Light / Dark

In most yoga classes, the teacher ends with a simple closing, “Namaste.” One translation of this sanskrit term is “I bow to the light (or divine) within you.” During this time of winter solstice, when various religious celebrations honor the light in preparation for a dark winter, this term is especially appropriate. I honor the light within you. Because even on the darkest of days, the spirit within each of us is filled with brilliant light.

But as we know, the holiday season is filled with contradictions. We can celebrate the light while also feeling gloomy and dark. My yoga teacher, Janice George of ShivaShakti Synthesis, likes to close class with a different saying, “Jai Bhagwan.” According to her, it means “I bow to the light and the dark within you.” It acknowledges that there is no way for the light to be present without the darkness. By recognizing and acknowledging both, we are able to expand our presence.

In our house this year, the contradictions have been quite evident. We decorated our tree and hung holiday lights. My mom took Clara to her first annual Nutcracker ballet, and it was magical. We’ve listened to holiday music, eaten delicious food, and visited with Santa. But alas, our whole family has also gotten the stomach flu in the last week. We’re all sniffling and coughing. I currently have a sore throat and no voice at all (good time to finally write something!!!). The weather is gloomy. While we might have been ahead of the Christmas rush before last week, we’re now woefully behind and feeling pressured to get everything done in time (while at the same time just wanting to lay down and take a nap).

So this holiday season, I bow to the contradictions that make life so darned interesting:

Namaste / Jai Bhagwan

Holiday cheer /Bah Humbug

Present / Absent

Give / Take

Joy / Sorrow

Connection / Separation

Smile / Frown

Together / Alone

Awesome / Crappy

Hot / Cold

Relaxed / Tense

Thinking / Feeling

Grounded / Ethereal

Compassion / Anger

Sweet / Bitter

Attention / Distraction

Confidence / Shame

Juicy / Dry

Success / Failure

Right / Wrong

Celebration / Criticism

Wellness / Illness

Acceptance / Resistance

Productivity / Procrastination

Good / Bad

Exciting / Boring

Moving / Stuck

Love / Hate

Emotional / Intellectual

Laughter / Tears

Spacious / Limited

Doing / Being


See if you can find each of these pairs in your own life. Notice where they live in your body. Recognize and acknowledge each. Which words are you drawn to? Do you wince when you read certain ones? Can you make room for the ones you deem “bad” or “wrong” and allow them to be there without judgment? I’d love to hear how it goes!

Here’s to having a holiday season filled with contradictions. Jai Bhagwan.

The importance of asking the right question

Your mind is very powerful, and when left unattended, the stories it tells you can be painful and cause you to act in ways you don’t want. But your mind is not a mystery. The thoughts are there. They float across your mind all day. If you want to change your life, one sure way to do it is to pay attention to your thoughts, even though sometimes you won’t like what you see, and then change them.

Attending to your thoughts is life changing. Because you know what? You can change them. Your thoughts don’t own you. You own them. You have much more control than you think you have.

I’ve been doing thought work for a few years now, so I am pretty familiar with this concept. But even while observing my thoughts with compassion and curiosity and investigating them with consistency and vigor, I missed something important.

I missed the questions. As though questions don’t count as thoughts.

But oh how important the questions are. My teacher at the Life Coach School, Brooke Castillo, shared a concept that has facilitated a big shift for me. The idea is that we ask ourselves questions all day long. Until we are conscious of the questions that cross our minds, they are frequently phrased in such a way that we come up with crappy thoughts as answers. Proof that we are unworthy, lazy, selfish or any of our other negative perceptions of ourselves. See if you have asked yourself any of these questions:

What is wrong with me?
Why am I always so (stupid, lazy, selfish, disorganized)?
Why can’t I stop (overeating, overspending, drinking, etc.)?
Why can’t I keep it together?
Why is everything so hard?
Why isn’t this working?
Why can’t I just let it go?
You get the idea...

How do you answer your own questions? Do the answers help you change in a way that works for you? My guess is not so much.

So what if you changed the question so whenever you ask yourself, the answers feel delicious. See if any of these work for you:

-How can I show up 100% as me today?
-What do I really want right now?
-How can I make (losing weight, building a business, etc) more fun?
-What would be even better?
-What would I do if I didn’t care what other people thought?

Here’s an example from my own life. I’ve been playing with the idea of hard and soft. The question I would ask myself frequently used to be “Why is this so hard?” When I tried “How can I make this easier?”, I found that it still presumed that things were hard. So I re-worded the question to: “How can I be softer?”

Ahhh, relief. Here are a few of my answers:

-I can soften my eyes and brow
-I can release tension in my jaw
-I can take a deep breath
-I can relax my shoulders
-I can laugh with my girls
-I can snuggle with my husband

These are thoughts and actions that feel delicious, without having to try and think better thoughts. Just by asking a better question, the good-feeling thoughts automatically come. Try it and let me know how it goes!

What is your signal to slow down and rest?

The last two weeks have been pretty busy, to say the least. Unfortunately, I have been back in my old habit of taking on too much, and I haven’t been following my own advice to slow down and rest. Sometimes old habits die hard, I guess.

Two weeks ago, I attended a somatic workshop with Women Generating, which was fantastic, but also intense. Then last weekend we had guests staying with us and hosted a pirate birthday party for my daughter and 15 of her friends. It was a lot of fun, but not what you might think of as restful. Then last week I started an intense coaching program through the Life Coach School (excellent), and I continued my new part-time corporate consulting assignment. Plus, I’m in the process of redesigning my website and re-engaging with my coaching business.

I’m tired just thinking about all of it.

On Friday night, I felt the familiar tug of something approaching exhaustion. I knew I was tired. I knew I was pushing a little too hard. I longed for a break.

I thought I could handle it.

But then I got a very interesting signal from my body. I felt a sharp, throbbing pain in my right breast, in the exact location where a cancerous tumor was removed in May. It happened intermittently throughout the evening. Each time, I wondered what the heck was going on.

Of course, there are always reasons NOT to take a break. That same evening, my husband was working on an intense project at work and I offered to cover the kids’ bedtime routine to support him. I did the dishes because I wanted to contribute to the household, which I hadn’t been doing as much recently as I could have. I hadn’t talked to my sister all day and didn’t want her to think I was ignoring her, so I called her. My coaching class involves a forum, where people post thoughtful, engaging messages all day, and I caught up on a bunch of them so I wouldn’t fall behind. I finally sat down around 9pm. And then later that night, each of my girls (separately) woke up crying, just as I was finally falling asleep.

When I finally got into bed for the last time, I paid close attention to the throbbing pain. I asked my body what was going on. I asked it what it needed.

The answer was crystal clear: SLOW DOWN. I thanked my body for giving me such a powerful and timely message.

For the next two days, I didn’t pay any attention to any of the thoughts clamoring for my attention (I’m going to miss out if I don’t keep up with the coaching forum! The kids shouldn’t watch too much t.v.! We should go outside and enjoy the beautiful weather–it won’t last!), and instead relaxed all weekend. We rested on the couch all day. We watched movies. We drank tea. We made blueberry pancakes. I took a delicious nap on Saturday.

Lots of sleep. Good, healthy foods. No agenda.

And you know what? I feel fantastic today. Totally refreshed and rejuvenated. Ready for the week (a slower, easier week).

What signals does your unique body and/or mind give you to tell you that you’ve pushed too far? If you’re anything like me, you get the signals long before you actually pay attention to them. Maybe you have thoughts that you’re doing too much and should slow down (check). Maybe you have a desire to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon and don’t (check). Maybe your energy starts to wane and you have less motivation to work out, but you do it anyway (yep, check).

If you don’t pay attention to the signals, as I didn’t, you end up feeling run down and eventually get a cold or worse. It’s like there’s an escalation procedure, where the messages start as whispers and then get louder and louder until they there’s no way you can’t pay attention to them (a la the proverbial brick wall). This progression of signals is unique to you–it won’t look the same as someone else’s. Some people might get a sniffle and then a cold. Others feel drained and then conk out for three days. Apparently I get a throbbing sensation in my right breast when it’s time to slow down.

If you learn your signals and you begin to heed them sooner so they don’t have to get louder to get your attention, you might avoid something worse. On the other hand, if you find yourself sick in bed (a wall), it’s likely that your body is helping you take the much needed break it has been asking you for. If so, ask yourself what signals you might have missed (without judgment or self-recrimination), so you can start to learn how to avoid the wall, at least some of the time.

