Gratitude with Shackles Off

One of the best things about life coaching is working with clients who bring issues to sessions that sound exactly like my own issues. What a surprising gift! I didn't realize that when I coach others, I get to experience powerful changes within my own thinking. It's like a double dose of happiness that I didn't expect when I signed up for this gig and I love it. 

A lot of self-help gurus and ridiculously famous people talk about the importance of gratitude. Even though I said my next post would be about the Body Compass, I'm feeling particularly grateful today and would like to discuss this first (But I'll throw a Body Compass exercise in here for those of you who want to practice that as well). 

It has been my experience that learning to be grateful results in two amazing things we all want-more happiness and more abundance. I feel like we live in a society that teaches the opposite of gratitude (as in: you don't have this yet and you HAVE to have it so buy it now) so this may take some practice at first. It's easy to see all the stuff we don't have. And please don't get me wrong, I am certainly not saying that one should not strive for the things they want (my whole business is based on helping people get what they'd like) but in order to get there, it is helpful to see and be thankful for all of the things we have, now, in this moment. 

One of my clients started a gratitude journal. I asked her to write down 5 things she was grateful for each day so she decided to keep her gratitude musings in a notebook. Now mind you, this isn't some new, original tool. Oprah has been a big fan of the gratitude journal for years and has inspired a lot of people to keep one. When my client told me she was doing this, I decided to do it as well, as I've never done a gratitude journal before and I really like participating in the homework I give to clients. 

This is what happened. At first I started writing down things I was grateful for (my carrots and hummus, my pretty page-a-day calendar, my water bottle). But mid-week I got lazy and decided I'd just think about what I was grateful for. I began thinking I'm grateful for salt when I salted my dinner or I'm grateful for pillow-top mattresses when I lay down to go to sleep. Then this weird and very cool shift began to happen.  I no longer had to actively think grateful thoughts, yet feelings of gratitude just began appearing. 

In the bathroom, after washing my hands, I put my hand out in front of one of those electric paper towel dispensers. Oh my god! I thought. I'm grateful that I live in a society where there is not just clean water to wash my hands but an electronic device that gives me a paper towel in which to dry them!  I was so moved that later that evening, when I told my fiance about my realization, my eyes were watering. 

Most people would probably think I was a little looney for getting all sappy about the paper towel dispenser, but not my fiance. He grew up extremely poor-in India-and tells me often how affluent America is and points out the things he's grateful for. Several weeks ago he asked me for a pen and when I produced one from a drawer full of pens, he said, "You know what affluence is? It's having all these pens to write with whenever we want." 

I thought that was kind of an interesting comment so when I asked him what he meant, he told me about a small wooden pencil box he was given each school year. In the pencil box was one pencil, one working pen, a ruler and protractor. These supplies were meant to last for the entire academic school year. All the kids in his school were given the pencil box by their parents with this expectation. 

"I remember doing math problems with a pencil this big," he told me, indicating a pencil less that an inch-long with his thumb and forefinger. 

I remember one time having to use a pencil like that. One time. For someone like my fiance who is an incredible math whiz, I can't imagine how he got through all his advanced math classes with one pencil per academic year.  But he did and he's a better man for it. For Pete's sake, he is grateful for writing utensils!

So keep a gratitude journal if you'd like. I think actively making a few minutes each day to be grateful, whether it be in your journal or just in your head, can have a profound effect. 

Now to the Body Compass. If you've been keeping up with the posts, you have already practiced a mini-meditation designed to increase body awareness. You then sketched out two scenarios-one which made you feel crappy and one which made you feel great.  Some of you may have even thought of a phrase for each feeling in your physical body as you read the scenarios. 

In the world of Martha Beck Life Coaching, we call the situation where you have the Feeling Crappy sensations "shackles on." (I'm sure you can see why.) The sensations you had while doing the Feeling Great exercise is referred to as "shackles off." Us life coaches use this as an everyday phrase and in everyday conversations, as in, "I was thinking about going to the office party, but it just felt so shackles on that I decided to decline." Or "I took the day yesterday to do something that was just very shackles off for me,  ride my bike on the trail near my house." 

