Tag: life coaching

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Why we need to question the truth

As infants, we are nothing if not great observers. Helpless, we soak up the words, emotions, actions of our caregivers. Our decision-making defaults to what we’ve been handed through our genes, through Epigenetics, and childhood experiences. Since our parents are ‘without fault’ we trust and rarely question the ‘truth.’ But what if that truth is tainted?

Because it is.

Irrespective of who your parents are, or the parent you are to your children, the ‘truth’ we are taught and pass down is tainted. It’s inherited, and perhaps refined through the generations, but it’s based on a history of beliefs and how we’ve experienced life. We’re taught, and teach, what we’ve been programmed to believe, which can be positive or maybe not. Think for a minute about the first time you chose a political party. Republic, Democrat, Libertarian…lots of options these days. And for a barely legal adult of 18, whose brain is not yet fully formed, let’s be honest, the simplest option was to go with what Mom and Dad chose.

Which works, maybe forever, or maybe not. The point is not your political party, it’s the immense influence how we were raised has on our decision making, our evaluation of good and bad.

Where our ‘truth’ come from

I was primarily raised in Yosemite National Park. This is not a headline to anyone who has read my blog. Visitation was seasonal, with the majority of people flooding into the park in the spring, summer and early fall. Winter was crickets. Thus, the workforce fluctuated similarly, with around 800 additional employees, at that time mainly college students, arriving for the summer. As children, those of us living in the park saw those people, visitors and employees, and didn’t think much about them other than ‘will they buy lemonade from the stand I set up in my yard?’

While there wasn’t tremendous diversity in the ranks of those living in the park year-round, nonetheless, I don’t know that I could even detail it for you. Because, in my recollection, it was never a topic. Similarly, when my left foot was amputated at 4 while living in the park, it was not a topic. I started school that fall with the same friends I’d played with since moving to Yosemite and have zero recollection of it ever being an issue. Irrespective of race, disability, or sexual identity, honestly, my memory of that place and those days did not include conversations, about race, disability or sexual identity in a) my home from my parents, or b) in the community.

Was I naïve to it? Maybe. But that sense of inclusion carried forward into adulthood.

So, when I see people in any of those or other marginalized communities being treated differently because of a factor they can not change, I don’t understand. Or, I used to not understand. But as I’ve studied and come to understand that not all, in fact many people do not share my lens, my gratitude for a childhood experience that did not include discrimination swells. Was it there? Again, maybe, but not from my lens.

As I learn more from people different than me about their life experience – which is essential – my heart breaks a little more each time. I see the privilege automatically bestowed on me as a straight, white, woman. Factors that would never enter my mind as prevalent for many. I am also fortunate that the ‘programming’ I received from my parents was not exclusionary.

We must question the ‘truth’

But I have found, as you may have, myself in groups that are exclusionary. Subtly at first until I noticed it, and then it smacked me in the face, and I couldn’t unsee it. When you know that people you love would not be allowed to fully participate, the place you’ve chosen is no longer your place. This is when you must take a stand and question what has been said to be ‘true’, which is not easy. Because within the group you have belonging. And though you may only appear to have adopted their belief system, your belonging is dependent on it. So, when you begin to question, to wonder out loud if beliefs could be different, you risk your belonging.

Which none of us want to do.

But we must. If we find ourselves within a group or system that does not love, accept and celebrate all people, our belonging is not worth it. And I will tell you friends, that sucks. I won’t pretend it doesn’t. But our integrity is worth it. Belonging based on standing outside ourselves is nothing but hustling for our worth. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather standalone than hustle. If this is your journey, hang in there. It’s not easy, I know it’s not easy, but we must. We are brave. We have each other. Sending you love.

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What’s the worst that could happen?