Check and see how this “brick wall” phenomenon might be working in your life right now. Are you missing important messages that your body is trying to send you? Slow down and pay attention. If you do what those signals suggest (take a nap, snuggle up on the couch with a good book, get a massage) instead of pushing forward, your body and your health will thank you. Mine sure did.

Ringing the bell after radiation

I got a call from my dear friend from the cancer hospital, the one I call Fran--the same one who helped me understand how important it is to strip away all the bullsh*t. I haven’t seen her since the day before her radiation treatment ended because I was late. I missed seeing her ring the bell when she was done. I still feel like crap about missing that milestone in her journey.

Let me be clear--ringing that bell at the end of radiation treatment is a BIG deal. It signifies that you have endured 33 to 36 individual radiation treatments. It means that you have hauled your ass into the hospital for up to 36 days in a row (excluding weekends), including driving across town, weaving your way through a busy college campus, winding your way up to the section of the third floor of the parking garage reserved especially for radiation patients, walking across the hospital and down to the basement (a.k.a. dungeon), checking in and getting your parking pass, changing into the infamous drab, gray gown and waiting, waiting, waiting for your turn to get nuked.

When you finally climb into the machine and bare your chest while up to 10 people adjust you and mill about the room around you, you try to go away and not think about what’s happening to your body. You vacate the premises. The machine whirls around you, buzzing and zapping its toxins into your body while you hope and pray it’s doing its job but not giving you a drop more radiation than absolutely necessary.

And then there are the side effects of treatments that you deal with. Skin rashes and burning, peeling, tenderness, and general discomfort around the area. There’s the extreme fatigue, which is different from anything you’ve ever experienced. The kind that isn’t aided by sleep. The kind that suppresses your whole system to the point that it feels like there’s a veil between you and the world, but you don’t really realize it until the veil lifts about a month after treatment.

And the emotional toll. You wonder what treatment is going to be like, if you’re going to be able to get through it. Of course you can--you can get through anything--but at the outset, you don’t know this yet, so there’s a lot of fear. Fear of suffering. Fear of discomfort. Fear of death. Fear that the treatment won’t work and you’ll be back where you started. Fear of not holding up your end of the human bargain--whether that means making a contribution to society or doing your family’s laundry. You experience other feelings too--the whole emotional gamut--and without your normal faculties, everything seems bigger and worse than usual. Once you get a taste of what the treatment will be like, you start holding onto your precious energy for dear life, until you realize that the holding takes too much energy. So you let go and let the radiation have its way with you.

When I missed Fran’s bell-ringing, it would be an understatement to say I was disappointed that I didn’t witness my friend as she finished this experience. For her it was even bigger because she had also gone through chemo. She had been working her way through cancer treatment for almost an entire year. And she rocked it. She finished with flying colors. I’m so proud of her.

Fran (you know who you are), I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.

So back to the phone call. She called me the other day and told me on my voice mail that I never mentioned in this blog that I had rung the bell.

Huh, go figure. Because it was a big deal for me too. A really big deal. I did, in fact, ring the bell at around 10:30am on Tuesday, August 16. My husband, parents, sister and brother-in-law and another friend who had been through it before were all there to support me, as they had through the whole experience.

I made it all the way through cancer treatment. I rang the bell. I finished an experience that changed me from the inside out. I have learned so much from the whole thing, it’s hard to even describe. I’m so grateful for that.

But I’m still really, really glad it’s over.

Fran, this post is for you. Congratulations on finishing treatment, and I hope you are doing well now. I don’t have your number (it showed up as unknown on my phone), so please call me back and let me know how to get in touch with you. I have often wanted to talk to you and see how you are doing, so I was thrilled to get your phone call. I look forward to hearing from you again.

Joy Me Up

Upon arrival home from a family vacation earlier this Fall, we were all a little cranky after nine hours in the car on a gray and dreary day. To let off some steam, we went to the back yard, and my oldest daughter said, “Mommy, I want to listen to some music to joy me up.”

Joy me up! How clever is she? The phrase has stuck with me ever since.

Funny that she chose music as her joy “vehicle” of choice--she must be related to me. Music is one of the few things that can joy me up no matter what kind of mood I am in. Here’s a perfect example: in April, shortly after my cancer diagnosis, (you could say it was a rather gloomy time), I was watching one of my favorite guilty pleasures, Glee.

Rachel, one of the main characters, considered getting a nose job in order to be more appealing to the mainstream. In an effort to discourage her, Kurt, her gay friend, took her to the mall to listen to her idol, Barbra Streisand, who “redefined beauty and became the biggest star in the world.”

Rachel: Is she here?

Kurt: [with much disdain] No, we’re in a mall in Ohio.

[Ok, maybe it’s just because I’m from Ohio that I find this line completely hilarious]

Anyway, Kurt knew she would be inspired by Barbra’s ability to own exactly who she is and how she looks, without apology. So, he organized a flash mob in her honor.

Best. Scene. Ever.

Check out the official Glee video on YouTube here.

I saved the show on my DVR and watch it often because I light up every time. I practically giggle with delight because it’s all about celebrating the beauty of who you are, no matter what you look like--with a bit of tongue-in-cheek humor thrown in for good measure. And it’s set to a catchy, upbeat techno song. LOVE.

Seriously, I laughed so hard, I even thought about posting it on my Facebook page at the time. I didn’t. You know why? Because my previous post had announced my cancer diagnosis, and the conditioned part of me that cares what people will think told me that it was inappropriate to follow cancer with Glee. Interesting how we can filter an emotion (in this case, pure joy) through the lens of whether it is appropriate to feel it.

So anyway, I give you this now because it still joys me up, and I want to share my joy with you. Of course, if this particular clip isn’t your thang, I beg you to find something that is. Something that lights you up and makes you smile. Something that brings that sense of sheer delight.

Throw caution to the wind and feel it even if part of you thinks it’s inappropriate.

Let it... Joy. You. Up.


Here's Clara, showing us how it's done.

Soft is the New Black

Cancer is hard, in so many thesaurus-like ways (thank you thesaurus.com).

Cancer is difficult (adjective): none of the treatment options are particularly good, so making decisions is challenging. Physical symptoms, including pain, fatigue, skin irritation, and others make life more arduous while going through treatment. Emotional issues are more wearisome than at other times. Managing fear is especially tough. Life can feel exhausting and overwhelming when faced with a troublesome diagnosis and/or complications during treatment. Figuring out which diet and lifestyle changes to make in order to prevent future tumors from growing can seem rigorous and strenuous.

Cancer is solid (adjective): a tumor is a dense, firm mass of calcified cells. Once a tumor has formed, it is strong in its mission to grow. The mass is concentrated and compact. Treatment options are set and can feel inflexible. And if we take the cancer as a metaphor, could it be possible that this mass developed as a result of living life in a rigid and unyielding way?

Cancer is cruel, ruthless (adjective): facing cancer can range from unpleasant to brutal and bleak. Symptoms can seem intolerable and grim and are sometimes painful. Radiation and chemotherapy are unrelenting. The whole experience can feel perverse and unjust.

Cancer is true, indisputable (adjective). Cancer is absolute--it exists, it wears down, it kills. Cancer cells actually exist in every human, although the conditions must be positive for a tumor to progress. While cancer already has a definite place in the collective mindset, I think we need to increase our focus on pragmatic prevention strategies if we really want to move the dial. There are many verified ways to do this, including making dietary changes, managing emotions in a healthier way, reducing stress.

So, given that my intention is to learn from cancer and not fight with it, my tumor and I had a conversation. On several occasions, I communicated directly with the cancer in my own body (before it was removed) and asked it what it needed so it wouldn’t come back.

Call me a freak if you want to, but I know that my body’s wisdom illuminates the path that is in my highest good. Every. Time.

You know what the cancer told me? To soften.

Huh, go figure. With all that hardness proliferating in my body and life (yes, I can be a smidge rigid and tense), this made a whole lot of sense, even in that moment. Gotcha, cancer, I can see how softness is the antidote to the hard growth in my body.

Since that time, I’ve thought even more about how hard on myself I am, how rigid and tense my body can be, how much I hold myself in and hide behind rules and expectations. I even started recognizing how much I use the word "hard" in my every day communication (life is hard, stop playing hard-ball, having a hard time, hard sell, it’s a hard pill to swallow, they’re hard-up for money, she’s so hard-core, between a rock and a hard place).

My new mission is to be soft, to soften, to relax. And I recommend this strategy to anyone who is consistently angry, tense, anxious, overworked, stressed, in pain, moody, stuck or feeling worse than they could in almost any way.

What do I mean by soft? For me, soft means...

