I recently discovered how it feels to be vulnerable. Apparently, I have been knee jerking the feeling away for quite sometime - likely since childhood. Now that I have experienced vulnerability and lived to tell about it, I am fascinated with the potential strength that vulnerability can unleash.
My recent experiences have identified a few different faces of vulnerability. In each situation, I arrived at the same vulnerable interlude but from very different angles. In the first scenario, I expressed some deep personal needs to a close friend, who then aggressively challenged my needs. In the other situation, I asserted some important personal boundaries to a stranger, but did so in a very public, very rude way. After the above scenes played themselves out, I was left feeling small and contracted, protective and fragile, guilty and ashamed. In summary, I felt like the weakest version of myself.
When I feel any of the above feelings, my immediate reaction is to do anything possible to reverse their progression. Even writing about these experiences makes me feel panicky. I hate, hate, hate to feel small, fragile and ashamed. I hate it so much that, after revealing my need for affection to a close friend, I would usually lash out in a way that would make affection towards me seem like a bad idea. I am so uncomfortable with feeling guilty that after previous conflicts with strangers, I have immediately called a like-minded friend in order to seek validation for my actions.
The common theme to both of my "vulnerable" experiences is that during each one, I was motivated by staying true to myself. With my close friend, I stuck my neck out to express needs that I had been trying to bury, but that kept creeping up regardless. Rather than retract my needs as previously stated or break out the emotional defenses that depended more on manipulation than sincerity, I stood my ground and let the vulnerability of laying it all out there set in.
Likewise, after I barked harshly at my stranger, I did not go externally to get judgment or validation. I gathered up my bad behavior and what was left of my self respect and spent several hours mulling over the proceeding emotions. I was conflicted because I had asserted myself in an important way, but had done so gracelessly. This made me feel proud, but immediately embarassed. Rather than call one of my amazingly supportive friends, I let myself feel this embarassment for a while, which helped me reconcyle everything internally first. Then, I called my friends to tell them the story, of course :-)
What I have discovered about feeling vulnerable is that treading in it for a bit doesn't kill you. Believe it or not, this is profound for me.
I have also found that my automatic responses to feeling vulnerable do not in fact make me less vulnerable, but rather less courageous. As I said above, these feelings surfaced when I expressed a need to someone that was then challenged. Apparently having needs makes me feel vulnerable. What I learned is that expressing these needs makes me courageous. Furthermore, not apologizing for these needs and open heartedly defending these needs makes me the bravest person on earth! (or at least the bravest version of myself :-)
I, for one, can not wait until the next time I feel vulnerable. I hope to harness that feeling of "Contracted Ashamed Protectiveness" and try to reinterpret it as "Unashamed Limitless Bravery".
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Happy Birthday Mom!
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
Paul H. Duhn
You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.
Les Brown
You're not forty; you're eighteen with twenty two years of experience.
Anonymous
And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln
Paul H. Duhn
You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.
Les Brown
You're not forty; you're eighteen with twenty two years of experience.
Anonymous
And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln
May I Live Like the Lotus
I recently visited a "Do It Yourself" pottery store. I chose an unfinished mug, picked out bright yellow and purple paint, and set out to capture inspiration via a morning cup of coffee. I had chosen the signature quote of Judith Hanson Lasater, a yoga teacher whom I respect very much, to decorate my mug: "May I live like the lotus, at home in muddy water."
When I first heard Judith repeat this mantra, I took it very literally. Having travelled to developing countries in Africa and South America, I knew my own discontent with being uncomfortable. Each trip made me realize how spoiled I am as a resident of the U.S. Temperature control is a wonderful thing, and after my first trip to a tropical country, I no longer took it for granted! So as I painted my cup with Judith's words, I meditated on the countries where I would travel in the future, and prayed for peace of mind in their metaphorical muddy waters.
Fast forward to the present. Currently, I am participating in a Shiva - the Jewish tradition in which family members sit for seven days after the passing of a loved one. Several family members are staying under one roof, sleeping, bathing, eating, and passing time in close proximity to one another. Emotions are high and issues long buried are coming to surface. My only true alone time takes place in the bathroom - where I do all of my best thinking anyway :-) As I got ready this morning, I found myself praying to be like the lotus, at home in these muddy waters.
