 |
| |
| |
| | |
|
Hello Lea,
It’s July ~ the middle of summer in the northern hemisphere ~ a time of ripe peaches and brutal wildfires, weekend cookouts and devastating floods. Sometimes I wish I could just talk about the peaches and the cookouts. But I know that if I did, that would feel incomplete and untrue. How do we stay present when such intense and dynamic things are happening, though ~ when we want to turn away from the pain and just focus on the sweetness? It's a question I find myself sitting with a lot. Do you wonder about this, too?
This month’s practice is what I've come up with as a way to cope with the intensity of being alive right now. It’s called Breathing in tenderness, Breathing out tenderness.
I found myself practicing this over the weekend ~ once during a very challenging experience (a trip to the vet emergency room because my cat was sick), and once during a joyful experience (a surprise party for my mom's 80th birthday). In both of these situations, I realized that a powerful, gently transformative thing can occur when we just feel what's happening, when we're in reality as it is. It tenderizes us.
What do I mean by that? Well, when we're tenderized, we're in touch with our humanness and the humanness of others; we're not as defended against our own imperfection or anyone else's. So often, we go through our days reflexively avoiding being present for our actual life and the feelings that are part of it. We can so quickly push it away ~ often by blaming ourselves and blaming others for our unwanted experiences.
If we can feel what’s happening and meet it with a matter-of-fact allowing, it transforms us. It frees us from the self-critical stories that hold us captive. When we let our felt experience be here, the stories lose their grip. Self-criticism becomes less compelling. And we can just be here in reality, together. When we're focused on tenderness, there's a lot less room for criticizing ourselves and others. I hope you find Breathing in tenderness, Breathing out tenderness supportive.
You may have seen my email last week where I shared that I'm giving away two $50 gift cards to bookshop.org. To be eligible to win one, all you need to do is fill out my community survey and share your perspective with me so I can create self-compassion offerings that are as helpful as possible. If you’d like to fill out the survey, you can click here. For those of you who have already filled it out - thank you very much! The survey will close on July 22nd, and I’ll announce the two winners on July 23rd.
We just had our retreat for the summer cohort of Everyday Self-Compassion, and it was sweet to spend the morning with students as we immersed in self-compassion practice. We all seemed to especially love exploring a self-compassion poem together and making art. I’ll be offering the program again this fall, and if you'd like to join the waitlist, you can do that here.
The next Self-Compassion Circle meets tonight, Monday, July 19, 2021 from 6:30-8pm PT on Zoom. In case you don't know, the Self-Compassion Circle is a drop-in monthly meditation and practice group open to all. We check in, talk about self-compassion, share practices, and meditate together. If you'd like to learn about and practice self-compassion in a welcoming group, I hope you'll join us! You can register on Zoom here, and you'll want to do that before the start time.
I hope you find some tenderness and ease today!
Warmly,
p.s. A friend and colleague recently told me about the film, The Wisdom of Trauma, which is screening online from July 28-August 1. It is centered on Dr. Gabor Maté and his approach to trauma healing (which is a deeply self-compassionate perspective). I'll be watching the film at the end of the month, and I encourage you to join me. You can register to watch, here. The filmmakers request a donation of any amount, but no one will be turned away for lack of funds.
|
| | | |
| | |
|
Hello Lea,
It’s July ~ the middle of summer in the northern hemisphere ~ a time of ripe peaches and brutal wildfires, weekend cookouts and devastating floods. Sometimes I wish I could just talk about the peaches and the cookouts. But I know that if I did, that would feel incomplete and untrue. How do we stay present when such intense and dynamic things are happening, though ~ when we want to turn away from the pain and just focus on the sweetness? It's a question I find myself sitting with a lot. Do you wonder about this, too?
This month’s practice is what I've come up with as a way to cope with the intensity of being alive right now. It’s called Breathing in tenderness, Breathing out tenderness.