...Cushioned, squishy (adjective). Embracing the easy, pliable, flowing parts of myself and my life. Allowing more flexibility in my schedule and my way of doing things. Yielding when I’m in a squabble with my husband, instead of being attached to being right. Enjoying a whole foods, mostly plant-based diet (with some delicious, worth-while exceptions) because I like it, rather than sticking to a rigid set of rules.

...Faint, temperate (adjective). Soft as in gentle, mild, pleasing, quiet. Soft as in accepting that I am sensitive and sometimes need a break from the world to recharge. Soft as in playing soothing music, soaking in a hot bath, or taking a nap. Soft as in incorporating more restorative yoga, meditation, and deep relaxation--because it feels delicious, not because I should. Soft as in mellowing into myself by caring more about what matters to me than what other people think.

...Compassionate (adjective). Soft as in serving my clients because I love them rather than dwelling in how much I don’t know or haven’t done to get my business off the ground. Soft as in laughing with my kids instead of getting frustrated that they’re not doing what I ask. Soft as in delighting in spending time with family and friends. Soft as in simplifying life and doing only what feels right. Soft as in being vulnerable when expressing my true self. Soft as in asking for nurturing and support when I need it.

Soft is the new black, and I wear it with pride. What would softening be like for you?



Photo by bea08436e3_t

Where do you look for answers?

When you’re lost, upset, angry or disconnected, where do you turn for help? A therapist? Your friendly, neighborhood life coach?

When you have money issues, who do you ask for assistance? A financial advisor? Your accountant? A money coach?

What about when you have an argument with your spouse? Need parenting advice? Have a health crisis? Or when you have more nuanced issues like a desire to eliminate a bad habit or to figure out what you were born to do in this lifetime?

If you’re anything like me, whenever you hit a bump or roadblock on your path, you look outside yourself for answers. You talk to a friend, research the internet, take a class, hire an expert. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with this approach at all; often, it is the simplest and most effective way to resolve a problem, especially if you simply don’t have the professional information you need (e.g., the doctor’s medical training) or you are interested in learning a new skill that someone else is willing and able to teach you.

However, it is my contention that as a society, our conditioning to look outside for answers is so engrained that we have lost the connection to our own answers, our inner wisdom. We forget that no one else knows our gifts, our likes and dislikes, our boundaries, or our pain points better than we do. No one else knows the right path for us. Ever. We forget that deep down, our own highest selves will guide us in the right direction, even if that direction is straight to an expert who can help us.

In my life and coaching practice, I have a working theory that I have been testing for a while:

No matter what is going on in your life, what problems you face or issues you have, it all comes down to your relationship with yourself.

Your relationship with your money, your body, your children, your schedule all come back to how you feel about yourself. Your beliefs about money (which inform your financial reality) are a reflection of how connected you are to your own value. Your weight and your health are reflections of how connected you are to your self-image and your body. Your schedule and how you spend your time are reflections of how willing you are to take a stand for yourself. Your spiritual life depends greatly on how connected you are to your own divinity.

You can resolve any problem by tuning into your own inner guidance.

The good news is that every single thing you experience, any thought, feeling, behavior, sensation, circumstance, or problem, is a potential avenue that can lead you directly to your own wisdom and ability to connect more deeply with your highest self.

When you are connected deeply with yourself, it’s not that you won’t have problems (hello), but that the problems shine a light on the thoughts, beliefs and patterns that need to be adjusted to become more self-realized. When you are connected with yourself, you understand that the path you are on is exactly right for you--in fact it is meant for your own individual learning and growth. When you are connected to yourself you:

-Are integrated in mind, body and spirit

-Trust yourself; you know when to look outside for answers and when to turn inward for wisdom and guidance

-Maintain your optimum health and wellness

-Are more authentic, confident, accepting, grateful and compassionate

-Know your own gifts and use them in service to the world

-Own your flaws and don’t let them define who you are as an individual

-Learn from mistakes and heal past wounds

-Live life your way, without apology

So the next time you need answers, try looking inside first. Get relaxed as possible. Get grounded in your body. Check your thoughts and feelings to see whether they are getting in the way of your path. Meditate. Pray. Journal. If you still need an expert, ask yourself this before you hire them: to what extent do they act like they know what’s best for you versus guiding you to your own answers?

Being connected to yourself is the path of self-actualization. It’s the path of integration, the healing path, the way. It’s a spiritual journey. In the words of Lao-Tzu, “knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is Enlightenment.”

I would love to hear your feedback on this post. Please comment or email me privately!


Photo by ben heine

What's Fueling You?

Can you feel the change of seasons in the air? Even when it’s warm and sunny during the day, the telltale signs of shorter days, cooler evenings, and increased winds can’t keep the arrival of Autumn a secret anymore. I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood to snuggle into my comfy sweats, drink lots of tea, and eat warm, satisfying soups.

Between the temperatures and the “back to school” mantra, Fall signifies a new beginning for most of us. It doesn’t even matter whether you or your family members are in school anymore, the season is still a time to get back to work, initiate new projects, or generally get serious about whatever goals you want to accomplish for the year. Usually, all of that translates into getting busy. Really busy.

This is typically a welcome change for me, as I like the feeling of busy-ness. It makes me feel important, like I’m contributing. But this has been an unusual year, as many of you know. I took the summer off from work so I could devote my time and energy to undergoing treatment for breast cancer. The Big C is one of those deep experiences that forced me to look at myself and my life because something--perhaps my way of being, my reaction to stress, my diet or lifestyle habits--created the conditions for cancer to grow. While I don’t believe the cancer was my fault, per se, I do think that I need to make some changes so it doesn’t return.

So, what have I learned?

To get the message a certain experience is teaching you, look at what you are getting out of it. For me, cancer meant clearing my schedule, not over-committing to anything, putting my self-care at the top of the list, and most importantly, slowing down. One of the biggest side effects of treatment was fatigue, so my entire job this summer was to manage my energy. I began to view just about every part of my life through the lens of how it would affect my energy. Would a given food, activity or conversation fuel me or deplete me? Would it add to my energy reserves or use them?

One of the benefits of fatigue, it turns out, is that I learned to take a stand for myself in the softest way possible. I took a nap whenever I wanted. I said no to obligations that didn’t serve me (and let go of guilt about it). I asked for help and support. And most importantly, I was more relaxed in my body and (sometimes) even in my mind. It’s hard to stay vigilant, rigid or upset when you’re so tired you can barely see straight.

With many opportunities on deck right now, I am extremely tempted to fall back into my old pattern of over-scheduling myself. But this year I am incorporating softness and relaxation into my routine. I’m allowing some flexibility for a nap here and there. I’m doing restorative yoga and adding in more massage and meditation. I am saying no to a few opportunities that seemed like a good idea at first blush.

By using the fueling/depleting lens to view my schedule, even though my energy has mostly returned, my Fall is shaping up to be much more spacious and relaxed than in years past. How nice is that?

The Fuel Tool

No matter if you are interested in fostering wellness or just want to experience increased energy to get everything on your list done, here’s a tool that can help you feel better, regardless of how busy you are. Use this tool to evaluate your activities in terms of whether they are fueling or depleting. Then for any of the items that are depleting, see if you can either ditch them or improve them in some way.

Step 1: Write down each activity you do, from the time you get up to the time you go to bed. This is your to do list plus things you wouldn’t normally write down, like taking a shower, picking up the kids from school, preparing lunch, etc. You can be as general or as detailed as you like. If you can’t get a good read on an activity, try breaking it down into smaller parts.

Step 2: For each individual activity, assess whether it is more fueling or more depleting (or neutral). Do the things you spend your time on juice you up and make you feel expansive, relaxed and/or energized? Or do they wear you out, make you feel contracted, and reduce your precious resources? (Or are they neutral). For example:

Activity More Fueling or Depleting (or Neutral)?

Meditation -Fueling

Prepare kids’ breakfast -Depleting (depends on how much they whine)

Write blog post -Fueling

Bookkeeping -Depleting

Watching TV -Hmmm... mostly depleting

Step 3: Evaluate the items that you listed as depleting. Now assess whether you can ditch them or improve them. Can you hire them out? Switch or barter them with someone who doesn’t dislike them so much (like switching chores with your significant other so you are each responsible for the ones you dislike the least)? If you actually can’t get rid of them, can you improve the tasks to make them more energizing? Can you play music, light a candle or treat yourself after completing them?

Try it and see what happens. Email me if you want any help with this exercise and please reply and let me know how it goes!