I was surprised that I had not realized sooner the larger application of Judith's phrase. As I wade my way through these emotionally muddy waters, I find myself lacking. I am having trouble drumming up the compassion I routinely call on during my professional activities. When I need it most, it seems my well of compassion has run dry. Instead, I am spewing forth annoyance and anxiety. A situation that should inspire the best version of myself is triggering my "big fat jerk" tendency.
It is for this reason that my prayers to the lotus have changed. I no longer prioritize comfort in foreign lands, but rather courage to offer compassion in my own backyard.
When I first heard Judith repeat this mantra, I took it very literally. Having travelled to developing countries in Africa and South America, I knew my own discontent with being uncomfortable. Each trip made me realize how spoiled I am as a resident of the U.S. Temperature control is a wonderful thing, and after my first trip to a tropical country, I no longer took it for granted! So as I painted my cup with Judith's words, I meditated on the countries where I would travel in the future, and prayed for peace of mind in their metaphorical muddy waters.
Fast forward to the present. Currently, I am participating in a Shiva - the Jewish tradition in which family members sit for seven days after the passing of a loved one. Several family members are staying under one roof, sleeping, bathing, eating, and passing time in close proximity to one another. Emotions are high and issues long buried are coming to surface. My only true alone time takes place in the bathroom - where I do all of my best thinking anyway :-) As I got ready this morning, I found myself praying to be like the lotus, at home in these muddy waters.
I was surprised that I had not realized sooner the larger application of Judith's phrase. As I wade my way through these emotionally muddy waters, I find myself lacking. I am having trouble drumming up the compassion I routinely call on during my professional activities. When I need it most, it seems my well of compassion has run dry. Instead, I am spewing forth annoyance and anxiety. A situation that should inspire the best version of myself is triggering my "big fat jerk" tendency.
It is for this reason that my prayers to the lotus have changed. I no longer prioritize comfort in foreign lands, but rather courage to offer compassion in my own backyard.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Alternative Endings, aka Worst Case Scenario Trains of Thought
During a recent sitting session, I tried to create a joyful space, following the directions of a meditation article I had received in the mail. The article instructed me to remember a joyful feeling that I had once had and use this memory to change my present emotion. For me, choosing a situation to recreate was easy. In 1999, I traveled to Venezuela with friends and on a boat ride down the Paria Peninsula, we found ourselves in the middle of a huge pod of dolphins.
I had not wanted to go on the boat excursion, citing my fear of being in the middle of the ocean as the reason. My friends reassured me that we would skirt the coastline for the entire trip. Thirty minutes after departing, the "captain" of the small fishing boat consulted with his "crew" (ha, ha - it was a 16 foot boat) and turned the stern STRAIGHT out to sea. As the coastline moved further away, my stomach sank and I looked dreadfully out to sea. It was then that I noticed the first one cresting the water, then another. Soon there were pairs of dolphins jumping all around the boat. At one point, I counted close to 100 of them swimming in a giant circle all around. The experience was absolutely magical.
Initially, my left brain tried to control the situation: "Take pictures", "Capture the moment", "Click faster!", "Remember everything so you can tell your friends..." I fumbled with my camera, trying and failing to capture the dolphins mid-jump. Eventually I realized that with my face behind the lens, I was missing the experience. So I dropped the camera, turned my face into the ocean breeze and reached out into the ocean spray, surrendering to the sensations of the experience.
My right brain took over from here and my consciousness expanded. Being utterly present in this amazing moment, I felt my heart crack open and joy bubble into my throat. The tiny boat no longer contained the experience for me - gratitude spilled from my open heart, out of the boat and into the water. I felt utterly at peace. My left brain had quieted and was no longer trying to artificically capture the moment. I had given myself over to the blissfulness of the right brain.
As I sat in my house almost ten years later and meditated on the sheer beauty of this experience, it was relatively easy to reawaken these feelings. The difficulty proved in sustaining the joyful emotions for any length of time. At one point during my recollection, I jumped on a "Worst Case Scenario" train of thought. My imagination added an alternative ending, compliments of my pessimistic, anxiety ridden counter-self.
I imagined myself bouncing out of the boat as it hit an extra high wave. I saw a group of aggressive dolphins begin ramming me with their snouts, causing some major bruising before the boat could pull back around to rescue me. Once the boat did reach my brutalized body, I tried to heave myself in, causing the boat to capsize...
I got all this way before I realized that, instead of joy, I was creating anxiety. And even more disturbing, I was literally creating it from scratch, as these events never even happened! This self sabotage was amusing and disturbing at the same time. Creating a joyful space made me realize that I often do quite the opposite, out of shear habit.
