Trusting What We Can't Yet See

There are things in life that we can't see, but we learn that they are still there even if our eyes can't take them in. The sun is an easy example. It may be hidden behind a solid expanse of gray clouds, but we know it is still there. And then there are the less obvious ones. Our own light is something we might not see in ourselves at times, trusting that, like the sun, it is still there behind the darkness of a mood, or a dulled energy, or lackluster mental or physical state is not always so easy. We might not be able to access it, but the light still resides inside. The absence of someone -- for whatever reason they may be out of our picture -- the person, though we can't see them, is still there, even if in spirit or memory. But being able to trust in the presence of something we can't see takes some learning. To believe in our paths, our visions, ourselves certainly requires trusting in what we can't yet see. 

Young children don't know it. When a parent is out of sight, they easily fear they are gone. As we grow, we learn that they're not gone, just momentarily hidden from view. For people who have experienced repeated abandonment, this access to trust is harder to gain, but still possible to strengthen. How do we trust that the light is still there when we don't feel it or see it? How do we trust that we are still creative when we currently can't access it? How do we trust that we can feel happy, or light, when the current state is heavy or dark? How can we trust that our body, when we have a cold or flu, will get back to "normal" even if we feel terrible in the moment? What do we need to call upon in ourselves to connect to that which we feel separated? This is a great question to feel into and it may not be immediately clear, but if you stay with it, something is likely to come.

This is what came for me:

Remembering The Middle Way. 
When something that is meaningful to me (my health, a person, inspiration) feels gone, I have most likely gone to an extreme. I think it's never coming back. "This time it's real. I'll never feel the same again." These kinds of thoughts are too far in one direction. There isn't room for possibilities, nuances, multiple meanings. Sometimes just noting that I've gotten away from the Middle Way is all I need to shift a little. I don't even have to figure out how to get back. The recognition that I'm going too far is enough to guide me to center. 

Feeling the absence.
When I get caught in the belief that I have "lost" something/someone because I can't see them, the feeling can be so convincing that nothing can shake it and I sink into the hole of absence. In that place, there is nothing to do but to feel the absence and don't make it worse by adding on judgement of the feeling or situation. "The emptiness of whatever it is feels like this..." It may be heavy, drooping, deadened, resigned, bleh. Whatever words describe the place are the "right" words and the experience in my body is simply that -- the current moment experience that will inevitably change.

Taking in the return.
All things change. Most likely what feels lost will come back in sight and when it does return (and I feel somewhat silly for thinking it was completely gone) I can pause and take in what it feels like to have it back. I can let this feeling, in all its detail, sink further into my consciousness. This is what it's like to remember. This is what it feels like in my body (relief, ease, joy, energy, etc.). When I stop and consciously take something in, it has a more lasting impression and I can recall it more easily. Maybe the next time and the time after that the feeling of trust will get stronger and it won't feel so permanent. In this way, I gradually build that muscle of trust. 

It is inevitable for us, at times, to think we have lost our way, our vision, our purpose, our connection to others, to love. It's a natural part of the suffering of life. And when it returns, we get to experience the joy of connection, of finding what was missing. We can't have one without the other. We must experience them both, but all along the way, we can know that the sun is always there.

Asking Questions

 

Do you remember being told many times over in your education to ask questions and being encouraged with the phrase that "there are no stupid questions?" And yet, if you were shy like me, you held the question to yourself or worse, you thought you were the only one that had that question so it must mean something was wrong with you. Just think how many great questions go unasked all the time! What a loss. I love that what I do now is mostly ask questions. For some reason, I am only realizing this today and suddenly I am excited by the realization. Why? (No pun intended).

 A question, when it is asked with genuine openness, can often be a gift to our nervous system because it asks us to move into a place of curiosity. It invites us to stop and listen and to search for understanding. It welcomes us to think and feel for what we need in order to discover (it is generative). Sometimes, it is a shifting question, one that opens up our perspective to hold something in a new way or from another angle. The shifting question can change a negative mind state, to one of possibility, energy or clarity. It can can turn a confused place to one that has understanding or that allows for complexity. A "good" question makes something fresh. It allows us to step back from the subject and get the space we need to see it anew. An insightful question doesn't look for black and white answers and doesn't get bogged down with right and wrong. We ask the question because we believe that there is insight within. It might not happen right away or with one question, but it is there for us to uncover.