I found myself practicing this over the weekend ~ once during a very challenging experience (a trip to the vet emergency room because my cat was sick), and once during a joyful experience (a surprise party for my mom's 80th birthday). In both of these situations, I realized that a powerful, gently transformative thing can occur when we just feel what's happening, when we're in reality as it is. It tenderizes us.
What do I mean by that? Well, when we're tenderized, we're in touch with our humanness and the humanness of others; we're not as defended against our own imperfection or anyone else's. So often, we go through our days reflexively avoiding being present for our actual life and the feelings that are part of it. We can so quickly push it away ~ often by blaming ourselves and blaming others for our unwanted experiences.
If we can feel what’s happening and meet it with a matter-of-fact allowing, it transforms us. It frees us from the self-critical stories that hold us captive. When we let our felt experience be here, the stories lose their grip. Self-criticism becomes less compelling. And we can just be here in reality, together. When we're focused on tenderness, there's a lot less room for criticizing ourselves and others. I hope you find Breathing in tenderness, Breathing out tenderness supportive.
You may have seen my email last week where I shared that I'm giving away two $50 gift cards to bookshop.org. To be eligible to win one, all you need to do is fill out my community survey and share your perspective with me so I can create self-compassion offerings that are as helpful as possible. If you’d like to fill out the survey, you can click here. For those of you who have already filled it out - thank you very much! The survey will close on July 22nd, and I’ll announce the two winners on July 23rd.
We just had our retreat for the summer cohort of Everyday Self-Compassion, and it was sweet to spend the morning with students as we immersed in self-compassion practice. We all seemed to especially love exploring a self-compassion poem together and making art. I’ll be offering the program again this fall, and if you'd like to join the waitlist, you can do that here.
The next Self-Compassion Circle meets tonight, Monday, July 19, 2021 from 6:30-8pm PT on Zoom. In case you don't know, the Self-Compassion Circle is a drop-in monthly meditation and practice group open to all. We check in, talk about self-compassion, share practices, and meditate together. If you'd like to learn about and practice self-compassion in a welcoming group, I hope you'll join us! You can register on Zoom here, and you'll want to do that before the start time.
I hope you find some tenderness and ease today!
Warmly,
p.s. A friend and colleague recently told me about the film, The Wisdom of Trauma, which is screening online from July 28-August 1. It is centered on Dr. Gabor Maté and his approach to trauma healing (which is a deeply self-compassionate perspective). I'll be watching the film at the end of the month, and I encourage you to join me. You can register to watch, here. The filmmakers request a donation of any amount, but no one will be turned away for lack of funds.
|
| | | |
| | |
"No one who has ever touched liberation could possibly want anything other than liberation for everyone."
~ Rev. angel Kyodo williams |
| | | |
| | |
"Happiness is the absence of striving for happiness."
~ Chuang-Tzu
|
| | | |
| | | |
| | |
| Hold Out Your Hand
by Julia Fehrenbacher
Let's forget the world for a while
fall back and back
into the hush and holy
of now
are you listening? This breath
invites you
to write the first word
of your new story
your new story begins with this:
You matter.
You are needed ~ empty
and naked
willing to say yes
and yes and yes.
Do you see
the sun shines, day after day
whether you have faith
or not
the sparrows continue
to sing their song
even when you forget to sing
yours
stop asking: Am I good enough?
Ask only: Am I showing up with love?
Life is not a straight line
it's a downpour of gifts, please ~
hold out your hand
|
| | | |
| | | |
| | | |
| | |
BREATHING IN TENDERNESS, BREATHING OUT TENDERNESS |
| | | |
| |
| |
| | |
| As I composed this month's newsletter, I wasn't where I expected to be. I was at the vet ER (typing this as a note in my phone) because my oldest cat is sick. We still don't know what's wrong. And it's hard to not know.
That’s how it is sometimes. We don’t want what’s happening to be happening. We want things to be different. As I sat there with my partner and a few other stressed pet parents (dogs on one side, cats on the other), I felt a shaky tenderness for all of us. I heard how someone’s dog had swallowed a sock. It sounded funny at first. But it’s wasn't. And I felt a melting in my heart.
