Health Journal Online

Category: Mental Health

  • Elisha Goldstein on the Power of Tiny Shifts

    Elisha Goldstein on the Power of Tiny Shifts

    Psychologist and mindfulness teacher Dr. Elisha Goldstein has spent decades helping people find their way back to themselves. He’s come to see that lasting change rarely comes from dramatic overhaul, but rather through the smallest possible pivots. His new book, Tiny Shifts, introduces a four-step method for interrupting the emotional loops that keep us stuck, and making real change in the ordinary moments of everyday life. Mindful editor-in-chief Siri Myhrom sat down with Dr. Goldstein to talk about the neuroscience behind the method, why our bodies know things our minds don’t, and what to do when the problems feel too big for a tiny shift.

    The heart of the book is the Four R Method: Recognize, Release, Refocus, Reinforce. Where did that come from? Was a method you’ve always had, or did it emerge from a need?

    I think the Four R Method evolved over time—out of my personal experience and also my teaching. The first R—Recognize—is foundational. It’s in many of the world’s wisdom traditions, psychology speaks of it, neuroscience speaks of it. This idea of recognizing, labeling, noticing. Awareness is on its own a regulation tool. It’s also the very first opening to anything. It’s the foundation of mindfulness.

    We need to rebalance the somatic reaction that’s happening, because that widens the space now between stimulus and response. That moment of awareness on its own is typically not enough. We need a wider space.

    That first R is really about stepping outside of the emotional loops that are patterned and conditioned within us—often unconscious, whether that’s anxiety, overeating, snapping at people, road rage, or just generally feeling overwhelmed. These loops happen because there’s so much repetition over years of our lives. We just don’t notice we’re in them. How many people, since 2007, have been programmed to fall into the gentle scroll—typically as some form of soothing, with boredom or dis-ease or restlessness underneath? To wake up to that has been foundational for me.

    But what typically wasn’t there—and what’s not taught systematically—is what I learned later as a psychologist: the somatic piece. That moment of awareness gives us a little wedge. But we can lose that wedge pretty quickly. What we need to do is rebalance the somatic reaction that’s happening. That’s what widens the space between stimulus and response. We don’t just need to step into the space—we typically need to widen it.

    Can you say more about what Release actually means? I think when people hear “letting go,” they imagine it means not feeling the hard thing anymore.

    So that’s a good question, what you’re pointing to here, because release is not about getting rid of the feeling. If you think about tiny shift, it’s like an emotional pivot. We’re just trying to pivot. It’s not about the outcome so much. Think of it more like a verb.

    It’s not whether the emotion is legitimate or illegitimate—it’s here. Release is taking a moment—taking a breath, a slightly longer exhale out, allowing the shoulders to drop, letting the muscles elongate—to feel a little more softness in my body around the activation.  

    I’ll give you an example—a hypothetical moment that has happened many times. My teenage kids had agreed to clean up after themselves after their midnight snacks, and I came downstairs one morning to dishes everywhere. I notice myself really frustrated. Shoulders up, hands tense, face kind of scrunched, heart rate up. I’m about to storm into their room and let them know.

    And release is more about taking a moment to soften around that feeling. It’s not to get rid of the feeling, because the anger is actually justified. They crossed a boundary; there was an agreement. That anger is a healthy feeling. It’s not whether the emotion is legitimate or illegitimate—it’s here. 

    So I recognize the frustration loop. And release is taking a moment—taking a breath, a slightly longer exhale out, allowing the shoulders to drop, letting the muscles elongate. That activates the parasympathetic nervous system. What’s happening there is that I’m taking that space between stimulus and response and widening it. The anger is still there. But I’m able to feel a little more softness in my body around the activation. 

    Sometimes, too, I’ll notice a story in my mind that’s not serving me—something rigid, something about what was done to me—and as I take that exhalation out, I might see that story and say the word “release” and allow it to kind of come out. That doesn’t mean it magically disappears. But it does help soften the activation. It helps turn the volume down on the story a little bit. That’s what we’re after. Whether we’re going to use the anger constructively or destructively—that’s the important piece. And the release is what gives us enough space to choose.

    There’s a phrase in the book — “embodied cognition” — that gets at knowing through our bodies. Where do you think our disconnection from the body comes from?

    I think it’s cultural. Western culture, in particular. You see it from a young age—how we train kids to favor and prize thinking. And our bodies, how we feel, sensations—this type of stuff is implicitly taught as unimportant. So we don’t get a lot of reps with it.

    We’re also wired to problem-solve. So if we’re feeling anxious, frustrated, like something’s wrong—we’re going to try and problem-solve that. And the way we problem-solve is we start thinking. We think about all the problems in front of us, or possible problems that aren’t in front of us, or we reach back to our Rolodex of history and think about problems in the past. Meanwhile, we feel more anxious or upset, because that’s the emotion it feeds.

    The insight doesn’t translate into change until it drops down into the body. That’s the piece that’s so often missing.

    The pause can give us a moment of recognition, but then it’s gone. The insight doesn’t translate into change until it drops down into the body. That’s the piece that’s so often missing.

    There’s a study I keep coming back to, by Norman Farb and Zindel Segal at the University of Toronto. Segal is one of the creators of mindfulness-based cognitive therapy. They showed emotionally difficult film clips—clips from Terms of Endearment and The Champ—to two groups. One group had gone through mindfulness training and one who hadn’t. Both groups showed the same perceived sadness. But the mindfulness group scored statistically significantly lower on the Beck Depression Inventory. 

    We’ve got two basic networks in our brains: the narrative network [also called the Default Mode Network], where rumination and worry live; and the present-focus network [also called the Task Positive Network], where problem-solving occurs. And what the brain imaging showed is a kind of seesaw effect: when one network goes up, the other goes down, and vice versa. 

    When people were paying attention to the sensation of sadness and saying “sadness” in their mind, their narrative network was coming down. They didn’t get caught in the rumination as much. That’s how mindfulness works. And similarly, when we recognize a loop and soften around it in an embodied way, it dials down that narrative default mode network. That’s the neurology behind why this works.

    Can you give another example of how this works in your everyday life?

    This method is basically how I cured my insomnia, because understanding the neurology of this has helped me trust, to come back to my body any time I have sleep troubles. As an example, my dog recently woke me up in the middle of the night, barking. So I had to go get the dog, and on the way back to bed, I banged my hand on the banister in the dark, and cut my hand. It’s the kind of thing that just wakes your whole body up. By the time I got back to bed, my mind had latched onto a work problem. And I could recognize what was happening: I was in a worry loop. There’s something called the Zeigarnik Effect—the mind keeps trying to close unfinished loops. So I knew that if I just tried to push the thought away, it would keep coming back.

    I recommend this to anyone: really deeply listen to a practice with massive repetition, so that you memorize it. Because the higher your emotional activation, the more your thoughts are convincing, the more you kind of go under a spell. If you have some level of mastery, you’ll be able to break that spell—because you can trust the neurology.

    What I did instead was recognize the loop, and take a moment to soften the physical tension. My stomach was clenched from the worrying, so I took some deep breaths—not to “activate the parasympathetic nervous system” as a technique, but because my abdomen was tense and I needed to do the opposite. I needed to stretch those muscles. So I took deep breaths, my abdomen expanded, and that was the release.

    Then my refocus was: I know the seesaw effect. I know that even though my mind is telling me I need to worry about this, if I come back and attend to something in the present moment—for me the body is the most tangible anchor—I can activate that steady gear and bring the spinning gear down. And because I’ve done a body scan hundreds of times, my body just knows what to do. I don’t need to turn on an audio. I recommend this to anyone: really deeply listen to a practice like that with massive repetition, so that you memorize it. Because the higher your emotional activation, the more your thoughts are convincing, the more you kind of go under a spell. If you have some level of mastery, you’ll be able to break that spell—because you can trust the neurology.

    The third R is Refocus. You describe it as “taking the steering wheel.” What does that look like in practice?

    Our brain is already reactively asking us questions—and it’s steering. What’s the worst case scenario here? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t my kids love me anymore? Whatever it is, refocus is about consciously redirecting that question-asking capacity. When we ask our brain questions, it searches for answers. So instead of those reactive questions, we ask something like: What’s most important for me to focus on right now? What do I actually need right now that’ll move me in a healthier direction? What’s something I can do that’ll enhance the next five minutes of my life? Something like that will completely change the moment.

    Sometimes refocus doesn’t even require a new question. After you’ve recognized and released, you often just have access to wisdom you already had—a phrase from a teacher you love, an intuition about what you need. The emotional loops don’t erase our wisdom. They just block access to it.

    And sometimes refocus doesn’t even require a new question. After you’ve recognized and released, you often just have access to wisdom you already had—a phrase from a teacher you love, an intuition about what you need. The emotional loops don’t erase our wisdom. They just block access to it. That’s why so many people say, I’ve done so much work, read so many books, why isn’t it sticking? This is why. When we’re in those emotional loops, we lose access to what we know. The release is what restores that access.

    The fourth R—Reinforce—is the one you say that’s most often skipped. Why does it matter?

