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[Note: This JOT is adapted from Mother Nurture - a book written for mothers - focusing on typical situations that are experienced by many, though not all, mothers during the years before their children enter grade school. These are most commonly the years when mothers (biological and adoptive) experience the greatest demands of parenting.]
Liking feels good, plus it encourages us to approach and engage the world rather than withdraw from it. Your brain continually tracks whether something is pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. In essence, is it a carrot, a stick, or safely ignored? Naturally, we like - we enjoy - what's pleasant, dislike what's unpleasant, and wish what's neutral would get pleasant pronto.
[Note: This JOT is adapted from Mother Nurture, a book written for mothers - focusing on typical parenting situations and gender differences that are experienced by many, though not all, mothers and fathers, and by parents in same sex relationships.
The title of this practice is a little tongue-in-cheek. What I mean is, most of us - me included - spend time worrying about criticism: past, present, and even future. Yes, try hard, keep agreements, "don't be evil," etc. But sooner or later - usually sooner - someone is going to point out the error in your ways.
Painful experiences range from subtle discomfort to extreme anguish - and there is a place for them. Sorrow can open the heart, anger can highlight injustices, fear can alert you to real threats, and remorse can help you take the high road next time.
It takes heart to live in even ordinary times. By "taking heart," I mean several related things: - Sensing your heart and chest - Finding encouragement in what is good both around you and inside you - Resting in your own warmth, compassion, and kindness; resting in the caring for you from others; love flowing in and love flowing out - Being courageous, whole-hearted and strong-hearted - going forward wisely even when anxious, knowing your own truth and as you can speaking it
You may have seen the old Mickey Mouse movie in which he is working at a conveyor belt in a factory. More and more widgets come at him that he has to handle, and he gets increasingly frazzled as he struggles to keep up.
Want to try a little experiment? Stop breathing. Really. For a few seconds, maybe a few dozen seconds, and see how it feels. For me, this experiment is an intimate way to experience a deep truth, that we live dependently, relying on 10,000 things for physical survival, happiness, love, and success.
The human body has about 100 trillion cells (plus another ten quadrillion microscopic critters hitching a ride, most of them beneficial or harmless). Each one of your cells has aims - goals, in a sense - controlled by its DNA: cells conduct processes aimed at particular functions, like building bones or gobbling up harmful invaders. Cells also work together in larger and larger assemblies in pursuit of broader goals, such as the 100 billion neurons in your brain that run the nervous system, which as a whole is itself the master regulator of the body.
Feeling both the world and myself these days, one phrase keeps calling: lived by love. Explicitly, this means coming from love in a broad sense, from compassion, good intentions, self-control, warmth, finding what's to like, caring, connecting, and kindness.
Why? [Note: This JOT is adapted from Mother Nurture.] The easiest and usually most effective way to replenish your body is through good nutrition.
Meditation is to the mind what aerobic exercise is to the body. Like exercise, there are many good ways to do it and you can find the one that suits you best.
We all know this fear. You're walking down a street, someone you don't know comes toward you, and there's a second or more of wariness, scanning, apprehension, and tension or bracing in the body: a barely conscious assessment of possible threat. Or you step into a meeting with people you know and still there could be a watchfulness, a restraint, a certain carefulness in how you speak that comes more from subtle anxiety than reasonable prudence.
[Note: This JOT is adapted from Mother Nurture, a book written for mothers - focusing on typical parenting situations and gender differences that are experienced by many, though not all, mothers and fathers, and by parents in same sex relationships.
It’s easy to treat people well when they treat you well. The real test is when they treat you badly. (Much of what I say here applies to conce s about injustice or mistreatment that threatens or happens to others, from someone bullying a child to an oppressive government, but I will focus on the personal level.) Think of times you’ve been truly wronged, in small ways or big ones. Maybe someone stole something, turned others against you, broke an agreement, cheated on you, or spoke unfairly or abusively.
My wife and kids tease me that the title of this practice is corny - and it is. Still, I like it. If you don't nourish the things that nourish you, they wither away like a plant in dry stony ground. Looking to the year ahead for you - a year that can begin whenever you want - what's one key thing that will bear lots of fruit for you if you take care of it?
Things come at us with so much urgency and demand these days. Phones ring, texts buzz, emails pile up, new balls have to be juggled, work days lengthen and move into evenings and weekends, traffic gets denser, financial demands feel like a knife at the neck, ads and news clamor for attention, push push push PUSH.
