Health Journal Online

Category: Mental Health

  • The Gift of Being Alive: A Q&A with Rhonda Magee

    The Gift of Being Alive: A Q&A with Rhonda Magee

    We need the wisdom of cool heads and open hearts more than ever, and part of how we get to that wisdom is by (counterintuitively) allowing the fullness of our human experience, including our anger. Here we revisit a Q&A with Rhonda Magee as she explores the complexity, frustration, and intimate beauty of learning to make and be peace in the world.

    Stephanie Domet: In your book The Inner Work of Racial Justice, you detail the steps you took to help one of your students process his attitudes and biases. What kind of energy does that work require?

    Rhonda Magee: It requires a certain kind of commitment, a certain willingness to turn toward that which we could so easily deflect, turn away from, deny, minimize, avoid. For me it’s really important that when these opportunities present themselves for us to look into what’s arising around this, we turn in to that opportunity as opposed to away from it. I also think it takes a kind of grounding in a certain kind of love—kindness, loving-kindness— for me it takes some feeling of the value, of the possibility of connecting across lots of difference and the importance and value of trying to do it, again and again, even when it’s difficult. 

    SD: Why is it worth it to you to do this work?

    RM: In my view, absolutely everything is connected, and that means all of us are connected, and so it seems to me that when we have these opportunities to expand the sense of our common ground, and we don’t take advantage of them and we don’t do what we can to heal and repair and transform the world, then it seems to me we are in effect contributing to barriers and obstacles to deep well-being. And so for me it’s worth it because it’s about practice. It arises out of deep practice for me—it arises out of the deep ethical ground of my practice.

    SD: Who does that work serve? Is it for yourself, for the other person, the greater good of society? To honor the practice?

    RM: It serves life. The gift of literally being alive. To me that’s not about any one of us, actually. To be alive is a great gift, and therefore the only real response to such a gift is gratitude. And a way to show gratitude is to try to minimize harm wherever it arises, as best we can. Recognizing we’re not perfect, that we’re not always able to see clearly how what we’re doing contributes to harm, we’re all vulnerable and misguided in our own ways, so it’s with a lot of humility that I say this. But ultimately, I think this question of who does it benefit, it benefits life.

    SD: For a racialized person, a racialized woman, there are microaggressions everywhere. How do you take care of yourself to ensure you can do this work you want to do and feel called to do?

    RM: It has come out of a sense of my own agency and what I often call personal justice. This idea that justice starts with us, how we treat ourselves. Taking care of myself feels like the first approximation of whatever it is I’m trying to offer in the world. There’s a reason I live in San Francisco as opposed to North Carolina or Virginia, where I was born and raised. The environment in San Francisco seems a bit more conducive to this way of accepting people, working across cultures, multiculturally, working with people who have different ways of expressing themselves, whether it be about race, sexual orientation, religion, immigration status. I specifically talk about the environment first and then the practices. We tend to think that from the practices we can overcome just about everything and that’s a good way to think, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity to name the relevance of our embeddedness in the world, and what’s possible is, in some measure, aided and abetted and shaped by the circumstances, the environments, the structures and systems that we find ourselves bathing in all the time. I live in a community that provides a certain amount of buffer against some of the worst kinds of disrespect that a person like me might find out in the world. From this place of relative protectedness, then I actually am able to give even more. We have to keep fighting for opportunities for people who today are suffering from a new set of oppressive systems.

    SD: I wonder about your take on callout culture, or cancel culture. Is there a value in that approach, too? Your approach is one on one, which feels righteous, but slow. But what about other big-impact approaches? Do they also move the ball down the field?

    RM: In the social justice arenas we may have overamplified some of the sharper ways of dealing with this. That’s not to say there aren’t times when we really need to take a strong, sharp stand. It takes a certain skill to act firmly and clearly and do so in a way that can minimize rather than exacerbate patterns of disconnect and separation. For me it’s never about just changing places with the people or processes that have been causing harm. It’s really about bringing around a new way of being with each other. There’s a certain urgency to figuring out how to work for some notion of justice and how to end oppression, but how to do that in a way that opens the heart, and that expands the capacity of all of us to be agents of a kind of public love that can help us sustain human life. Because the universe is going to go on in whatever way, but human life is vulnerable right now because of our failure to figure out how to live more gently and effectively together on this planet and to appreciate this brief opportunity we have between the birth and the death date to make a positive impact on this world.

    “There is a way that even in the darkest times—intergenerationally dark times where there’s no reason to think your children will ever get out of this—there’s a way to love.”

    SD: Do you ever lose your cool?

    RM: I often lose my cool intentionally, as a tool for my own healing. If I’m feeling agitation and despair or some sudden rage at something I hear that seems completely nuts, my own practice journey at the moment is allowing those feelings to be expressed and as much as possible doing that regularly enough that they’re not creating a boiler that is going to explode out there. So if I’m here, at home, where it’s safe, it’s part of my practice to let the anger and the rage that I feel about injustice come right out. There are so many things happening that if you are willing to look at these difficult issues—I mean, my heart is breaking all day every day. I hum, I sing more nowadays, I hum and sing with others more nowadays. Singing, holding hands, humming, those are ways that human beings have across times and cultures managed to get through difficult times together. I sometimes forget just how many generations of human beings before recorded human history—for hundreds of thousands of years we don’t know the numbers of battles, rages, the despair, the inhumanity to each other, and yet we survived, and yet we didn’t burn down the planet, and yet we figured out how to keep getting up every day and feeding the children. There’s a planet’s worth of wisdom about how to get through difficult times and about the holistic nature of what that takes, so that’s what I’m about these days.

    SD: I thought losing your cool would look more like—I don’t know—do you ever want to swipe all those books off the bookcase behind you?

    RM: I mean, sometimes! When I hear this I’m tempted to think of those who say: We just need to start all over again. Blow it up and start all over. I don’t have kids, I’m not physically a mother, but I kind of feel like most moms and most of us in these communities that have suffered a lot over time, you know, we’re here. We’re usually not the ones who say let’s burn it all down. Because our children are in that. The things we have lovingly protected from the worst, as best we could through generations, whether through slavery or whatever our cultures and heritages have suffered through, we suffered through so we could live another day and find the sources of hope and regeneration. That mothering instinct, I believe it’s in all of us on some level, that instinct that would protect, that would go into the fire and pull out what we can and start again, mindfulness of that, cultivation of that is what I feel called to help support and that comes at least in part from my own particular lineage as the granddaughter of the granddaughter of formerly enslaved people. There is a way that even in the darkest times, intergenerationally dark times where there’s no reason to think your children will ever get out of this, there’s a way to love, to help bring about places where joy and healing can happen, and my goodness, if people could do it during much darker times, the holocausts of our history, the enslavement periods of our history—if it could be done then, then we can do it now. I have some love and compassion for those who feel so beleaguered that the call is just to burn it down. And I say, before you light that match, look into the eyes of a child, hold the hand of a friend, realize that these very human gestures matter, and look for that will, that capacity to live another day in love.