    Yes, it’s the most often missed—and the reason there’s a fourth R at all is because after we have an experience, we need to do something to emotionally tag that moment so we remember it. It might be a meditation or interrupting a moment where you were about to snap at your kid, or you were in traffic hating being in traffic and you loosened your grip on the steering wheel and remembered something Sharon Salzberg said—you are also the traffic—and suddenly felt a whole lot more ease. The reinforce is saying: I need to do something that emotionally tags this moment. That’s a term from neuroscience. To emotionally tag the moment so my brain remembers it. I want to install it in my short-term working memory so that the next time I’m in this context, my brain will automatically bring it up and interrupt the old pattern.

    Emotional tagging is acknowledging: Wow, look at what I just did, and how I’m feeling right now. That gives it a little extra emphasis. It’s like hitting the save button on a document you just created. You take a beat with it. Just let the moment land. That’s the reinforce piece.

    The way to do that is quite simple. Just acknowledging: Wow, look at what I just did, and how I’m feeling right now. That gives it a little extra emphasis. Or you take a moment and put your hand on your heart and sense the shift—whether it’s relief, ease, warmth, whatever the positive shift is—and you let it land. It’s like hitting the save button on a document you just created. You take a beat with it. Just let the moment land. That’s the reinforce piece. And that’s how we really enhance the process toward more implicit change—not just knowing something, but having it available to us the next time we need it.

    As I was reading, I was thinking, too, about our current cultural moment. I live in Minneapolis, and we have had a hell of a year. In the realm of overwhelm, there was both the feeling and the message: We need to be doing something, and it has to be more and more and more, and it’s not enough, and everything’s on fire. How does a concept like “tiny shifts” work when the problems feel so big and so urgent? How can this tiny thing be enough to meet what is asking so much of us?  

    First of all, just acknowledging that, yeah, Minneapolis has been through the wringer this last year in gigantic ways. A friend of mine who’s been diagnosed with cancer said exactly that to me after I gave him the book, Do you have anything called Big Shifts? Because that’s what I need. And I really felt that.

    A friend of mine who’s been diagnosed with cancer said to me after I gave him the book, “Do you have anything called Big Shifts? Because that’s what I need.” And I really felt that.

    But here’s what I’d say. In your example—the feeling that I’m not doing enough, there’s so much to do, everything’s on fire, and it’s still not enough—that is an emotional loop. What I’m noticing is that I’m activated. My mind is running stories. My body is tensing. It’s a not-enoughness loop, a save-the-world loop. And a tiny shift is saying: What’s happening within me right now? Because I’m not grounded and balanced in this moment. And that’s what we’re after.

    So I recognize the overwhelm loop. I release. I soften around the activation even as all of that is still here. Then I refocus—and in this moment I could go a lot of directions. I might ask: What are some things I’ve been doing in the direction of this that I feel a sense of accomplishment about?—redirecting attention from the lack to what I’ve actually done. Or: What’s one thing I can do that moves in this direction? 

    The tiny shift isn’t pretending the big thing is small. It’s gathering yourself—recognize, release—so that when you refocus, you’re steering from a more grounded place.

    The tiny shift isn’t pretending the big thing is small. It’s gathering yourself—recognize, release—so that when you refocus, you’re steering from a more grounded place. And then if you notice even a little bit of relief or clarity, you reinforce it. Okay. I can do this. This is also part of me. I can walk through this incredibly difficult time with more groundedness. And that might take thirty seconds. Or it might open up the realization that you need to take a half an hour this evening. That’s okay too. Because that’s a need you have, and the method helped you find it.

    Following up on that question of What do I need right now?—What if what we need is truly unrealistic or impossible—say, a more loving parent, or for more people to step up, or for more hours in a day? How do you get at what’s underneath all that so you can get to what can actually be addressed?

    Often when we’re overwhelmed, we struggle to even name what we need. So we can ask, What do I need right now? And if the honest answer is, I’m confused, I don’t know, I’m just so over it—then the actual need is “clarity.”  That’s always a one-to-one: confusion means the need is clarity. So then the question becomes, What’s going to support me in the direction of clarity? Maybe a conversation. Maybe journaling. Maybe space and time—and there’s no getting around that sometimes we just need to take time to reflect. You’re not going to get it without taking time to sit and be with something. We can do that together or we can do that individually, but there is a need, and there’s no getting around taking space for that. So the next layer is: What’s going to support me in creating that space? 

    Speaking of that, you do have a class coming up. Do you want to talk about? 

    Yes, we have this great program called the 21-Day Tiny Shift Experience, starting on May 11. I realize that change happens in the everyday moments of our lives, and this is a program of one- to three-minute daily voice notes delivered through WhatsApp—for people who want support in layering this into everyday life. People had incredible results the first time we ran it: more relief, more ease, more calm, real insight—without taking time out of their day, just by weaving in these tiny shifts over three weeks.

    And remind us—where can people find your  book and learn more?

    The book is Tiny Shifts, and there’s a free resource bundle at elishagoldstein.com/tiny-shifts—a quick guide to the method, three shorter meditations, and a needs and feelings inventory. 

    There’s still time to join the upcoming 21-day Tiny Shifts program, which starts on May 11, 2026. Register here.



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  • When Insight Isn’t Enough: An Interview with Juliana Sloane on Imagination, Hypnotherapy, and Deeper Transformation

    When Insight Isn’t Enough: An Interview with Juliana Sloane on Imagination, Hypnotherapy, and Deeper Transformation

    Meditation practice can bring remarkable clarity. Over time, practitioners often become more aware of their thoughts, emotions, and recurring patterns. But awareness alone does not always translate into change. Many meditators can clearly recognize habits of mind such as anxiety, self-criticism, or people-pleasing and still find themselves repeating the same patterns.

    Maybe it is the same relationship dynamic that keeps returning. Or the same inner voice of doubt that appears again and again during practice.

    What happens when recognizing a pattern still does not shift it?

    So what happens when recognizing a pattern still does not shift it?

    Juliana Sloane, a meditation teacher and hypnotherapist, works with practices that explore how deeper, subconscious layers of the mind and nervous system shape our behavior. In this conversation with Mindful, she discusses why understanding our patterns does not always lead to transformation, how imagination and altered states can open new pathways for change, and how mindfulness practitioners might recognize when something arising in practice is asking for deeper attention.

    Angela Stubbs: The topic I originally pitched for this conversation was “when insight isn’t enough.” Many people can recognize their patterns or understand why certain behaviors repeat in their lives. But insight alone does not always lead to real change. From your perspective, why is that?

    Most of the people who come to work with me already have a great deal of self-awareness. But despite that awareness, they still feel stuck. They cannot stop the anxiety. They cannot stop holding themselves to impossible standards. They keep entering relationships that are not right for them.

    Juliana Sloane: There are certainly situations where insight alone can be enough. Someone has an “aha” moment, something shifts internally, and the pattern loosens. But honestly, that is a fairly small percentage of cases I see, especially when it comes to deeply entrenched patterns and habits.

    Most of the people who come to work with me already have a great deal of self-awareness. They often have meditation practices, they have been to therapy, and they are interested in personal growth. They can clearly articulate what their patterns are.

    But despite that awareness, they still feel stuck. They cannot stop the anxiety. They cannot stop holding themselves to impossible standards. They keep entering relationships that are not right for them.

    These kinds of patterns are not just intellectual. They are deeply embedded habits of the mind and nervous system. People have often been repeating them for years, sometimes their entire lives. Over time those repetitions form very strong neural pathways that steer someone back into the same familiar pattern.

    Understanding the pattern can be helpful, but we also need ways to work with the deeper conditioning that keeps recreating it.

    A very common thing I hear is, “I have done a lot of work on this issue. I understand it intellectually. But something still feels stuck.”

    Angela Stubbs: How do people begin to recognize when something might need deeper exploration rather than continued observation or reflection?

    Juliana Sloane: Usually, by the time someone comes to see me, they already have a sense that something deeper is going on. A very common thing I hear is, “I have done a lot of work on this issue. I understand it intellectually. But something still feels stuck.”

    The feeling that there is ‘something deeper’ to explore is often a good sign someone might benefit from working with these layers of knowing and experience that lie further beneath the surface.

    The biggest time someone might not be ready is when they are hoping for a quick fix that doesn’t require their active participation. We’re not waving a magic wand, we’re actively engaging with the mind, body, and nervous system to create the change that’s needed.

    The work I do is about helping people develop tools to navigate their own inner worlds and access their own resources, insight, and wisdom. Ultimately, the goal is for people to feel more empowered in their own process and to realize that many of the answers they are looking for are already within them.

    Angela Stubbs: If many of these patterns live outside conscious awareness, what is happening beneath the level of the thinking mind?

    We tend to think that if we understand something intellectually we should be able to change it. But most of our behaviors and emotional responses are shaped by processes happening beyond the level of conscious thought.

    Juliana Sloane: A lot of the patterns people struggle with are operating outside conscious awareness. We tend to think that if we understand something intellectually we should be able to change it. But most of our behaviors and emotional responses are shaped by processes happening beyond the level of conscious thought.

    Over time repeated experiences form strong patterns in the mind and nervous system. Those patterns can become automatic, even to the extent that they begin to simply feel like part of who we are. Even when someone understands the pattern, they can still find themselves pulled back into it again and again.

    Awareness can help us recognize what is happening, but the deeper conditioning that drives those patterns may still be operating underneath.

    In many ways the conscious mind is only a small part of what is shaping our experience. If we are only working at that level, we are leaving a lot of the mind untouched.

    Angela Stubbs: You often use the word trance in your work. For readers who may not be familiar with that idea, what do you mean by trance?