PS This exercise is strikingly similar to Martha Beck’s Body Compass exercise, but I didn’t even realize that until I was half way through it. I guess I learned it on a much more visceral level this summer, so I’m sharing my take on it.


Photo by Argonne

Woo Hoo! Now What?

Are you familiar with the phenomenon where you attain a long-awaited goal and then feel completely lost? Like after graduating from college. After becoming engaged or pregnant. After getting promoted. Or leaving an unfulfilling relationship or job.

It feels so good to reach the stage you’ve been aiming for. You think, “I’ve finally done it. This is exactly where I want to be. This is fabulous!”

Right? Isn’t it?

Amid all the hoopla, you reach the moment when reality sets in. You realize with a visceral sucker punch to the gut, “Oh crap, what do I do now?”

That’s what it feels like for me right now. I have completed my treatment for breast cancer, which has been a long, arduous road. And now, other than a few follow up appointments, I am all finished. I am absolutely thrilled.

And yet, here I am, feeling, well, un-anchored. Everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head. The world of possibilities is opening back up and I feel small and overwhelmed in the face of it. Here are just a few of the questions I am pondering right now:

-What should I eat? What are the foods that foster optimum health for me?

-How should my business change to incorporate everything I’ve learned?

-What should my priorities be to promote total wellness from the inside out?

-Do I have what it takes to turn my random thoughts about my experience into a book?

-Have I transformed enough so the cancer doesn’t come back?

As humans, we like to feel as though we have some semblance of control over the way our lives turn out. We like to have answers to our questions. We want to know what’s next because that gives us a sense of security and comfort. But when we enter a new stage of life, we aren’t supported by the daily habits and minutia that normally provide at least a veneer of security. We’re between stages. Clean slate. No bullsh*t.

Although it feels daunting and overwhelming, it’s actually a rare opportunity to re-shape life from a new vantage point. To re-prioritize. To re-build using the best parts from the past and letting go of the parts that no longer work. Even though it’s scary.

I consider this timeframe like a post-it note from the universe telling me to tune deeply inward and follow my inner compass instead of looking out “there” for direction. To live in the questions instead of the answers. To see what unfolds while I’m not working so hard to control everything. To embrace the not-knowing.


If you’d like to join me on my journey, I am starting a newsletter where you will receive bimonthly articles and tips for introspection and inspiration. Visit my homepage at www.un-coaching.com and sign up!


Photo by daniel

Finding the Gift

A few months ago, I saw a clever little independent film called "May I Be Frank?" It's a documentary about an overweight guy from Brooklyn who does a 42-day cleanse and personal development program through a raw restaurant in San Francisco.  He has three coaches to help and encourage him as he makes significant changes in his life. He tells it like it is, and his insights are alternately hilarious and touching.

During one of his worst times, when he is feeling horrible, his coaches essentially tell him, "This is FANTASTIC!  It's perfect!  You're doing great, and this is just where you need to be!"

When you’re in the middle of a hard time, it’s often hard to see how the experience is benefitting you in any way, let alone how it’s exactly right--a situation delivered by the universe specifically FOR your growth and evolution as a human being. My sister and I have found this concept especially helpful lately, allowing us to laugh at how FREAKIN’ FANTASTIC everything is when we’re at our darkest moments. Sarcastic (sadistic?) humor often helps.

Anyway, I digress. My point is that finding the genuine (not sarcastic or forced) gift in any situation can really re-frame a problem and shed some light on a tough situation. Take mine, for instance. At times, my radiation treatments are kicking my ass, to put it bluntly. When my energy wanes, which it does frequently these days, I’m bone tired, sluggish, and everything seems to take longer. I sometimes get cranky, with a volatile, dramatic temper. My filters and defenses are gone, so I’m more easily triggered, and things get to me quicker and deeper than they have in years. The worst part is that during those dark moments, I believe my worst thoughts about myself (not unlike high school--and it feels about as bad).

To begin reframing the situation, I ask myself the following questions:

-What is perfect about this situation?
-If my soul/the universe/God had a message for me here, what would it be?
-How can I learn from this?

If the situation as a whole is too daunting or big, break it down into pieces and ask the questions for each individual piece. For example:

-What’s perfect about fatigue is that it makes me softer (ahem, most of the time). During a bodywork treatment, the fabulous somatic coach Suzanne Roberts, of WomenGenerating, reframed the situation in such a beautiful way for me that I’ve felt lighter and more peaceful about it ever since. She said that the slow, softness of fatigue can teach me how to be more relaxed in my body. Wow, what a huge insight. Seeing the value in this situation is making it much easier to tolerate (with much less resistance).

-The gift in my dark, volatile moods is perhaps that some of my deepest beliefs, stored emotions and a deep layer of physical tension are coming up to the surface for healing. It’s perfect, in its own twisted way, because I can see my most unworkable patterns in all their glory (much to the dismay of my husband), as they are no longer buried beneath layers of what Richard Strozzi-Heckler calls “armor,” or coping mechanisms. Now that I’m aware of them, I can work on UN-winding the patterns one step at a time.

There can be unforeseen gifts in even the most tragic and upsetting situations. Think about the amazing sense of community and generosity after events such as 9/11 or the hurricane in New Orleans. New relationships that develop in the wake of heart-wrenching loss. New opportunities and directions when things don’t go as “planned.”

Traditionally, I’ve found it easier to see the gifts long after the hardest part of a circumstance has passed. But when you can see the value of your toughest times in the moment, that’s when the magic happens. The resistance melts away. You stop fighting with reality and allow it all to unfold. You're okay with what is happening because it's just the way it was meant to be.


Photo by Maios

What Would Happen If You Stripped Away the Bullsh*t?

The other day I was waiting for my radiation treatment in the Female Lounge, a little waiting room just for breast cancer patients (survivors, really, since we’ve all had surgery already), and I really took in my surroundings. The room is a pretty functional, no frills kind of place, down in the basement of the cancer hospital. Pale yellow walls and no windows, except in the door to the grey hall. There are a few nondescript chairs, a restroom, lockers and a changing area. The women, many of whom are still bald from chemotherapy, don hospital gowns of the worst washing-out variety: drab grey. There’s an air of resignation as we wait to climb into unforgiving machines, bare our chests, which have been maimed to varying degrees, and get nuked every weekday at the same time for more than six weeks.

Sound dreadful? Well, it is and it isn’t.

It sucks, don’t get me wrong. But, who knew that what takes place in this little room would become a favored part of the day? Go figure. A perfect example is a conversation I had the other day with a woman I’ll call Fran, who is a no-holds-barred kind of person anyway, punctuated by the baldness and gown. We were talking about what we are learning from this whole experience, a topic I rather enjoy. We commiserated about how busy busy we had been before, where nothing could slow us down. Nothing, that is, except for the Big C.

Then Fran looks right at me and says, “Cancer strips away the bullshit.”

Indeed it does, my friend. “Say more,” I say.

“You don’t have room for any bullshit, when your ass is going through cancer treatment. No one else has to get [to treatment] every single day. No one else is losing their hair for you. No one else pays the hospital bills. There ain’t no room for bullshit anymore.”

Well said.

In the microcosm of the Female Lounge, no bullshit means we are stripped away of topics that usually hold our attention, like small talk, what we look like, what other people think, what to do next. Under normal circumstances, you might hear a lot of “what do you do?” and “where do you live?” when people first get to know each other. Not so in the Lounge. These women get right to the point, no matter if you just met someone the day before. Instead, the conversations consist of questions like “what’s your experience been like?” and “what are you grateful for?” and “how does God factor into your life?”

On a larger scale, no bullshit means taking away the common distractions of life. The busyness, the reasons, the obligations, the excuses. Fran took a leave of absence from her job so she could focus on healing and recovery. I too have been fortunate enough to be able to take time off from work and have chosen to take exceptional care of myself. Without the normal bullshit, I’ve pared down to just the essentials in my life, which include:

-Sleep, lots of it, including naps whenever the mood strikes
-Daily quiet time (meditation)
-Healthy, nutritious whole foods
-Spending time laughing and talking with family
-Snuggling and tickling my kids
-A balance of activity (yoga, walking) and rest
-Sunshine, fresh air and nature
-Deep, meaningful conversations (coaching, being coached, connecting with friends and other survivors)
-Listening to inspiring music
-Regular mind/body healing and bodywork
-A good dose of entertaining TV (ok, this isn't essential, but it's fun nonetheless)
-Writing

So what if you stripped away the bullshit in your life? What would be left? What are the essentials that would fill you with joy, pleasure and energy? How and with whom would you spend your time?