    SD: When I look at what’s happening in the world today, the level of unrest and aggression, hate and burning, I see a lot of “men in the room.” What do you think about the role of women in helping bring about this “new way of being with each other”?

    RM: I sometimes think of this in the conventional terms of identity—it seems obvious that we need more women in power! But I also think that more fundamentally and importantly, we need to see more empowered feminine energy in the world: that energy which lives in all of us—to greater or lesser degrees—the energy that nurtures, that cares, that sees the imprint of the future and the past in everyone and in everything we do. Any one of us can do this. And every one of us should.

    Educating by Being Aware of Others’ Experiences 

    https://vimeo.com/350988714 Whether we’re a teacher, whether we’re a director, whether we’re an administrative assistant, whatever we are because who we are and what our upbringing has been and what our life experiences have been is intricately a part of our authentic being. Unless we have taken time to look at… Read More 

    • Barb Catbagan
    • August 21, 2019
    12 Powerful Women of the Mindfulness Movement 

    There’s a balancing of gender power happening across the professional world—including the mindfulness world. Twelve leaders in the field share how they claim their power and bring the diversity of their experiences in the mindfulness movement to bear in their work. Read More 

    • Stephanie Domet
    • January 15, 2019

    About The Author

    Stephanie Domet

    Stephanie Domet

    Stephanie Domet is the author of two novels and a nonfiction book for middle grade readers. She’s the cofounder of the AfterWords Literary Festival and a contributing editor for Mindful. She lives in Kjipuktuk/Halifax, where she is, indeed, grateful to be alive, in the best way.



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  • How Writing Three Lines of Poetry Can Open Your Heart

    How Writing Three Lines of Poetry Can Open Your Heart

    Poetry can be a kind of meditation, explains Rashid Hughes. He explores how the art of haiku can open your heart and bring a sense of peaceful, awe-inspired expressiveness into your practice.

    Life has so much to offer, if we’d only listen. The evening was young and my body tired from being in motion all day. There was an intrinsic quietness in the air, with gray skies above and an unceasing but very tender rainfall. I sat at my desk, looking out of my back window as I often do after a long day of reading or writing. The usual sounds of insects and animals on a late summer evening seemed to be very few. The candle flame to my left on my ancestor altar reminded me of the sacredness of resting, so I allowed myself a moment to just be. I enjoy cracking my window a little to listen to the rain with the coincidental thunder on the horizon. As I feel on many rainy days, I felt like the rain was inviting me to listen deeply, so I obeyed.

    As I sat enjoying the rain for a while, I began reflecting on a few words from mama Alice Walker’s poem “Be Nobody’s Darling.”

    Be nobody’s darling;
    Be an outcast

    Be an outcast;
    Be pleased to walk alone

    I felt alone, but not separate. I exhaled. Something sacred was in the midst: an undivided knowing. A deeply-rooted conviction of belonging arose within me. It was as if I was bearing witness to my boundless love. In awe, I surrendered.

    From within this knowing, the following haikus came to me in a very spontaneous, unstructured way. In that moment, life felt both intimate and imminent. A solitude and a fresh clarity caressed me; a moment of effortless meditation unfolding. There was no goal or desire present, just present-moment awareness.

    I’m not sure why haiku was the form of writing that came to me at the moment. Poetry or writing isn’t how I usually express myself after meditation. I may jot down a few notes, but hardly ever in the form of poetry. I tend to prefer to bathe in the natural clarity of mind after moments like this. Maybe haiku emerged due to the natural slowness of pacing and spaciousness that is required throughout the haiku poetic process. Who knows?

    With the window slightly opened, allowing the sound of the gentle rain and a soft breeze in, I began to write these haikus.

    Poetry Can Be a Kind of Meditation

    If you don’t understand the meaning of the haikus, that’s OK. The gift of haiku is the patience that is invoked, the wonder, and, on special occasions, the confusion. You may sense that there are many possible interpretations of a haiku. That’s OK too; let all be both true and untrue. I invite you to take a breath in between reading each haiku.

    A different knowing
    That enters me from beneath.
    They frown at me, Shrink!

    I hear them calling
    In the cool breeze on my feet.
    I contract, it’s me!

    It’s time to slow down.
    What shall my five year plan be?
    It’s night time, don’t sleep!

    Overcast, light rain.
    The sunshine of so much grief
    Felt within the peace.

    Yaaaass, dreadlocks and beard!
    The way they stare in the streets
    Feels like, please don’t shoot!

    The leaf’s holding on,
    Fall, a few yellows and pinks.
    No hurry, just be

    A candle burns bright.
    Walking back and forth I think,
    Tomorrow not now.

    Try Your Hand at Haiku

    It is my wish that everyone might be able to find joy in writing haikus. It really can slow your mind down and open your heart when you need it most. Here are a few tips to get you started.

    1. Go for a walk or sit in your favorite seat at home.
    2. Observe your surroundings. Notice the colors, the weather, the sounds.
    3. Listen to your heart and sense what is happening within.
    4. Without much thinking, in two sentences, pause and write down what is capturing your attention.
    5. Then write a third sentence that is not as closely related to the first two sentences.
    6. See if you can draw some surprising connection between the first two sentences and the the third.
    7. Remember, try to really get clear on what insight or message you want to reveal to the reader.
    8. If you’d like a challenge, rewrite the three sentences following the traditional haiku structure: three lines, with five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third.
    9. Most importantly, don’t judge yourself for what you come up with.
    Try This Guided Meditation As a Mindful Writing Prompt 

    The invitation is to connect with your senses in a real or imagined setting. What do you hear? What do you smell? Note the emotional content of the space. And when you’re done, take what you learned to the page in whatever way suits you. Read More 

    • Stephanie Domet
    • June 10, 2024



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  • Create Inner Balance With A 12-Minute Meditation

    Create Inner Balance With A 12-Minute Meditation

    Life is never constant. And it can be difficult to remain balanced in the midst of change. Susan Bauer-Wu shares a guided meditation to ground us in the present moment and cultivate equanimity.

    With equanimity, we can feel the possibility of balance in our hearts in the midst of life’s ups and downs. It’s a quality that’s both receptive and stable. In short, it’s the opposite of the reactive mind. With equanimity, there’s a feeling of ease and allowing as we ride the waves of change and different experiences. It allows us to be present to suffering and present to joy. It combines an understanding mind together with a compassionate heart. It doesn’t mean we are indifferent or that we don’t care or that we care less, it means we allow life to unfold without any attachments to an outcome or taking things personally. And finally, equanimity is opening to easing into each moment with care and gentleness. 