    Juliana Sloane: When people hear the word trance, they often imagine something unusual or mysterious. And it certainly can feel magical, but that doesn’t mean it’s inaccessible. Trance is actually a very natural state of consciousness that people move in and out of all the time.

    People’s ideas about hypnosis typically come from stage shows or older models where someone appears to ‘take control’ of another person’s mind. But that is not really how modern hypnotherapeutic work functions. Hypnosis is much more collaborative and empowering than people often imagine. The person entering trance remains aware and engaged in the process the entire time.

    For example, when you are completely absorbed in a movie or a book and lose track of time, that is a kind of trance state. Your attention becomes focused and the usual analytical thinking mind quiets down.

    In those moments the mind becomes more open to imagery, emotion, intuition, and deeper layers of experience. In trance-based practices we are intentionally working with that state of focused awareness so people can explore those deeper layers of their own inner experience.

    Angela Stubbs: There are a lot of misconceptions about hypnosis. What do people often misunderstand about it?

    Juliana Sloane: People’s ideas about hypnosis typically come from stage shows or older models where someone appears to ‘take control’ of another person’s mind.

    But that is not really how modern hypnotherapeutic work functions. Hypnosis is much more collaborative and empowering than people often imagine. The person entering trance remains aware and engaged in the process the entire time.

    What happens is that the analytical thinking mind begins to relax a little. We start to get out of our own way, which allows deeper layers of the mind and our own awareness to become more available.

    Rather than controlling someone, the practitioner is helping create conditions where a person can explore their own inner experience in a different way and become an active agent of change in their own subconscious mind.

    In many modern contexts we think of imagination as something childish or unserious. But imagination is actually one of the most potent ways the mind communicates.

    Angela Stubbs: You speak about the role of imagination in this work. That can be surprising for people who tend to think of imagination as something unreal.

    Juliana Sloane: In many modern contexts we think of imagination as something childish or unserious. But imagination is actually one of the most potent ways the mind communicates.

    During a focused meditative or hypnotic process, things like imagery, metaphor, and archetype are often steeped in meaning. They’re not just ‘our imagination’ running wild, rather, they are symbols encoded with our beliefs, experiences, world view, memory, and so much more. In our day to day life, we often gloss over the power this holds. When people go into a hypnotic or trance-like state, those hidden metaphors, somatic experiences, and images naturally emerge for us to actively work with them. 

    Rather than dismissing those experiences as “just imagination,” we can begin to see them as powerful tools. Sometimes these experiences point us to deeper emotional patterns and allow us to process and integrate our experiences more fully. Sometimes they allow us agency to experience what it’s like to overcome obstacles or respond differently to things that used to trigger anxiety, self-doubt, or fear. For example, professional athletes do this all the time when they mentally rehearse breaking a record or performing at their best. Your brain doesn’t actually discriminate all that much whether you’re shooting the basket or envisioning shooting the basket– it takes that information and it runs with it. So when you’re working with a hypnotherapist, you’re using these tools to help your mind, body, and nervous system explore and integrate new options and ways of being. 

    Angela Stubbs: How do you see this work relating to mindfulness practice?

    Juliana Sloane: I don’t see this work as replacing mindfulness practice. In fact, I think mindfulness creates the foundation for this to be possible in the first place.

    Meditation helps people develop awareness of their thoughts, embodied experience, emotions, and patterns. That awareness is incredibly valuable because you cannot work with something if you don’t notice it.

    What often happens is that when people develop a meditation practice, they begin to clearly notice patterns in their thinking, reactions, and the way they approach their world. They find they can observe those patterns clearly, but it does not necessarily shift things in their day-to-day life.

    Practices that engage deeper layers of the mind can allow people to explore what might be underneath those patterns in a different way. Rather than replacing mindfulness, this kind of work can deepen the process that mindfulness begins.

    Practices that engage deeper layers of the mind can allow people to explore what might be underneath those patterns in a different way. Rather than replacing mindfulness, this kind of work can deepen the process that mindfulness begins.

    Angela Stubbs: Are there signs that something arising in practice might be inviting deeper exploration?

    Juliana Sloane: Often it is when a pattern—for example, anxiety, or self-criticism, or a repeated issue with work, relationships, or life—continues to show up again and again, even when someone is very aware of it.

    A person might recognize the pattern in meditation or in therapy. They understand where it comes from and they can see it happening in real time. But despite that awareness, it keeps repeating.

    That can sometimes be a signal that the pattern is rooted in deeper layers of the mind or nervous system.

    Those moments can become invitations to explore the pattern in a different way and to approach it with curiosity rather than trying to force it to change through understanding alone.

    Editor’s note:

    In a forthcoming article for Mindful, Juliana Sloane explores how meditation and hypnosis practices can support people living with chronic illness, including ways these approaches may help individuals relate differently to pain, fatigue, and the emotional challenges of long-term health conditions. Keep an eye on our homepage.



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  • Cultivating Courage and Confidence in Motherhood

    Cultivating Courage and Confidence in Motherhood

    My memories of motherhood are filled with moments of self-doubt. No mother alive doesn’t go through some self-doubt. Given all of the ideas of what is best for children, it is easy to doubt your decisions. From the mundane to the seemingly “big decisions,” it is easy to spiral into negative emotion doubting ourselves. 

    A client of mine spent some time talking with me about the fact that she and her son and husband didn’t have a ritual for dinner together. It made sense for her family and their schedule that her son ate before her husband got home, yet nearly every day she would have thoughts of doubt about whether that was really okay. Turns out it was just fine, as now he is a wonderful young adult and they are very close. It seems silly looking back that we can get so hung up on things like this but it’s easy to do. How do we know it’s going to be okay?

    Magazines, newspapers, and websites often produce stories out of research findings that show how some action or behavior is linked to some outcome, even when there is no definitive evidence that it was the cause for the outcome. The best test of how something works for your family is how it works for your family, over time!

    How nice it would be to have a crystal ball to be able to know for sure that any given choice would be the “right choice,” and that everything would turn out okay. The mind can blow things way out of proportion and make the risk to their development and well-being seem enormous. In our grasping for certainty and our fear of our doubt, we may create a lot of optional suffering. It is helpful to kindly remind yourself that kids are resilient and that you can be too. You can always make new choices after seeing the outcome.

    When Fear Is Present

    Like self-doubt, fear is another major topic in parenting. From the barrage of news reports about terrible things happening to children, mass shootings, catastrophic weather events, wars, etc., there is plenty to fearfully focus on. Add to that “time travel” in the mind, thoughts of what might or could happen, and that’s a whole lot of optional suffering in motherhood. Using mindfulness, especially a regular practice of mindfulness of thoughts and feelings, can help you step out of autopilot to see if you are actually suffering unnecessarily.

    You can shift the focus of your mind at any time. Fear is not a sign that the feared outcome is going to happen. Trying to imagine how you would face something you are afraid of that isn’t happening right now is often a waste of energy and can lead to self-condemnation. My favorite mantras, “Just this moment,” and “Just here, just now,” really help me to get out of my mind and get back into the flow of life. When you find yourself trying to “think it away,” you have to choose to redirect the mind to just be with now, to be with what is right in front of you and let fear fade into the background. It may arise again, and you can refocus again.

    I have come to understand that when fear is present, I must dig deep to move toward the thing I value. I don’t need to be rid of the fear to get through it.

    I have come to understand that when fear is present, I must dig deep to move toward the thing I value. I don’t need to be rid of the fear to get through it. I can decide to dig deep anyway, giving myself positive self-talk along the way.

    Uncovering Your Courage 

    Being brave or having courage is often described in a way that looks like having no fear. Motherhood calls for courage from the very beginning. We may go into it with sweet ideas, but we soon come to see how much we are needing to face that’s frightening or intimidating. Just like with appreciation, it is useful to stop and recognize where you were courageous. Acknowledging when you were afraid and did stuff anyway helps grow a sense of confidence.

    A client of mine was worried about whether she could be brave in the face of helping her four-year old daughter through a surgery and an overnight stay at the hospital. She noticed that she often took her fearful thoughts to mean that she wouldn’t be brave. They were some kind of bad sign. If she thought these things now, how could she do it?

    Anxious anticipation can undermine any of us.

    She also felt terrible about herself for dreading it. I encouraged her to validate herself, when she noticed the dread, by saying, “This is really hard. It’s okay.” She found it really helpful to acknowledge that simple fact, rather than to indict herself as a bad mother for all of the fear and negative thoughts. No one wants to go through hard things, and there is so much that is hard. It’s really okay to acknowledge it.

    Choosing to Be Brave

    I will always remember one of the more profound moments when I decided to be brave; where I showed myself that I could be courageous. I was finishing up the bath with my toddler son when I heard my toddler daughter fall in the other room. I ran to see her and found she had fallen and split her chin open. Blood was everywhere and I was freaked out. Here was one of the moments as a mother I had feared I wouldn’t be up to when it finally arrived. I was terrified.

    Despite the urge to cry and run the other way, I soothed her and cleaned her up anyway. After calling the pediatrician’s office who recommended I take her to the emergency room to see if she needed stitches, I called my husband to tell him to drop everything and come home. I told my husband he would be going to the ER with her!

    We can choose again and again to turn toward what we want for ourselves or our child, regardless of the mind’s first reaction.