Today I would like you to make a list of things that are shackles off for you. (Anything, big or small, that produces the feeling similar to the one you had when you did the Feeling Great exercise.) Make time to do one of them. Then, make a conscious effort to be grateful for it. 

Me? I'm going to the stationary store. I am grateful for the new Paper Source that opened up a few miles away. 

*What did you do? Wasn't it great? 

Your Body's Compass

One of my favorite activities to give to clients these days is Martha Beck's Body Compass Exercise. I LOVE this exercise because it reminds me that even when we "fool" ourselves into thinking we know what's best, our body is the one that truly knows and will remain loyal to us, regardless of the social consequences. I love this exercise because it never lies and it always points me in the right direction, even when I know it will upset the status quo. 

See, I am a recovering people-pleaser. I'd even go so far as to call my self an ex-approval whore. I have  spent tons of time and energy trying to make others happy and trying to gain their approval. I did things I didn't want to do, said things I didn't want to say and even tried to convince myself at times to think things that weren't right for me, all in the name of gaining a stamp of approval from someone else. 

About two years ago, I was working with a life coach who became completely frustrated with me. I had just described for him exactly what my dream life would look like and even had a basic plan of how I could get there. When he asked me what was holding me back from embarking upon this path, my reply went something like: But what will everyone think?  I knew myself inside and out and even knew the specifics that would bring my life the greatest joy. However, I just could not imagine enduring the disapproval I knew I was bound to get from some others. 

"My god!" my life coach retorted, even throwing up his hands for dramatic effect, "You almost died of cancer. You know exactly what you want your life to look like and you know how to get there. How much longer are you going to hold yourself back because you're afraid of what others may say?"

Ahem. About two years, I could answer now. I am happy to say that I have started to actually put my dream life plan into action, but it took quite a bit of self-growth to get here. A lot of the stalling came from self-doubt. I believe if I had found this body compass exercise sooner, I may have dissolved some of those doubts sooner. So if you find yourself unhappy and not knowing quite how to pave your path to joy, this exercise can help. I've found it a good place to start; it will give you some good clues. If you know what you'd like to do next, but are afraid of what others may think, this exercise can help too (coupled with the book I Need Your Love-Is that true? by Byron Katie.)

Our bodies don't care what the neighbors will think. They only want us to be happy. As Mary Oliver says-you only have to love what the soft animal of your body loves. This is the first step in realizing your own innate wisdom. 

For now, just do the two exercises below (Feeling Crappy and Feeling Great). This is the first step in getting back in touch with your body compass. If you find yourself really stuck, go back and read the exercise on the previous post and do the mini-body meditation. 

*The Body Compass Exercise 

(This is an abbreviated, ad-lib like version. A more detailed version is given to my clients but this will help you get started.)

1. Feeling Crappy

a) Think of a place you hate going to. Write it here. _____________

b) Think of someone you can't stand. Write his/her name here: ________________.

c) Think of a time in your life when you physically felt awful. Describe what was going on in your physical body:_____________.

d) Think of something you don't like to do. Write it here: ___________________.

e) Think of someone who has hurt you deeply. Write his/her name here: ______________. 

Complete the following paragraph, filling in the blanks accordingly. 

You are going to (a) to (d). You're not happy about this as (c). To make matters worse, when you get to (a), you realize that you are going to have to stay for a very long time. Just when you think things couldn't be any worse, you see (e) and (b) there and realize you have to interact with them while you are at (a).

*How do you feel in your physical body? Can you give it a short name that sums up how terrible you feel? (You can see my example below). 

2. Feeling great 

a) Think of a place you love going to. Write it here: _______________.

b) Think of someone you love hanging out with. Write his/her name here:____________.

c) Think of a time in your life when you felt extremely healthy and physically awesome. Describe what was going on with your physical body: _______________________.

d) Think of something you love to do. Write it here: __________________.

e) Think of someone who inspires you and makes you feel great. Write his/her name here: ____________. 

Complete the following paragraph, filling in the blanks accordingly. 