    A Meditation to Create Inner Balance in the Face of Change

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

    1. Settle into a comfortable posture. You can close your eyes or simply lower your gaze. Bring awareness toward your body. Notice your breath move through your body, feeling the chest or belly expand with your breath.
    2. Take a moment to set an intention for the practice. Perhaps it’s to feel a sense of inner balance and ease. Take in the following phrases or the meaning of the phrases and quietly repeat to yourself: Things are just as they are. I’m safe in this moment. My happiness and suffering depend on my thoughts and actions, not simply upon my wishes. May I feel joy and ease.
    3. Notice whatever is present for you right now. Resting in a feeling of OK-ness in this moment, just as it is.
    4. Bring to mind someone who you care about and who may be going through a hard time. Extend these phrases or the meaning of the phrases to this person. I care for you yet cannot keep you from suffering. I love you yet cannot control your happiness. Your happiness and suffering depend on your thoughts and actions and not my wishes for you. May you feel joy and ease.
    5. Notice how you feel. Notice the raw feeling of whatever is present for you. Sit with it. Just letting it be, right now.
    6. Once again, bring awareness to the body, and the breath. Feel the ease of simply being and breathing. 
    Interested in Meditation? Here Are the Basics 

    Meditation is a core mindfulness practice that you can customize to meet you where you are, bring your attention to the present moment, and engage in more compassion and connection. Here’s what you need to know to get started. Read More 

    • Eric Langshur and Nate Klemp
    • May 21, 2021



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  • Be Kind to Yourself by Being Kind to Others

    Be Kind to Yourself by Being Kind to Others

    I usually describe a practice as something to do: get on your own side, see the being behind the eyes, take in the good, etc. This practice is different: it’s something to recognize. From this recognition, appropriate action will follow. Let me explain.

    Some years ago, I was invited to give a keynote at a conference with the largest audience I’d ever faced. It was a big step up for me. Legendary psychologists were giving the other talks, and I feared I wouldn’t measure up. I was nervous. Real nervous.

    I sat in the back waiting my turn, worrying about how people would see me. I thought about how to look impressive and get approval. My mind fixed on me, me, me. I was miserable.

    Then I began reading an interview with the Dalai Lama. He spoke about the happiness in wishing others well. A wave of relief and calming swept through me as I recognized that the kindest thing I could do for myself was to stop obsessing about “me” and instead try to be helpful to others.

    So I gave my talk, and stayed focused on what could be useful to people rather than how I was coming across. I felt much more relaxed and at peace—and received a standing ovation. I laughed to myself at the ironies: to get approval, stop seeking it; to take care of yourself, take care of others.

    This principle holds in everyday life, not just in conferences. If you get a sense of other people and find compassion for them, you’ll feel better yourself. In a relationship, one of the best ways to get your own needs met is to take maximum reasonable responsibility (these words are carefully chosen) for meeting the needs of the other person. Besides being benevolent—which feels good in its own right—it’s your best odds strategy for getting treated better by others. This approach is the opposite of being a doormat; it puts you in a stronger position.

    Kindness to you is kindness to me; kindness to me is kindness to you. It’s a genuine—and beautiful—two-way street.

    Flip it the other way, and it is also true: being to yourself is being kind to others. As your own well-being increases, you’re more able and likely to be patient, supportive, forgiving, and loving. To take care of them, you’ve got to take care of yourself; otherwise you start running on empty. As you grow happiness and other inner strengths inside yourself, you’ve got more to offer to others.

    Kindness to you is kindness to me; kindness to me is kindness to you. It’s a genuine—and beautiful—two-way street.

    What Does Being Kind to Others and Yourself Look Like?

    The kindness to others and to yourself that I’m talking about here is authentic and proportionate, not overblown or inappropriate.

    In ordinary situations, take a moment here and there to recognize that if you open to appropriate compassion, decency, tolerance, respect, support, friendliness, or even love for others…it’s good for you as well.

    See the consequences of little things. For example, earlier today, in an airport, I saw a bag on the ground and didn’t know if it had been left by someone. Thinking about this practice, it was natural for there to be some friendliness in my face when I asked the man in front of me if it was his bag. He was startled at first and it seemed like he felt criticized, then he looked more closely at me, relaxed a bit, and said that the bag was his friend’s. His response to my friendliness made me feel at ease instead of awkward or tense.

    See how taking care of yourself has good ripple effects for others. Deliberately do a small thing that feeds you—a little rest, some exercise, some time for yourself—and then notice how this affects your relationships.

    Imagine what the other person’s concerns or wants might be, and do what you can—usually easily and naturally—to take them into account. Then see how this turns out for you. Probably better than it would have been.

    Also see how taking care of yourself has good ripple effects for others. Deliberately do a small thing that feeds you—a little rest, some exercise, some time for yourself—and then notice how this affects your relationships. Notice how healthy boundaries in relationships helps prevent you from getting used up or angry and eventually needing to withdraw.

    It’s as if we are connected in a vast web. For better or worse, what you do to others ripples back to you; what you do to yourself ripples out to others.

    In effect, you are running little experiments and letting the results really sink in. That’s the important part: letting it really land inside you that we are deeply connected with each other. Helping others helps you; helping yourself helps others. Similarly, harming others harms you; harming yourself harms others.

    It’s as if we are connected in a vast web. For better or worse, what you do to others ripples back to you; what you do to yourself ripples out to others.

    Recognizing this in your belly and bones will change your life for the better. And change the lives of others for the better as well.

      This post is one in a series from Rick Hanson’s Just One Thing (JOT) newsletter, which each week offers a simple practice designed to bring you more joy, more fulfilling relationships, and more peace of mind and heart.  



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  • Being Courageous About Change: Mindful Guidance on the Proactive Pivot

    Being Courageous About Change: Mindful Guidance on the Proactive Pivot

    Being Proactive

    Proactive pivoting is one of the hardest things, because it implies that we’re making a change before we absolutely have to make a change.

    We really don’t like change. We’re creatures of habit. We like our routines, and we like the familiar. When it comes to proactive pivoting, we need to conjure up a certain amount of strength, and faith that what we’re about to do will work out for us.

    Proactive pivoting is about getting ahead of change, seeing that change needs to come, and mustering the courage and the strength to make that change.

    We’re often more accustomed to crisis pivoting. This is when we have to pivot—when things happen legally, medically, relationally, or vocationally that require our immediate, all-hands-on-deck attention.

    Proactive pivoting is different. It is about getting ahead of change, seeing that change needs to come, and mustering the courage and the strength to make that change.

    Loss Aversion

    There are a few fears and obstacles that can get in the way when we’re thinking about pivoting. We all have our go-to place when it’s time for a change—the uncertainty, or the fear of failure, the unknown. Whatever those fears are, we all have them.