    It dawned on me a few minutes after I hung up with him that I wanted my kids to see me be strong. I wondered what kind of message I would be sending my daughter, who was leaning on me and my soothing, if I sent her off with her dad who had just come home from being gone all day. Certainly, it wouldn’t have hurt her, but I realized here was an opportunity.

    So, as much as I dreaded it, I asked my husband to stay with our son and I took her to the ER. A few stitches and several hours later we were back home and doing fine. Courage and confidence are not something you have or not. Remember the growth mindset. We can choose again and again to turn toward what we want for ourselves or our child, regardless of the mind’s first reaction.

    When we string together moments like that, those choices lead to courage and confidence. Another gift of motherhood! Where I once went running away, I tamed my fears of spiders, bees, and snakes as well! Motherhood can show us how brave we can be.

    Excerpt reproduced with author’s permission from Just This Moment: A Guide for Moms Who Want to Enjoy Parenting, Raise Great Kids and THRIVE! by Elizabeth Torres, Psy.D. ABPP. (2019). 

    Mindfulness for Kids 

    When we teach mindfulness to kids, we equip them with tools to build self-esteem, manage stress, and skillfully approach challenges. Explore our guide on how to introduce mindfulness and meditation to your children—at any age. Read More 

    • Mindful Staff
    • June 11, 2020

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  • 5 Lessons on Vanity: An Invitation to Awareness and Letting Go

    5 Lessons on Vanity: An Invitation to Awareness and Letting Go

    I was once considered beautiful. Perhaps, by some, I still am.

    At fourteen years old, I took a modeling course with two of my girlfriends. The ultimate in turning the body into an object to be adored. After three weeks of learning how to walk, sashay, and twirl, we sat down to paint our faces. The palate consisted of endless brushes and shadows—pinks, browns, golds, and glimmering sparkles. 

    Now, I think of it as war paint. We were being trained in the art of disguise, heightening our beauty, to use sexuality as an enticing weapon, and as a means of power. But at the time, it was playing dress up, like a six-year-old getting into mum’s make up and smearing it all over her face, making garish designs that can look cute on children. I didn’t understand the implications. 

    As part of this evolution, thin eyebrows were a necessary part of the mask: pull out all those unsightly and unwanted hairs to create a narrow arch of both surprise and slight disdain, to disarm with a slight tilt of the head, gazing upward and flirtatious.

    One of the instructors, Mary-Anne, was moon-faced, large lipped, and fish-eyed, with long lashes. She came at me with relish, gleeful, saying, “I’ve been waiting for weeks to get at you.” 

    As she carefully tugged out each hair my eye muscles contracted into an excruciating spasm. The tears poured out of my tortured left eye while I endured this in the pursuit of iconic beauty. 

    Lesson One: Vanity Is Costly and Finite

    This was the first indication, although I didn’t get the message, that vanity has a price. 

    This attachment to the body, the idealizing of our skin bag, ultimately comes at great cost. 

    Women so often are defined by, and get their power from, physical characteristics that have a built-in expiry date. But at fourteen we can’t fully know this. It is impossible to feel what will become inevitable; we understand it as happening  to others but not to us. 

    Smiling, she handed me a mirror. I looked and saw that I was a little more hidden—that what I thought of as me, was not really me. 

    So, I sat very still, passive, while my eye cried, fascinated that this eye had a mind of its own. Finally, the teacher finished. She examined her creation and was proud. Smiling, she handed me a mirror. I looked and saw that I was a little more hidden—that what I thought of as me, was not really me. 

    Lesson Two: Desire Leads to Suffering

    When I was fifteen, Judy Welch, a diva of the modelling scene, and the owner of an agency, entered me in the Miss Chin Bikini contest that took place annually on Centre Island in Toronto. 

    We were twenty-two heads of cattle going up for the beauty auction. While uncomfortable, I was still too young to know what I was feeling. I still didn’t fully realize that we were up for scrutiny and judgment. Each of us was an object of comparison, to see who would be most valued. 

    It was 1971, and I wore a white crocheted bikini with daisy-like nipple coverings and brown platform strappy sandals. The contestants lined up before the judges in a back room behind the stage. We were twenty-two heads of cattle going up for the beauty auction. While uncomfortable, I was still too young to know what I was feeling. I still didn’t fully realize that we were up for scrutiny and judgment. Each of us was an object of comparison, to see who would be most valued in this competition of the female form. 

    Following this inspection, we swished along the runway in that contrived, lithe and pseudo-sexual manner to catcalls and Italian exclamations, and it was finally dawning on me that I am an object. It felt a little dangerous. I came in third place. Not the most beautiful, but still in the running. I won a bottle of Baby Duck that I was too young to drink, and my picture was in the Toronto Sun showing me walking, ash blonde hair, sharp jawed, bikini clad. I was a success.

    Obscene breathy phone calls followed this win, until they stopped. Some version of me was wanted. I was repulsed and afraid, but clearly also wishing to be seen. It was confusing to do what was being asked of me  and then putting myself at risk. 

    Thankfully, even then, the news was short-lived. Everything passes. This was the second lesson on vanity: As we attach, so do others, and this grasping is problematic. 

    Lesson Three: The Need for an Inner Life

    The third lesson came when I went to see a photographer to create my modelling portfolio. 

    Every model needs a book of photos to display her various looks to potential employers. These are her wares.

    Derek told me to go into the bathroom and ice my nipples and then put my tight black, ribbed cardigan back on. He directed me to partially undo my sweater. Dutifully, I complied. Already, I knew to do what men tell me. I was fifteen years old. The photographic image conveyed something unrecognizably coquettish in black and white: long hair, head tilted and mouth in a pouty kiss. 

    I see now how quickly we get lost in the appearance of things, hooked by the illusion of sex for sale, reinforcing the manufactured desire of the viewer. 

    It became important to cultivate an internal life so that when I ultimately arrived at the invisibility of middle age and beyond, there would be something more than the loss seen in the mirror. But this was a slow and painful learning.     

    My very brief modeling career soon ended after that experience. I didn’t have what it took to pretend in this way, to completely buy into the dream. 

    I realized early that my moment as a focus of male attention, and the power this gave, was time limited. It became important to cultivate an internal life so that when I ultimately arrived at the invisibility of middle age and beyond, there would be something more than the loss seen in the mirror. But this was a slow and painful learning.      

    At 28 and 34 years old I was pregnant, becoming a woman of substance, gaining 65 and 45 pounds respectively. I stopped traffic in the street when crossing, because I believed I was indestructible. 

    It was a fascinating time. My body was not mine. It did what it wanted and there was freedom in this choicelessness. The body was morphing while these creatures grew inside. I was a temporary accommodation for them. We were symbiotic while they were both inside and out, until they started running away. 

    Mindfulness and parenting are wonderful ways to develop an inner life. You come to know your experience inside and out.

    Lesson Four: Learn to Let Go

    Motherhood is a continual process of letting go. It is unfortunate that I didn’t let go of my attachment to my body and its changing appearance when I had that first opportunity. 

    Varicosities abounded as a result of pregnancy. I had one long, wriggling and twisting vein that traversed my lower leg removed for an obscene price. 

    In my forties, I started running long and fast away from the Grim Reaper, following my husband who is five years younger than I am, trying to hang on to a youth that was already gone. 

    I ran four marathons, culminating in Boston in a 90-degree Fahrenheit heat wave. I finished. So many do not. I have perseverance and pacing. I managed to develop a bleeding gut, from dehydration, and a bacteria called campylobacter picked up a month before in Guatemala. It turned my body into a vomiting, excretive, bloody mess. When this healed, I got pelvic cramping whenever I ran more than five kilometers.    

    Many years have been devoted to the mirror. I sometimes now think of hanging a black cloth over it so I can stop the compulsion to look and mourn the loss of my good looks. 

    I asked an esthetician friend of mine what she thinks are the best anti-aging products or techniques. She says, “Honey, hold back the hands of time and stop them before they start moving.” 

    Every day I examine myself through the looking glass and take in each tiny detail—the fine lines around the mouth, the darkening under the eyes, the fat herniation in my eye lids, and the gentle sagging of the jaw. 

    I asked an esthetician friend of mine what she thinks are the best anti-aging products or techniques. She says, “Honey, hold back the hands of time and stop them before they start moving.” 

    We could also consider accepting the inevitable. Just let go of hanging on to what is already gone. But we revere our youth and beauty, as do others, for so many reasons. If females need protection, it is much more likely we will get it if we are young, gorgeous, and reproductively viable. We can avoid presenting the reality of sickness, aging and death that we desperately want to ignore. Our culture, unlike some, hates aging and the aged. They are a frightening reminder of our end. We push away what we don’t like. We behave in defiance, avoiding the unavoidable truth: that we are mortal. 

    We push away what we don’t like. We behave in defiance, avoiding the unavoidable truth: that we are mortal. 

    I note every wrinkle that has begun to engrave its way into my face and see the effects of gravity over time. I see the development of the estrogen pouch as my waistline thickens. The varicosities increase, and my skin thins. Sunspots creep over my hands. Red dots pop up on my chest and belly. Thank medicine for liquid nitrogen. We can burn a lot away. Hairs sprout from my face.

    I make a pact with my friend that she will pull those hairs out of my chin if I am dying in a hospital bed. Why stop then? I see my nails thicken, skin dry, my hair grey, my libido decline. 

