Tag: difficult emotions

  • 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.



    Source link

  • 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



    Source link

  • 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.



    Source link

  • A Meditation to Skillfully Connect With Your Anger

    A Meditation to Skillfully Connect With Your Anger

    I’m delighted to offer you a series of meditations on building emotional resilience. Over the next four classes we’ll explore how to mindfully practice with four really common emotions: anger, anxiety, longing, and joy. I’ll offer some practices you can use both while you meditate and also in your life, when these emotions arise. Here, we’re looking at how to connect with your anger in a way that offers insight and choices, rather than just reactivity and overwhelm.

    What’s An Emotion?

    Let’s first explore what an emotion is. This is a rich topic that has even inspired some heated debate. If you find you’re interested beyond the scope of what we talk here, I encourage you to explore the work of two psychologists: Paul Ekman, and Lisa Feldman Barrett, who wrote a recent book called How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain. The work of these two author/scientists provides a good overview of the two differing viewpoints of the current discussion around human emotion. In the meantime, I’ll be sharing what I know with you here.

    I don’t know about you, but I experience emotions as a combination of thoughts in my mind, plus physical or energetic sensations in my body, and the interaction between those two. When we’re meditating, we can see, via our moment-to-moment experience, that emotions are indeed made up of both mental content—such as visual and auditory thoughts—and physical sensations. And when we talk about physical sensations, let’s include all kinds: so, sensations we receive through our sense doors (seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and touch), but also all of the physical sensations within our bodies.

    I don’t know about you, but I experience emotions as a combination of thoughts in my mind, plus physical or energetic sensations in my body, and the interaction between those two.

    There’s a great deal of nuance when it comes to our emotions and our understanding of them, but physical sensations in our bodies tend to get divided into two categories: physiological (ie: digestion, breathing, temperature, the feeling of our body and the weight of gravity); and what I refer to as emotional sensations or the felt sense in our body. A couple of examples: when we talk about having butterflies in our stomach when we’re nervous or excited; or the feeling of listening to a heart-warming story, which can actually produce a physical feeling of warmth in our chest. (Try to notice that the next time it happens).

    Essentially, emotions are energy moving in our body. And that energy calls us to certain kinds of actions. Our emotions also help us connect with other people, and they provide us insight into our lives and a better understanding of what we value, what we want in the world.

    Emotions In the Body vs. In the Mind

    In my daily life, and in my meditation practice, I find it’s more helpful to attend to the physical sensations related to emotions rather than the thinking around those emotions. I say that because thoughts happen so quickly. It’s also so easy for us to get caught up and swept away in a story—to forget that thinking is happening and just be caught up inside of it. Physical sensations, on the other hand, are less subtle. That makes bringing our attention to them and holding them in our attention a lot easier. Physical sensations don’t move as quickly as thoughts, so we can notice them and notice how they shift and change. An added bonus: simply noticing the sensations in our body can provide us with a kind of grounding, an anchor. It’s a great starting point in both daily life and when we meditate, and we’ll explore that together here.

    As we get to know our emotions, I really encourage developing an attitude of acceptance, respect and care for them—think of it as an honouring of our emotional world. Our emotions can offer so much rich information about our lives, about what we value, what we want; they also play a vital role in our relationships, providing the foundation of our connection in communication with others. In fact, some social scientists posit that the main role of emotions in our lives is really about social interaction and connection. It’s worth repeating: emotions deserve and are worthy of our attention, respect and care.

    So together we’re going to practice skilfully connecting with and being curious about our emotions. And here’s our aim: not to act out with regards to the emotions we feel, but also not to suppress them. We’re going to practice just connecting with the emotion, holding it, being curious about it, with no expectation or drive to have to act it out, and not having to suppress or deny or ignore it either.

    I really want to emphasize, too, that finding this middle way doesn’t mean we’re aiming to be indifferent or passive about our emotions. It just means that we’re going to take the time to actually be with the emotion long enough to figure out what the skillful response is—rather than get caught up in reacting to the surging energy of that emotion we’re feeling. Oftentimes we will still want to take action based on an emotion. In fact, that’s what they’re telling us: something has arisen that we need to act on. But what we’ll do in this practice is try to nudge ourselves into territory where we can act out of connection and care rather than a buzzing desire to get rid of the feeling we’re feeling—because that’s not acting, it’s reacting.

    How to Connect With Your Anger Mindfully

    In this first class together we’ll explore anger. We’ll think about a recent situation where we may have been angry, or for the lucky ones joining this meditation, maybe you’re feeling a little anger right now? (Talk about excellent timing!)