Try it, you’ll like it.  The well-known catch phrase from the 70’s, not, as I learned while researching, from a Life Cereal ad, but instead, Alka Seltzer. Which makes it more apropos, because I’ve been pondering venturing into unknown territory. Leaving certainty. In the ad, the encouragement to try it is made with assurance because if heartburn arose, Alka Seltzer would surely resolve it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

I work with a coach of my own who frequently asks me, “what if you did it anyways?” I assure you this is one of dozens of ways she’s figured out work to challenge me to think counter to my certainty-based thinking pattern when it comes to branching out. As we labored through my resistance, she flipped a switch for me. Beginner’s fear, she called it, which is another form of Imposter Syndrome. Defined as,

 “The persistent inability to believe that one’s success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one’s own efforts or skills”

According to Buck Stewart on Medium, we may experience it when starting something new, a job, a skill, putting our gifts into the world for the first time.

In 2018 I attended Brave Magic with Elizabeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed at the 1440 Multiversity. Nestled in the Santa Cruz Mountains, the picturesque grounds and chill vibe give the illusion you’ll float through your experience. I did not. I believed it was a writing workshop, and it was. All about my inner shadows. Surrounded by 600 others, many published authors, I had the joy of sharing my writing with a perfect stranger, but only after digging deep into my soul. I felt over my head and intimidated the entire time. It was not chill. It was therapy. I downloaded the experience in this blog sharing the imposter’s syndrome that stayed with me through much of the weekend.

Several days have passed since idea of beginner’s fear was again posed to me, leaving time for multiple dots to connect. Namely that with anything new, including activities that tap into areas of strength, trepidation is not uncommon. You’re moving from certainty to relying on your experience and intuition. And the stakes are increased if the new thing includes uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure, aka, vulnerability.

Rewiring our minds for uncertainty

The path to wholehearted living requires we move from certainty into trusting intuition and faith. Predictability replaced with trust in yourself, having faith. But it’s not a matter of flipping a switch. Certainty is safe and unknown. Neurologically, our brains will search for what is familiar. We see different as a threat. Dr. Kristin Beasley, PhD, a trusted friend of mine, shared a compelling talk on just this topic, diving into the neuroscience behind how our brains see difference, particularly in regard to diversity, in her Quarantine with Dr. B series on Facebook. You can watch the episode on YouTube.

Our brains have the powerful ability to keep us safe, but we’re not being chased by a T-Rex on our way home from the grocery store. The more we expose ourselves to new experiences, challenges, people, the stronger the neurological pathways connecting different to safe instead of danger.

Embrace your intuition

Growth lies on the other side of certainty. And if we’re not growing, then what? For me, particularly now that I’ve hit the “middle of life,” becoming stale is not an option. Consciously aware that I’m walking out the second half of my life, the importance of growth and trusting my intuition is increasingly important. Midlife isn’t a dead end, it’s a spotlight. Showing us the areas in our life where we’ve been ‘phoning it in.’ It’s time to follow our inner calling and continue in spite of beginner’s fear because…

What’s the worst that could happen?

I, for one, am willing to walk it out. Are you with me? What’s the still, small voice within you saying? Perhaps it’s no longer quiet, but instead a loud roar. Friends, you are not alone. And I assure you, we are not imposters in our own lives. We are walking out our inner calling together. Trusting our intuition and rewiring our brains to embrace different. No one else will live it out for us. It’s our journey, let’s Be Brave.

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Giving yourself permission to dream

Dream big! The lesson of childhood. Embrace the unknown, explore, wander, daydream. My neighbor, Sarah, and I regularly gathered underneath the apple tree growing in the meadow in front of our houses. I have vivid memories of detailed planning for an apartment we were going to construct. First, in an underground bunker we’d dig in the bare dirt patch at the base of the tree. Second, in the branches of the tree, which we regularly climbed. We envisioned the separate living spaces and ‘fancy’ layout of our magical dream pad. Barbie’s dreamhouse paled in comparison. We couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 years old.

Though we valiantly dug in that dirt, and gazed skyward, our outdoor living spaces never came to be.

Why our dreams fade

But we had the dream, and we stuck with it. In the end, someone likely told us the infeasibility of our plan and it faded out of our minds. Children dream big. They can see what adults view as impossible because they haven’t been conditioned to believe otherwise. With the intent of protecting our kids from the heartache of disappointment, we gently squash their plans and keep them safe.