(b) calls you and asks you to go to (a) to (d). You are so excited that you've been invited, especially since (c). You accept the invitation, only to learn that (e) is coming along as well! 

*How do you feel in your physical body? See if you can create a name for it here. 

Gabrielle's Example

1. Feeling Crappy

I am going to a PTA meeting, to grade 7th grade research papers. I'm not happy about this, because I feel like I'm going to vomit and I have an excruciating headache. To make matters worse, when I get to the PTA meeting, I realize I'm going to have to stay there for a very long time. Just when I think things couldn't be any worse, I see S. and C. there and I realize I'm going to have to interact with them during the PTA meeting. 

My feeling when I do this exercise: The squished, suffocating feeling.

2. Feeling Great

G. calls me and invites me to go to Oregon to write. I'm so excited I've been invited, especially since my body feels strong and vibrant. I accept the invitation, only to learn that C. is coming as well!

My feeling when I do this exercise: The open, free feeling. 

Being in Your Body

Who are you? 

No, really, I mean how do you define yourself? Let's start there. This is where your story and possibly your unhappiness begins. If you asked me to define myself in words, I would describe myself as a life coach, a middle school teacher, a fiance, a daughter, a sister, a brunette, a Verizon wireless subscriber, a blogger, an avid reader, a lover of chocolate, a cancer survivor and a good friend. I'm just getting started. I could write an entire series of blogs about who I am and who I am not. This is where my story begins, with my self-definitions. 

I know that great spiritual teachers tell us that, on some higher level of existence, we will no longer need to associate with the "I." We won't need our stories about who we are. We will somehow rise above this all and realize that we are not separate from anything and we will live in a state of complete, contented joy. I'm not trying to patronize Jesus or Buddha or even to claim that this state of being is inaccessible to us regular humans. It's just that I have a hard time turning the other cheek when my careless neighbor smokes right outside my front door and smells up our condo with cigarette smoke. 

I have, on several different occasions, reached a peaceful place of self-realization (without drugs, psychadellic or otherwise). For me, being in this place doesn't last that long. When it's over, I always feel a little depressed that I have to return to a "normal" state of humanness, where I worry about my budget and getting the laundry done. One time I slipped into a state of enlightenment for several hours. I decided to record exactly how I felt on paper. I wrote something in my journal like: I am everything and nothing. I am all that exists and nothing that exists. I am the unity, I am the separateness and everything is perfect as it is. 

I know. It's completely useless. Right now I'm trying to slog through the Tao Te Ching and all I feel is a sense of defeated frustration that I don't quite really get what this guy Lao Tzu is saying. Sure it sounds good and all, but "It was never born thus it can never die" isn't exactly bringing me a sense of insight as I navigate the traffic on the Atlanta downtown connector.

I think this is a big part of the problem, at least part of my problem when I think about leading a spiritual life. I start comparing myself to these great gurus and trying to live my life like they lived theirs. I actually try to understand what the heck they're saying. Because where they are and where I am are so far from each other, I often end up thinking to hell with it all. 

I do believe, based on my own personal experience, that coming out of our stories about ourselves is an important step to a happier life. When we stop defining ourselves, we stop living how we think we are "supposed to live" and we begin living a true life of joy and integrity. We begin to live a life where unconditional love becomes a reality, not something reserved for saints and sages. We also get more in touch with the part of us that is not trained by societal conditions, thus making it easier to figure out and do what brings us joy. 

But how do we do this when we've been completely conditioned to answer the question, "Who are you?" with a series of descriptive phrases? 

We come out of our stories by first coming into our bodies. Our bodies are our best, most trustworthy guides into our own individual happiness. Sometimes, the only way we can do this is if we start small.

First let me tell you that I did not, in fact, start small. I am a devout Vipassana meditator. I became a Vipassana meditator several years ago by taking a vow of silence and, for ten days, living a monastic life where I meditated for about 11-12 hours a day. If you have a way to take ten days off of your life (this could be a delightful treat for those of you who find yourself recently unemployed) by all means, do a Vipassana retreat. It will shake you up and wake you up in a way you never dreamed possible. It will take you into your body and out of your stories in the most healing way. Each year I sit a 10-day retreat. Each time, it is completely life-altering.