This is a mental exercise that is well worth indulging in. Don’t wait for circumstances to do it for you.

Photo via wader

The Ring of Fire

Growing up, my family always emphasized positive thinking as the way to get through anything. If you’ve met my parents, you know that they do indeed practice what they preach, and it works for them. They are some of the most fun-loving people I know, and from what I can tell, everyone (including me) loves to be around them. They see the bright side of life, the glass as half full. They are filled with gratitude, optimism and good cheer.

I was not born with this particular outlook on life; I tended to think there was something wrong with me for not being a model of cheerfulness. I always felt like the black sheep of the family. The more I was told to think positively, the more I would feel inadequate and yearn to be different to meet others’ expectations. I must admit to engaging in a lot of biting sarcasm, self-deprecation and bitterness in years past (let’s not even mention high school).

It has taken a LOT of inner work to get to where I am now, which is much more realistic, and, well, more positive. The great news is that I don’t think I “should” be more positive, I just am. I think inspired, optimistic thoughts all the time and actually believe them. Perhaps it’s just maturity. Or years of doing thought work and coaching.

Regardless, my inner world is vastly more pleasant than it used to be. And yet, as I’ve gone through my treatment, I have started noticing deep, old thought patterns that I thought were gone emerge again. They’re pretty dark, and they feel old and childlike, such as:

I can do it myself (channeling my inner two-year old)

I can’t ask for help

I’m too brave and strong to be scared

I don’t want to be a bother

I won’t have what I need

There’s something wrong with me

My “stuff” is coming up at break-neck speed these days, but I am giving myself the gift of not having to DO anything about these negative thoughts except pay close attention to them. In the past, I would have used these thoughts as fodder to beat myself up and feel ashamed. It’s really tempting to do that again, let me tell you, but I’m resisting the temptation.

Instead, I realize I’m smack dab in the middle of what Martha Beck calls the Ring of Fire (Steering by Starlight), which describes the emotional transition from the “Shallows” (the exterior shell of life where we are motivated by external validation, such as money, status, and fame) to the Core of Peace (the oneness of everything, where there is no pain, no fear and no death). The only way to get to the Core of Peace, though, is to go through the Ring of Fire, and that entails grieving unavoidable losses and disbelieving false ideas that cause unnecessary pain. It requires confronting our very self-concept (which is usually based on ideas that we adopted as children that are no longer necessarily true). It is far from pleasant.

I am now grieving the loss of my health (or at least the way I thought of it before) and having to investigate all kinds of old, tired thoughts that have come up to the surface for healing. It is in our nature to avoid pain, so it’s extremely tempting to run back into the Shallows as quickly as possible (yes, I’ll cop to a fleeting thought about moving to a deserted island by myself to avoid imposing on anyone or needing help anymore). But we don’t heal from the Shallows--only from the Core of Peace. Having a framework to recognize this transition process has helped me regain my perspective and dive right in, despite the discomfort. In fact, wading through this particular emotional muck is a necessary part of healing, and my overall health and wellbeing will benefit immeasurably.

So what about you? Have you been through the Ring of Fire? Has a grieving process changed you in ways you could never have anticipated? I’d love to hear what you think of these concepts and how they apply to your life.

Tick Tock

Do you ever experience those periods in which you wish time would move along a little faster? When you want to get to the next stage? You know, that stage—the one when everything will work out and you’ll be happy again?

Perhaps it was during high school when you just wanted to get the heck out of dodge.

Or during your first crappy job when you hated your boss.

When you were single and couldn’t wait to find your soulmate.

Or when your baby was waking you up three times a night, and your sleep deprivation made it unsafe to operate heavy machinery.

Or during your seemingly endless dark night of the soul.

The list goes on…

The first time I intensely experienced the “counting minutes until this sh*t ends” phenomenon was during my MBA because, let’s just call a spade a spade, finance and accounting are just not my thing. Every tick of the clock could not come soon enough.

I’m again undergoing a time period like that right now. I have just under 30 radiation treatments left until I finish my cancer treatment. I am not going to lie, I am really looking forward to when this phase is complete. I’m usually a huge fan of Summer, wanting the warm weather to last forever, but these days I find my mind daydreaming about a radiation-free Fall, despite the cooling temperatures. I try not to count each treatment and mark it off the calendar, but sometimes it’s hard to resist.

What’s common in these experiences? It’s feeling the need to endure the present in order to reach a better future. And if we’re feeling a need to endure, there’s a certain stuckness that goes along with it, as though we have no other options but to stick it out.

About mid-way through my MBA program, in which I enrolled of my own free will, I felt fully stuck. I couldn’t quit (or so I told myself), and yet each class felt like a struggle to pay attention and participate. It turns out that I’m glad I finished, but at the time, it felt like swimming through molasses to show up every day. In terms of radiation, I could have chosen other treatment options, and I could technically quit treatment at any time, so there is some choice in the matter. But it still smells of stuckness. I know this is the best course of action for me right now and I will be back on track to vitality and wellness after it is over, and still, it’s hard not to pine away for the future.

But pining away for a better future? What the HECK? I had cancer (just to emphasize, I HAD cancer, in the past tense—it is so gone now!), so shouldn’t I be even more grateful for my time on this planet? How can I possibly wish time away, when each moment is precious? Shouldn’t we live every day as though it’s our last?

What gives?

This is a tough inner conflict to manage while going through rough patches in our lives. So what to do? Here are the strategies that work for me:

Review your options

The first thing to do when you’re stuggling and wishing time away is to check to make sure there really are no other options. Ask yourself how much of the situation is within your control. Many times we tell ourselves we have no choice, but it’s just a cover story for “I’ve made this choice and now I don’t like it and/or I’m not willing to change course” (but staying the course is still a choice). Review all the decisions you have made to get you to this point. If something really is within your control (like a job or educational experience), you can always make a difference choice. Changing directions may require a lot of effort or come with certain unpleasant consequences, but it is still possible.

Choose the path you are on

If you are experiencing life circumstances that are beyond your control (or have chosen to stay on a path within your control even if it is unpleasant), then the way to eliminate suffering is to choose the path you are on, whether you like it or not. The more we think “this shouldn’t be happening to me,” the more resistance we will experience, and the more endurance we will need to get through it. Endurance takes a lot of valuable energy.

Even if the very worst has happened, acceptance means choosing exactly what we are going through. Take my path, for example. Most people would never choose cancer, right? I sure wouldn’t. And yet, if I am to get through this treatment period with a minimal amount of resistance, I need to choose it. Over and over. Every day. That means accepting the reality of my treatment and choosing it for the very reason that it is happening. Not because I enjoy it, condone it or have some twisted desire to go through this particular experience (or put my family through it). But because if I resist it, I will be wasting energy suffering instead of using that precious energy for healing and recovery. So every day, I make sure to reframe my thoughts from “I have to go to radiation” to “I choose to go radiation.” I am choosing the path that I think will net the best long term results.

Ok, I can just guess what you’re thinking… there’s no way I would choose cancer. Or the death of a loved one. Or any of the awful things that happen all the time. Alright, truth be told, nor would I. I am not suggesting that we start thinking some crisis is the best thing ever. Um, no. What I am saying is that reality always wins, and arguing with it will only cause suffering. (Spiritual teacher Byron Katie’s method, The Work, and her book “Loving What Is” are great resources for working through this process).

Look for ways the path is just right

One question that I ask myself when choosing an unintended or unsavory path is: what is perfect about this? As I wrote in my letter to Cancer, I look at my particular circumstance as a learning opportunity (or Another F*ing Growth Opportunity, as I like to say). I know that somehow it’s exactly right for me because I will learn something valuable that I can then pass along to others. As Byron Katie states, "Everything happens for me, not to me” (Loving What Is, p. 227). Recovering from cancer just happens to be the adventure I’m on right now. So be it.

Give into the negative thought spirals—sometimes—but don’t land there

Trying to be positive when we feel like crap is as much fighting with reality as trying to change circumstances out of our control. The fact of the matter is that sometimes we just feel awful about things, and no amount of thought work, affirmations or positivity is going to help us through it. That’s when it’s time to own that we’re in a dark place and let the negativity rip. One practice that I’ve found extremely helpful is “Conscious Complaining,” which is described in detail by Karla McLaren in her fantastic book, “The Language of Emotions.” It entails finding a private place to complain, all messy and balls-out, without dumping on anyone or expecting anyone to change your feelings. Then whine or complain until you have nothing left to say.