I felt grateful for self-compassion in that moment. I think at another time in my life, I wouldn't have been as present with my experience. I would have let fear and sadness make me tense up. I probably would have gotten into some kind of conflict with my partner. Instead we were just there, together. Feeling the feelings. Being in it. It was uncomfortable. And it was tenderizing. I was able to be kind to myself, to my partner, and to feel compassionately toward the folks around me who were coping with hard things as best they could.
The following day, I was at a surprise party for my mom's 80th birthday. While this was an upbeat time, I noticed that I felt the poignancy of it, too. It was happy and tender, and I felt connected to the people around me in a way that is sometimes harder for me in groups. From time to time, I noticed tension arise in me ~ judging myself or judging life. And, as I said above, I also noticed that when I was in that more tenderized place, there wasn't as much room for self-judgment (or judgment of life).
This is a simple practice, and I invite you to try it. I think of it as a kind of aikido for transforming judgment.
THE PRACTICE
You can begin right where you are. And it would be helpful for you to have some way to take notes on your experience ~ paper, pen, tablet.
If you're in a quiet, private place you can close your eyes and put a hand on your heart or some other soothing place. Doing this as a reminder to bring not just awareness but kind, loving awareness both to yourself and to your experience.
Then take a few breaths. And if you're out and about, begin here ~ close your eyes and take a few breaths. If you'd like to inhale and exhale deeply, do that. Let these be cleansing breaths. See if you can release any tension that you don't need.
Next, turn your attention inward. Notice if you're telling yourself any stories about your experience or about yourself. Are you judging yourself or your experience right now? Maybe asking yourself: "What's wrong with me? Why do I have to be this way?" or "What's wrong with them? Why do they have to be that way?" or "Why can't it always be this way? I wish it could always be this way!" Just noticing; remembering that these are stories. Continuing to breathe.
Next, notice the feelings that are underneath the story, judgment or thought. Just notice what's true for you. If you're feeling tension and frustration, notice that. If you're feeling sadness, grief, anger, excitement, happiness ~ whatever you're feeling; whatever combination ~ just notice. Naming it to yourself.
Continuing to breathe. These are the stories, these are the feelings. Seeing if we can let our breath help us be here more fully.
On your next exhale, breathing out the stories
On your next inhale, breathing in the feelings
Doing this for a few breaths. Reminding yourself that these are stories and feelings. They are here. They don't control you. Allowing these stories and feelings to be here.
Then shifting your attention slightly and taking a cue from this month's poem...
On your next exhale, breathing out "Am I good enough?"
And on your next inhale, breathing in "Am I showing up with love?"
Doing this for a few breaths. Remembering that you're not alone. Everyone you know has stories and feelings. Everyone you know is doing the best they can to cope with their stories and feelings. Everyone you know struggle to show up with love sometimes. If it feels right, putting a hand on your heart.
Then, continuing to connect with your breath...
On the next inhale, breathing in tenderness, allowing your feelings and stories to be here.
And on the next exhale, breathing out tenderness, recognizing that everyone is coping with stories and feelings.
Taking a few breaths this way.
And now, letting go of this focus on the breath and on tenderness. Resting quietly in your own experience and notice how you feel. As best you can, allow yourself to be just the way that you are and to feel however you feel. As you feel ready, gently open your eyes.
You may like to journal about this experience ~ what was it like to open to the possibility of tenderness? What did you notice? How did you feel when you slowed down this way? Was there impatience or resistance to it? Did you notice any softening at all? Did it seem impossible? There's no wrong answer. ❤️
|
| | | |
| | | |
| | |
"We have a responsibility to hold to the power of love that we know to be true, and to not allow the world around us to deaden that in ourselves." ~ Lucas Johnson |
| | | |
| | |
"What we grasp of truth is necessarily always partial and limited. No matter how huge your hands and how firm your grip, you can only hold so much." ~ Brother David Steindl-Rast |
| | | |
|