I had not wanted to go on the boat excursion, citing my fear of being in the middle of the ocean as the reason. My friends reassured me that we would skirt the coastline for the entire trip. Thirty minutes after departing, the "captain" of the small fishing boat consulted with his "crew" (ha, ha - it was a 16 foot boat) and turned the stern STRAIGHT out to sea. As the coastline moved further away, my stomach sank and I looked dreadfully out to sea. It was then that I noticed the first one cresting the water, then another. Soon there were pairs of dolphins jumping all around the boat. At one point, I counted close to 100 of them swimming in a giant circle all around. The experience was absolutely magical.
Initially, my left brain tried to control the situation: "Take pictures", "Capture the moment", "Click faster!", "Remember everything so you can tell your friends..." I fumbled with my camera, trying and failing to capture the dolphins mid-jump. Eventually I realized that with my face behind the lens, I was missing the experience. So I dropped the camera, turned my face into the ocean breeze and reached out into the ocean spray, surrendering to the sensations of the experience.
My right brain took over from here and my consciousness expanded. Being utterly present in this amazing moment, I felt my heart crack open and joy bubble into my throat. The tiny boat no longer contained the experience for me - gratitude spilled from my open heart, out of the boat and into the water. I felt utterly at peace. My left brain had quieted and was no longer trying to artificically capture the moment. I had given myself over to the blissfulness of the right brain.
As I sat in my house almost ten years later and meditated on the sheer beauty of this experience, it was relatively easy to reawaken these feelings. The difficulty proved in sustaining the joyful emotions for any length of time. At one point during my recollection, I jumped on a "Worst Case Scenario" train of thought. My imagination added an alternative ending, compliments of my pessimistic, anxiety ridden counter-self.
I imagined myself bouncing out of the boat as it hit an extra high wave. I saw a group of aggressive dolphins begin ramming me with their snouts, causing some major bruising before the boat could pull back around to rescue me. Once the boat did reach my brutalized body, I tried to heave myself in, causing the boat to capsize...
I got all this way before I realized that, instead of joy, I was creating anxiety. And even more disturbing, I was literally creating it from scratch, as these events never even happened! This self sabotage was amusing and disturbing at the same time. Creating a joyful space made me realize that I often do quite the opposite, out of shear habit.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Feel the Fear - and Do It Anyway
I recently made a list of 10 things that I want for my life. It was an excellent exercise - although 10 may sound like a lot, it really forced me to prioritize. It also helped me identify how closely I am living my life towards these 10 ideals. After writing and rewriting this list, I determined that the thing I wanted most was "freedom from the fear."
I don't consider myself an overtly fearful person. Other than a healthy fear of small spaces and small airplanes, I don't necessarily shy away from challenges. I have survived giving speeches. I have taught yoga in front of 30 people, wearing moderately form fitting clothing when I didn't feel like being in form fitting clothes! I have eaten alone at popular restaurants, taken road trips by myself, and traveled in foreign countries alone.
The fear that plagues me is an undercurrent that holds me back from meaningful situations. It is the thought that makes me hesitate when expressing my true emotions, the self doubt that prevents me from trying new things. The insecurities that prevent me from expressing constructive criticism, or more boggling, stop me from sharing sincere praise and gratitude. It is the fear of feeling vulnerable, exposed for my deepest wishes, and utterly open to criticism. I find this absolutely terrifying!
Recently, this fear has come to play with my commitment to meditiation. I did not consider the awkwardness at having to step outside of my usual daily activities and excuse myself to meditate. I find myself too embarassed, at times, to tell my husband, "Ummm, don't bother me for 20 minutes, I am sitting quietly and breathing deeply." Instead of putting it out there, I wait until he goes to the gym or leaves for his office, and then I take my seat.
I know that this is self sabotage at its most ironic. It's not that my husband does not respect what I am doing. Granted, he has found it a little bizarre that his wife, who was previously cynical about all things religious, is suddenly talking about chakras and praying. Nonetheless, he is supportive and wants me to pursue this goal.
The reality behind my awkwardness is that I feel very exposed. I sincerely want a meditative practice, and yet I don't want anyone to see me struggle with this goal. I don't want my weaknesses out there - I don't want to appear "imperfect". I am also afraid of being made fun of, or mocked, and this kills me because I want to be credible in everything that I do. Too often I give in to the fear, foregoing meditation in order to avoid an awkward situation.