We evolved to be afraid. The ancient ancestors that were casual and blithely hopeful, underestimating the risks around them - predators, loss of food, aggression from others of their kind - did not pass on their genes. But the ones that were nervous were very successful - and we are their great-grandchildren, sitting atop the food chain.
It's kind of amazing: right now, what you think and feel, enjoy and suffer, is changing your brain. The brain is the organ that learns, designed by evolution to be changed by our experiences: what scientists call experience-dependent neuroplasticity. Neurons that fire together, wire together. This means that each one of us has the power to use the mind to change the brain to change the mind for the better. To benefit oneself and other beings.
As our ancestors evolved over millions of years in small bands, continually interacting and working with each other, it was vitally important to communicate in hundreds of ways each day. They shared information about exte al "carrots" and "sticks," and about their internal experience (e.g., intentions, sexual interest, inclination toward aggression) through gestures, vocalizations - and facial expressions. Much as we developed uniquely complex language, we also evolved the most expressive face in the entire animal kingdom.
Painful experiences range from subtle discomfort to extreme anguish - and there is a place for them. Sorrow can open the heart, anger can highlight injustices, fear can alert you to real threats, and remorse can help you take the high road next time.
Compassion is essentially the wish that beings not suffer - from subtle physical and emotional discomfort to agony and anguish - combined with feelings of sympathetic concern. You could have compassion for an individual (a friend in the hospital, a co-worker passed over for a promotion), groups of people (victims of crime, those displaced by a hurricane, refugee children), animals (your pet, livestock heading for the slaughterhouse), and yourself.
I usually describe a practice as something to do: get on your own side, see the being behind the eyes, take in the good, etc. This practice is different: it's something to recognize. From this recognition, appropriate action will follow. Let me explain. Some years ago I was invited to give a keynote at a conference with the largest audience I'd ever faced. It was a big step up for me. Legendary psychologists were giving the other talks, and I feared I wouldn't measure up. I was nervous. Real nervous.
Most people spend most minutes of most days doing one thing after another. I sure do. Typing these words is a kind of doing, as is driving to work, making dinner, brushing one's teeth, or putting the kids to bed. For all the "labor-saving" devices of the past 50 years - dishwashers, phone machines, word processors, etc. - most of us are laboring more, not less. For example, in terms of employment, the average work week in America has gotten longer over the past 50 years.
This practice is definitely a case of teaching what you need to learn: I've been working through a big bucket of tasks lately with little chance to rest. (I console myself with knowing that the bucket is emptying a lot faster than it's filling with new tasks.)
In every moment, you and I and everyone and everything else - from quantum foam to fleeting thoughts, intimate relationships, rainforest ecosystems, and the stars themselves - are each a kind of standing wave, like the ever-changing though persistent pattern of water rising above a boulder in a river. We are the result of multiple causes flowing through us. As Buckminster Fuller famously said, "I seem to be a verb."
Each Thanksgiving holiday, we are reminded to be thankful. When times are tough, finding reasons to be thankful may be challenging or even seem inappropriate or impossible. This year, before we sit around the dinner table, let's think about the myriad benefits to saying thanks, and how to truly savor the opportunity, no matter what. What do you feel when someone thanks you for something? For a comment in a meeting, a task done at home, an extra step taken, an encouraging word.
I had a lightbulb moment recently: I was feeling stressed about all the stuff I had to do (you probably know the feeling). After this went on for a while, I stepped back and kind of watched my mind, and could see that I was thinking of these various tasks as things, like big rocks that were rolling down a hill toward me and which needed to be handled, lifted, moved, fended off, or broken into pebbles.
There I was recently, standing in the shower, my mind darting in different directions about projects in process, frazzled about little tasks backing up, uneasy about a tax record from 2010 we couldn't find, feeling irritated about being irritable, hurrying to get to work, body keyed up, internal sense of pressure.
In my early 20's, I went through Rolfing, a form of deep-tissue bodywork, and I nervously anticipated the 5th session, the one that goes deep into the belly. But instead of gobs of repressed emotional pain, what poured out was love - waves and waves of love that I'd pushed down due to embarrassment, fears of closeness, and my struggles with my mother.
There are always things that are getting worse. For example, over the past year, you probably know someone who has become unemployed or ill or both, and there's more carbon in the atmosphere inexorably heating up the planet.