    Lesson Five: Acceptance Is More Helpful Than Resistance 

    I look good for my age. In that sentence there is the gripping on to that which is passing before my eyes, the need to look makes me feel good. I never tell people to guess my age. What if they are right? 

    Unable to let go, I hang on with hair colour, tweezing, exercise, vitamins, estrogen, testosterone, vein removal, facials, botox, and filler. I am careful not to cross the line into looking freakish. No duck lips or chipmunk cheeks for me. I want to look natural. To pretend on top of pretending. 

    A lack of willingness to embrace the impermanence and decline of the body is an expensive practice. Acceptance would be far more skillful than resistance, and this absurd continuous re-modelling of an aging bag. I am still chained to this body and an idea of who I think I am or who I think I should be. 

    What is acceptance if not resignation? I don’t understand it is not a battle.

    Three of my friends are turning fifty. I have three gifts for them. A care kit for the future. These are: a magnifying mirror, Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad About My Neck, and Larry Rosenberg’s Breath by Breath. 

    The mirror is such an interesting companion on this journey, and avoidance of its reflection is as much an act of hanging on to your view of self as is the gazing at and manipulation of your image. It can also prevent eye trickery if one can see clearly. The books have two functions. One is for lightening attachment to the body with humour, and the other is an instruction for working with the truth that change can be a friend, rather than the enemy. 

    I have understood this lesson in acceptance, but there is still the looking glass, and I remain bound to its glitter and my image.

    This futile attempt to freeze the march of time on my face and body is the cause of suffering. Intellectually, I know this, but the idea of giving up on my body is currently aversive. The cosmetic surgery business is booming. Women in their 20s and 30s are taking the plunge into myriad injections, surgical removals and implants, spawning a generation of females who are more like Barbie than Barbie herself, with their immobile faces, large eyes, and protruding lips. If only the body were perfect, we would be happy—and yet another part of me knows this is not true. 

    I have understood this lesson in acceptance, but there is still the looking glass, and I remain bound to its glitter and my image.

    I am in my 60s now, still measuring myself against my cohort. I see these bulges of back fat, falling biceps, and increasing fatigue. My bones and muscles, however, carry me lithely and my sight and hearing are still almost perfect. I await the time when I can no longer keep up with the maintenance and am completely unseen. It would be a good time for a second career as a spy.

    Alternatively, as an 80-year old woman I knew once said, I could let it all go, “…wake up every morning, look in the mirror and laugh, shake my head, and say, How did I get here?”



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  • On the Other Side of Sadness: Teaching Our Kids (and Ourselves) That It’s Okay to Feel Anything

    On the Other Side of Sadness: Teaching Our Kids (and Ourselves) That It’s Okay to Feel Anything

    My six-year-old daughter, Opal, wants nothing more than to go to the Humane Society to visit the dogs that “need the most love.” So we leave right from a half-day of school to do just that, eating almond butter and jelly sandwiches on the way.

    The entryway of the Boulder Valley Humane Society smells like wood chips. There is a stack of hamster cages by the front door, placed like intended impulse purchases, like Chapstick and breath mints at Target.

    “May I help you?” The pleasant lady behind the counter says with a mouth that is more gums than teeth.  I tell her we’d like to visit a dog or two that are especially in need of love.

    “Hmmm,” she says, thinking, with a close-mouthed smile. “Yes, Leo could use a visit. He’s big, that ok?”

    We have an 85-pound lab at home. I assure her we are accustomed to Big.

    We find Leo asleep on a bed in a very large crate with a bone-shaped sign marked “Sweetie pie.”  He is a five-year-old pit bull with a face as wide as a loaf of bread and fur the shade of sand. We return to the front room where we wait for a staff person to bring him out.

    I notice as we walk through the halls, many—but not all—of the dogs have the same bone-shaped signs hanging from their cages, but with all different descriptions: “Playful!” “Timid.” It occurs to me that the ones without the signs must not be as forthcoming in their nameable characteristics. In my mind I imagine hosting a party in the New Year where I’ll have each guest wear a little sign around their neck that states one of their prominent qualities: People pleaser. Observer. Perfectionist.

    Leo busts through the swinging doors, pulling a staff member behind him on a pink leash. This should be an indication of what we’re in for, but I grab the leash anyway and out the front doors we go. Walking this dog is essentially like walking a linebacker who is heading in the opposite direction. I desperately try to keep my footing while he pulls me down a muddy decline and we leave Opal behind, yelling MOM!

    Giving this dog love is proving to be an arduous task. So we start to head back towards the building where we came from.

    As we walk, I notice the fur is missing from the tops of both of Leo’s ears and there are chalky mushroom-shaped lumps on his skin where the hair should be growing. Same on the backs of his legs. There are pin stripes in his short fur where the hair doesn’t grow, much more subtle than the scars that would have come from the mouth or claws of another animals.

    Opal says, “Why does he look like that?”

    I tell her it looks like he’s been in a fight with another dog. Harmless enough—animals fight. I don’t say that it looks like he has probably been in dogfights. That he was likely rescued from a rough situation with either an abusive owner or an owner who condoned violence. The kind of scenario that gives pit bulls a bad name. He is horrid on a leash—left both of my hands red and burned from the yanking—but he doesn’t seem to have any fear of or aggression towards people. This, to me, is a marvel.

    Upon our return, we catch sight of a man playing with a pit bull puppy, smiling and laughing as the pup climbs into his lap then flops over the side. I can see that Opal wants that experience, so we give Leo a final head-scratch and then ask to trade him in for a puppy.

    The Discomfort, the Squirming Away, the Return to Presence

    We take one of seven pit bull puppies to a fenced-in area outside. The fresh air and the puppy-energy feel like a relief. He’s as small as a football and slick-black except for his belly and the tips of his paws, which are pure white. Watching him teeter and fumble from point A to point B is pure comedy. Opal is beside herself with delight.

    Then she asks the inevitable question: “Can we take him home?”

    I tell her no.  A puppy is way too much work. They poop and chew on everything. But we can come visit him next week.

    “What if he’s gone by then?”

    Opal doesn’t say much on the way home. “Blackbird” by the Beatles is playing on the radio—Take these broken wings and learn to fly. I can see her in the rear-view mirror gazing out the window with a million-mile stare.

    I tell her that if he’s gone, that would mean a good family adopted him. These puppies would probably get adopted really fast.

    Opal doesn’t say much on the way home. “Blackbird” by the Beatles is playing on the radio—Take these broken wings and learn to fly. I can see her in the rear-view mirror gazing out the window with a million-mile stare.

    At home, Opal drapes her body over my lap as we sit on the couch. Our huge lab is snoring at my feet. Opal is sniffling and periodically wipes her nose on her sleeve. I caress her hair.

    She says, “What if nobody wants to adopt Leo?” Plump little tears pool in the corners of her eyes.

    I tell Opal that maybe we shouldn’t return to the Humane Society if it’s just going to break her heart. But that only upsets her more and I quickly realize those words are counter to everything we’ve been teaching her.

    We—the Grimes family—have spent the better part of a year as a foster family. And we frequently talk about how we never need to shy away from big emotions, especially when they come as a repercussion of helping others. But it’s such a habit to either tense-up or cower in the face of unhappiness, and to want to shield others from the pain of being human.

    “Honey, the Humane Society will find a good home for Leo. And for the little puppy and all his brothers and sisters.”

    “But what if the man who adopts them is mean?”

    I know there are no shortcuts to getting to the other side of sadness aside from going through it.

    “Oh honey,” I say. I am constantly at odds with how much truth to share with her about this crazy, uncertain, often-terrifying-but-also-beautiful-and-miraculous world. I swing back and forth between feeling like I say too much, and not knowing what else to say.

    So I return to simply paying attention—to my own thoughts, my own discomfort, my own shallow breath, my own want to talk about happier things—because I know there are no shortcuts to getting to the other side of sadness aside from going through it.

    I ask, “Can you take a deep breath with me?”

    “Uh-huh.” She is looking up at me now as we inhale and exhale. Choppy, partial breaths at first, then calm and deep.

    “Hey, it’s okay to feel sadness, sweetie. Fact is, there is a lot of sadness in the world. We just keep doing what we can. And you did good today, giving love like you did.”

    It in that moment, she stands up, gathers herself, and flashes me a tiny but genuine smile as she moves on with her day.

    Realizing: It’s Okay to Feel My Own Sadness, Too

    Two days later, we take a trip to visit our beloved foster baby of nearly a year who returned to live with her parents three weeks earlier. This baby, we’ll call her Little Blue Eyes.

    I’m so pleased to find her looking happy and healthy, very connected to her mother. She has an adorable room with quilts on the walls, loads of toys and books. Their pit bull strangely resembles the one from the humane society, though he is exponentially more calm and civilized.

    I didn’t realize it, but many of my feelings of loss had been shuffled in with the hubbub of the holidays and travel. The grief is immediately present when I rest my gaze on her face and hear her say OpalOpalOpal.

    All good news. And yet, in spite of the fact that we will likely see her again, it feels as if this visit is a good-bye. Little Blue Eyes went home days before Christmas and I didn’t realize it, but many of my feelings of loss had been shuffled in with the hubbub of the holidays and travel. The grief is immediately present when I rest my gaze on her face and hear her say OpalOpalOpal.