This just happened to me the other day when I got turned around in the maze of campus construction and one-way streets on the way to radiation. I was alone in my car, so I let out all the complaints I could think of about this whole process. (Unfortunately, I can’t say I didn’t dump my feelings on anyone that morning, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect at this stuff). The one thing that really helped while in the muck was telling myself "these are just feelings that will pass. I don't have to land here." And you know what? They did pass, and I felt much lighter after letting them all out.

Do at least one thing you enjoy for its own sake every day

I think this practice is important no matter what's going on in your life, but it's especially critical whil going through a tough time. One of the best things you can do for yourself is something, anything, that you enjoy doing for its own sake. Do it as often as possible, but at least once per day. Just because you like it. The more joy you feel, the better off you’ll be.

Do you like reading? Baking? Walking in the park? Playing with your dog? Yoga? Do whatever it is that brings a smile to your face. Just because. You deserve it.



Photo by Earls37a

Sensory Delight

The week before last I went to Florida for vacation. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of recovering from the flu (me and Jason), preparing for and starting radiation treatment, plus a whole host of things that piled on top of an already intense week, culminating with a bunch of three year olds screaming through the house yesterday to celebrate Lauren’s birthday.

Now that the reality of 36 radiation treatments is setting in, I’m making a conscious effort to stay in the here and now instead of dreading an uncertain and/or potentially unpleasant future. I’m taking the opportunity to revel in what I love about the beach: sheer sensory delight.

At the beach, I was reminded how much my senses luxuriate in the feel of the sand beneath my feet, the sound of the waves crashing, the sparkle of sun reflecting of the water, the smell of salt in the fresh breeze, and the taste of a delicious pina colada. Spending time at the beach is one of my most favorite things to do—it brings me so much joy and satisfaction.

Now that I’m back in land-locked Columbus, Ohio, going to a hospital to climb into a stark machine and get zapped every Monday through Friday for six and a half weeks, what can I do that delights the senses? Well, here are a few ways that I’m focusing my attention to help get through this time period:

• While I am in the machine, I might as well be at the beach because I go there in my mind. I imagine the sand, the waves, the sparkly reflection, the cool breeze.
• When I am done with treatment, I focus on how much time I am not in the hospital. What a treasure to be able to be able to spend 23 hours a day doing exactly what I want. I have so far been able to walk each morning before treatment. I am fortunate to have time in my days to take a nap if I wish. Nice.
• I spend as much time delighting my senses as possible. I listen to the birds outside my bedroom window. I feel the warmth of my kids as they snuggle next to me under a blanket. I eat clean, delicious foods that sustain me and give me energy.
• When I feel overwhelmed with dread or anxiety about it all, I pull out the old “Five Things” practice (see below). It helps every time.

With the 4th of July just around the corner, take the opportunity to delight in your senses—there are plentiful opportunities. Listen to the drums pounding and tubas blaring as they pass by in the parade. Watch the colorful fireworks set against a vast, dark sky. Taste the juicy sweet watermelon. Smell summer in the air. Feel the grass beneath your feet.

Do whatever you can to bring your attention to your senses, which can only be experienced in the present moment. Your senses don’t ruminate. They don’t worry or feel dread. They’re never sad or angry. Each sense provides a pathway between the outside world and your inner experience. The more you slow down and delight in what each sense has to offer, the more rich and meaningful your experience is in each moment.

Five Things Practice

Stop whatever you are doing or thinking about. Begin noticing the space around you, whether you are inside or outside. You can also do this by imagining a pleasant experience in your mind. Then list:

• Five things that you can see in your immediate visual field. If you are imagining a scene, remember the sights as if you were experiencing them in the present. Or if you just want to practice with your eyes closed, list five things that you saw before closing your eyes.
• Five things that you can hear. Focus on each sound at once. Really listen to it. Notice how far the sound has to travel to reach your ear. What qualities does the sound have?
• Five things that you can feel. Notice the contact points with the floor, ground and/or furniture in which you are sitting (if applicable). Notice the air against your skin. Notice if you feel any physical sensations or tension in your body. Notice your breath as it gently moves your ribcage in and out.
• Five things that you can taste and/or smell. This is a little more subtle, so pay close attention. Check to see if the taste in your mouth is different on each side of the tongue. Notice if there are different smells in the room or air.

Allow your awareness to expand and enjoy more and more detailed information from each sense. Remember, there are no wrong answers.



Photo by Emily Cain

The Lizard Who Cried Wolf

Lizard: “What is up with you and this whole ‘rest’ thing? Resting is for sissies. You should get up and get to work. You’ll never make it if you don’t DO something. You might as well give up. No one will like what you have to offer anyway, so why even try.”

Kristin: “Lizard, you’ve told me that 432,957 times before and things have turned out okay. What if I just don’t listen to you this time?”

Lizard: “No, seriously, this time it’s the TRUTH. I mean it. You’ll never accomplish anything if you don’t get off your ass. And then whatever you do won’t work anyway. Failing is serious business. You’ll be embarrassed. You’ll be rejected. You won’t have any friends. You’ll look stupid and incompetent.”

Kristin: “Take a hike, Lizard.”

Lizard: “I’m doing my best to protect you and you don’t even appreciate it. How can I help if you don’t even listen? I know what’s best. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, and I know what I’m talking about.”

Kristin: “Oh, I recognize your wiley reptilian ways. You’re just trying to scare me into staying small and busy, even though inspiration and relaxation (without guilt!) is just what I need right now. I’m not listening to you. See? I can tune you out. [Kristin plugs her ears and screams] LA LA LA LA! You don’t scare me, Mr. Fire-Breathing, Loud-Talking, Mean… Dragon Man. From now on, I’m going to call you Puff! Ha! Take that!”

Lizard: “For real. This time I’m telling you, you do NOT want to put yourself out there. People will not pay attention. They have better things to do. Besides, you have too much competition. What makes you so special, huh? Well, you’re not. You’re just one in six billion. You don’t have anything unique to say anyway. So stay in your house where it’s comfortable. But stay busy because if you don’t, you’re just being lazy and selfish. I am an expert in these matters and I promise, life will be much better this way. I know better than you.”

Kristin: “Maybe you’re right. It probably won’t turn out well. You do seem to know a lot. I believe you. Maybe I’ll just clean my office. Or go out to lunch. Or do whatever I can to stay busy WITHOUT actually accomplishing anything (or relaxing or taking care of myself).”


Kristin: Okay, okay, Lizard. I hear you loud and clear, and I know you’re trying your best to help. Thanks for your input, but I promise I’ve got this one. Now I’m going to work on an inspiring writing project. And then I’ll take a nap. See you on the flip side.”

Cast:

The role of Lizard is played by Kristin’s reptilian brain, which refers to the part of the brain that first evolved in early vertebrates to broadcast survival alarms and catalyze the fight or flight response. These days, we coaches like to call it the “inner lizard” (thank you Martha Beck) because it is still sounds alarms in the form of a constant stream of fear-based thoughts, even though we might be sitting on the couch and eating bon bons.

The role of Kristin is played by herself.

Moral of the story: your mind will use every trick in the book to convince you that you’re not enough and you’re doomed. These thoughts are not the truth, and you do NOT have to believe them.


Photo by esculturas inflables xl

UN-Winding Old Habits

In this culture, if you’re not capable, competent and able to take care of yourself, what are you? We value doing, right? Being productive. Getting shit done. Checking things off the never-ending to do list. Taking care of people. Being busy. It’s become part of our DNA.

If we’re not doing, then we fear that we’re nothing. Lazy. Selfish. Unproductive. A waste of energy.

It seems as though our worth is tied up with our ability to produce. When we’re busy, it makes us feel like we’re contributing (even if all we’re doing is distractedly jumping from task to task without actually completing anything—um, guilty). When we check things off our list, we feel like valuable members of society. As long as we’re busy, the wolves won’t get us.

I believe that many health issues are our bodies’ way of accomplishing what we need (whether we’re conscious of that need or not) but for whatever reason do not give ourselves. Have you ever had a cold and realized later that what you really needed was a break? Perhaps your body was giving you just that.

In my case, cancer is giving me a big fat excuse (read: health imperative) to SLOW DOWN and RELAX. But relaxing—as a new way of being, not just a pina colada sipped on the beach during vacation—was not something I would have given myself before this rather loud wake-up call. In fact, I was used to packing about 10 times more into my schedule than I could realistically accomplish every day. I would take on new projects without really assessing whether they were a good fit. I was late all the time because I didn’t want to waste valuable minutes by arriving somewhere early (I could have used those minutes to do something else!).

