022. If you prefer to listen to it, click here.

Dear Friends,

When I was in the third grade my best friend's father passed away in his sleep. Our parents were good friends and it was shocking. My friend and I lived a few minutes from the Long Island Sound and we spent a lot of time there. It was probably the summer after he died that we were at the beach; our mothers were sitting on the shore and my friend and I were swimming. We could spend hours in the water, so present and having fun. The swimming area had a float out at the end of it that you could swim to and sit on or jump off of. As kids it felt like it was such a long way out and such an achievement to get there. We were out on that float and my friend jumped into the water with a swim mask she had on. I didn't know at the time that it had any sentimental value, but it was her father's and it was old and made of glass. When she came up out of the water, she was fine, but the outer layer of glass was shattered. Thankfully, it was very thick so she wasn’t hurt, but she was so distraught. We swam back to the shore and she brought it to her mother and I gathered what it meant to her. This may have been the first time I understood how an object could have such meaning.

It is a very human process to get attached to all kinds of things. To objects, people, animals, places, ideas, ways of seeing. And yet, as adults, we know that we have to let everything go at some point. We know this intellectually, but it's a different thing to start practicing knowing it more intimately on an everyday basis so that we can be more free while we are here. It’s not that we shouldn’t have objects that we hold as dear to us. Objects can connect us to people, places. They can keep memories alive. It’s not that we shouldn’t have people who we are deeply connected with and passionate about, who we love with all our heart. But developing the awareness of when that attachment gets in the way of our happiness, of our freedom, of the other’s freedom is something we can investigate gently so that we can be more free, light, happy and so that those around us (our children, our partners, friends) can also feel more free, light and happy. Thich Nhat Hanh says that if we love someone we should let them free.

We also know that this is often hard to do. It’s hard to do because we have a basic need to feel connected. We are physically connected to our mother when we are born and from that point forward when the umbilical cord is cut, we begin a process of letting go. But we also begin a process of receiving…that first breath we receive. As infants we can’t fend for ourselves so we receive food, warmth, shelter, care until we naturally progress and want to differentiate ourselves from our parents/caregivers and we start to let go (which can then be hard for the parent and for the child; it’s a struggle for a while, a push/pull anyone with teenagers can identify with). All of life is receiving and letting go. It is an organic and beautiful process if we allow it and are not scared of it. This doesn’t mean it will be painless. Instead we can allow ourselves to grieve, even allow resistance for a while which might feel like anger/defiance. We allow the process to flow through us and find we do get through it and we grow more alive. 

With mindfulness, we become more and more conscious of what we are attaching to and this awareness is an opportunity to be more free. I think it can be exciting. The challenge is to be liberated. The idea of “no mud, no lotus” comes to play here. If we really want to be free, we have to experience the mud – the growing pains to get there.

I invite you to try it now. Is there anything you are attaching to in your life that, if you honestly look at it, you realize the attachment is bringing you more stress than peace. This could be: a way of thinking about ourselves. An image we have of ourselves that we are trying to uphold. Our relationship to our work. Our relationship to exercise or our body. Anything we do that brings anxiety, but we still do it anyway. I think about devices that track our steps or our sleep. While they are meant to be a source of good they can turn into a source of anxiety. Or watching a show that helps us move into fantasy for a while, but the violence in it makes our thoughts more anxious/dark. Or, maybe we hoard objects because we can’t let go of memories associated with them (the thought that if we let go of that object we will forget that person), or we think we might someday need the thing, but in fact it adds a lot of clutter and chaos to our space (mental and physical space). Go ahead and call to mind something. And now, just imagine what it would be like to be liberated from that attachment. You don’t have to figure out how, in this moment, but just imagine getting to the place where you no longer believe you need it to be happy. Try on the phrase, ”what if I no longer need this to be happy/content?” You can imagine walking around with a heavy boot on one leg thinking you need it to be able to walk and now you get to take that boot off and realize that you don’t need it to walk. You don’t need it to be happy. How does it feel in your body just trying it on -- to let yourself be free? How would life feel different? 

Then comes the work of letting go, which often takes time, but as we become more and more honest with ourselves and as we become kinder to ourselves we will move in that direction because there is ultimately less suffering there. I was thinking about the big shifts I made in my life and, every time, my body was asking me to make a shift that was kinder toward myself -- the stress of whatever I was doing was clear and I chose to listen. Even letting people go, no matter how painful, was an act of kindness. They were hard shifts, painful at times, but they brought relief in time and more aliveness, not less. We have to not want to suffer. The 4th Noble truth is the path out of suffering. There is a path. We can trust in the path of living a mindful life.

Jean

P.S. Interested in working more with "letting go?" Join me in March for a two part workshop.