    The science of loss aversion shows that even if the change will bring us something equal to, or even a little better than what we currently have, we still resist.

    There’s also something that can get in our way called loss aversion. It turns out that even if the change will bring us something equal to, or even a little better than what we currently have, we still resist.

    The science indicates that in order to make a change, we need to perceive that what we’re going into is twice as positive as what we currently experience. Keeping in mind that experiencing this loss aversion can be very helpful to us in times of pivoting—just knowing that is a phenomenon, and being aware of it, can help us to face it.

    A Personal Example of Proactive Pivoting

    Here’s a personal example of a proactive pivot that occurred in my family.

    My mom was living in Janesville, Wisconsin, where she was born and where she had lived her entire life. She was 85, and she decided to move to Dallas, Texas.

    She was in perfectly fine health and has four children. I’m the oldest of four, and she decided to move before anything happened in her life that would force her to make a change. She was very familiar with her community—she knew her neighbor, she had grown up there, she was driving a car, and she had a very nice life there. But she was able to muster the strength to make a big change at her age. Now four years later, she’s still very healthy and is very grateful that years earlier had made that change.

    Deciding Not to Pivot is Okay, Too

    Sometimes change is genuinely not the right choice in a given moment, and that’s okay.

    We can become present with what our current situation is, assess it, and maybe determine that in the grander scheme of things, it’s not the time for us to pivot.

    In these moments, we don’t have to feel regret or guilt because we actually didn’t go through with it.

    The key is that we consider pivoting when things in our life indicate that would be best for our well-being, and if it’s not, then we can gently surrender.

    We are generally more skilled at crisis pivoting than proactive pivoting, so it isn’t always easy to know what the right thing to do is in the moment. Being compassionately present with ourselves in the process is key—including in the moments that we decide not to make a change, or in the moments when we decide to stay or move on, and we’re not sure.

    Mindfully Reflecting on Your Own Actions

    Think about a time in your life when you did proactively pivot.

    • What brought on the moment when you knew you had to consider change?
    • What did you do to prepare?
    • What helped you make your decision?
    • How did you feel about the change after you made it?
    • What were you most grateful for? What did you learn?

    Life is change, and change is constant. Mindfulness builds our courage, because it helps us pay more attention to our real lives as they’re happening—and that, in turn, helps us to discern when it’s time to change directions.



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  • A 12-Minute Meditation to Approach the World With a “Don’t-Know Mind”

    A 12-Minute Meditation to Approach the World With a “Don’t-Know Mind”

    We can find strength and resilience in familiarity—and use those feelings to explore the unfamiliar.

    At the beginning of every meditation practice that I teach, I offer up a little bit of instruction for the posture, so that you can experience this practice as being as supportive as possible to your body.

    A Meditation to Approach the World With a “Don’t-Know Mind” 

    1. I would like to invite you to come to a place that is truly comfortable and supportive to your practice. For some of you, this may mean a seated position on a chair, on a sofa, or even on some cushions on the floor. This might mean standing up, if that’s more supportive to your back and your posture. And for some of you, this may mean lying down on the ground. Please take a moment to come to whatever place is going to feel most compassionate to your body.
    2. Some of you may want to fully close your eyes for this meditation practice. And others may want to employ what I like to call a “soft gaze,” which is looking down at the ground about two inches in front of the knees or the feet.
    3. When you’ve settled into a comfortable position, I would love to invite you to take three deep breaths with me. As you’re taking those three deep breaths, you may notice that your body may begin to relax naturally. You may start to feel a little bit more deeply connected to whatever place makes contact with the earth. For some of you that’s going to be your feet, and for others that may be your back. Notice whatever place comes into contact with the earth in this moment.
    4. Begin to draw your attention and awareness to the connection between your body and the earth. It might feel beneficial at this point to take another deep inhale and exhale here. When you’re finished, return your breath back to a natural cadence and rhythm.
    5. You may notice the quality of the sound in the room that you’re in. Maybe there are some ambient noises that are coming from inside of wherever you are, whatever building you’re in. Or maybe there are sounds that are coming from outside. Please feel free to make these a part of your practice.
    6. Begin to draw your awareness to the bottoms of your feet, wherever they are landing on the earth. What do you notice? Does the right foot or the left foot feel slightly heavier than the other? As you notice the difference between the right and the left foot, perhaps you might also become aware of other micro-adjustments inside of your body.
    7. You may notice that the mind continues to produce thoughts, and that’s OK. The point of a meditation practice is not necessarily to stop thinking the thoughts that you are thinking, but rather to just be aware of the thoughts as they flow through the body and the mind. As you draw your awareness to your thoughts, you can also bring your awareness to the rhythm of your breath as it flows in and out of your body.
    8. I would like to invite you to bring your attention to the muscles of the belly and notice if they’ve been drawn in a little bit tightly towards the spine. Is it possible to invite a sense of relaxation, and even vulnerability, to the muscles of the belly by allowing them to be soft? Don’t worry, no one is watching. How does it feel when you invite a sense of softness and relaxation to the belly? How does the rest of the body respond?
    9. While your attention is here, you might begin to imagine a person, place, animal, or object that is deeply familiar to you. Perhaps this animal, person, place, or object reminds you of what it feels like to be home. Can you bring them into the room with you right now?
    10. Notice if that invitation has an impact on your breath, as it rises and falls from your chest. You might even feel a bit more safe in the space of this practice as you invite the image of what reminds you of being home, of being held.
    11. What is familiar to you, deeply familiar, about this person, animal, place, or object, that makes you feel as though you really know them? What is the feeling of knowing? What is the feeling of familiarity, and how does it land inside of the body? The invitation is to bring your attention back to the breath anytime that you notice yourself getting caught up in the story.
    12. Now, bring to mind an image of something that reminds you of what it means to be strong and resilient. Maybe there’s someone who you really look up to, or a place you’ve been that made you feel truly strong and resilient when you were there. Can you bring into your mind’s awareness the embodied sensations of being strong and resilient? Does your body make slight changes and shifts as you recall how this feels?
    13. Now we’re going to do a little bit of experimenting. Hopefully this will be fun. There’s a term called “don’t know mind” that is sometimes used in meditation to invoke a sense of curiosity.
    14. What is it like to approach the world with a “don’t know mind?” You may find that this is a bit of a contrast to the feeling of familiarity that we began to explore in the beginning of this practice. The feeling of familiarity is the feeling of, “Oh yes, I know. I know this person. I know this place. I know this animal or this object. They are deeply familiar to me.” Perhaps the way we view things, which are seemingly familiar to us, can begin to shift and change ever so slightly when we apply the pure curiosity of “don’t know mind.” How does that land in the body? This exploration of not knowing, of not being quite certain?
    15. At this point in your practice, you may notice if there are places in the body that begin to contract when we explore the feeling of “don’t know mind,” and that’s OK. This is the body’s intelligence. Can we unite this exploration of “don’t know mind” with those same sensations of strength and resilience, so that we know that no matter what, when we encounter moments of uncertainty and not-knowing that we have all the strength and resilience inside of our body to meet with that moment? What does it feel like to meet strength and resilience with not-knowing? Can we be truly curious about what arises in our awareness with this practice? Let’s take just a few moments in silence together now and explore the way that this feels.
    16. When you’re ready please bring your entire body into your mind’s eye and notice the difference between the way the body feels now and the way the body felt when you first entered into this space of practice. Take the time to notice the way the feet feel slightly different in the way they connect to the earth.
    17. Let’s all take one more deep breath in here.
    18. When you’re ready, at your own pace and rhythm, please begin to, ever so slowly and gently, open up the eyes, without staring at anything in particular. Allow color and texture to flood back into your mind’s awareness.
       