    Before we get started, let’s talk a little bit about anger. Like every emotion, anger is totally natural and actually an extremely life-affirming emotion. Anger’s fundamental role is to protect us and protect what we care about in the world. It lets us know when a limit of ours, or a boundary, has been crossed. It lets us know when our needs are not being met or when someone we care about is in danger. So anger both lets us know something about what’s happening around us, and it energizes us to act. It rouses us to the necessary energy level to be able to respond to a threat. It’s essentially about protecting life.

    At the same time, we know that when anger is misdirected or when we act on it compulsively, it can be a truly destructive force—for our own physical health, our relationships, and in some instances, in the wider world. So we want to learn how to respect, honour, care for and be with our anger—and gain some insight into the most skilful response in any given situation, rather than go with the reactive response that could cause more harm. 

    The first step, then, is to recognize and respect anger. This is what’s happening, and it’s part of the human experience. And we respect it by understanding that our anger is trying to take care of us in some way, even if it’s maladaptive for the situation. We’re aiming to learn how to be with the anger, see what’s really there, and then see how we want to respond. So let’s try this together.

    Meditating on the Power of Anger

    Watch the video:

    Listen to the practice:

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

    1. When you’re ready, come into a comfortable seated position. If it feels comfortable to close your eyes, please do so. Let’s take a few deeper breaths. Just allow yourself to feel the points of contact with the cushion or chair beneath you; feel your feet on the ground. Feel a sense of grounding here. Take a few longer inhales and exhales just to settle.
    2. Now let’s bring to mind a recent situation when we felt angry. As with any practice around difficult emotions, for anger, let’s think about the angriest we’ve ever been as a level 10. What we’re seeking for the purposes of this exercise, then, is a situation that’s a three, or maybe a four. Consider something you experienced at the level of irritation or annoyance; don’t choose the last time you felt, say, enraged. When was the last time you felt irritated, annoyed or frustrated, perhaps about something someone did or said? Just bring to mind that situation.
    3. Draw an image of this past situation into your mind. Recall the words that were spoken. Remember your own thought process related to the experience. At this point, you may be feeling some sensations in your body. Let’s go deeper. Can you recall the story you told (or tell) yourself around this experience? For example: What this person did or shouldn’t have done? How you were wronged? How it should have been different. Whatever it is, let that story run its course for you right now. Let it run until you begin to feel a sense of irritation or annoyance in your body.
    4. Once you feel the irritation, we’re going to cut off the thoughts we’re having. Just cut off the storyline. This is vitally important with almost every difficult emotion. Step one: firmly direct your attention away from the story you’re telling. Next: bring your attention to your body. Really feel what’s going on inside your body. Where do you feel the anger in your body? Maybe in your chest? Your hands? Just notice that.
    5. Now, what else is happening in your body? Find something that feels neutral, spacious or maybe even pleasant in your body. Maybe you feel this in your feet, or your contact with the chair. Maybe you’re focused on your hands touching. We’re simply creating some space around the anger. Notice the tip of your nose; notice your breath. If you can’t find any sensations in your body that feel safe or free from anger, take a moment to listen to the sounds around you. You can even broaden your awareness to include the whole room; and even further to include sounds that are far away. Rest your attention with these sensations for a few minutes. Allow yourself to find some ease and a bit of calm.
    6. If you find your mind wanders back to the story, the thoughts about what’s making you angry, gently but firmly redirect your attention to the neutral sounds and neutral sensations you’ve identified. Just take a few breaths here.
    7. Once we feel a little calmer, we can explore the anger more directly again. Let’s come back to where we feel anger in our body. Explore that: Do you feel tightness in your throat? Are there any sensations in your shoulders? How about your arms? Do you detect any sensations in your belly? If you find a place, really explore the sensation: Is there a temperature to this felt sense of anger, is it hot or cold? Is it throbbing? What are the edges like? Is it shifting and changing? As you stay with the felt sense of irritation, frustration, anger, and the directly felt sensations of hot, cold, vibrating, sharp—hold all of this with a lot of care and curiosity.
    8. Now let’s notice what other emotions might be present. Is there anything else inside or beneath the anger? Can you detect any other emotions there? Fear? Sadness? Wanting? Just notice. Is there anything the anger might be masking? Be curious. Allow this to be very somatic. We’re not thinking about it, we’re not trying to understand it cognitively, we’re just letting the emotion reveal itself in a very direct, body-based way.
    9. Notice if any other information arises from this anger. You could even drop in a question, such as: What does this anger need? What does it want me to know? Again, we’re just dropping the question into the felt sense in our bodies, and then seeing what arises. Are there flashes, images, words that could help you understand what’s needed? Do you get a sense of what action you may need to take? Let’s take another few moments of holding and being with the felt sensation of the irritation. Be curious about what your anger wants you to know, perhaps about what is needed.
    10. As we bring this practice to a close, see if you have any insights into what you could do skilfully to respond to this irritation or anger. What would truly take care of this anger or frustration? Exploring our emotion in this way, we’re better prepared to respond in a rooted and grounded way; we’re better equipped to address what’s needed. As we finish, then, we can make a commitment to take whatever skillful action is needed. It might be something personal, such as some kind of self-care: maybe a walk, a nap, a meal. Or we might commit to having a direct and difficult conversation with someone, perhaps to ask for what you need or to set a limit. Just see if you can commit to taking one skillful action to address this situation.
    11. When you’re ready, open your eyes if they’ve been closed and take a deep breath. Look around the room and orient yourself to your space, wherever you are.