Slowly, year by year, we’re guided to reduce risk. Gently nudged towards a mindset of certainty. I’ll raise my hand and acknowledge that’s where I landed, in the sea of certainty. Trained to consider risk and minimize it in my decision making. Though I’ve rebelled against that thought pattern in some respects, my athletic pursuits for example, I’m staunchly in the camp when it comes to decisions that involve my own entrepreneurial spirit and stepping to the side of a traditional career.

Whose voice is squashing your dreams?

During a meditation and mindfulness workshop this morning, it dawned on me that the frustration I felt about my glacial paced activity to grow different aspects of my career wasn’t frustration at all. At the root of it was the judgement I imputed upon myself. The voice in my head wasn’t my own, it was the voice of authority telling me how foolish it would be to branch out. To step into a space of trusting my intuition and having faith in the process. Judgement for stepping outside of certainty.

And it made me think about how often we kill our own dreams before they have a chance to fully develop. Before they are ready to fly. When we have uncertainty about the outcome the tendency is to revert to planning. To engineer the risk out of the dream, making it benign enough that the risks are minimal. We wait for unspoken permission to pursue our own dreams. We shift from big sky dreaming to vanilla…and not even Madagascar vanilla…boring, plain vanilla.

What’s the fun of that?

Making space for dreaming

Embracing Brené Brown’s Wholehearted Living Guidepost of letting go of certainty and embracing intuition and faith, touches more than one area of our lives. It permeates throughout. We are not meant to be kept on a shelf, wrapped up neat and tidy. Think about a dream of your own, one that you set aside because you had to be “responsible.” Or that was risky. What did you gain by postponing or dropping it? What would you have gained by pursuing it? And…if you pursued it and it didn’t work out, what’s the worst that would have happened?

Imagine you allowed yourself to play through a dream or desire that churns inside you. What would be different in your life a year from now? Don’t get stuck in how to get there, dream. Allow your mind to go to the natural conclusion. Once you have that dream fully formed? Do it. Seriously. Stay focused on the end goal and move forward, one step at a time. The truth is you might only know the first couple steps. That’s ok. Start there and the rest will unfold at the time it’s supposed to. Be open, be curious, trusting your intuition.

I believe in you. The voices that tell you otherwise can take a hike, they are not living your life. You can keep waking up each day with unlived dreams or you can embrace them. Give yourself permission to pursue your dreams! We’re on the journey together friends. Be brave.

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What do you need to discover within silence?

Unexpected circumstances led to my son returning to live with me two weeks ago, accompanied by his puppy. Koa is a year and a half, we believe a full blood Australian Shepherd, and attached to Bodie’s hip. Seriously. She follows him everywhere and only now, two weeks in, do I see her entertaining the idea that I may not be a threat. Yesterday, she remained on the ottoman with my feet long after Bodie made his way upstairs. Win.

What lies in the silence?

I’m no canine expert, in fact only within the past few years have I completely overcome my intense fear of dogs. The multiple dog bites of my youth cemented that. But what strikes me about Koa is her silence. Rarely does she bark, I can’t recall hearing her whine – even when patiently sitting next to me while I prepare dinner using her mind melting skills…drop.the.carrot. She’s sweet as can be, but she’s also timid and shy. Less so as she warms up to me, but she hasn’t let down her guard yet.

As I’ve been observing her, coupled with Bodie’s belief that she was abused based on her behavior (he’s had her 2 months), I wonder about the life she lived with her prior owner. A life which resulted in her shying away, approaching you with her head down, responding in a non-correlative way to correction…far more reactive than the rebuke she’s given.

Unlocking your inner-self

My heart wishes that she could tell me what her soul feels. What is locked inside from her life experiences so that we could help heal her with our love.

It’s the same thing I want for myself. The same thing I want for you.

Literally zero people escaped their childhood without scars which impact how we interact with our selves, other people and the world around us. Zero. Do not try to tell me you’re the one because I’d be happy to dig into it with you. It doesn’t have to be catastrophic to be impactful. In fact, most of the time, it’s the day to day way you adapted to your circumstances that leave lasting imprints.