    The sorrow feels like fatigue at first, then grumpy over-sensitivity during dinner. Then, later, after Opal is asleep, a torrent of tears comes like a valve has burst behind my eyes. I can’t stop it, though my first inclination is to do just that. My mindful self is telling me that crying is a natural and healthy reaction, and that I can relax with my sadness. But my body—bones and muscles—wants to make the discomfort go away. I am aware of all of this.

    I make my way into our bedroom where Jesse is watching TV. He sees my face and says, “Little Blue Eyes?”

    I think of how intense these emotions feel to me, a “big strong grown-up,” and I can only imagine how the same vast emotions must feel to my daughter, on the planet only six years and with much less experience in seeing her feelings through to the other side. It’s up to us to show her that emotions are fluid, always in flux.

    I nod and lie down next to him. I put my head on his chest the way Opal did with me a few days earlier. His heart is in my ear like a distant drum against my shifting breath. I think of how intense these emotions feel to me, a “big strong grown-up,” and I can only imagine how the same vast emotions must feel to my daughter, on the planet only six years and with much less experience in seeing her feelings through to the other side. It’s up to us to show her that emotions are fluid, always in flux.

    “It’s okay to feel sad,” Jesse says to me. “I feel sad, too.”

    These are the same words I spoke to Opal when we were on the couch, the same compassionate tone. I sit up and stretch my arms high and to the sides, the sound of inner-movement like a soft rumble deep in the canals of my ears. Some life re-enters my bones.

    Those words, “It’s okay to feel sad,” open a window in the tiny, claustrophobic room of emotion I am crouched in. And it isn’t so stifling anymore. This is what happens when I am mindful of not trying to manipulate, hide, or wrestle with my sadness. I can let it roam more freely until, naturally and eventually, it simply dissolves on the back of an unsuspecting outbreath.



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  • A Guided Walking Meditation to Notice the Beauty Around Us—Even in the City

    A Guided Walking Meditation to Notice the Beauty Around Us—Even in the City

    This guided walking meditation from Kazumi Igus offers an opportunity to slow down and notice the wonder of the natural world in our urban environments.

    City life can often feel frantic, loud, and cut off from natural beauty. It’s not often we slow down and take in all there is to experience. But even in urban areas, if you pay attention, you can hear the call of a bird, notice your favorite color in shop windows, and look up at the vast sky above. 

    In this guided meditation, we slow our roll and take in the beauty of our surroundings, no matter where we find ourselves.

    A Guided Walking Meditation to Notice the Beauty Around Us—Even in the City

    Read and practice the guided meditation script below, pausing after each paragraph. Or listen to the audio practice.

    1. Let’s start with taking three deep breaths. 
    2. As we begin, I want to bring your attention to how you are moving if you’re walking through the city or trying to get from one place to another. How fast are you moving? How are you walking? What’s your pace? Do you have a destination and a timeframe? Or do you have some space? Wherever you are, slow it down just a little bit. If you can afford to walk really slow and won’t hold up traffic, you’re welcome to. And if you’re not walking and you’re in a wheelchair, you’re welcome to slow down. If you really need to be somewhere, try to relax into this space, whatever it is. Slow and steady, but maybe not too slow depending on where you are. 
    3. Bring your attention to how you are walking—your balance. Are you taking a step? Start to notice the small changes, the muscles involved. And whatever you’re thinking, all of it is OK. You’re just noticing where you are in this space right now. 
    4. Then, acknowledging that our minds sometimes race and we have a lot of things going on in our lives, just take a deep breath and bring your attention back to each step. Start to settle into a rhythm. Notice every muscle that’s involved with creating this locomotion to propel you forward and shift your weight. Maybe if you’re in a wheelchair, you’re using your arms. How are the hands involved? Are you holding something? Maybe a backpack, bag, or someone’s hand. Focus on really being present with your physical space, your physical body. Take a deep breath. As we move through our urban environment, we start to notice other things outside of ourselves. 
    5. The first thing I want you to bring your attention to is the smell around you. Depending on where you are, that can be pleasant or unpleasant. Breathing in, can you identify a particular smell? Maybe you’re getting a lot of smells all at once. Maybe you notice the change in smells as you move past different areas. And as you experience these smells, notice what you’re thinking. Are you creating a story? Are you finding yourself wanting to be near a pleasant smell or maybe pushing away, trying to avoid an unpleasant smell? If that’s the case, that’s all right. All of it is normal. Just experience the smell and label it as pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. See if you can identify pizza, poop, grass, or whatever it is. 
    6. Then take a deep breath and shift your attention to sights. What can you see? Start by focusing on a color that brings you joy. If it’s a bright color you might notice it in wrappers from candy or chips, maybe in ads, signs, storefront windows that have lots of flyers. If it’s something more earthy, like green or brown, you might start to notice it in nature—the trees and plants. Just pick your color and start noticing it on your journey. Even if the color is on a man-made object like clothing, hats, backpacks, signs, and things like that, that’s a part of the urban environment. If it’s flowers, trees, plants, we’re just noticing the natural portions of the urban environment. Both are necessary. 
    7. Taking another deep breath, we shift to looking at nature. Starting with animals. And for this, let’s maybe not focus on people and their pets. Let’s look for the animals that exist in this environment without being owned by a person. You might notice lizards depending on where you are in the world, cats that don’t have owners, squirrels, insects. 
    8. I’d like to bring your attention to the birds. Birds are what we call an indicator species. They tell you if your environment is healthy. So look up. Look around. Listen. You might even need to stop for a moment. If you can hear birds, start to listen for the variations in their calls, maybe even a different species. If you have mockingbirds, sometimes it’s the same bird making a bunch of different calls. Really stop to listen to it as though they’re telling you something. If the sound of traffic muffles some of the calls, it’s OK. The urban environment is complex. It has both manmade and natural things. If you can see the birds, notice their behaviors, the coloration, and any other details that might pop out at you. And notice your thoughts while seeing or hearing the birds. You might be able to see or hear seagulls if you’re near a coast, rock doves, a.k.a. pigeons, finches, sparrows, chickadees. Notice if you can identify any of these species by site or by call. Take a deep breath, noticing where the birds are. Probably in plants, trees, bushes, or on grass. 
    9. Those of us who live in urban environments often have plant blindness and don’t notice the plants. Take a moment to notice leaves and if you can see any patterns in how those plants are growing. Are there any flowers? Maybe you can recognize a specific species. Can you name it? Take a deep breath. Experience being around plants and animals in nature. 
    10. And as you continue moving keep noticing your color, new plants, new animals. Notice what you’re thinking and if you’re telling yourself a story or if you’re asking a lot of questions. And if you are, take a deep breath and then focus back on the details of the experience—the shape of the leaves, the color of the feathers. As humans, we cannot survive without the natural parts of the environment. So it’s very important for us to be mindful of how our movement through the world affects the nature around us and how the nature around us can affect our experience. Take another deep breath. If there’s a big tree or a squirrel that’s standing there looking at you, or a plant that’s intriguing, take a moment to stop. 
    11. Be grateful for its part of this urban environment. Expressing some gratitude that you are even able to experience it today. Taking a deep breath. Finding your walking rhythm. Slow but steady, or whatever works for you. Continuing to notice your color, plants, the animals. And continuing to take deep breaths. 



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  • What Green Spaces Can Do For Your Body, Your Mind & Your Practice

    What Green Spaces Can Do For Your Body, Your Mind & Your Practice

    I live in the heart of a city, and although our neighborhood is usually pretty calm, there’s still that frenetic energy to my surroundings that exists in all urban areas. I sometimes don’t fully clock how busy and bright and beep-y my daily life is until I go somewhere truly far away—a hike on the wild North Shore of Lake Superior, or a cabin where the night sky is genuinely dark and the loudest thing is the birdsong.

    But even here in my city, I am lucky enough to have easy access to green spaces galore. Three lakes are within walking distance, along with public gardens, miles of walking and biking trails, even a bird sanctuary. It’s an embarrassment of riches that I am daily grateful for.

    Every time I step outside—into a nearby park, my own backyard garden, or even a small green strip between buildings—something shifts. My shoulders drop, and my breath deepens. That thing that was churning in my mind a moment ago seems a little less urgent. It’s not gone, but it is quieter. This shift is rarely dramatic, but more just a gentle signal that it’s okay to slow down and let down my defenses.

    Nothing about my external circumstances has changed. Things in my life and in the world are still messy and anxiety-producing. I’ve still got little piles of grief, resentments, obligations, and worries in the dusty corners of my mind and heart. Being human still continues.

    Still, I know that the experience I’m having when I get outside isn’t just a nice feeling. Something subtle but real is happening in my brain and my body. And while the mind/body/heart delineation is always somewhat contrived—after all, we’re always whole beings having all these varied physical and emotional experiences—a growing body of research is saying: what’s happening in these natural spaces is worth paying attention to.

    What Happens in Your Body

    When we talk about nature being soothing, we’re not just speaking poetically. When we take time to walk through or sit in the natural world, it is actually dialing down our stress hormones in real time.

    In a 2019 study published in Frontiers in Psychology, researchers tracked urban dwellers over eight weeks and found that a nature experience produced a 21.3% per hour drop in cortisol levels, with the most concentrated benefits occurring between 20 and 30 minutes outside. A 2025 meta-analysis across 78 studies confirmed the pattern: exposure to green spaces decreased salivary cortisol by 21% and salivary amylase by 28%, which is a fancy way of saying that even our spit provides evidence of significant reductions in the body’s stress response.