    Try to practice these skills in your daily life. If at any point you encounter in yourself feelings of anger or frustration, first: notice how you’re feeling: “Oh, anger,” or “I’m irritated.” Next, find some ground: feel your feet on the ground, feel the back of your body. And then notice what is not feeling angry in that moment, too. Get some space around the anger, and really open your awareness wide to the sounds and the space around you.

    I can’t recommend this enough. And it can take as little as five seconds simply to connect with your feet on the ground and broaden your awareness. Then, when you feel some space and calmness around the anger, you can direct your attention back to the difficult emotion and ask that question: What is needed? What is needed right now? And then proceed from that place.

    Calm Your Mind with Zindel Segal 

    Zindel Segal explores the 3-Minute Breathing Space practice to develop your ability to ground yourself, return your attention to the present, and fully find yourself at any moment. Read More 

    • Zindel Segal
    • April 11, 2019



    Source link

  • Foster Forgiveness With This 10-Minute Guided Meditation

    Foster Forgiveness With This 10-Minute Guided Meditation

    Explore this mindfulness practice to foster forgiveness and let go of the tendency to add to suffering during challenging situations.

    Two monks are walking down the road. They arrive at a muddy stream crossing, and a well-dressed woman declares without introduction, “Don’t just stand there. Someone carry me across this mess.

    Without pause, the older monk lifts her across. She says nothing, not even a thank you.

    The two monks walk all day. The whole time, the younger one stews in his mind—How could he pick her up? We’re not supposed to touch women, or even talk to them. And she was so rude, someone should say something to her, she didn’t deserve our help.

    Finally, arriving at the inn for dinner, he can’t hold himself back. “What were you thinking?” he asks his friend. “She was nasty, and you broke the rules, and she didn’t even say thank you.”

    The older monk smiles gently and replies. “Wow, I put that woman down hours ago, but you’ve been carrying her all this time!”

    Why We Carry Anger and Resentment

    So what does that mean in real life? We make mistakes. Other people make mistakes. We do things to others. Others do things to us. There’s an actual experience that can be trivial or even traumatic. We add to the suffering with judgment, anger, and blame. It’s sometimes referred to as adding a second arrow after being struck by a first. Something unpleasant happens, but then we add more to the experience.

    With forgiveness, we make amends when needed but let go of the extra baggage. We give ourselves the same benefit of the doubt we’d offer a close friend.

    Forgiveness isn’t the same as condoning ourselves or anyone else for misbehavior. But we so easily hold ourselves infinitely responsible, often for experiences utterly out of our control or from decades past. With forgiveness, we make amends when needed but let go of the extra baggage. We give ourselves the same benefit of the doubt we’d offer a close friend.

    On the other hand, we sometimes allow someone else to influence our lives long after they’ve gone in a similar fashion. Another driver cuts us off in traffic, putting us in danger, and then speeds off. The driver arrives at brunch and relaxes, but we make our own coffee break bitter dwelling in our own anger. It’s a concept that holds across larger situations too. Anger and resentment simmer and grow, while compassionate resolve allows us to address what needs addressing without slinging additional arrows.