    19. From here we can begin the process of reorienting to the room that we’re in. Gently begin to turn and rotate the head and the neck, and take in the colors and textures of the space you are in. Notice if there’s anything new or different or alive in the space. What has changed since you started this practice?



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  • Discovering What’s Alive for You Right Now

    Discovering What’s Alive for You Right Now

    Our sense of purpose isn’t a fixed point, it’s dynamic. In fact, considering what’s most alive for you right now helps you define your purpose.

    Although it’s helpful to have a clearly defined sense of purpose, I also see purpose as something that’s really dynamic.

    I invite you to consider what’s most alive for you in your life right now.

    Let me explain a little bit: In order to further support our journey toward living with meaning, purpose and resilience, it’s helpful for us to articulate a vision for our lives—in a statement.

    I’ve found it very helpful for me, over the past couple decades, to have a statement that I can really use as my North Star.

    Those statements change over time. In fact, they can change frequently, so the important thing is to attune to what is most alive for you and then, based on what’s most dynamic, derive this guiding statement, this sense of clarity for yourself. That statement can then be used to help us define our purpose.

    I lead an institute that focuses on bringing secular and science-based mindfulness and emotional intelligence tools to communities and organizations around the world. Mindfulness has been a part of my life for at least the past 30 years. It started as a personal practice and then more and more became part of my work.

    So, when I reflect on what’s alive for me, mindfulness is it. It’s a daily practice and something I treasure and truly enjoy. It also brings a great many benefits to my life.

    My North Star is the full integration of mindfulness in every domain of my life. So I aspire to be a mindful parent, a mindful spouse, a mindful colleague, a mindful friend. I say aspire because I’m human, as we all are, and there are times when I’m certainly not mindful, and that’s OK. I still keep this aspiration. I have this purpose that’s really defined—and I really want to call attention to the fact that that purpose also derives from my intention. 

    From Purpose to Intentions

    What are the values that you hold dear? What is the ideal or hoped-for life you want to be living? All of that comes to bear when I think about my purpose because the purpose doesn’t exist alone, independently of intention and meaning.  

    Meaning—your values, the things that are important to you, the things you aspire to—all inform your purpose. I would encourage you to consider how your values, the things that are meaningful to you, and the things you hope for in your best life could all come together in terms of your purpose.

    A Practice: What’s Alive For You Right Now?

    1. So if you would join me, and if you’re comfortable, close your eyes or simply direct your gaze downward and soften the visual field so that we can gather our attention. 
    2. Bring awareness to your body, where you find yourself seated or lying down or standing. Bring awareness to this felt experience of your own body and to the very quality of your awareness. How might you cultivate a quality of alertness, of brightness, and yet at the same time, easefulness? This is about being alert and yet relaxed at the same time. Allow your awareness to make contact with the felt sense of your own body, your posture, the places where your body makes contact with the surface of your chair, the floor. 
    3. Then begin directing the attention gently but firmly to the breath: the in breaths the out breaths, the full cycle of the breath of air as it moves in and out of your body. 
    4. I invite you now to consider what’s most alive for you in this moment. Where is your attention? What are you noticing most prominently? What do you feel? Take note of whatever is arising. Name it. Is this a familiar feeling, what is most alive for you now? And what has been alive for you over this period of time? What has had your attention? What questions have you been asking? What have you been wondering about? What has been returning frequently? And what is alive now? These can be things that are both very positive and encouraging. They can also be very challenging things. Without judgment, simply notice what is alive. What has been alive for you in your experience?
    5. Consider one other very important thing: Whatever has been arising for you in your life and in this moment hasn’t happened in isolation. There are causes and conditions and people who have all contributed to this thing that is very alive for you. So I invite you to consider what support you need to nurture or to work with whatever it is that’s alive for you. What support do you need to work with this? We’re not alone. We’re never really alone in the sense that a whole set of causes and conditions allow us to live our lives each and every moment of each and every day. So in that sense, what causes and conditions or people do you need in terms of support, to work with what’s alive for you?
    6. As you relate to what is most alive for you, and as we close this meditation, let’s take a few last deep breaths. And, if you like, you’re welcome to write down anything that arose for you regarding what’s alive. What questions do you have? What support do you need?

    Write down the word or sentence that captures what’s most alive for you in this season of life—and consider how that dynamic energy informs and fuels your sense of purpose.



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  • The Easiest Way to Deepen Your Yoga Practice? Teach It to a Child.

    The Easiest Way to Deepen Your Yoga Practice? Teach It to a Child.

    “While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.”
    —Angela Schwindt

    Once I had a baby, I became one of those people with the best intentions for my yoga practice. Even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk to the yoga studio for those hour-long classes anymore, I figured I would work it out somehow, that I would find a way to keep my practice alive.

    Like almost every parent I know, I got a shock when the little one finally arrived.

    I tried attending baby yoga classes, but I spent the entire time feeding her. No time for my personal practice there. When she was sleeping, I was too exhausted to leave the couch, let alone give my practice the attention it deserved.

    For a while, I mourned the loss of those studio classes. I missed the guided sequences, the community, the dedicated space just for practice. Once we settled into a little routine, though, I stopped fighting my ache for the yoga studio I’d left behind.

    Discovering a New Way to Practice

    In a way, I stumbled upon this new way of practicing out of necessity. I started meditating with my daughter on my lap. These were short sessions, nothing fancy. Just breath and presence. 

    As she grew older, we began practicing yoga postures together. We would mimic the trees we saw on our walks or the animals we’d watched at the zoo. I would practice mindfulness while swinging her at the playground, bringing awareness to the present moment and practicing gratitude for these precious days.

    Somewhere in all of this, something shifted. My yoga practice became more consistent than it had ever been—not because I was getting to the studio or following hour-long sequences, but because I was already there with my daughter, breathing, moving, and being present together.

    Somewhere in all of this, something shifted. My yoga practice became more consistent than it had ever been—not because I was getting to the studio or following hour-long sequences, but because I was already there with my daughter, breathing, moving, and being present together.