    Stepping outside for half an hour might be one of the most underrated meditation preparations we have.

    Salivary amylase is a marker of sympathetic nervous system activation—the same fight-or-flight wiring that gets overworked when we’re anxious, overwhelmed, doom-scrolling (I know it’s not just me, right?), or simply living in the modern world.

    When it drops, the body is shifting toward a sense of safety and rest. It’s settling into the very state that meditation practitioners often spend years learning to access.

    What if stepping outside for half an hour is one of the most underrated meditation preparations we have?

    What Happens in Your Heart

    There’s something else that nature does, a little harder to quantify but no less real: it stops us in our tracks. It makes us feel small—but in the most expansive way.

    Researchers (and poets and mystics) call this “awe,” and natural environments are among its most reliable triggers. In one fascinating study, students who spent just one minute looking up at a stand of tall eucalyptus trees showed measurable increases in awe and significantly more generous, helpful behavior than those who had looked at a building. Imagine the implications if sixty seconds of looking at trees makes us kinder and more gracious towards others.

    Awe is a way to feel small that is deeply enlivening, because part of awe is also a feeling of being held and connected by something larger, more beautiful, and communal.

    We generally don’t like to feel small, and a lot of our current state of nonstop agitation comes from armoring ourselves against the fear and defensiveness that arises in us when we feel pressed down by larger, more aggressive forces that seem to want us to feel insignificant.

    Awe is a way to feel small that is also deeply enlivening, because part of awe is also a feeling of being held and connected to something larger, more beautiful, and communal. The group of astronauts on the recent Artemis II mission talked about this often and openly, and their shared sense of wonder magnetically drew in millions of followers. They offered living proof that there’s something bigger than this moment of strife. That sense of connection they described—the truth of our interdependence, which I think deep down we are all starved to feel and believe in again—is quieter and much more real than the blaring comment sections of social media that are constantly shouting at us about how separate and hopelessly broken we all are.

    The sterility and atomization of modern life tends to rob us of these essential human experiences of awe and wonder, and the natural world tends to replenish them.

    The Paradox of Awe, Surrender, and Beginner’s Mind

    What research is finding is something contemplatives have long pointed to: a loosening of the ego, a softening of that grasping sense that we have to be the center of everything in order to feel alright. In meditation, this letting go of our need to feel special and smart is a quality we sometimes call “beginner’s mind.” It’s a place where it is okay to admit that we don’t know a whole bunch of things, maybe most things, and it’s also okay that we don’t know.

    Yes, life is serious sometimes, but often not in the ways we imagine. Meditation is, in part, a way of gently reminding ourselves that we don’t have to take ourselves so dang seriously all the time.

    As the poet Mary Oliver wrote while watching a gathering of goldfinches:

    ...it is a serious thing

    just to be alive
            on this fresh morning
                    in the broken world.
                           I beg of you,

    do not walk by
            without pausing
                    to attend to this…

    The great irony, of course, is that in that moment of surrender, we actually open ourselves up to a fresh set of possibilities that our certainty and desperate need to feel big tend to foreclose us to. The “I don’t know” becomes the doorway to wisdom, and the “I don’t have to be special by the world’s standards” becomes a way to access a sense of real, unconditional belonging and belovedness, even in our imperfection.

    Meditation can help unlock these states of expansive, cradled surrender. It turns out a canopy of trees, a wide-open field, or the particular shimmering quality of late-afternoon light through leaves can take us there, too.

    Meditation can help unlock these states of expansive, cradled surrender. It turns out a canopy of trees, a wide-open field, or the particular shimmering quality of late-afternoon light through leaves can take us there, too.

    What Happens in Your Mind

    If you’ve ever tried to meditate after a long day at the computer and found your mind spinning, there’s a reason for that—and spending some time in green spaces can help with this, too.

    Attention Restoration Theory proposes that mental fatigue and concentration can be improved by time spent in, or even just looking at, green spaces. It suggests that natural environments encourage more effortless brain function, allowing directed attention to rest and replenish itself. Our focused, striving attention—the kind we use to meet deadlines, manage inboxes, and navigate hard conversations—is a finite resource. It gets depleted. And ordinary urban environments, with their constant demands and stimulation, keep drawing from that well.

    Natural environments evoke what researchers call “soft fascination.” Isn’t that a gorgeous phrase? This is an effortless, gentle form of attention, similar to mind-wandering but still directed outward. It allows our directed attention to rest while the mind quietly restores itself. Think of how your whole being feels when you’re watching a drifting cloud or noticing the way wind undulates a field of wild grasses, or what happens when you just sit and listen to the sound of rain drop-drop-dropping into a lake. These things don’t demand anything of us. They simply invite us to be present—which is, of course, the whole point.

    A Gentle Green-Space Invitation

    The research is compelling, but I know that you don’t need a study to tell you what you’ve likely already felt. Nature returns us to something. It slows us down, opens us up, and reminds us that we are part of something much larger than the constantly-shuffling contents of our minds.

    Whether it’s a 20-minute walk before your morning sit, a lunch break in the park, or simply pausing to notice a patch of sky—time outside is time well spent. It offers a balm for your nervous system, nurtures your sense of wonder, and encourages the quiet, open awareness that sits at the heart of our practice.



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  • Democracy Does Not Work Without Mindfulness

    Democracy Does Not Work Without Mindfulness

    When I speak about “democracy” here, please make a distinction in your mind between what democracy once aspired to be and what it has become. Real democracy is not a political war, and it is not something we do only on election days. It is not focused solely, or chiefly, on winning expensive political campaigns.

    True democracy is how people like you and me work together across disagreements and divisions to care for ourselves, for each other, and for the life we share.

    True democracy is how people like you and me work together across disagreements and divisions to care for ourselves, for each other, and for the life we share.

    And true democracy does not work without mindfulness.

    Democracy demands the skills we learn by practicing mindfulness: paying attention, slowing down, listening carefully, looking deeply, pausing judgment, sitting with strong emotions.

    Mindfulness is how we keep from being overwhelmed, or at least from feeling overwhelmed about being overwhelmed. Practicing mindfulness, we learn how to respond to life, not just react to it.

    Mindfulness is how we reclaim the ability to make deliberate, considered choices about how we engage with life and with challenges. Mindfulness is how we recover our agency as human beings—and this is another reason why democracy does not work without mindfulness.

    An Unrecognized Foundation of Democracy

    Years of studying democracy as a scholar, and of teaching university students to be citizens and civic leaders, has convinced me that mindfulness is the foundation of civic education. In my new book On Mindful Democracy (Parallax, 2026), I argue that for democracy to regain its power to change lives and worlds, we the people must learn to live more mindfully.

    We must learn to practice “mindful democracy.”

    Start With Attention

    Mindfulness begins as a practice of learning to pay attention to whatever is happening in this moment. 

    It’s hard to enjoy life, or to effect any kind of real change, if we’re unable to focus on what is happening. Practicing mindfulness builds the power of concentration, something that eludes many of us in the attention economy of social media. Without this foundational power of attention, democracy does not work.

    Slow Down

    Once we have trained ourselves to pay attention, the practice of mindfulness turns toward slowing down and looking deeply. A distracted mind is like a lake on a windy day—the waves roar, churning up the muck and making it impossible to see to the bottom of things. 

    By focusing and stilling the mind, it becomes possible to look deeply and gain new insights into ourselves and this life.

    We Love Independence. What About Interdependence?

    One profound insight of mindfulness practice is that everything is interconnected in a web of cause and effect. The world is constantly changing, and it is changing together in an intricate dance of individuals and ensembles. Everything that exists is contingent upon an infinity of other things for its existence; change one thing, and everything else changes, too. Nothing, and no one, is truly apart. 

    The man that introduced many people in North America and Europe to mindfulness, Thich Nhat Hanh, coined the term “interbeing” to describe this reality. Interbeing means “this is because that is.” This implies that every “I” is also a “We,” every life an example of cooperation. In the words of the great poet of democracy, Walt Whitman, “I am large, I contain multitudes.” 

    All being is interbeing. All independence is also interdependence.

    All being is interbeing. All independence is also interdependence.

    Mindfulness and Re-Imagining Us vs. Them

    Most of us have been conditioned since childhood to see the world in terms of what I call “enemyship”: friends vs. enemies. 

    In the process, we’ve lost track of how deeply interconnected we truly are. A jewel of mindfulness practice is that it wakes us up to our interdependence, potentially correcting one of our culture’s greatest blind spots. 

    It’s not enough to simply understand interdependence on an intellectual level. Mindfulness opens us to experiencing interdependence in an embodied way. Yes, we understand in our minds that our fates are bound, but we also feel it in our hearts, see it in our breath, and hear it in our words. We recognize that life is not a zero-sum game in which your joy somehow diminishes mine, and that happiness is not an apple pie with a limited number of slices.

    Mindfulness shows us that, at our core, we are not opposed. This is an essential realization for democracy, which requires learning to disagree—and still work together to reduce suffering—without turning each other into enemies. 

    Mindfulness shows us that, at our core, we are not opposed. This is an essential realization for democracy, which requires learning to disagree—and still work together to reduce suffering—without turning each other into enemies. 