    A Forgiveness Meditation to Let Go of Added Suffering

    1. Find yourself a comfortable posture, or take a moment lying on the floor, or a bed.
    2. Bring your attention to the physical sensation of breathing, noting whatever is grabbing your attention, or whatever you’re feeling now, and without judgment, bringing your attention back to the rising and falling of your breath.
    3. Picture something that comes to mind that you judge yourself for. Maybe you feel regret, or irritation, or sadness. Notice how it feels even bringing it to mind. Then focus on these three phrases, not forcing anything but setting an intention: I forgive myself for not understanding. I forgive myself for making mistakes. I forgive myself for causing pain and suffering to myself and others.
    4. Bring your attention back again and repeat the phrases. For a few moments instead of the breath using these phrases as a focus for your attention. This type of practice may become too painful. At any time, without judging yourself, come back and focus on the breath. Allow yourself to settle and return when you’re ready, now or maybe some time in the future.
    5. Our mind naturally holds onto instances where we feel mistreated by others. There may be experiences that were entirely wrong or traumatic or that concretely require our attention or action. At the same time, we can practice avoiding the second arrow. I forgive you for not understanding. I forgive you for making mistakes. I forgive you for causing pain and suffering to me and to others. Letting go of the tendency to add resentment and judgment and everything related to challenging and unpleasant situations. Again, if it’s too much to consider, return to breathing, or if you prefer, focusing on compassion for yourself instead.
    6. Practices of this kind can be quite challenging, so in these last few moments, on each in-breath, noticing and accepting whatever you feel right now. On each out-breath, as you would for a close friend, offering yourself relief, or freedom, or strength, or whatever first comes to mind.

    Forgiveness doesn’t mean being passive or not taking action. It doesn’t mean standing down when we need to protect ourselves or someone else from harm. Do what needs to be done—that might mean taking a pause, settling the mind, and trying to see things as clearly as possible before taking skillful action. Continue to practice forgiveness, over and over again, letting go of whatever holds you back.



    Source link

  • Allow the Storm to Pass

    Allow the Storm to Pass

    In this practice, Scott Rogers guides us to take the role of observer to difficult emotions, so that we can more easily create the space we need to let them go.

    Sometimes we can see our intense emotions coming, and sometimes we can’t. Emotions can build up, increasing in strength slowly. At other times, they crash down on us all at once. We can get lost in our emotions, swept up in a feeling. They can be beautiful and they can be scary. In all of these ways, emotions are like storms. As such we need to allow the storm to pass.

    Let’s look to different aspects of the hurricane and see how they connect to our own thoughts, feelings, and sensations.  

    The good news is that we can allow the storm to pass, and so do emotions. With mindfulness, we can practice taking the role of observer to our strong feelings. When we put that space between ourselves and the whirlwinds, we can find stability and cultivate resilience. Scott Rogers leads us in this guided practice with the metaphor of a hurricane to help us recognize the qualities and the impermanence of even our stormiest emotions. 

    A 12-Minute Meditation for Emotional Resilience

    1. We begin this 12-minute mindfulness practice by bringing ourselves into a posture that’s upright and stable. We lower or close our eyes and bring our attention to our body sitting in the chair. 
    2. As we breathe, we are aware of where our bottom meets the seat of the chair and of where our back meets the back of the chair. We are aware of our feet and where they make contact with the ground, our shoes, or our socks. We are aware of the sensations of the body, of the hands resting one in the other or on our lap. We are aware of the fingertips, the palms, the points of contact, as we begin this practice by coming to our senses as we breathe.
    3. At times, things can become intense and quickly turn, much like a hurricane, so this practice will draw upon the metaphor of a hurricane to help us understand our own true nature. It can help us understand the ways that mindfulness practice can be helpful in observing our nature moment by moment. That observation can create spaciousness around the tumultuousness that can arise during the course of our day and at times throughout our life. 
    4. We take three slow, deep breaths. A little slower and a little deeper than we might otherwise take. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. 
    5. The hurricane arises when the conditions are sufficient for it to come together and, in time, it dissipates, much like our own emotional conditions. So, let’s look at a few of the different aspects of the hurricane and see how they connect to our own thoughts, feelings, and sensations, and the spaciousness and ease that we can find with agitated thoughts, feelings, and sensations. In this way, we can allow the storm to pass. 
    6. There are times when we experience agitation and frustration in the body, much like the strong, gusty winds and heavy rains that feed into the hurricane. We might reflect for a moment on times when we have felt that intensity in the body—that tension, that tightness.
    7. Thoughts arise from time to time that can be judgmental, pessimistic, and reactive, like the outflow of high-level clouds that intensify the hurricane as they move away from it. We might take note of thoughts that arise in our mind now, or thoughts that have arisen today, that carry that judgmental, harsh, reactive quality. Just notice these thoughts as we breathe. 
    8. There are moments we experience intense emotions like anger and fear that are akin to the eye wall, the extreme conditions that form around the eye of the hurricane. You may notice these arising now, perhaps because of the circumstances of the day, or that they arise on a fairly regular basis. 
    9. And so, too, there are times we experience inner calm, much as is found within the eye of the storm. This is a reminder that we don’t have to have the intense and agitated thoughts, feelings, and sensations go away to find that inner calm, that inner tranquility. By shifting to an observing state, we find freedom from the intensity of those thoughts, feelings, and sensations. It’s like finding our way into the eye of the storm,  into a place of our own safe refuge without needing anything to change. 
    10. Let us settle into the body, aware of thoughts, aware of feelings that will come and go, aware of the sensations in the body, aware of preserving and allowing the breath to anchor us a little bit more fully, to steady us a little bit more comfortably into the moments of this practice. In doing so, we begin to develop and cultivate a resilience to steady us in the moments of our life. 
    11. Breathe in and out, allowing this moment to be as it is. When, from time to time, the mind wanders, gently return to the sensations of the breath flowing through the body. When you’re ready in the next moment or two, with awareness, lift the gaze, open the eyes. 