This fear is so subtle and yet so pervasive and inhibiting. My goal is to recognize when this subtle fear surfaces, and then subsequently influences my actions. Ideally, I can recognize the fear, push through it - and do what I am fearing anyway!
I don't consider myself an overtly fearful person. Other than a healthy fear of small spaces and small airplanes, I don't necessarily shy away from challenges. I have survived giving speeches. I have taught yoga in front of 30 people, wearing moderately form fitting clothing when I didn't feel like being in form fitting clothes! I have eaten alone at popular restaurants, taken road trips by myself, and traveled in foreign countries alone.
The fear that plagues me is an undercurrent that holds me back from meaningful situations. It is the thought that makes me hesitate when expressing my true emotions, the self doubt that prevents me from trying new things. The insecurities that prevent me from expressing constructive criticism, or more boggling, stop me from sharing sincere praise and gratitude. It is the fear of feeling vulnerable, exposed for my deepest wishes, and utterly open to criticism. I find this absolutely terrifying!
Recently, this fear has come to play with my commitment to meditiation. I did not consider the awkwardness at having to step outside of my usual daily activities and excuse myself to meditate. I find myself too embarassed, at times, to tell my husband, "Ummm, don't bother me for 20 minutes, I am sitting quietly and breathing deeply." Instead of putting it out there, I wait until he goes to the gym or leaves for his office, and then I take my seat.
I know that this is self sabotage at its most ironic. It's not that my husband does not respect what I am doing. Granted, he has found it a little bizarre that his wife, who was previously cynical about all things religious, is suddenly talking about chakras and praying. Nonetheless, he is supportive and wants me to pursue this goal.
The reality behind my awkwardness is that I feel very exposed. I sincerely want a meditative practice, and yet I don't want anyone to see me struggle with this goal. I don't want my weaknesses out there - I don't want to appear "imperfect". I am also afraid of being made fun of, or mocked, and this kills me because I want to be credible in everything that I do. Too often I give in to the fear, foregoing meditation in order to avoid an awkward situation.
This fear is so subtle and yet so pervasive and inhibiting. My goal is to recognize when this subtle fear surfaces, and then subsequently influences my actions. Ideally, I can recognize the fear, push through it - and do what I am fearing anyway!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Om....Ram....I love my dog....
I continue to play with different ways of meditating - mantras, meditation beads, counting my breaths, imagining streams of colored light entering my nostrils and heading towards my third eye! Don't laugh - these are all things I have practiced under the guidance of skilled yoga and meditation teachers. This afternoon, I was trying out a mantra I composed for a friend, "Om Ram Namo Namaha". I did not want to offer her a mantra that was awkward to repeat, or combine with breathing. My intention was to practice it today, with my own meditation.
My spare bedroom doubles as my meditation sanctuary. Next to an old futon, I have placed a meditation cushion, yoga mat and blankets and a little altar of sorts - a Ganesh statute and some elephant candle holders Mom gave me one Christmas. Today my body was loose - I had done yoga before sitting, so my hips, back and legs were open and ready for stillness. Once I settled onto the cushion and took my seat, I began breathing and repeating the words I had written for my friend. To my surprise, the mantra worked like a charm, helping relax my mind and focus my thoughts on the present. Until, Nookie, my maltese puppy, nudged his nose under my hand, demanding my attention.
Prior to this moment, he had been torturing Sam, my yorkshire terrier, with body slams and barking. This rowdiness in the beginning of my meditation is not uncommon. I often invite my dogs into the room while I am sitting, but usually my stillness calms them and within minutes they are lounging on the futon. Today was unusual. My mantra had helped me drown out the racket, but once the maltese turned his attention to me, I was helpless.
I tried for a second to ignore him. Afterall, the point of meditating is to shut out the outside world - right? Unfortunately, I get so much joy from my attention seeking puppies, to ignore them is to deny myself too much joy! Nookie and Sam seek attention so shamelessly - nudging, jumping and barking until I give in, which happened quickly today.
I opened my eyes and grabbed Nookie, trying to stay connected to the meditation by continuing my mantra - "Om ram namo namaha." As Nookie licked my forehead and I nuzzled his neck, my mantra changed, "Om ram I love my dog, Om ram I love my dog." I might be insulting a Sanskrit scholar by combining a chakra sound with a statement of love for my dog, but my intention is to honor the meditation and honor what brings me joy!