    In the real world, this mindful concept of connection has profound implications for our individual and collective lives: If you suffer less, I will suffer less, for you will be less likely to inflict your suffering on me. And if we suffer less, all of us suffer less, for we will be less likely to inflict our suffering on the world. All of us benefit when there is less suffering, and more joy, in the world: which, of course, is a foundational goal of democracy. 

    We live in a culture that seems determined to get us down—on ourselves and on each other. Hope is in short supply. But even in moments of conflict, division, and great suffering, like this one, the conditions for transformation are also present. 

    We already have the things we most need to build a more loving and compassionate world: we have each other, and we have our mindfulness practice.



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  • A 12-Minute Meditation to Meet Yourself Where You Are—Right Now

    A 12-Minute Meditation to Meet Yourself Where You Are—Right Now

    Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction instructor Cheryl Jones leads us in a practice to foster self-acceptance in any life circumstance.

    Mindfulness meditation involves a willingness to be with ourselves as we are. It offers a way of learning to work with ourselves, and not on ourselves, especially if you are healing from perfectionism.

    So what does it look like to simply meet yourself, regardless of what’s going on or how you’re feeling?

    In this guided practice with Cheryl Jones, we can start to notice whatever is happening within us and around us with curiosity and kindness. Mindfulness reminds us that not everything has to be “fixed”—and very often, our movement back to wellness starts when we stop trying to change ourselves and simply accept where we are with care and attention.

    A Meditation to Meet Yourself Where You Are—No Matter What

    Read and practice the guided meditation script below, pausing after each paragraph. Or listen to the audio practice.

    1. Find your way to an upright and dignified posture. Close your eyes or lower your eyes in a soft gaze. Place your feet on the ground and relax your arms at your sides. Rest your hands in your lap. Draw your shoulder blades subtly toward each other, allowing the chin to be parallel with the floor. Lift the crown of your head toward the sky. Perhaps soften the belly and the jaw.
    2. Notice what it feels like to stop. Notice what it feels like to be sitting in this purposeful posture in this moment, in this space. And perhaps now take a moment to welcome yourself to your practice, acknowledging your willingness to be here for yourself in this way.
    3. Notice that you are breathing. There’s no need to change or manipulate the breath in any way. Allow the breath to be just as it is right here, right now. Simply follow the breath in and follow the breath out.
    4. Notice where you feel the sensations of the breath. Perhaps you’re aware of the air moving in and out at the nostrils and the upper lip. You could possibly be sensing the gentle expanding and contracting of the chest and ribs. Maybe you feel the abdomen rising and sinking. Allow your attention to rest on the sensations of the breath as it flows in and out of the body.
    5. As you’re sitting here with the attention on the breath, just meet yourself. You may notice thoughts going through the mind. There’s no need to block thoughts out. Rather, see if it is possible to allow thoughts to pass through the mind one by one. Let go of any need to label thoughts as positive or negative. Good or bad. Find a neutral way to be with your thoughts. See if it’s possible to be aware of thoughts without grasping or clinging to any one thought. And also without rejecting or denying any particular thought.
    6. Shift your attention now to any feelings that may be present in this moment. Breathing in and breathing out. Acknowledge any feeling just as it is. Sometimes we have feelings about our feelings. We may feel that one feeling is OK or acceptable while another is not. All feelings are acceptable.
    7. Now, bring your awareness to sensations within the body. Warmth. Coolness. Tingling. Tightness. Pulsation. Relaxation. Hunger. Fullness. Notice what’s happening within the body in this moment. Do this with patience and kindness. Explore sensations both strong and subtle with curiosity.
    8. As you breathe in and breathe out, notice if your posture has shifted. And then make any adjustments, if you’d like. Allow yourself to tune in to the body just as it is.
    9. Center your attention on only the breath now. And as we near the end of this practice, follow three more full cycles of breathing. Be as present as possible for each one. Remember this place of awareness is always available to you because it’s within you.
    10. As you feel ready, allow your eyes to open gently if they were closed. Get reacquainted with your surroundings and prepare to reengage with the day. Perhaps set an intention to bring awareness to all that you do and into each interaction.
    A 15-Minute Meditation for Self-Acceptance 

    On some level, many of us are healing from perfectionism, but with mindfulness we can learn to embrace our flaws. Cheryl Jones, founder of The Mindful Path, shares a guided practice to be with ourselves as we are. Read More 



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  • Raising Happy Children In Challenging Times: Practices that Build  Essential Skills For Well-Being

    Raising Happy Children In Challenging Times: Practices that Build  Essential Skills For Well-Being

    Sometimes happiness might seem like a stretch—for us and even for our children. The stresses of daily life, getting out the door in the morning, managing a household, coordinating schedules, as well as the bigger issues, including concern about the struggles in the world, can all take a toll on us as adults. Given the increasing issues with children’s mental health, we know it’s taking a toll on our children as well.

    And yet, amid difficulties, happiness is still attainable and essential to well-being and resilience. Research on adult well-being shows that there are specific steps we can take to develop and nurture happiness. 

    As James Baraz writes, joy is “a general feeling of aliveness and well-being that is characterized by meeting ups and downs in life with authenticity and perspective.” 

    Based on our work with children, we know this is true for them, as well. It can be as simple as enjoying a hug, being mesmerized by a ladybug, or giggling at the shape of a cloud. These simple pleasures can be little moments of joy for our children and for us—and they can be a part of raising happy children who are resilient, even in the middle of normal ups and downs.

    Not Denying Difficulty, But Opening to Possibility

    When we talk about raising happy children, we are not talking about “happiness” as the fleeting emotion that is a response to good or fun things. We are not suggesting pushing difficulties aside, but instead developing the capacity to hold them alongside our well-being. As James Baraz writes in Awakening Joy, joy is “a general feeling of aliveness and well-being that is characterized by meeting ups and downs in life with authenticity and perspective.” 

    We envision a happy child as one with a developing sense of ease with themselves, one who often sees and enjoys the good around them and within themselves. 

    Happiness is not a destination or something to be achieved, but rather what Chang Meng Tan, author of Search Inside Yourself, defines as “a deep sense of flourishing that arises from an exceptionally healthy mind.”

    We envision a happy child as one with a developing sense of ease with themselves, one who often sees and enjoys the good around them and within themselves. 

    Research by the Center for Healthy Minds shows that well-being is a learnable skill. There are multiple evidence-based perspectives offering practical ideas for cultivating happiness. 

    In particular, The Resilience Project by Hugh Van Cuylenburg focuses on gratitude, empathy, and mindfulness to support resilience and happiness. The Action for Happiness Project has a similar focus and lists mindfulness, gratitude, and kindness as core skills. In Hardwiring Happiness, Rick Hanson adds to this list and stresses the importance of inclining the mind, or being on the lookout, for happiness and then taking it in. 

    Raising Happy Children Starts by Building Well-Being Skills Together

    Here are three fun activities based on these frameworks to try with your child.

    Inclining The Mind And Taking It In Practice: Glimmer Wand

    Glimmers, coined by Deb Dana, are little moments of peace, safety, and happiness. 

    Cut out, decorate, and glue a star on top of a popsicle or other stick. You can write “catching glimmers” on the star. Share about glimmers and use the wand to “cast a spell” to notice and enjoy glimmers that day. You can also wave it overhead as people share their glimmers and how they make them feel. 

    The brain has a negativity bias. By pausing to seek out glimmers, we can train our brains to notice and savor delight more often.

    Gratitude Practice: Gratitude Sandwich

    Children can draw and cut out pictures of five things or people they are grateful for as their sandwich fillings. 

    • Cut two pieces of paper for the sandwich bread.
    • Glue one piece of the “bread“ to the top and one to the bottom of a poster. 
    • Paste the fillings between the bread (or Velcro so it’s interchangeable).
    • Write Gratitude Sandwich and “I am grateful for…” on the “bread.”
    • Leave the sandwich somewhere visible and use it as a conversation starter about gratitude. 

    Dr. Robert Emmons at UC Davis found that feeling gratitude can move our nervous system out of the stress response. Giving children a visual link to things that foster feelings of gratitude can help strengthen the body-brain connection and develop positive neural pathways.

    Cultivating happiness can be quite simple if we focus on it, even when things are hard. Pausing to notice and take in the good, feeling gratitude, and connecting with others with empathy and kindness in the tiny moments of our day can make a genuine difference. 

    Have the child think about five people who make them feel loved or happy.

    • String a bead for each person onto a pipe cleaner. 
    • Twist the ends together so the beads don’t fall off. These are links of love.
    • Have them touch one bead at a time and remember the special person. 
    • Take a breath in, taking in their love, and out, offering love back to them.
    • Encourage them to notice how they feel. The links of love can be attached to a backpack, worn around a wrist, or left in a visible location. 

    Especially when a child feels lonely or insecure, having a physical anchor can remind them that they are worthy and loved.

    Tuning Attention Towards Happiness

    Cultivating happiness can be quite simple if we focus on it, even when things are hard. Pausing to notice and take in the good, feeling gratitude, and connecting with others with empathy and kindness in the tiny moments of our day can make a genuine difference. 

    Fun, hands-on activities, like those above, can help both adults and children lean into happiness and create space for more joy in our lives.

    Would you like more support building habits of well-being and resilience in your child? Try our new card deck, available April 21. Let’s Grow Happiness includes 50 activity cards to help kids build gratitude, self-compassion, and emotional regulation skills.



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