    Source link

  • 12 Minute Meditation: Transform Shame Into Self-Trust

    12 Minute Meditation: Transform Shame Into Self-Trust

    Exploring difficult emotions and experiences may be the key to loosening their hold over us. Gentle awareness of our inner world allows us to transform shame in this practice from Patricia Rockman, MD.

    Becoming familiar with a difficult emotion means getting interested and curious about the experience, like you might do when visiting a new city. Take it slow, uncovering new “territory” a bit at a time instead of trying to get to know it all at once. As you navigate shame, you learn that you can sit with uncomfortable feelings, and that they will eventually pass. Over time, you develop resilience, self-knowledge, and trust in yourself—the best antidotes to the self-judgment that shame inspires.

    Thoughts and feelings are larger and scarier when they’re left unexplored and kept in the shadows.

    Whether you’re experiencing feelings of shame right now or have buried shame that you’ve been avoiding, are you willing to get to know it a bit better? Remember, thoughts and feelings are larger and scarier when they’re left unexplored and kept in the shadows.

    12-Minute Meditation: Transform Shame Into Self-Trust

    1. Take a comfortable meditation posture, eyes closed if comfortable. Begin by bringing attention to the body sitting. Attending to the base of the body as it makes contact with the surface you are resting on. Allowing the jaw to soften, shoulder blades sliding down the back and hands at rest in the lap or on your thighs.
    2. Turn your attention to the sensations of breathing at the level of the belly. Attending to the in-breath and the out-breath, the rising and falling of the abdomen. Perhaps letting the breath move in and out of the body naturally, as best you can.
    3. And now, gently bringing to mind an experience or memory, a time in which you felt shame. Maybe it was something you did or something that someone else said about you or to you. Whatever it is, turning toward this memory, experience, or situation gently, as best you can, checking in with what thoughts are present, what emotions, and what body sensations.
    4. Without needing to change or fix anything, beginning to explore what is arising or what is here right now. If there are specific thoughts, as best you can, experiencing them as sensations of the mind, as events that come and go. If there are emotions, naming or labeling them as they make themselves known. Saying to yourself, “Shame is here,” or fear, anxiety, or guilt, whatever it is, and staying with these for a few moments.
    5. And now, shifting your attention to any associated sensations in the body. Investigate these with friendly interest, getting curious about them, even if they’re unwanted or intense, really getting to know them, if that is possible in this moment.
    6. If the sensations are particularly intense or strong, saying to yourself, “This is a moment of difficulty. I can be with this, it’s already here.” If it is helpful, breathing into the sensations, expanding on the in-breath and softening on the out-breath, staying with these sensations as long as they are capturing your attention.
    7. If this is too difficult or feels overwhelming, there is always the choice to return your attention to the breath at the belly or to open your eyes, letting go of this practice. Otherwise, continuing with this attention to the sensations in the body…
    8. And now, returning to the sensations of breathing in the abdomen, to the rising and falling of the belly with each breath, breathing in and breathing out.
    9. And when you’re ready, bringing attention to the entire body, to any and all sensations, resting here in a more spacious awareness, if this is available.
    10. Then gently, with this shameful experience in the background now, asking yourself: Can I let this be as it is? (It’s already here, after all.) Can I let it go? (It’s already happened.) Does it need addressing? Do I have to take an action? If so, what? Can I shift my attitude, bringing a different perspective to this experience? And then gently opening the eyes if they have been closed and letting go of this practice.



    Source link

  • Wise Engagement with the World: What to Do When You Wish Things Were Different

    Wise Engagement with the World: What to Do When You Wish Things Were Different

    Summary

    • Wise engagement starts with caring for yourself through loving, patient attention.
    • Staying present with your difficult emotions is a form of wise engagement that changes how you relate to your pain.
    • Engaging wisely with the truth that everything changes can give our actions more wisdom and clarity, helping to benefit others.