    So, if you’re struggling to maintain your practice, I want to share something that might sound counterintuitive: Practicing and teaching yoga to the children in your life, whether they’re your own kids, nieces and nephews, students, or neighborhood children, might be the key to deepening your own practice.

    Easy Practices to Teach & Try

    Here’s how to turn everyday moments into opportunities for yoga, without adding a single thing to your schedule. I encourage you to try one or more of these, and then adjust them to meet your own needs.

    1. Morning Wake-Up Stretches in Bed

    Before your feet hit the floor, before the day begins, there’s a window for practice. Instead of jumping straight into the morning rush, take two minutes to stretch in bed with your child. Extend your arms overhead. Hug your knees to your chest. Twist gently side to side.

    Make it an invitation rather than an instruction: “Want to stretch with me?” Most kids will naturally join in, and you’re teaching them that movement and breath can be the first choice of the day.

    Make it an invitation rather than an instruction: “Want to stretch with me?” Most kids will naturally join in, especially if it means a few extra minutes of connection before the day demands their attention elsewhere.

    You’re teaching them that movement and breath can be the first choice of the day. You’re giving yourself those moments too. No mat, special outfit, or commute to the studio required.

    Want to make this morning ritual even more powerful? Add an element of gratitude. After a few gentle stretches, share one thing you’re grateful for or one positive thought about the day ahead. “I’m grateful for this cozy bed and this time with you.” 

    Keep it simple. Kids often mirror this practice back, starting their day with appreciation rather than rushing straight into demands and tasks.

    2. Mindful Moments While Waiting

    Waiting is everywhere in life with children. Bus stops. Doctors’ offices. School pick-up lines. Instead of filling these moments with phones or mental to-do lists, turn them into opportunities for presence.

    When my daughter and I wait for the bus together, we’ve started really noticing what’s around us. The snow falling in winter. The leaves changing color in fall. Rain pitter-pattering on the pavement. The birds chirping in the trees nearby.

    “What do you hear right now?” becomes our game. Or “What’s different today than yesterday?”

    This practice of tuning in to the present moment, of noticing what’s actually here rather than rushing ahead to what’s next, is mindfulness in its purest form. The children learn to see the world with fresh eyes, and so do you. 

    3. Deep Breathing Throughout the Day

    You can practice conscious breathing anywhere—before a transition at home, in the car before walking into an appointment, standing in line at the post office, sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, walking from the car to the grocery store entrance.

    Make it simple. Breathe in for four counts, out for four counts. That’s it. No fancy techniques needed. Just intentional breath shared together. The breathing practice I thought I was teaching my daughter? She was internalizing it, making it her own, and reflecting it back to me when I needed it most.

    The more you practice in small moments throughout the day, the more natural it becomes—for both of you.

    A few times when I’ve been in a mental tailspin about something, she’s put her hands on both my shoulders and said, “You’ve got this, Mom. Take a deep breath.”

    The more you practice in small moments throughout the day, the more natural it becomes—for both of you.

    4. The “Drop and Roll” Game

    This is one of my favorite practices for shifting energy quickly! Anytime you need to change the mood, shift your mindset, or get a new perspective, drop into a yoga pose.

    Kids getting restless in the grocery store? “Drop and roll into downward dog right here!” (Yes, right there by the cereal aisle.)

    Feeling stuck on a problem at home? “Let’s do tree pose and see if we can think differently while we balance.”

    Energy getting chaotic before dinner? “Everybody drop into child’s pose for ten breaths.”

    The beauty is that it works anywhere. In the park when emotions are running high. In your living room when everyone needs a reset. Even in the dentist office waiting room when nerves need settling. Any moment can become a practice moment.

    Movement shifts everything. It changes your physical state, which changes your mental state. The children learn this through play, and so do you. Sometimes the fastest way back to center is moving your body in a new way.

    Movement shifts everything. It changes your physical state, which changes your mental state. The children learn this through play, and so do you. Sometimes the fastest way back to center is moving your body in a new way.

    5. Bedtime Meditation 

    If you’ve ever tried to meditate while children are awake and active in your home, you know it’s nearly impossible. But bedtime? That’s your window.

    After stories and tucking in, try a simple body scan or visualization with them. “Close your eyes and imagine you’re a starfish floating in warm water. Feel your arms get heavy. Your legs get soft.”

    By guiding them through relaxation, something happens to your own nervous system. It settles. It softens. Your breath slows. Your shoulders drop. Your mind, which has been running all day, finally gets permission to rest. 

    This thing you’re already doing every night becomes your meditation practice.

    6. Travel Days and Hotel Room Yoga

    Travel with children often means confined spaces and restless energy. As it turns out, these are ideal conditions for yoga. A hotel room becomes a studio. The wait at the airport gate becomes an opportunity for seated twists and neck rolls. The backseat of the car during a rest stop becomes a place for shoulder shrugs and gentle stretches.

    When you reframe “practice” as something that can happen anywhere, you stop waiting for perfect conditions that rarely come.

    Hotel rooms have become unexpected practice spaces for us. We make it playful (animal poses are favorites), but my body still gets the stretch it needs. My breath still deepens. My mind still settles. When you reframe “practice” as something that can happen anywhere, you stop waiting for perfect conditions that rarely come.

    7. Yoga Through Acts of Service

    The mat is just one place yoga lives. It also lives in how we show up in the world and care for others. There are countless opportunities to weave service into your life with children. Volunteering at a food bank. Helping an elderly neighbor with yard work. Making cards for people in nursing homes. Participating in a community clean-up day.

    For ten years, my family has hosted a pajama drive in our town, collecting new pajamas and delivering them to children at a less fortunate city school. This practice of karma yoga—selfless service—has become one of the most meaningful parts of our yoga practice together.

    When children see you modeling a yoga lifestyle that extends beyond poses and breath to include compassion, generosity, and showing up for others, they learn that yoga is a way of being, not just a thing you “do.”

    When children see you modeling a yoga lifestyle that extends beyond poses and breath to include compassion, generosity, and showing up for others, they learn that yoga is a way of being, not just a thing you “do.”

    And you? You’re practicing too. Not on a mat, but in the world, where it matters most.

    The Practice That Was Always There

    What children really need from us isn’t perfection in our practice. They need our presence. And in teaching them simple practices for presence, whether through breath, movement, or mindfulness, you create your own practice without needing to be anywhere other than where you already are.

    My practice now looks different from the way it did before I became a parent. It’s changed and adapted through the years as my daughter has grown. But it’s stayed alive, built into our days together in ways I never could have imagined back when I thought “real” practice only happened in a studio. The practice is in the slow breaths we take together. In the gratitude we share during morning stretches. In our mindful moments waiting for the bus. In the service projects we take on as a family. In the body scans that help her settle into sleep.