I am no longer going to ignore my dogs during meditation. I will instead incorporate them into the practice, until they are calm enough to sit with me. Including a loving, playful animal can only strengthen my attempts at increasing awareness and my attachment to the present. Afterall, dogs are not forward thinking animals. What they know IS the present - and all they care about is being with the ones that love. What a wonderful lesson they have to teach us!
My spare bedroom doubles as my meditation sanctuary. Next to an old futon, I have placed a meditation cushion, yoga mat and blankets and a little altar of sorts - a Ganesh statute and some elephant candle holders Mom gave me one Christmas. Today my body was loose - I had done yoga before sitting, so my hips, back and legs were open and ready for stillness. Once I settled onto the cushion and took my seat, I began breathing and repeating the words I had written for my friend. To my surprise, the mantra worked like a charm, helping relax my mind and focus my thoughts on the present. Until, Nookie, my maltese puppy, nudged his nose under my hand, demanding my attention.
Prior to this moment, he had been torturing Sam, my yorkshire terrier, with body slams and barking. This rowdiness in the beginning of my meditation is not uncommon. I often invite my dogs into the room while I am sitting, but usually my stillness calms them and within minutes they are lounging on the futon. Today was unusual. My mantra had helped me drown out the racket, but once the maltese turned his attention to me, I was helpless.
I tried for a second to ignore him. Afterall, the point of meditating is to shut out the outside world - right? Unfortunately, I get so much joy from my attention seeking puppies, to ignore them is to deny myself too much joy! Nookie and Sam seek attention so shamelessly - nudging, jumping and barking until I give in, which happened quickly today.
I opened my eyes and grabbed Nookie, trying to stay connected to the meditation by continuing my mantra - "Om ram namo namaha." As Nookie licked my forehead and I nuzzled his neck, my mantra changed, "Om ram I love my dog, Om ram I love my dog." I might be insulting a Sanskrit scholar by combining a chakra sound with a statement of love for my dog, but my intention is to honor the meditation and honor what brings me joy!
I am no longer going to ignore my dogs during meditation. I will instead incorporate them into the practice, until they are calm enough to sit with me. Including a loving, playful animal can only strengthen my attempts at increasing awareness and my attachment to the present. Afterall, dogs are not forward thinking animals. What they know IS the present - and all they care about is being with the ones that love. What a wonderful lesson they have to teach us!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Diastolic Time
I just read the most amazing, almost over-my-head book ever... It is called "Crossing to Avalon" and it is by Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD. The book has multiple themes, many of which are based in myths and ancient stories that represent the potential depth and expansiveness of women. I finished the book yesterday. In one of the final chapters, I came across a lovely reference to the importance of taking time to nourish yourself. The best part about this excerpt is that it is set in medical terminology - the language of my beloved colleagues.
Here it is:
"We need time out of our everyday, outer-directed lives, and not just at major life transitions, when it is most adviseable, but regularly. I think metaphorically of how necessary it is that we have 'diastolic' time. For it is during diastole that the heart relaxes and fills. During systole, the heart contracts and sends a powerful stream of lifeblood out. For the heart to work and provide susenance to the whole body, it must relax and fill. And so must we."
How many ways do we take care of others? I do not have children, but I watch as my mommy and daddy friends (e.g. friends with kids) sacrifice hours on end meeting the spoken and unspoken needs of their children. Instead of kids, I take care of my husband and my dogs, and travel to my home town to take care of family there. I spend a great deal of time away from my family (Mom, sisters, brother, grandmother) drumming up ways to take care of them from a distance. As a healthcare provider, I take care of my patients and whenever possible, my colleagues. I also take care of my circle of local friends, and deliver virtual hugs to my extended network of long distance friends, in the form of emails, phone calls, cards and prayers.
Women and nurturing men find it easy to sacrifice themselves in order to take care of others. We intuitively know when others need us, and often try to deliver before anything is asked of us. We find it rewarding to "send a powerful stream of lifeblood out" to those we love. Dr. Bolen's words remind us that this lifeblood flows forward because we allow our heart to "relax and fill", to experience diastole. A heart that does not take the time to relax does not fill to its maximum, and has a decreased lifeblood flow - it sends out only a fraction of its potential.
This is the same for a woman or man who does not take time to nourish themselves. How well do you care for your children when you have not cared for yourself. My mommy and daddy friends tell stories of not showering or sleeping well for days, and being completely frustrated by the endless demands of their children. They feel like failures because they can not keep up or because they lose their tempers, and yet they are exhausted and overwhelmed. How can they be expected to deliver a full heart when they are not taking time to relax and fill?