Armed with our unique lens, we land in the middle of life. Often ill equipped to maneuver our way through relationships with ourselves or others, we may remain silent. We may not have been taught the tools to talk about how we feel, what we’re experiencing, what we desire. Those were certainly not part of the parent manual I received. What to Expect when you’re Expecting told me what would happen to my body, how large the baby was, basically how to keep them alive once they were born. I do not remember one word about developing emotional literacy or talking about hard things.

We all need practice

Lacking the tools, we don’t express our hearts, what we’re feeling, what is happening within us. And within our inner silence, we know there’s more. We can sense it, feel it, taste it. But it’s just outside our grasp. We may be afraid of what’s happening in that inner space and falsely believe no one would love us if they really knew. Knew the thoughts we had, or our true desires. We’d be too much, we wouldn’t be meeting their expectations, we’d disappoint them.

Maybe.

Step into your full self

But at the end of the day, I’m starting to believe it doesn’t matter. We must cultivate our own story, put words to our experiences, discover what lies within our silence and allow ourselves to be seen and heard. Without our cover story. Simply as we are. Because we’re allowed to act differently, think differently, express ourselves differently. And when we don’t? We may as well be Koa, trapped within herself, silent…not able to express that she’s afraid, scared, nervous, or whatever it is she might be feeling based on her life thus far.

We have a choice. To step out of our own silence and into the light where we let people see who we are. Unafraid. Heads held high. I see you and am with you my friend. Be brave.

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How we can look for joy today

Do you have a guilty pleasure song? One which opens a window your inner design and at the same time brings your heart joy every time you listen to it? Yeah, me too. It’s Whitney, gone to soon, the diva, the queen. And although she rivals Celiné in my heart, her rendition of One Moment in Time…it’s the biz.

But let me clarify, it’s a song I listen to only when I’m alone. Often while cleaning the house. Blaring through the speaker as I sing like a trained soprano, with hand movements, and maybe a little swing in my hips. It’s my epic performance for an audience of one. I remember a time last year though when I wished that wasn’t the case. Here’s why.

What joy looks like

The joy I feel within myself when singing along with Whitney, getting my groove on…it’s a moment of freedom and a glimpse into my playful side, which honestly doesn’t come out often. I wished in that moment that someone close to me could that side, without my knowing or becoming self-conscious so I would continue, so that they’d know I’m more than the responsible front I put forward each and every day. They’d see the playful side.

I can explain in words that beyond my strong exterior lies the heart of a little girl who enjoys a good twirl. A girl wants to feel carefree and light, but unless that side is seen, it may seem like a hologram. I do believe there are people that regularly experience joy, but I also believe you must cultivate it, be mindful of seeking and bringing joy into your life.

Why joy is important

Our days are a mixed bag of experiences, light and cheery could quickly become hard and painful. No, really. That’s how it goes…at least for me. And hard and painful is enduring, it leaves marks. But when we can tap into joy, we find resilience. Joy reminds us that we feel and feel deeply. It reminds us that the dark won’t last forever. That we’re not numb, not powerless. We can make a choice. And honestly, resiliency is a choice. We must choose to bounce back, and that happens through joyful moments and practice.

How to bring joy into your day

Perhaps Whitney is not where you find joy. Perhaps you are also a savage.

I begrudgingly admit she’s not for everyone, but you know who your Whitney is. Whether it be a song, an activity, a movie, an experience, a person. You have that thing that reminds you of lighter times, casts a golden glow over your life. It’s a feeling of being carefree. Find it, bring it into your day, let your inner child come out and play. Remind yourself that the hard thing, it won’t always be there. It’s a moment, not your lifetime.

Make it a daily practice

Do I listen to Whitney every day? Lately, yes. We’re experiencing an unprecedented period in history. “It’s just the flu” no longer holds true. We’re facing a pandemic disrupting every corner of our life. If we’re not searching for joy, opening to it, we’re likely to find ourselves numb and lost. It’s hard and it sucks, for everyone to one degree or another. That part remains true.

But we can have hope. We can take a walk. Go on a social distancing bike ride. Play with kids, or your dog. Simple pleasures that mean everything, in this moment. Or, you can listen to Whitney. I will share her. You’re welcome.