    The practice was never supposed to be separate from life. It was always meant to be woven through it. And children, with their natural presence and their ability to find joy in the simplest moments, are some of our best teachers for remembering that.



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  • A Meditation to Allow Genuine Happiness, Even In Hard Times

    A Meditation to Allow Genuine Happiness, Even In Hard Times

    Accessing real happiness when we are struggling can feel impossible—but it’s also a key to our recovery, healing, and well-being.

    When we are going through a difficult season personally, or we are bearing witness to the pain of others, our relationship to genuine joy or happiness can get complicated and confusing. Happiness can feel out of reach, or it can feel like a betrayal, like it’s something we don’t “deserve” in hard times.

    But strengthening our ability to notice and soak in moments of beauty, tenderness, connection, and gratitude can actually have a fortifying effect on us. It can help us build resilience and fill our empty emotional tanks—which can foster our own healing and make it possible for us to show up in healing ways for others.

    Teacher Wendy O’Leary shares a guided practice to tune our attention to the reality that shimmers right alongside our genuine seasons of struggle.

    A Meditation to Allow Genuine Happiness, Even In Hard Times

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

    Maybe, like so many, you have wondered, How can I even think about being happy when I’m having such a hard time right now? 

    Or, How can I be happy when there is so much suffering in the world? 

    And yet, happiness is not just accessible once basic needs are met, but also essential for our well-being and resilience. We need that resilience both for ourselves when we are struggling and to support others when they are. Both can be true. 

    Things can be hard and we might also be able to touch some happiness in life. It can’t be forced, so this practice is not an encouragement to push down the hard stuff. Instead, it is a very gentle invitation to also make a little space for the good as you’re able to enhance capacity and wellbeing. 

    This practice is adapted from Rick Hansen’s practice of taking in the good. 

    1. Let’s begin by settling into a comfortable position. If it works for you, I invite you to close your eyes. 
    2. Gently direct your attention to the felt experience of your body. You might feel your feet on the floor, the backs of your legs on a chair or cushion, or where your hands are touching. Direct your attention to wherever you can most easily connect with the experience of the body sitting. 
    3. Now, gently widen your attention to feel the sensations of the whole body sitting, including the sensations of the body breathing. The invitation here is for a wide, soft and receptive awareness of the body sitting and the body breathing. 
    4. If difficult emotions or thoughts arise, it’s not a problem. There’s no need to push them aside. Gently acknowledge their presence, maybe even saying to yourself, Oh, unpleasant thoughts or emotions. Then let them drift to the background as you focus on the foreground of the experience of the whole body as we settle in here for a minute. 
    5. Now, call to mind a time when you felt really happy. It could be a time you felt peaceful or calm, or maybe you felt a sense of contentment, or it could even be a joyful time. If there are a few experiences that are vying for your attention, just pick one for our practice together. There’s no right or wrong choice here. 
    6. Notice where you are during that experience and who you’re with. Look around and notice what else you see as you remember this experience. You might notice what sounds you hear. Were there any tastes or smells? Just be curious. And what about physical sensations, like the sun on the skin or the feet in sand or even movement, like the body rocking or dancing? Just notice any physical sensations connected to this experience. Take it in with all your senses. 
    7. Now, let go of the specific experience and just check out for yourself. How does my body feel when you’re happy, peaceful, content or joyful? What’s that like in the body? What’s that like in the mind? What’s like in your heart? You could even say to yourself, Oh, happy is like this. 
    8. Imagine letting that feeling expand throughout your body. Basking in the experience of happy, letting that grow and expand. You might even say to yourself, This feeling is worth keeping to help your brain remember and access this feeling more easily. Oh, happy is like this and this is worth keeping. Bask in the experience, growing the experience and reminding yourself that it’s worth keeping. Happy feels like this. 
    9. Remember that happiness isn’t in that specific experience you remembered. It’s in you, and it is accessible. You just have to take a moment to call it up and lean into the felt sense of happiness. Happiness is like this. 
    10. Before we close, let’s offer some well wishes. May we and all beings be safe. May we and all beings be healthy in body, mind, and heart. May we and all beings be happy, truly happy, peaceful, content, and free. May our practice be of benefit to all beings. 
    11. As you go through your day, you could set an intention to notice the little moments of happiness, peace, and connection. Stop for at least three breaths to take them in, noticing them with all your senses. Notice how the body feels when experiencing happiness and invite that felt sense of happiness to stick around and even expand in the body, mind and heart. 

    Thank you for practicing with me.



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  • Feeling Like a Fraud in Your Own Mindfulness Practice

    Feeling Like a Fraud in Your Own Mindfulness Practice

    Over the years, I’ve worked closely with many meditation practitioners and Buddhist authors, some of whom have been clients, and my own practice has grown alongside those relationships. Being surrounded by people with such depth of experience can be inspiring, but it can also quietly raise the bar for where you think you should be in your ability to navigate life’s difficulties.

    One of the most humbling moments for me came during a trip to the emergency room related to complications from my autoimmune disease. I was in excruciating pain when a close friend, who also has a long meditation practice, asked, half joking, “Are you able to outsmart your pain?”

    We both laughed. The joke landed because another friend of mine, physician and meditation teacher Dr. Christiane Wolf, is a colleague and former client who has written about working with chronic pain through mindfulness in her book Outsmart Your Pain.

    I remember telling her at one point, almost defensively, that I meditate every single day. I had this quiet, competitive edge about it. I did not want to miss a day, even in the hospital. Missing a day felt like a failure.

    I remember telling her at one point, almost defensively, that I meditate every single day. I had this quiet, competitive edge about it. I did not want to miss a day, even in the hospital. Missing a day felt like a failure. In hindsight, that belief feels a little ridiculous, but at the time, it carried real weight.

    At that moment, I was not able to outsmart my pain.

    My response was immediate: “No. I’m not able. I’d like the pain meds.”

    Even as I said it, a small part of me felt inadequate. I was feeling like a fraud. If I had spent years around mindfulness practitioners and teachings about working skillfully with pain, shouldn’t I be better at this?

    Health challenges have given me many moments like that, moments when I questioned my ability to navigate difficulty in the way I believed I should.

    What I didn’t understand at the time was that practice does not always show up in the exact moment of distress. Sometimes it shows up in how we move through the experience afterward.

    Christiane later offered a perspective that shifted something for me.

    “Angela,” she said, “if you’re not meditating when you’re hospitalized, it doesn’t make you a failure. Your practice to date has prepared you to navigate these moments. That’s what the practice is for.”

    “Angela,” she said, “if you’re not meditating when you’re hospitalized, it doesn’t make you a failure. Your practice to date has prepared you to navigate these moments. That’s what the practice is for.”