Thing is, I have tried to convince many people I know to complete a Vipassana retreat with very little success. My mom told me, when I described the retreat setting, that this sounded like a "form of torture." Many of my friends have expressed concern about not being able to suspend speaking for a week and a half. If you share their concerns, or a million excuses come up as to why you could not possibly do this at this point in your life, fear not. I truly don't believe you have to do an extreme form of meditation to start coming out of your limiting beliefs and the stories that cause you so much suffering.

You can start today. I want you to come down into your body. You don't have to do this for very long, maybe just one minute if that's all you can handle. Describe what it feels like to be in your body, in this very moment. Completely get into your body's environment and describe it in as much detail as possible. When I do this, I like to pretend that I'm talking to some kind of alien being, describing what it's like to be in a human body. This tends to push my descriptive abilities even further.  

Right now, I am sitting in a soft, cushioned office chair. I am wearing jeans and I can feel the rough denim fabric on my legs. I feel my toes, especially my big toes, slightly squished at the top of my leather shoes. I also feel my feet in soft, cotton socks. My fingers are on flat, plastic keys that move down slightly when I press on them. Soft clicks whisper as I type.  I feel a subtle itching sensation on my left arm, from the thin wool sweater I have on, and I feel the material of this sweater hanging a little loose on my arms where my elbows are bent. I feel softness on my right cheek-my hair is touching my cheek. I feel my lungs expanding and my chest rising up as I inhale and I feel my chest and my stomach sink in a little when I exhale. 

Perhaps you're wondering how this could possibly help you. This is the first step in learning how to read your emotional compass, which I will discuss more in the next entry. Sometimes, when I try to do the emotional compass activity with clients, they get very frustrated because they are just not used to feeling what it's like to be in their physical bodies. It seems like a good idea to learn how to feel being in your physical body first.

If you've read previous entries, you know about The Work. This ability of feeling what it's like to be in your body can also help you greatly dissolve limiting beliefs when you come to questions 3 and 4 (You will be able to better feel what it feels like in your physical body when you think an unhealthy thought and you will be able to better feel what it feels like in your physical body when you do not have an unhealthy thought). I, personally, have found that it also helps me live more in the present moment and whenever I practice this exercise of being in my body, even if just for several minute intervals throughout the day, I get a nice, beautiful glow about me. 

*You don't have to write anything, unless you prefer to and I love your comments. You may want to just try this out, just the feeling part, especially if this is a new thing for you. Sit with your body. Feel your entire body. Start from your head, what does the top of your head feel like? What does the skin of your face feel like? What does your hair feel like? If there is a certain part of your body where you can't feel anything (the top of my head is always a hard one for me), just stay there for a moment. If you still don't have any sensations in this part of your body, skip it and go to the next part. Work your way down your body until you reach your toes. 

The Work

The Work by Byron Katie is a powerful tool that you can use anytime you feel unpleasant feelings. Whether it be anxiety, sadness, anger, despair, or any other negative feeling, use these four simple questions to help you return to a state of contented joy. I've included my own personal example so that you can see how one can use this work. You may also want to read Loving What Is by Byron Katie to help you refine this technique. 

First, identify your negative feeling. Then find the thought behind the feeling, the thought that is making that unpleasant feeling possible. State this thought in a "should" statement and take it to the four questions. 

The Four Questions

1) Is is true?

2) Can you absolutely know that this is true?

3) How do you feel when you think this thought?

4) How would you feel if you could not think this thought?

-Now turn it around and find three reasons why the new statement is as true or truer than your original thought. 

Gabrielle's Example

-Situation: I got an email yesterday from a parent, telling me that I should have given her son several more warnings before I suspended him from a field trip. She stated that I was being unfair and that her son only gets in trouble in my class. I got really angry. 

-Thought behind unpleasant sensation: My students' parents should stop blaming me when their kids get into trouble in my classroom. 

Four Questions:

1) Is it true?