Be safe, my friends. Bring in joy every single day so that you remain resilient. There are many aspects of our day to day we have no control over right now, but you can choose joy. We’re in this together. We’re brave.

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Lessons learned after a month of self-compassion

Within the so called ‘month of love,’ my wholehearted journey led me down a path I’d heard of, taken classes on, but avoided. Self-compassion, which is a type of self-love. Think of it like a hiking path that you see climbing the side of what appears to be a gentle, sloping hill. Around what feels like halfway up, you glance back to your progress, only to realize you’ve barely left the parking lot. And the hill gets steeper, pebbles and rocks threaten to trip you, sending you tumbling down, bruised in body and pride.

All that and more was the month of focusing on self-compassion. I’ve written about it in prior weeks, but as I near the end of the month, as you would with any project, I’m taking stock the distance traveled on the path. When you tune in and listen to your natural thought patterns about yourself, it can be astonishing. In a million years you would never utter the words to another human which you speak to yourself.

Why is that? Perhaps that no one hears it but us? It’s not an isolated problem. To the degree that you can find coffee cups and pictures with the phrase “talk to yourself like you’d talk to someone you love.” With certainly I can assure you Etsy could deliver you the object of your choice with the phrase, if you so desire. The negative chatter in our heads is incessant. I spent time getting curious about it this month and flipping the equation to look at what self-compassion would say. The negative talk? That’s generally perfectionism related and likely tied to comparison.

Ain’t nobody got time for that (or Ain’t nobody got thyme for that – if you’re follow my new kitchen towel – small pleasures friends).

Seriously, comparison is nobody’s friend. Self-compassion is kindness. Compassion and perfectionism tear us down. When we pay attention, we can catch ourselves in the act and switch to self-compassion. I did, all month, mostly consistently, and learned a few things.

Lesson 1

  • Listen to your body – The last few years, ok, more than the last few, but let’s not get distracted, specifically, the last few years, I’ve beat myself up because my body decided to drum up an autoimmune disorder. And sleep apnea – yes, I’m looking sexy in my CPAP each night. I’m now that person. Doctors can tell you only so much. What self-compassion told me is, “of course your tired, that’s part of the condition.” And when I offered self-compassion, my body whispered, “you can trust me.” That’s the element many of us miss. We can trust our own bodies. They know how to heal themselves and when they don’t? They let you know. And they also know when you’re throwing down buckets of negativity, and guess what, they don’t like it, and they get your attention. Self-compassion is being soft with yourself.

Lesson 2

  • Healing takes time – Physically and emotionally. Emotional wounds didn’t get there overnight and they’re not going away that quickly. My podiatrist told me the other day as I lamented about the continual discomfort in my foot… if you’d broken your foot, six weeks later you’d be healed. Soft tissue takes longer. And so do your emotions. Self-compassion is giving yourself space to heal. Knowing that your healing path may not look like someone else’s. Which is probably good because you don’t need to heal from their wounds.

Lesson 3

  • You can trust yourself – Perfectionism constantly looks for the ways you’re failing. A crack in the armor to seep in and crumble you. Self-compassion reminds you that there is no right or wrong way to approach your life. You can trust the path you’re on, and still, they’ll be mistakes. That’s normal. Everyone makes mistakes. Mistakes don’t mean you can’t trust yourself. You can. Mistakes mean you’re human.

Lesson 4

  • It’s ok to not have all the answers – Earlier in the month, I would have responded “are you sure?” Having answers for each possible contingency seems logical. Wise even. It allows you to reduce risk. But self-compassion reminds us that it’s ok not to have all the answers. The answers may come in giving yourself time and grace to discover it. It doesn’t make us weak, or less not to have answers. It’s another way we’re human.

Cumulatively, the lessons from self-compassion make me think about Brené Brown’s quote, “Strong back, soft front, wild heart.” She talks about it related to getting close up with people, being civil but speaking truth to BS, and holding hands with strangers. I’d extend these principles to yourself. Your self-compassion allows you to get up close, to speak truth to the lies you’ve told your heart and mind and hold hands with yourself – because we can be a stranger to ourselves.