    It was a simple reminder, but an important one. I realized how quickly I had turned a moment of human vulnerability into a judgment about whether I was doing the practice “well enough.”

    Around the same time, I was helping a menopause telehealth company develop educational content and share mindfulness practices for women navigating perimenopause and menopause. I had no trouble guiding others through meditation or creating resources that helped people access the practice.

    Yet privately, I sometimes struggled to apply the same steadiness to my own life.

    That tension, between helping others access mindfulness and questioning my own ability to embody it, was incredibly revealing. It showed me how quickly self-judgment can creep in, and how easily I hold myself to impossible standards. More importantly, it helped me see where I still have work to do, on the cushion and off.

    Naming the Experience

    As months passed, I became more curious about what might be happening beneath the surface of my experience. I understood the stress and anxiety tied to my health challenges. Those had been part of my life for years. But this felt deeper.

    I began to question my beliefs about how I was supposed to handle difficulty. Clearly, I had internalized an idea of what this should look and feel like, especially for someone with as much mindfulness experience as I had. After more than 15 years working in this space, I had unconsciously decided that I should not be struggling at all.

    I began to question my beliefs about how I was supposed to handle difficulty. Clearly, I had internalized an idea of what this should look and feel like, especially for someone with as much mindfulness experience as I had. After more than 15 years working in this space, I had unconsciously decided that I should not be struggling at all.

    Psychologists have a term for a similar pattern in professional life. The impostor phenomenon, first described by Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978, refers to the persistent feeling that we are falling short of a role we are supposed to inhabit, even when there is ample evidence that we belong there.

    While this concept is often discussed in career settings, a similar dynamic can arise in contemplative practice.

    Experienced practitioners are still human. We can be just as overwhelmed by everyday stressors as anyone else, and often, the mind is quick to judge that experience. Mine tends to sound like, If you were truly a mindfulness practitioner, you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

    In those moments, the mind takes a very human experience and reframes it as failure. You’re an impostor.

    Part of what makes this so challenging is that we begin looking for evidence to support that belief, convincing ourselves we are failing at something we were never meant to perfect.

    Part of what makes this so challenging is that we begin looking for evidence to support that belief, convincing ourselves we are failing at something we were never meant to perfect.

    What About Stress?

    To be alive in these times is to experience sustained levels of stress. It does not take much, turning on the news, scrolling through headlines, or navigating daily responsibilities, to feel the weight of political unrest, global uncertainty, financial pressure, social division, and personal strain.

    The nervous system absorbs all of it.

    So how do we regulate ourselves in the midst of this? And what does this have to do with mindfulness impostor syndrome?

    Research in stress physiology shows that when the brain perceives a threat, the body shifts into survival mode. Heart rate increases, breathing changes, and attention narrows toward potential danger.

    In these states of activation, it can feel much harder to access the awareness we have worked so hard to cultivate. This can create a confusing internal signal: If I have these tools, why can’t I use them right now?

    For mindfulness practitioners, this can easily be misinterpreted as a failure of practice.

    But the nervous system is not malfunctioning in these moments. It is responding exactly as it was designed to.

    This misunderstanding is where self-doubt can quietly take hold.

    Clear Seeing

    One of the most widely cited insights from psychiatrist Carl Jung is, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

    As mindfulness practice deepens, awareness expands. We become more attuned to our internal landscape, our thoughts, emotions, and reactions. As a result, we often begin to notice reactivity more clearly than we did before. What can feel like regression may actually be increased awareness.

    As mindfulness practice deepens, awareness expands. We become more attuned to our internal landscape, our thoughts, emotions, and reactions.

    As a result, we often begin to notice reactivity more clearly than we did before.

    What can feel like regression may actually be increased awareness.

    You might notice yourself getting triggered in situations where, in the past, you would have reacted automatically without even realizing it. Now, there is a pause. A recognition. A moment of seeing what is happening.

    That shift can feel uncomfortable, not because something is going wrong, but because something is being revealed.

    Research on mindfulness suggests that practice strengthens meta-awareness, our ability to observe our own mental and emotional states.

    The reactions themselves may not be new.

    What is new is our ability to see them.

    Expectations and Shame Are Here!

    Most of us carry an internal narrative, one that quietly projects expectations onto our daily lives. In mindfulness practice, this often takes the form of how we think we should feel when we sit.

    Calm. Patient. Equanimous. Grateful.

    We tend to measure success by the presence of these states, while overlooking the full range of human emotion, fear, anger, grief, uncertainty, that are equally part of our experience.

    We tend to measure success by the presence of these states, while overlooking the full range of human emotion, fear, anger, grief, uncertainty, that are equally part of our experience.

    When our lived reality does not match that internal expectation, shame can arise.

    During the months leading up to menopause, I found myself navigating unfamiliar sensations in my body. Many of my tools seemed to disappear. I felt reactive, scared, and uncertain about what was happening.

    And the narrative that followed was harsh:

    You should be handling this better.

    Who are you to guide others if you cannot manage this yourself?

    Instead of simply noticing stress, I added another layer: self- judgment.

    At times, mindfulness concepts themselves can become a form of pressure. Psychotherapist John Welwood described this dynamic as “spiritual bypassing,” using spiritual ideas to avoid or override difficult emotional realities.

    In practice, this can show up in subtle ways, but the result is often the same. We begin to feel guilt or shame about what we are experiencing.

    Dealing with Dysregulation

    Our ideas about mindfulness can sometimes work against us. If we believe the practice should make us calm and less reactive at all times, we set ourselves up for disappointment.

    Mindfulness is not about performing calmness.

    Mindfulness is not about performing calmness.

    As Allen Ginsberg once said, the task is simply to “notice what you notice.”

    When we cultivate awareness, we begin to see our reactions as they arise. Maybe you notice yourself getting triggered in a conversation. Maybe you pause instead of immediately reacting. Maybe you recognize, even afterward, that you were overwhelmed.

    These moments matter.

    Mindfulness meets us exactly where we are.

    It does not require that we arrive in a particular state.

    It asks us to meet whatever state we are in with a bit more awareness, and when possible, a bit more kindness.

    Research on self-compassion suggests that responding to difficult emotions with care rather than criticism supports emotional resilience and regulation.

    When we approach our experience this way, the narrative of failure begins to soften.

    Anyone who has spent time meditating knows that emotions will always arise. What changes is not the presence of emotion, but our relationship to it.

    Instead of asking, Why am I still reacting like this?

    We might ask:

    What is happening in the body right now?

    What is this reaction trying to tell me?

    These questions reopen the possibility of practice, even in the middle of difficulty.

    Anyone who has spent time meditating knows that emotions will always arise. What changes is not the presence of emotion, but our relationship to it.

    Moments of reactivity do not disqualify us from the practice.

    They remind us why we practice. Awareness is not something we perfect. It is something we return to, again and again.



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