How do you ask an insightful, generative, or shifting question? It has to be open and broad enough in scope around the subject. It also has to ask something we don't yet know. Insightful questions aren't smart or clever. Insightful questions often evoke curiosity in us that wasn't present before. They also ask us to listen to our felt sense of the situation, rather than what our logical, practical brain might know about it. When we listen with our gut, with our heart, from what the body knows, we get another way of perceiving what is here.

What are some possible questions that can open us up and inspire curiosity? Here are just a handful that come to mind:

• What is this needing in me? (For example: patience, acceptance, kindness, inspiration, space). 
• Where in my body is this subject held and what does it feel like?
• What assumptions am I making?
• What do I not yet know here that I can let myself not know?
• What would make this easier?
• What matters most to me about this issue?
• What does my higher self, after all these years of experiencing life, know about this?

My invitation this week, whenever you find yourself grappling with something or when you find yourself in any hard emotional or mental state, get curious and ask yourself an open question that causes you to stop and search inside (you might choose one from the list above). Say the question aloud and respond aloud. This will help you find clarity. Slow the question down when you ask it so that you can hear what is being asked. And even just a small insight or opening can go a long way. Asking questions is a very powerful tool we can utilize with ourselves and with each other. (Just be sure when you ask someone else a question, it is truly a question and not a statement, suggestion or opinion disguised as a question).

We never know which question is going to make us go "ah!" Curiosity leads to creativity and we are always creating our lives. Wishing you a beautiful week.

🌷
Jean

How Do I Want To Meet This?

It is not uncommon for us to have to face things in the near future that feel hard, things that we may have to do, or even want to do, even as they produce a feeling of dread or fear. The reason why it feels hard doesn't really matter for what I am offering today. Of course, there is a reason and it likely has useful information for us to know, but even if we don't get into the why, we can ask ourselves a simple shifting question, "how do I want to meet this?" 

I tried this on today with something on my plate and it helped. This thing before me is something I need and want to do, but I lack clarity on the situation I'm stepping into and that uncertainty is uncomfortable. Rather than stew in the discomfort, I asked myself, "Jean, even if it stays unclear, how do you want to meet this occasion?" The answer was clear. Two words came, openness and playfulness. As soon as I said them, I felt a shift. There was a "yes" in response to those words. If I am going to do this thing, I might as well decide how I want to "be" in it. That's up to me. If I don't choose, then I am subject to whatever emotions and ways of being that come automatically and those might not be as pleasant. From here I asked, "well, what would help you to be open and playful?" More answers came that felt clear and "true." What does this process do? It moves me from dread to possibility, from powerlessness to power, from feeling fearful to feeling capable. 

My invitation this week is simple. See if there is anything you are not looking forward to, dreading, fearing, procrastinating about and ask yourself the question: how do I want to meet this? With what energy, insight, clarity of being do you want to show up with? If you are going to do it, you might as well make the best of it. How can you bring your best self to this moment, because it is a precious moment of your life. Hear whole words and sentences in return. Let it inform you and see how it shifts the energy inside. Even if the moment doesn't go as you intend it to, you will have brought your genuine and best self forward to the challenge and that is the most we can ask of ourselves.

I hope this simple shift in perspective comes in handy. It can be used again and again. Please write and let me know if the question shifts something for you!

Wishing you and beautiful first week of May. For all the moms out there and anyone who "mothers" in all the ways we can, I wish you a Happy Mother's Day. We get to celebrate the beautiful role we have been gifted with and honor ourselves for the love and care we give. 

Freedom From Suffering?