So what happens when our ability to do is threatened or, worse, incapacitated?

Well, perhaps a bit less gets done, but that isn’t really the issue, is it? If it were just about the to-do list itself, it would be rather easy to deal with. I could rely on others or just live with the undone (ok, I already do some of that—hence the unfolded laundry piling up). But, as with most anything, when our way of being is flipped on its head for one reason or another, a whole lot of unprocessed “stuff” comes up. Beliefs about how things should be. Beliefs about ourselves. Guilt. Anxiety.

Being a mind/body coach helps give me a clue as to why I feel so uncomfortable without my security blanket of doing, but it doesn’t make it any easier, I assure you.

UN-Winding

I am taking on the challenge of un-winding a whole slew of busyness habits that aren’t serving me. Un-winding habits is what I help clients do, so it’s good to take a dose of my own medicine. The following points are like coaching 101, but the methods are so essential that they bear repeating, no matter how many times you’ve heard them:

• Challenge outdated thoughts and belief systems that keep old habits stuck in place. This is like clearing out the clutter of a house to make room for beautiful new furniture. It is tiresome and somewhat unpleasant to assess everything and decide what stays, move the outdated stuff, figure out where to put everything, and finally sweep up all the dust bunnies. For me, this means assessing all the thoughts that have me wanting to stay busy. For example:
o I should be doing more
o I’m not okay if I’m not busy
o There’s so much to do
o I can’t let people down
o I should be able to do it myself
o I can do one more thing

• Replace old thoughts with new, better-feeling thoughts. The trick here is to replace old thoughts with new ones that feel slightly better but are still true. This is vastly different from just trying to think positively (the positive thoughts would probably feel great, if only we believed them!). The newness of changing our thoughts feels awkward and clunky at first. But with practice, it starts to feel like home. Here are my replacement thoughts:
o I should be doing more > more is overrated
o I’m not okay if I’m not busy > it’s okay to rest
o There’s so much to do > there’s so much to be
o I can’t let people down > I can’t let me down
o I should be able to do it myself > I can’t do everything
o I can do one more thing > I can sit down for just five minutes

• Ride the waves of feelings without getting caught up in the story. I’m now convinced that staying busy is a way to avoid feeling (as is compulsive eating or spending, alcoholism, etc.). Now that this “anesthesia,” isn’t available to me, all I’m left with is the feelings I’ve been working so hard to avoid. So, as with most things, the only way out is through. I need to actually feel the feelings. Sadness for not being able to do what I usually can. Fear that my energy won’t return. Guilt for not contributing as much in the household. Confusion about knowing which habits to tackle first. Anger for having to deal with the whole situation in the first place.

• Breathe.

• Stay grounded. For this, I draw on my yoga background and do the pose called Tadasana, or Mountain pose. Feel the “four corners” of the feet. Place the pelvis directly over the heels so the weight is in the heels instead of the toes. Imagine roots going down into the center of the earth. Soft knees. Drop the shoulder blades, as if putting them in back pockets. Long spine. This is about taking a stand—for my health, my wellbeing, my values. From this position, I can handle anything.

• Incorporate new, healthier habits in baby steps. For example, I have been meditating in the morning for a while now (this habit took six years to fully adopt—yes, six), but I have been intending to meditate at night too because I think more relaxation would really help right now. I kept avoiding starting this new habit because getting 15-20 minutes of alone time in the evening seemed selfish and indulgent when there was dinner to make, dishes to be done, baths to give, stories to be read, etc. So I bit off the very smallest chunk of time I could muster—just a few mintues—to spend some time un-winding. Instead of thinking of it as meditation (which feels a little too official and forced), I call it a re-boot. I lay down. I breathe. I allow my body to slow down, engaging the relaxation response (the opposite of the fight or flight response). I don’t keep a timer or anything rigid. I let it feel delicious, instead of like an obligation. When I feel like I've had enough, I get up. Sometimes it’s one minute and sometimes it’s 10. I return feeling rejuventated and ready for the evening. Someday I might do more, or I might not. Baby steps.

Un-winding habits is not easy, but with stakes as high as they are for me, I’m taking stock and starting to make some important changes. What about you? Do you have a habit of being busy all the time? What is your busyness costing you? What would it take for you to slow down?

Photo by Patrick Brian

Another Step Forward

If you’ve ever been through a healing process of any kind, whether from an injury, surgery, a divorce or loss of a loved one, you know that physical or emotional healing is not linear. It feels as though it is two steps forward and one step back most of the time. This is how it’s been for me since my surgery a few weeks ago. I get my energy back and start feeling really good and then I push a little too hard and BOOM, I’m back on the couch for a day or two, feeling less than stellar.

My mind wants my body to be fully recovered. Although I’m pretty good at listening to my body, my mind can be pretty darned convincing. It consistently tries to override the signals I get from my body. For example, this past weekend, I planted flowers in the morning and ran a few errands in the afternoon on Sunday. It was nothing too crazy, but once I came home, my energy was low and my first thought was that I wanted to sit down for a while. Within mere moments, my mind kicked into gear with a familiar pattern, the gist of which goes something like this: I can do just this one more thing and then sit down later. I need to do [insert task] because [insert person] wants [insert result] and I wouldn’t want them to feel [insert uncomfortable feeling].

Sound familiar?

The bottom line is that I do lots of tasks hoping to please other people or feel the familiarity of being “productive” at the expense of taking care of myself. Niiiiiicccee. But these days, when I’m miserable on the couch a few hours later because I didn’t heed the whisper to sit the heck down, my body is talking back.

Why, you may ask? Well, here are a few of my reasons:

• I want to make other people’s lives easier. I’ll often trade my inconvenience for their convenience, especially if they’re ultimately doing something to help me (more on that topic later).

• I want to contribute. I want to do what I can to make another person’s experience better.

• Being productive feeds my self-worth. I feel more valuable when I’m doing something. And I don’t think I’m alone. This culture values busyness over almost anything else.

• I don’t want to be seen as selfish or lazy.

• I don’t want to feel guilty while someone else does something I think I should be able to do.

I would guess that most people have a fundamental value to be of service to others. And most people want to do things for their family members and society as a whole. I am certainly not questioning these values. What I’m talking about is much more insidious than that. It’s going way past our own limits in the name of being of service, and who wants that? It’s the opposite of self-care.

So what to do? I’m still on a pretty significant learning curve here, but I’m starting to recognize when when my energy starts to wane and my body starts telling me to slow down. Instead of considering it “one step back” (which upholds the “I should be productive!” way of thinking), I’m actually starting to think of it as an invitation to rest. It’s another step forward, in the direction of health and healing.

Resting is something that is rather hard to do, at least for me. But it is absolutely the most important thing I can do right now because my body heals best when it’s relaxed and free of tension. This is requiring a radical change in the way I think. I'm up for the challenge.

Riding the Wave

I was all set to finalize a post I’ve been working on about the extreme irony about the treatment decision I’ve made (lumpectomy and radiation – be careful about what you resist because it does persist!). But, I’ve decided to delay that post in favor of a new topic that seems to be bursting out of me. Sometimes the material writes me, I swear.

Anyway, the topic that wants my attention now is what it’s like to ride waves of emotion without drowning in them. Do you know what I mean by drowning in emotion? Like how feelings are sometimes so strong that you think you’ll never feel any other way? Well, yesterday was just one of those days. I was on an emotional roller coaster all day long. Normally, the darkness of “uncomfortable” emotions would zap me of all my energy, and I would end up feeling ashamed on top of everything, thinking I should have handled things differently. This time, however, I was able to pay attention and observe my experience as though I was watching a movie, and I learned a lot. Allow me to explain…

Most of the time since my diagnosis, I’ve been feeling pretty centered. I’ve actually surprised myself at how much better I feel than I would have expected. I am acutely aware of how much all the inner work I’ve done has helped me and how much I’ve grown. A few years ago, I think this diagnosis would have caused me to turn into a giant sphere of panic. But now, instead of letting my mind go crazy with unhelpful thoughts about impending doom, I’m able to recognize a big fat story in my mind (say, for instance, about the horrors of radiation), and and turn it into something much more grounded and, for that matter, true. I have had moments of freak out, for sure, but overall I’ve remained pretty darned calm.

Until yesterday.