In a small way, it is similar to when I work multiple shifts in a row at my job. After my fourth consecutive ten hour shift, I find that my compassion for my patients signficantly decreases. I may be treating a patient with the same exact symptoms as on my first shift, but my reaction to this latter patient is blunted by my exhaustion at doing nothing but eat, sleep and work for four days in a row. In addition, when I feel overwhelmed by obligations, I lose track of my local and long distance friends. When I lose the connection with my friends' lifeblood or pulse, I lose the ability to show up for them when they least expect it, but may need it most. As a woman who deeply values her connection to others, this leaves me feeling isolated and discontent.
Stepping off the cycle of self neglect and initiating a ritual of self nourishment is completely ignored, or never even realized, by many of those around me. We are taught to push through the frustrations, because if we can't overcome our overcrowded schedules, we will be considered failures. The key is to identify what helps you to relax and fill. For some of my friends, it is exercise. For others it is a nap and a bath. For me, it is a combination of exercise, yoga and meditation. I am also nourished by long conversations with best friends and a good book. Whatever works for you, it is time to simplify, slow down and get back to the basics. Once we make room for ourselves to relax and fill, we renew our ability to give back to others and ensure a powerful stream of lifeblood flow.
Here it is:
"We need time out of our everyday, outer-directed lives, and not just at major life transitions, when it is most adviseable, but regularly. I think metaphorically of how necessary it is that we have 'diastolic' time. For it is during diastole that the heart relaxes and fills. During systole, the heart contracts and sends a powerful stream of lifeblood out. For the heart to work and provide susenance to the whole body, it must relax and fill. And so must we."
How many ways do we take care of others? I do not have children, but I watch as my mommy and daddy friends (e.g. friends with kids) sacrifice hours on end meeting the spoken and unspoken needs of their children. Instead of kids, I take care of my husband and my dogs, and travel to my home town to take care of family there. I spend a great deal of time away from my family (Mom, sisters, brother, grandmother) drumming up ways to take care of them from a distance. As a healthcare provider, I take care of my patients and whenever possible, my colleagues. I also take care of my circle of local friends, and deliver virtual hugs to my extended network of long distance friends, in the form of emails, phone calls, cards and prayers.
Women and nurturing men find it easy to sacrifice themselves in order to take care of others. We intuitively know when others need us, and often try to deliver before anything is asked of us. We find it rewarding to "send a powerful stream of lifeblood out" to those we love. Dr. Bolen's words remind us that this lifeblood flows forward because we allow our heart to "relax and fill", to experience diastole. A heart that does not take the time to relax does not fill to its maximum, and has a decreased lifeblood flow - it sends out only a fraction of its potential.
This is the same for a woman or man who does not take time to nourish themselves. How well do you care for your children when you have not cared for yourself. My mommy and daddy friends tell stories of not showering or sleeping well for days, and being completely frustrated by the endless demands of their children. They feel like failures because they can not keep up or because they lose their tempers, and yet they are exhausted and overwhelmed. How can they be expected to deliver a full heart when they are not taking time to relax and fill?
In a small way, it is similar to when I work multiple shifts in a row at my job. After my fourth consecutive ten hour shift, I find that my compassion for my patients signficantly decreases. I may be treating a patient with the same exact symptoms as on my first shift, but my reaction to this latter patient is blunted by my exhaustion at doing nothing but eat, sleep and work for four days in a row. In addition, when I feel overwhelmed by obligations, I lose track of my local and long distance friends. When I lose the connection with my friends' lifeblood or pulse, I lose the ability to show up for them when they least expect it, but may need it most. As a woman who deeply values her connection to others, this leaves me feeling isolated and discontent.
Stepping off the cycle of self neglect and initiating a ritual of self nourishment is completely ignored, or never even realized, by many of those around me. We are taught to push through the frustrations, because if we can't overcome our overcrowded schedules, we will be considered failures. The key is to identify what helps you to relax and fill. For some of my friends, it is exercise. For others it is a nap and a bath. For me, it is a combination of exercise, yoga and meditation. I am also nourished by long conversations with best friends and a good book. Whatever works for you, it is time to simplify, slow down and get back to the basics. Once we make room for ourselves to relax and fill, we renew our ability to give back to others and ensure a powerful stream of lifeblood flow.
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