Consider your own self-compassion journey this month. Perhaps you’ve followed along with mine, and if so, I hope you’ve been reflecting on what you’ve learned. We’ll shift next month, but we’re always on the journey together. Be brave my friends.

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Using creativity for self-compassion

When I committed to spend this month focusing on self-compassion, I may have bitten off more than I anticipated. The flip side to self-compassion is letting go of perfectionism and it’s possible that’s posing the larger challenge. Possible? More like, probable. I listened to a Tim Ferris interview with Brené Brown on his podcast this morning and perfectionism was, not surprisingly, one of their topics. One comment has left me thinking.

How do you let go of perfectionism and not become complacent?

You’ll have to listen to the podcast to hear their answer, which was honestly a non-answer. More so it was consideration, the lens that you’re gazing through. Looking at how we talk to ourselves about our behavior and activities in different situations. Focusing on being kind and curious instead of critical. It’s not saying, “I’m only doing a mediocre job in life but I’m not going to do anything differently.” That’s complacency.

Perfectionism is armor, it gets in the way of being wholehearted. I talked about it in last week’s blog. It’s less about doing well than avoiding blame and shame. Self-compassion is the antidote.

Ok, so conceptually, I can make the leap. But I have a confession, I’ve been focusing on this for more than a month. More like a couple years. The deep dive this month is with the laser focus of a little kid with a microscope pointed at a bug, but I’ve been noticing. Noticing the pattern of my self-talk. My internal narrative. Once riddled with “you’re an idiot,” shame when I made a mistake, calling myself “clumsy,” or “stupid,” it’s mellowed a bit.

Sheer determination is one reason for it, but I’ve also practiced. Crazy as it might sound, one of the ways I practiced was by taking up watercolor painting. I’ve mastered being inspired by something on Pinterest and then trying to freehand paint it myself. Around the same time I started dabbling with painting, my mom took a watercolor class, learning higher levels of technique. I have zero interest in that.

Here’s why. For one, I am not, nor do I intend to become, a professional painter. I have people in my extended family who are and admire their work. My painting is a creative outlet and allows me to make my own greeting cards. Secondly, a component of watercolor that I enjoy is not knowing how it’s going to turn out. Sure, you know what you’ve painted, but you don’t have the full picture of what it will look like until the paint dries. Painting has forced me to stay in a space of creativity and curiosity. I know and accept it’s not a space where precision is my goal.

Simply speaking kindly to yourself, letting go of the internal narrative of “not good enough” or “you did a crappy job on that,” is a step in the direction of self-compassion. The way I look at it, self-compassion takes an ABUNDANT amount of practice. I mean, a LOT. Taking up a hobby you know you’re ok at but not a master, and being OK with that, it’s practice. Staying in the space of “huh, that’s a bummer,” when you drop a glass tile from your bathroom remodel instead of beating yourself up about it, that’ self-compassion. (Incident purely fabricated…ok…not really, I dropped the tile…still finding glass chards in the garage this morning)

In and of itself, self-compassion isn’t perfection. It’s the opposite. So, the fact that we must practice it, that we don’t always do it well, that part of the deal. But we need to let go of perfection give ourselves a break. Usually we’re the toughest on ourselves, but at the end of the day, that’s a choice. As we continue working on shifting our midlife journey, we can choose otherwise… let’s choose self-compassion.

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The first step towards self-compassion

Wholehearted. The word itself is simple but the meaning, expansive. With wholehearted as my guiding word, I’ve chosen to focus each month in 2020 on one of Brené Brown’s guideposts for wholehearted living. January was the month to Cultivate Authenticity and let go of what other people think. Nothing like starting off with a bang.

Focusing on this guidepost proved interesting. When you capture your thoughts and take a moment to consider where your internal chatter comes from, at least for me, there were loads of other voices. Past authority figures, people I have relationships with, voices influencing my actions.  Up to the last day of the month, I was aware of it. On January 31st, I received a text from someone providing a piece of information. A simple piece of information. Next thing I know, I’ve added in inflection, backstory and motive and am responding to the story I created! The thing is, from an intellectual standpoint, I could see I was doing it. I later talked it through with a trusted friend and we called B.S. on the story I’d created.