My answer: Yes. Parents should not blame me for their kids' behavior. 

2) Can you absolutely know that this is true?

My answer: Well, no. I can't know that they should NOT blame me, because who knows? Maybe they don't really blame me. Maybe they just say it's my fault out of frustration but go home and blame themselves. 

3)How do you feel when you think this thought?

My answer: I feel angry. My stomach tightens up and my whole upper body gets really tight. I start thinking of how I'm always the scapegoat for the parents and I feel my face flush. My heart starts racing faster and I feel like punching a wall. 

4) How would you feel if you could not think this thought?

My answer: I would just be sitting there, with the parents, calm and peaceful. Even if they were screaming at me, saying it was my fault, I could just look at them with compassion and see the pain underneath what they are saying.

Turn it around (This is where you think of as many opposite statements as you can to your original thought and find the one that rings most true for you.)

Original Thought: My students' parents should stop blaming me when their kids get in trouble in my classroom.

Possible Turnarounds:

-My students' parents SHOULD blame me when their kids get in trouble in my classroom. (This is reality; this is what happens. Who am I to determine the order of the universe? How do I know that their blame isn't actually helping me in some way? But this doesn't ring totally true, just a little true.)

-I should stop blaming me when the kids get in trouble in my classroom. (This could be true. Oftentimes when a parent blames me, a part of me feels like they might be right. Like I might be a bad, unfair teacher.)

-I should stop blaming the parents when the kids get in trouble in my classroom. (This is the one that feels most true for me. I often think that the kids would be better behaved if their parents were better disciplinarians. In this way, I see how the parents and I are just alike-we both believe someone else is to blame for the kids acting badly).

Three reasons why your new statement is true or truer:

-Every time I blame the students' parents, I feel like crap inside.

-By pointing the finger at the parents, I lose focus over what I can do to help the child improve his/her behavior. 

-I don't like to be blamed for things outside my control and so I should treat others with the same respect. 

*If you'd like, share your own turnarounds here as comments to this post. One of my fellow coaches does this religiously. Check out her blog for more examples of how to do this. 

Grieving your losses (even if you want 'em)

In the hallway at the school where I teach, there is a big, plastic bin that we call the lost and found. The teachers make fun of the contents because you can, quite literally, find almost everything in there. Coats and books, backpacks, hats, even socks and shoes. These things remain in the lost and found bin for months until finally someone takes them to the Goodwill. The other day a student came to my room after school, desperately looking for his jacket. He actually abhors this jacket (and has told me so on several occasions when I remind him that he's left it behind). I finally took the thing down to the lost and found bin and the following week someone donated the contents to charity. His jacket was gone. Even though he disliked it intensely, it was his jacket and he was saddened to see it go. 

"You hated it," I reminded him. "You complained about it all the time. You even told me you were TRYING to lose it because you knew your mom would buy you a new one."

"I know, " he said, so forlorn, "But now I miss it."

I share this story with you because I see so much of who I am in my students. They have been my greatest teacher for the past six years. It is often uncanny how well they reflect me and my state of mind.  

At our staff meeting on Wednesday, I announced to my colleagues that I was leaving to start my life coaching business. I'm posting my position on several webboards (as I'm well connected in the education field) and when I called off sick yesterday and checked in with my student teacher about the kids, she said everything went smoothly.  "I'm actually getting really excited about next year," she told me. In that moment, it occurred to me that everything would be okay without me there. 

I thought I was totally fine with leaving teaching-happy, relieved even-but it occurred to me after doing some self-coaching last night that grieving this loss, no matter how wanted, was really OK.  I feel just like my student when he realized his jacket was really gone; I feel this way exactly about my job. I don't like it, I don't want it and I have plans for a new one, but I feel sad that I won't have it anymore. This sadness does not mean I am making the wrong decision. Not at all.  But it seems to me that a necessary part of change is accepting the sadness you feel when you lose something. Even when you WANT to lose it. 