    What should you do when you feel helpless, hostile, or outraged? Maybe your spouse betrayed your trust, a friend criticized you behind your back, or your child refuses to listen. Or maybe, like many of us today, you’re heartbroken and angry about the actions of political leaders, corporations, or governments—especially when they cause harm to people, animals, or the planet.

    You’re not morally wrong and you’re not a bad person to feel the way you do, but your emotions aren’t hurting the people causing harm. They’re hurting you. They cloud your mind, contract your heart, and make it harder to act with the wisdom and clarity the world so badly needs right now.

    That’s why it’s essential to take care of yourself—not by checking out or pretending things are okay, but by meeting your pain with loving attention, patience, and kindness. This is the practice of non-hatred—the profound and deeply wise choice to relate to suffering without fueling the fires of rage, despair, or blame.

    Choosing Presence and Acceptance

    Taking care of your difficult emotions means staying present with your body, heart, and mind, even when it’s painful. You might put your hand on your heart or belly and bring your attention to the sensations, thoughts, and energies arising in you. You can gently say to yourself, “I’m here for you,” or use Thich Nhat Hanh’s powerful words: “I see you, [name the feeling], and I’m not going to leave you.” This simple act of acknowledgment softens the edges of emotional pain. You’re not trying to get rid of it—you’re learning to relate to it with openness, understanding, and tenderness. That’s how healing begins and wisdom arises.

    You’re learning to relate to emotional pain with openness, understanding, and tenderness. That’s how healing begins and wisdom arises.

    It also arises through metta, or loving-kindness. In the Buddhist tradition, this quality is sometimes translated as “non-hatred.” When you’re feeling hurt or upset with people or policies, you might not be able to wish them well. But you can choose to not wish them ill. Non-hatred doesn’t mean approving of harm. It means not letting malice or aggression take root in your own heart. It’s the wisdom of protecting yourself from the corrosive effects of hostility and ill-will while still taking meaningful action.

    Non-hatred includes compassion for your own distress and for those who are suffering. It’s rooted in the recognition that sustained anger clouds judgment, causes deep inner pain, and often leads us to act in ways that perpetuate harm rather than stop it. Choosing non-hatred allows us to respond—rather than react—with steadiness, strength, and clarity.

    Choosing non-hatred allows us to respond—rather than react—with steadiness, strength, and clarity.

    Contrary to current cultural messages, responding in this way isn’t weakness. It’s strength guided by wisdom. It means we stop harm when we can, but we do it from an undisturbed mind and a compassionate heart.

    Taking Comfort in Change

    You can also ground yourself and steady your upset with the truth of change.

    Nothing exists in isolation, and nothing stays the same forever. Even a simple wooden table is the result of countless factors: the tree, the soil, the weather, the lumber mill, the delivery system, the craftsman. Each of those conditions has its own causes.

    The same is true for suffering—personal, cultural, and global. Everything harmful or broken exists because of specific conditions. That’s good news, because if we can change the conditions, we can change the outcomes.

    Everything harmful or broken exists because of specific conditions—and if we can change the conditions, we can change the outcomes.

    That’s why your actions matter. What you think, say, and do shapes the world. Even small acts—motivated by wisdom, compassion, and non-harming—contribute to the conditions necessary for unity, generosity, and harmony. When your actions arise from steadiness and goodwill rather than reactivity, they’re far more effective. Calm, clear, and courageous responses don’t just feel better—they do better.

    You may not be able to control the actions of others or the circumstances of the world, but you can always choose to respond with wisdom and clarity.

    You begin by turning toward your distress with openness and gentleness. Then you cultivate the practice of non-hatred. And finally, you commit to using your thoughts, words, and actions to contribute to the conditions that bring benefit and avoid causing harm. You make a choice to participate in the creation of a more just, generous, and loving world—for yourself, your friends and family, and all living beings.



    Source link

  • A Meditation for Finding a Middle Way When We Are In Pain

    A Meditation for Finding a Middle Way When We Are In Pain

    In this guided meditation, longtime meditation teacher and pain expert Vidyamala Burch offers a tender practice to help us be with our whole selves with openness and kindness, even when we are experiencing pain.

    Being in pain makes being present extra challenging.

    On a physical level, being in the present moment while our body is in pain is often extremely unpleasant. There is a part of us, understandably, that wishes we could escape from it entirely.

    At the same time, the experience of pain itself can be overwhelming—to our senses, our thoughts, our emotions. It can feel like drowning, when what we long for is just a moment of peace to rest in.