I was trying to get the girls ready for school. After what seemed like a year of rainy days, Clara looked at the dreary weather and asked, in her most plaintive voice, for a snuggly “stay home day.” There’s nothing like a little mommy guilt to get the morning started (I should stay home with them! I’m selfish to take them to daycare on a day like this!). So I indulged some extra play time before taking them to daycare. After a typical round of arguing over toys, yelling mixed with a dose of whining, and some good old fashioned stalling, my patience had finally worn thin, and I got mad. I shoved Lauren’s coat forcefully into her backpack and accidentally hit my finger (with what, I have no idea). I hit it really hard. And it hurt. A lot.

Interesting how physical pain can open the door to smoldering emotional pain that has been trapped beneath the surface, just waiting to be released. The proverbial floodgates had opened, and I started crying. And crying. And crying.

The girls got quiet and said, “mommy, I’m sorry.” That brought on another wave of guilt, as I tried my best to reassure them that it was not their fault. It was just that mommy was scared and sad and uncertain and generally emotional. (They know I’m going to the hospital next week, but they don’t know all the gory details.)

When I dropped them off and got back into the car, I experienced another wave of tears. And when I got home, another. This time, I was finally alone in a place where I could just let myself emote freely. I sat on the couch with a blanket and cried for the better part of an hour. I felt wave after wave of extreme sadness.

My first inclination was to analyze my feelings by putting words to them. Perhaps you’ve done this too: “Why am I feeling this way? What is wrong with me? What is going on here?” We tend to think a feeling isn’t valid until we find a reason for it. I was falling into the same trap. But that’s what it is, a trap. Because you can’t THINK your feelings. You need to FEEL them.

I noticed myself starting to analyze what was going on and realized that finding just the right reason for my sadness wasn’t actually going to help me feel the sadness. And the only way for it to pass completely (and not get stuck) is to feel it. So I made a conscious effort to do just that, without changing a thing. I observed what was going on in my body (sunken chest, ache in my heart, shallow breathing, tears welling up, tension around my eyes). I watched my thoughts as they passed on by. I allowed the sadness to get as big as the room so I could study how it affected me.

What a gift I gave myself: I didn’t stuff my feelings, diminish them, minimize them, rationalize them or avoid them. And I didn’t get overtaken by them. I just felt them. I told myself, this is what sadness feels like. I can do sadness. Oh, and there’s the fear and uncertainty. I can do those too.

Wow, what a difference from how I’ve dealt with my emotions in the past. This time I felt cleansed instead of miserable. Relieved instead of depressed. So I started thinking about how I can remember to do this all the time, and I came up with a little tool that really helped me. I hope it helps you too:


NOW ON WAVE

Notice – At any point along the wave of emotion, you will become aware that something is up. It may be at the beginning of the wave or you may already be halfway through a pint of ice cream before you notice anything. No matter, just start paying attention.
Open – Open the door to the feeling. Breathe.
Welcome – Welcome the feeling, even if it’s uncomfortable. Remember, it’s just a feeling. It will pass, as would any wave.

Observe – Observe how your thoughts want to distract you. They invite you to get wrapped up in their drama (“I have no right to feel this way. I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t cry in front of other people. I’m going to eat a bag of potato chips. Etc. Etc.”). Don’t fall for it. Put them aside for now—you can always come back to them. Start paying attention to what you’re feeling instead. Observe what happens in your body. Get curious.
Name – Start naming your experience. This is where you can use your analytical skills, but do so sparingly. First name the feeling (start with mad, sad, glad or scared). Then identify short descriptions of what you are feeling in your body (using feeling words, like hot, cold, tingly, tight, flat, etc.). For example, “I feel angry. My body temperature is rising. I feel tightness and heat in my neck and shoulders. My belly is clenched.”

Watch – Keep watching. When you are in the position of “watcher,” or observer, you can’t also be an actor in the drama.
Allow – Give yourself freedom to feel whatever is there. Give it space.
Veer – Direct your attention toward the worst part of the feeling, instead of away from it. Acknowledge the feeling as though it were a child wanting your attention. Hello, I see you.
Expand – Let the feeling get huge. Allow it to fill the whole room so you can study what it feels like. Keep watching it as it travels and changes. Watch as it finally dissipates and subsides. Then you’re work is done.

Do this exercise as often as needed. The more you do it, the better you will get at it.

Photo by hakahonu

Dear Cancer,

Hi there, I’m Kristin, although you probably already know that because you have apparently taken residence in my right breast. I’ve been hiding from you but I see you now, and I know you see me. I can’t say that I’m glad you’re here, but I guess I’m not that surprised either. Perhaps at a very deep level, I always knew you would come.

I was the one in the back of the classroom with my eyes down, avoiding eye contact so you wouldn’t pick me. Please, please don’t pick me. I’ve winced at the mere thought of you ever since I can remember. I have structured my entire life around avoiding you. Seriously, I don’t understand. I’ve done all the right things. Ask anyone.

Just a few examples: I don’t have a microwave in my kitchen because radiation freaks me out. I stopped chewing gum years ago because aspertame is a proven carcinogen. I don’t drink soda, never have. I gave up meat in order to avoid hormones and antibiotics. I eat organic vegetables, lots of them. I drink green smoothies. I buy BPA-free plastic. I make a good faith effort to buy products where I recognize every single ingredient—the fewer (ingredients) the better. I don’t eat much sugar or gluten. I don’t drink coffee. I pay very close attention to everything I put in my body. I do yoga and meditate every day. So what the f*#k? Why me?

Maybe that’s my answer. I try too damn hard.

The filter of my life—the lens through which I see almost everything—is health and wellness. Some people judge things based on their image or how they will look to others. Others by money and success. Still more by intelligence or competence. I judge them by health. So now what does this mean? Am I no longer healthy because you’re visiting? I have a problem with that, I gotta tell you.

Of course I wonder why you’re here. I have lots of questions that I hope you will help me answer. Did I do something to invite you in? Did my thoughts or habituated patterns create you? Or is it something bigger… did my soul invite you in to facilitate a big change that couldn’t have happened any other way?

I don’t get the feeling that you’re here to kill me. You have a reputation as being big and scary and mean, but I don’t see you that way. I see you as a messenger, a teacher.

I have something to learn from you, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.

The ever-vigilant student in me wants to understand your message right away. What do I need to do to learn this particular lesson? How can I figure this out? But as I write this, I realize you’ve just taught me your first lesson. Maybe there’s nothing I need to do. Maybe this is more about receiving, allowing, softening. Ok, I’m with you so far. I hear you.

No matter what happens, cancer, I want you to know that I consider myself your faithful student. You have my full attention. I have moved to the front of the classroom. I am looking up, making eye contact and listening to you with my whole body.

My commitment to you is that I will respect you and your wise teachings. I trust that you will teach me what I need to learn in your own time, in your own way. I will do my best to allow your message to soak into my being and change me for the better.

I have a request of you as well. I ask that you share what you need me to know fully and completely so we can respectfully part ways forever.

Sincerely,

Kristin

BETTER ME vs. REAL ME

Ok, I admit it. Sometimes I desperately want to be better than I am.

I’m kind of a striver that way.

I pursue mind/body integration and personal growth with an intense vigor. Because BETTER ME is always on the horizon. I can see her.

Maybe that guru over there can help me become her. No really. This time, I just know I can achieve the ideal version of me. Just this one more seminar.

BETTER ME manages her emotions in the healthiest way possible. BETTER ME is funny and cool and always has a witty comeback. She is generous and kind. She puts herself out there without fear. She is always concious and present and deeply connected to her highest, authentic self. She’s in tune, dude. Enlightened, even.

BETTER ME is infinitely patient. She treats her family members with respect at all times. Without ever losing her cool. Or being moody. Or throwing a tantrum like her four-year old.

BETTER ME is a vast ocean of deep peace.

I pretend to be BETTER ME a lot. I am willing to protect BETTER ME with a fierceness you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. When my husband points out something about me that drives him crazy (say, for instance, that I’m too emotional), I defend BETTER ME with a vengeance. I cling to the notion that as BETTER ME, I manage my emotions without blowing up. So as I’m clinging and grasping and protecting and defending BETTER ME, I yell, “I am NOT too emotional” (while all steamed over something completely inconsequential). I might even slam a door or two. Kinda like a tantrum.

The funny thing is that REAL ME knows I’m too emotional. And moody. And I sometimes throw a rousing tantrum. And REAL ME is okay with all of that. So there’s nothing to defend. If I’m accused of being too emotional, REAL ME owns it: Yep, you gotta a point there. And you’re still here. Cool.

What about you? Is BETTER YOU smarter than REAL YOU? More productive? More competent? Less messed up?

Imagine how much easier life would be if you dropped the need to defend BETTER YOU and embraced REAL YOU.



Photo by Cyril Breton