Enter Self Compassion

Given letting go of what other people think (or at least the story of what I believe they think) was going to be ongoing as I grow in authenticity, February’s focus arrives just in time.  The second Guidepost for Wholehearted Living is ‘Cultivate Self-Compassion – let go of perfectionism’. Boy howdy, do I have more than a few things to say about that.

On the surface, perfectionism sounds innocent, an ideal, a quality to strive for. That’s a straight up lie. Yes, striving to do our best is a good thing. What’s not a good thing is believing that our worth is tied up in exceeding in all that we do. Brené Brown describes perfection as a “self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgement, and blame.”

If I think back to the text that threw me off last week, it was not only tied to what someone else thought (or at least the story I created about that), I fell into the perfectionism trap. Had I failed? Done something wrong? I inflected judgement and criticism into the words. The ‘addictive belief system’ of perfectionism does just that. It fueled the belief that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d failed, and the familiar shame spiral showed up like a summer tornado in Kansas.

Which is why self-compassion is so important. First of all, I created that spiral all by myself. The words were pure information, nothing else. I inflected judgement, blame and invited the shame to park in my mind. When I talked to my friend about it, said it out loud, named it, and the feelings began to diffuse. My amygdala calmed down. No longer was my mind flooded and I returned to seeing the words for what they were, information. She spoke kindly to me, acknowledged how I was feeling, and together we spoke about the facts.

Don’t miss this point. The kindness and acknowledgement she spoke to me? That’s what we can, and must, do for ourselves and when we do, it’s self-compassion. Speaking to ourselves the way we’d speak to a friend. And we need it, desperately. In a culture that provides endless opportunities to compare, to strive for perfectionism and avoid blame, shame and judgement, self-compassion is the antidote.

It’s going to happen. You’re going to start down the perfectionism path at some point this week. You may not even name it, but it’s inevitable. Yet, not insurmountable. Catch it. Name it. And talk to yourself like you’d talk to a friend. Because you are your closest friend, worth love, worth compassion. Be brave friends, we’re on this journey together.

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How to listen when intuition nudges

I can be a little over the top when it comes to cleaning. Last week was no exception. Staring mindlessly at the carpet, vacuuming, and I notice the filter looks gunky when I emptied it. EW! Easy remedy, I’ll rinse it off in my tub. I take the first step with the filter in hand, and next thing I know, my forehead is hitting the door, breaking my fall. As I lay there, dazed, my immediate attention went to my recently operated on foot. Miraculously, as the ground quickly approached, I managed to instinctively protect it. Small miracles. But my head…I paid for that for a couple days with a headache, and a clean vacuum filter.

You’d think I’d be treading lightly after that, and I thought I was. Sunday night, I was doing at home physical therapy. Using an exercise band around my foot, flexing against it. La-de-da, two, three, four, SNAP! Band off my foot and before I even knew it, smacked it in the face. What lesson was I missing that twice I’d narrowly escaped death?? (ok, maybe not death, but come ON!)

A few days later, facilitating a class at work, resting my leg on a chair while folks got organized for an activity. I go to take a step forward. Yep, say it with me. My toe caught on the chair and down I went, face first, knee then foot, stretching it farther than I had since surgery. I jumped up, shaking it off like a soldier but inside feeling rattled for hours. Again, what the heck??

Life gives us lessons

Isn’t that the way life goes sometimes? In my case, I was earnestly trying to be ultra-careful and baby my foot while it recovered. Yet my stumbles were not little. I was reminded of something my great grandmother used to say. I was fortunate to have her until my late teens and she’d visit a couple times a year. She was well known for remarking, “If you don’t listen, you’re going to have to feel.” Reminiscent of the times she grew up in. The last week had given me my fair share of “feel.”

But what was the “listening” I was missing?

Setting aside my week of painful reminders that I’m still in recovery and need to slow down, what do we do when those repeated nudges keep coming up in our lives? Think about it, you’re in a season of asking God, the Divine, what exactly the discontent that rumbles around in you means. You’ve put it out there, asking for guidance. Maybe you find an interesting opportunity reading a magazine you’ve never picked up before. Or you meet someone who happens to be going down the same path you want to walk. You have lunch with a friend you haven’t seen in ages, and the conversation opens new doors.