    In today’s guided meditation, longtime meditation teacher and pain expert Vidyamala Burch offers a tender practice to find a middle way—one that doesn’t veer into denial or give in to overwhelm, but rather allows all that is happening to be gently met, as Vidyamala says, with “wholeness, integration, and kindliness.”

    A Meditation for Finding a Middle Way When We Are In Pain

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

    1. Start by establishing a meditation posture. You can do it sitting; you can do it lying down. The main thing is to choose a position where you can be as relaxed as possible and yet alert. Once you’ve chosen your position, begin to settle. Allow the weight of the body to rest down into the support beneath you. If you’re sitting, it’ll be through the bottom, into the chair, through the feet, into the floor. For lying down, it’ll be through the back of the body, into the bed or the floor, and then the head resting into the pillow or cushion. 
    2. See if you can cultivate a sense of rest, allowing the body to be held. Let go of gripping. Receive the support of whatever’s beneath you. To help this, you could take a few deep breaths and then on each outbreath release a little bit more, letting the next in-breath flow back in in its own time. 
    3. With each in-breath, breathe in freshness and vitality. With each out-breath, let go of gripping. When you’re ready, allow your breathing to find its own natural rhythm. Allow your awareness to pour out of the head, where it so often seems to be located, and feel the body resting inside the movements and sensations of breathing.  
    4. Allow your awareness to fill in the body a little bit more. Let it pour down through the torso, through the hips, feet, and legs. We’re not looking in from the outside or thinking about the legs and the feet as a concept or an object. Rather, we’re resting inside sensations of contact with the floor, with the chair, or the bed. Maybe there’s a sense of tingling, buzzing energy. Maybe there’s dullness or numbness. Whatever our experience is, allowing awareness to fill the feet and the legs. If there’s pain or discomfort, see if we can meet this with an attitude of kindliness and care, softening automatic habits of resistance and tension. Allow awareness to come to the buttocks, letting the buttocks be soft, resting into the chair, into the bed.   
    5. Allow awareness to fill the whole torso—including the belly, the chest, the front and the whole back of the body and the back, the whole spine. Have a sense of the torso opening a little bit in all directions on the in-breath and subsiding on the outbreath. Be careful not to force or strain. Receive on an in-breath, letting go on the outbreath. Again, if you’ve got pain or discomfort anywhere in the back or the front of the whole torso, see if you can allow it into awareness with an attitude of care and kindliness. Let it be part of our experience, softening the resistance and the automatic tension that can so quickly arise. 
    6. Now bring awareness to the shoulders, arms, and hands. Let your hands be supported, resting on the legs or in the lap if sitting. Rest them at the sides of the body, palm upwards (if lying down) or on the legs, palm downwards (if sitting). Let go of gripping in the arms with tension, just letting them rest into gravity. Let the shoulders fall away from the midline of the body into gravity. Allow shoulders, arms, and hands to be full of awareness. This might show up as discomfort, tingling, heat. It could be sensing the contact with clothes, contact with the surface the hands are resting on. Receive all this into awareness with kindliness. 
    7. Now come up through the arms and up to the neck and the head. If you’re sitting, let the head be poised on the top of the spine, maybe tucking the chin in just a tiny bit, so there’s a release through the base of the skull and yet openness in the throat. If you’re lying down, see if you can let the weight of the head be fully held by the pillow or the cushion. Let go of holding on, gripping in the head, letting it rest. Let the jaw be soft, the lips and tongue be soft so the wind of the breath can flow freely through the back of the throat on the way into the body and then back out again on the way out of the body. Let the cheeks be soft, eyes soft, forehead soft. We could imagine the brain resting inside the head softly. 
    8. See if you can feel into the physicality of the head. So often the head can feel split off from the body. The head is just a thought factory, and then the body’s just this kind of thing that we drag through life. But the head is a limb of the body, just like the arms and the legs. Sense the feelings, the sensations in the head. Temperature, tingling, buzzing, softness, maybe even contact with the air brushing against the skin.  
    9. See if you can have a sense of wholeness in the legs, torso, arms, neck, and face. This experience of embodiment, moment by moment by moment, the flow of sensations in the whole body arising and passing, arising and passing.  
    10. If you’ve got pain or discomfort right now, let’s attend to that part of the body. Take your awareness to that part of the body and notice if it’s surrounded by resistance or hardness. Let’s see if we can find this sweet spot between denial on the one hand and overwhelm on the other. Denial will be a kind of turning away, a hardening and not wanting, a pushing away. Maybe there’s a little bit of breath holding. Maybe there’s tension in the head, tension in the bottom. If you notice that, then see if you can turn a little bit more towards the experience, metaphorically speaking, adding it into awareness a little bit more, very gently and tenderly, breath by breath. Let it be part of this flow of experience in the whole body. Breathe into that area and imagine that the breath is bathed in kindliness.  
    11. If, on the other hand, you’re feeling overwhelmed, the only thing in experience is the pain or the difficulty. The practice here is to broaden. Feel the bottom on the chair or the bed. Feel the support beneath us. Feel breath in the whole body. Feel the whole range of sensations in the whole body. The pain is just one aspect of this multifaceted experience of being alive right now. If you notice yourself hardening up again, tensing, turning away, suppressing, denying, blocking—use awareness to interrupt that process and soften. Relax the palms. Relax the hands. Come closer. Breathe kindly. 
    12. This is a training in wholeness, integration, and kindliness. We’re able to be with all of our experience with presence and kindliness. If we have a wound, we broaden. If we’re blocking off, we come closer. That is the practice. Our awareness is dynamic, subtle, receptive, fluid. 
    13. You can keep on practicing if you’d like to, but I’ll bring this guided meditation to a close. Let’s bring the weight of the body to the foreground of awareness, feeling, resting into the support beneath us. Feel breathing in the whole body. Broaden awareness to be aware of sounds around your environment. Open the eyes if they’ve been closed. Bring a tiny bit of movement into the body, maybe the fingers and the toes or some other part of the body. Notice any tendency to immediately halt the breath and immediately start pushing and rushing. Stay inside this subtle movement with a soft brow. And when you’re ready, come into bigger movement. In your own time, reengage with the activities of the day.