It's taken a long time. I think I finally have it, this thing about suffering. No longer will I say in exasperation, "why is this self-doubt or why is this _____ issue still here?" My mind, which wants me to believe I will get to a place where something no longer causes me pain, has been rewired with a deeper understanding that feels much more true. I thought I already had this down, but there are subtle layers of understanding that take time to unpeel. 

There is freedom from suffering and it is not what we often think (and maybe not what we want to hear!). It is the freedom to let suffering happen without thinking something is "wrong" and must be fixed or that it "shouldn't" be there. It doesn't mean we don't do anything to bring relief when we can, but the subtle, yet powerful shift comes when we let go of thinking we shouldn't have to experience it or that there is a way out of it, once and for all.

The way out of suffering is by letting ourselves be in it when it's here. It is contrary to what we often try to do. We think if we understand the issue more (no amount of therapy will remove all suffering), or if we medicate it, smoke, drink, consume it away, we will be free of pain. I wish that were true. Suffering is a part of life.

What does it mean to be in it? It means when we are in the midst of any difficult feeling -- self-doubt, self-criticism, feeling not enough, anxiety, anger, loneliness, we remove the idea that it's not okay. We experience it and remove the judgement. No good, no bad; it may be uncomfortable, but it is what it is,  a sensation, a feeling we can be with and one that will change. 

How do we not get in the way so that suffering can come and go?

1. Awareness. We need to know what's arising to give it room so that our habitual, self-preserving instincts don't kick in to lock the door. Meditation, therapy, self-reflection, integrative body/mind work on a regular basis keeps us aware. It doesn't have to be a big deal, or even an expensive one (groups, free meditations, journaling practices, all can do the trick) -- something that gives us space, time, room to lean in and meet ourselves with compassion, kindness, and presence.

2. Allow the issue to be there as a felt experience, simply something we are experiencing in our body and mind. It will change. "Right now, it feels like this."

3. Compassion. This is the human condition. We are not alone in it. We can offer comfort by reminding ourselves that it's okay to feel this way. What a relief to know that there is nothing wrong with us for having a hard experience. We all do at times and it's not all there is to us.

My invitation this week is when you experience a hard feeling, let yourself be in it and don't add anything more onto it.  The whole experience of living lightens when we allow suffering to exist. Only then can it move through us and we can access all that is not suffering in and around us -- the beauty, the joy, the excitement, the laughter, the inspiration, the feeling of love and connection. Thank goodness because life, in all its complexity, is amazing.

What If We Awoke And Said...

Spring calls us. There are so many invitations it extends to us to stop and be awed. And yet in our busyness, it is so easy to decline the invitation or to miss it altogether. But as I will sometimes say in my meditations, "there is no moment exactly like this moment," there is also no spring exactly like this spring... at this particular age, with these particular conditions, with these people in my life. I am reminding myself not to miss it. These particular tulips found in Princeton over the weekend, as Mike and I went for a drive and a coffee date, made me veer off the sidewalk to say hello. When my kids and I were in Florida visiting my mom last week, there were flowers everywhere. Hibiscus and Bougainvillea and Impatiens could be found on every block. Now I appreciate them, but when I lived there for a brief period of my life, I'm embarrassed to say I stopped noticing them because they were always around. That's not the case in the Northeast and so I can be easily awed every season. Why does it matter that we experience awe?

I'm not a traveler, but I am guessing people who travel are drawn to being awed again and again. To see something fresh that makes us pause, whether it is a landscape, the culture of a place, music/art/dance, architecture, food -- so many things that can strike our senses with a gasp of delight and the feeling of something much greater at work. This matters because it brings us humility and connects us to our innate appreciation for life. 

My invitation this week is to access awe in the everyday moments of our ordinary existence. My 14-17 year old self could not do that in Florida, but I have been training my adult self in this. This is what meditation does. I don't think we can be awed if we aren't present, right? We don't need to travel to have our breath taken away. We can be enraptured by something simply by slowing down, opening our eyes, and letting in a color, a shape, a sound, a movement, a touch, a word. But only we can let it in. No one can do it for us. We could travel and still fail to let in what is before us. We can be loved and fail to let it touch us. It happens all the time and that's okay, too, because when we realize it, we know the difference. Once we know the difference, we can choose. What if we awoke and said, "today, may I make myself available to be awed by what I witness."