Why listen to our nudges?

What do we do with those nudges? All too often, we give a cursory, “oh, that’s interesting,” and mosey on with our life. Um, hello God, the Divine, why aren’t you giving me the down low on what to do? Chances are, it already happened, but you were too busy and missed the sign.

So now you get to feel. Growing discontent. Stress. Your body telling you to wake up and pay attention. Ok, fine. I’m sitting down. Done feeling.

Every single one of us can choose to listen. Open up to the nudges we’re looking for coming from the most unexpected places. We have a choice. When a thought pops into your head and you think, “I’m not smart enough to have dreamed that up,” yeah, that’s a nudge. Trust it. The Divine ‘speaks’ to you in unconventional ways, so long as you’re paying attention. Your authentic self knows the way, because that wisdom, the nudges, they’ve been inside you percolating for years. Trust you. It’s our journey, friends, and I’m on it with you. Be brave.

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Following your inclinations

pro·cliv·i·ty /prōˈklivədē,prəˈklivədē/ a tendency to choose or do something regularly; an inclination or predisposition toward a particular thing.

Within the English language there are regular words and ten-dollar words. For reasons unbeknownst to me, my mind gravitates to ten-dollar words because, in that moment, they make the most sense. More than likely, it’s at work. Other times, they fit a scenario perfectly, as was the case early this week. In what seems to have become a daily phone call with my friend, I said, I think I have a proclivity to entropy. Her response? What are you talking about – or close to that – a bit saltier.

Reluctant to abandon not one but two ten-dollar words, I explained, I’m inclined to inaction. A surprise, I’m confident, to people who know me. It’s not that I am unable to get it done, whatever it, is. Instead, my initial response to a new direction, or change in my routine is to slowly grind to a halt. I procrastinate. I’ll talk all day long about the new thing, how great it will be, the depth of my desire to pursue it. All the while, using the time I should be working on the “thing” sitting around drinking green tea and watching Netflix. Once I kick it into gear, I’m going, but reaching that point? Procrastinate, delay, clean a cabinet, reorder my CD’s and DVD’s – wondering when I’ll actually cut the cord and get rid of them. There are endless options to distract you, without lifting a finger to look for them.

Inclined to… Since I gave you a definition, let’s try one more. Incline: feel willing or favorably disposed toward (an action, belief, or attitude). You’ll find several more in the dictionary, including an uphill, but let’s stay with number one for the moment.

Think back to a time when you felt willing or favorably disposed toward an action, belief or attitude. What did you do with the inclination? Did it float by like a cloud? Maybe you examined it from all sides, getting a close look. It may have been the subject of your Saturday morning coffee date. But what did you do with it? That’s a good question.

And the answer for a vast majority of us is, nothing. Entropy. Inaction. We’re inclined to move in a direction, pursue a dream, follow a calling, but that’s where it stops. The inclination might come up against a light breeze of resistance, that slight hill, and we decide it’s too much. Too risky. Too much work. Scandalous.

Instead of following the inclination, remaining curious, we behave as though we’re looking at the sheer granite face of El Capitan in Yosemite. We can’t possibly continue because it would cause disruption in our lives. Perhaps positive disruption, but disruption nonetheless. So, we stop. Leaving what might have been the next New York Times Bestseller rolling around in our mind. Or staying in a job because it’s paying our bills and provides benefits even though the alternative brought our soul alive. But it was unknown. We stay in the status quo.

The status quo is not where we’re meant to be. While not terrible, it can be a plateau. A place in our life that is “fine.” And fine is ok for a short term, but if we live there, what are we leaving on the table? What if, instead of staying in the status quo, we follow our inclination? We put aside the warnings of our friends or the naysayers (which likely speak to their fears, not ours) and we follow the breadcrumbs. Where would our inclinations lead us?

I’m willing to find out. My ‘proclivity towards entropy’ needs to step aside while I stay curious and follow what unfolds. How about you? Where in your life do you need to follow your inclination? Dream, and where your heart is leading you…give it a chance. You’ll be inclined love the journey.