When our kids were little, I'd come home from work wanting some peace after the daily roller-coaster and often walk into a living room full of stuff - toy trucks, tennis shoes, bags of chips, etc. Irritated, the first words out of my mouth to my wife would be: "How come there's all this mess?" Understandably, after a day chasing children plus juggling her own work, Jan would feel unfairly criticized and sputter back at me. Then there'd be a quarrel or a chilly silence. Not good.
Gravity and entropy are powerful processes in the natural world. Gravity draws things together, toward a center, while entropy scatters them into disorder. In much the same way, in our own lives, some things bring us to center, while others disturb and disperse us. In terms of centering, be aware of your whole body as you take a long slow breath, or think of something you're glad about. You'll probably feel more at home in yourself, more drawn into your own core rather than feeling like Garfield the cartoon cat, spreadeagled up against a pane of glass.
On a previous blog at the Huffington Post, I used the example of Stephen Colbert's satirical "March to Keep Fear Alive" as a timely illustration of a larger point: humans evolved to be fearful - since that helped keep our ancestors alive - so we are very vulnerable to being frightened and even intimidated by threats, both real ones and "paper tigers." With his march, Colbert was obviously mocking those who play on fear, since we certainly don't need any new reminders to keep fear alive.
Take a breath right now, and notice how abundant the air is, full of life-giving oxygen offered freely by trees and other green growing things. You can't see air, but it's always available for you. Love is a lot like the air. It may be hard to see - but it's in you and all around you.
It's one thing to stick up for yourself and others. But it's a different matter to get caught up in wrangles, contentiousness, squabbles . . . in a word: quarrels. Similarly, it's one thing to disagree with someone, even to the point of arguing - but it's a different matter to get so caught up in your position that you lose sight of the bigger picture, including your relationship with the other person. Then you're quarreling. You know you're quarreling when you find yourself getting irritated, especially with that sticky feeling that you're just not gonna quit until you've won.
It's been said that the most powerful tool for physical health is a fork (or spoon), since the choices you make with it determine the good or bad things you put into your body.
What could you offer? The Practice: Make the offering. Why?
One Christmas I hiked down into the Grand Canyon, whose bottom lay a vertical mile below the rim. Its walls were layered like a cake, and a foot-high stripe of red or gray rock indicated a million-plus years of erosion by the Colorado river. Think of water - so soft and gentle - gradually carving through the hardest stone to reveal great beauty. Sometimes what seems weakest is actually most powerful.
The truth of anything is like a mosaic with many tiles, many parts. One part of the truth of things is that they are robust and enduring, whether it's El Capitan in Yosemite or the love of a child for her mother and father.
Have you ever watched two people quarrel, or otherwise be stuck in a conflict with each other? Usually, if either or both of them simply acknowledged one or more things, that would end the fight.
In situations or relationships with any kind of difficulty - tension, feeling hurt, conflicts, mismatches of wants . . . the usual crud - it's natural to focus on what others have done that's problematic. This could be useful for a while: it can energize you, bring insight into what the real priorities are for you, and help you see more clearly what you'd like others to change.
Have you heard this saying? The most important thing is to remember the most important thing. What are the most important things to you? In your life as a whole? During a particular interaction with someone? Right this minute?
As a kid, I was really out of touch with my body. I hardly noticed it most of the time, and when I did, I prodded it like a mule to do a better job of hauling "me" - the head - around.
I once heard a Native American teaching story in which an elder, a grandmother, was asked what she had done to become so happy, so wise, so loved and respected. She replied: "It's because I know that there are two wolves in my heart, a wolf of love and a wolf of hate. And I know that everything depends on which one I feed each day." This story always gives me the shivers when I think of it. Who among us does not have both a wolf of love and a wolf of hate in their heart?
We spend so much of our time trying to get somewhere. Part of this comes from our biological nature. To survive, animals - including us - have to be goal-directed, leaning into the future. It's certainly healthy to pursue wholesome aims, like paying the rent on time, raising children well, healing old pain, or improving education.
Benevolence is a fancy word that means something simple: good intentions toward living beings, including oneself.
Once upon a time, a scholar came to visit a saint. After the scholar had been orating and propounding for a while, the saint proposed some tea. She slowly filled the scholar's cup: gradually the tea rose to the very brim and began spilling over onto the table, yet she kept pouring and pouring. The scholar burst out: "Stop! You can't add anything to something that's already full!" The saint set down the teapot and replied, "Exactly."
For many of us, perhaps the hardest thing of all is to believe that "I am a good person." We can climb mountains, work hard, acquire many skills, act ethically - but truly feel that one is good deep down? Nah!