    Source link

  • A Meditation for Allowing the Possibility of Possible In Deep Grief

    A Meditation for Allowing the Possibility of Possible In Deep Grief

    In this guided practice, Brenda K. Mitchell offers an invitation to anyone who might be struggling to see a way forward through grief.

    When we are adrift in the wide sea of grief, it can be difficult to imagine any world other than the world of our intense sorrow and loss. Things like going back to our normal daily tasks, or having fun again, or being able to think of our loved one without crying—these can seem so far out of reach that they might as well be impossible.

    In this guided meditation, Brenda Mitchell offers one tiny heart-opening invitation: simply allowing what she calls “the possibility of possible.” There isn’t an expectation that you have answers, or lots of hope, or a clear path forward. Rather, this is a tender way to be with the many difficult emotions that accompany losses in our lives, while opening the door just a bit to what might lie ahead.

    Discovering the Possibility of Possible In Deep Grief

    1. Let’s begin by closing our eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Inhale. One, two, three. And exhale. One, two, and three. 
    2. If you’d like, place one hand over the other on your heart. Remove everything that you may have brought in here with you—the tension and the anxieties that may be present in the moment, in the room, or in your neck. See if you can open up and loosen everything that you may have brought with you. Let’s breathe one more time. 
    3. Now, do a quick body scan and allow for more movement within the structures and the internal parts of our body. Let’s get comfortable—like a couch potato, like Netflix comfortable. Feel that release down into the neck as we open up to receive enlightenment and the divinity of nature and the wonderfulness that is our very own body system. 
    4. Let that comfort flow down through your shoulders and down through your hands. Shake your hands just a little bit to know that you’re in control and you’re operating and let that flow go through the center region of your body. Blowing up and down through your hips, your thighs, your legs. Allow your feet to feel planted on the solid ground beneath you today.  
    5. If you are facing deep grief in this moment, I invite you to make room for those feelings. You might notice that sometimes in our fragility, brokenness, and disappointments, we stop imagining that anything good can ever be possible again. There is a block there, a hopelessness. We can’t see a way forward at all. 
    6. For this moment, I invite you to embrace the possibility of possible. That’s it. You don’t have to have answers, or lots of hope, or a clear path forward. This is just about opening the door and allowing the possibility of possible. 
    7. See if you can gently settle onto a vision of yourself embracing possibility. What does that look like for you? Where are you? Are you indoors? Are you out? Is there anyone with you? Do you see the colors and the possibility of the dreams that we dream that can go dormant in grief? Maybe you can feel the warmth and the beauty of the sky. What does it mean for you to accept the hurt and pains of what was, while also moving toward the possibility of possible? 
    8. I invite you to open your eyes as you are ready, and return back to my voice. There’s a poem that I’d like to share with you that has allowed me to imagine a  future version of myself who could open up to what is and embrace the possibility of possible. It is written by Gilda Radner and it states, I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. It’s called Delicious Ambiguity. Thank you for your practice. 



    Source link