While we can't make ourselves feel awe, rather it comes upon us, we can be awake and open to the experience of it by our presence alone. We can choose to see like a photographer sees -- the details, the angles, the shadows, the variations. It's all there for us if we want it.

Wishing everyone an awe-inspired spring week.

🌷
Jean

Hearing Ourselves

Some pieces are coming together. I read, listen, and study from a lot experts in the fields of psychology, spirituality, coaching and I love when what they share goes together and also validates an experience I have. Lately, it is the importance of listening and finding a language for what we are experiencing that keeps getting reinforced.

What I have found is that without being able to decipher my thoughts and feelings into language everything becomes muddled and often stuck. When I can hear myself, and I mean that literally, I gain clarity on what is going on inside me and around me. When we feel stuck in any way -- creatively ( ex. no inspiration), emotionally (feeling bleh), physically (inertia, lack of energy), spiritually (not feeling "connected"), we can choose to stop and take the time to listen to ourselves more deeply and find the words and images that capture what is happening. In making it explicit, we have a greater chance to move in a direction, get back into a sense of flow, and take action. 

Brené Brown's latest book and TV series, Atlas of the Heart, is essentially an encyclopedia of different emotions and feeling states. What I appreciate about it is that she helps us to expand our use of language to accurately describe what we are experiencing (moving beyond basic words that don't give much nuance or specificity). I first learned the importance of this in my 20's through the work of Marshall Rosenberg and Non-Violent Communication where he included in his book a list of emotions and feelings that awakened in me a much greater vocabulary. It was like a whole new world opened up. This was also echoed in the teachings on Mindful Listening and Speech as taught by Thich Nhat Hanh. It was made even deeper by Philosopher, Eugene Gendlin's practice of Focusing, which requires a deep inner listening. It's now more currently echoed in Stephen Porges' Polyvagal Theory which explains why inner listening and communicating is crucial for us to be able to regulate our nervous system. Some of these practices are beyond my scope to explain in any detail, but I have learned something from them all about deepening our emotional intelligence and it has been life changing.

In my own process, I have found that we need both the language and the ability to say it aloud to ourselves and then maybe to others to be able to navigate this experience of living. What does hearing ourselves actually look like? I thought I would share what I do and how it helps me. I welcome you to listen to what it is you do or try these on for size.

• I talk to myself out loud. At the risk of sounding (or looking) a bit crazy, this is one of the main tools I have come to rely on to help me find my way out of places where I feel stuck. I may be home alone, in the shower, in the car and I talk through what's going on as if I am talking to an audience. When I do this, I not only gain clarity, but I tend to hear my inner wisdom respond to what's been said and I gain insight
• Write out what is going on (or draw/paint, sculpt, play). Journaling is the method I use to help unveil and release the inner jumble. With a pen and paper in hand, I have to find the words and meanings. The writing of this, A Mindful Pause, has that effect for me. Your medium may be in some other form. As long as it expresses what you are feeling, it is valuable.
• Sharing with someone who listens well. When we have someone witness our experience and listen to our process of finding our own insight, we have a great gift. Finding that person (or community) that will hold the space, without inserting themselves, is worth searching for. If this is a new idea for your relationship, you can simply ask to try on a practice where you each have 10-20 minutes to share what is alive in you. You get to take pauses, moments of silence, where you wait to see what else is there and your partner won't interrupt, but has their full attention on you. The time doesn't end until the timer stops, even if you sit in silence for a while. Often more comes that we didn't realize was there and, sometimes, our biggest insight may arise in that waiting.

My invitation this week is to give yourself the space to stop, listen, and speak aloud what is true for you in a moment when you feel stuck in the mud, uninspired, empty, or muddled in some way. Hear yourself. We are worth listening to and we have more insight than we often realize if only we can stop and use our language to get clear on what it is.

🌱🌷
Jean

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.