What I'd like to share with you today is what I often do during a loss. A bad habit, if you will, that often stops me from feeling my own sadness, at least temporarily. Maybe you do it too. I call it "getting pissed." Before I leave a friendship, a romantic relationship, a job, or whatever, I get pissed. I find a reason to be really, really angry so that my madness (double meaning intended) makes it easier to leave. "If I'm angry," I think, "Then it won't be so painful."

Often the opposite is true.  This anger leaves a lot of hurt feelings and bad energy and guilt. It does NOTHING for me but temporarily suspend my sadness which ends up surfacing anyway, often with more intensity because of my attempt at suppressing it. I noticed myself doing this with teaching as I was venting to one of my fellow coaches. 

"These parents blame me for everything!" I said. "They refuse to take responsibility for their child's actions! They accuse me of being a bad teacher anytime their kid gets in trouble! I'm so sick and tired of this! I can't wait to leave this job!"

This coach suggested I do "The Work" on these thoughts and I did. Not only did I completely realize my 100% responsibility for this situation, but I also cleared away the one thing I was using to "get pissed." The one thing I was trying to use to suppress my sadness.

What was left was a delicious space to grieve the loss of the old me-the teacher, and cleared some room for the new me-the life coach. Even though I had to hold back tears as I told my seventh graders about my new career choice, it was almost a sweet pain. It seemed both necessary and natural. I realized, in the moment that I stopped "getting pissed" and started accepting my grief, how much I loved each and every one of these beautiful, little teachers. My heart welled up with so much love that I put my lesson on commas to the side and taught them one of the most valuable tools I know-Byron Katie's Four Questions.

And now I will teach you. In the next post, I've included a link to The Work, and the four questions. I've also included an example on how I used this work on my own beliefs that were holding me back.  Welcome to freedom. 

The Certainty of Uncertainty

Despite all of the self-help books I've read and the healers I've sought and the work I've done to try to culminate some wisdom in my life, some fears still have the power to grip me with their cold, icy hands and squeeze me into a state of frazzled anxiety. Although I've used The Work on most of these fears (I've been pretty successful and I'll share Byron Katie's genius with you in another post), one fear that keeps rearing its frightening head is the fear of being poor and homeless. 

I'm absolutely terrified of this. So much so that one time I actually decided to confront this fear. I was staying in a hostel during a vacation and was waiting outside for a friend to pick me up. I met a nice, homeless guy who was around my age hanging out on the porch. He was waiting for the hostel stayers to check out so that he could take a shower. I gave him an apple and figured this would be the perfect time to get the real deal on being on the streets. Our conversation (well, at least what I remember of it) went something like this:

Me: So, how do you find food?

Homeless Guy: I hang out by the pizza joints. Sometimes I help their drivers, but even if I just sit there all day, they have all of this leftover pizza they have to throw out at the end of the night. Actually there are a lot of places like this, that have to throw out their food. I make friends with the people who work there and they give me food after they close.

Me: How do you stay clean? You look pretty clean. 

H.G: Hostels often offer showers for $5. I usually beg for enough change or do little errands for people to save up for a shower and then come and get one. If I don't have enough money, I go to a public restroom and wash up in the sink. There are a lot of creative ways to get your laundry done too.  

Me: How do you keep yourself safe? I feel like if I was homeless, I would get mugged or raped. What do you do? 

H.G: I, personally, have a knife that's disguised as a pen. (He was then gracious enough to pull this out of his pocket and show it to me).  I once got mugged and a police officer helped me get this to defend myself. But I haven't gotten mugged since I've gotten it. The homeless women often get into the shelters at night easier than the men but we look out for each other too. In fact, there are two women hanging out behind the grocery store right now who I always keep an eye on. If someone is bothering them, they know I'm right there. 

Me: Do you ever get bored?

H.G.: I go to the library and read. Sometimes I'll ask people if I can have enough money to take the bus across town for a change of scenery. 

I thanked him for his time and gave him some bus fare. That was one of the most comforting conversations I've ever had, because I was asking an expert on homelessness the logistics of surviving my biggest fear. I left feeling relieved because I realized that even if I lost everything-my job, my house, my car, all my friends and family who would let me live on their couches-I could still survive. For several weeks after this conversation, I was no longer scared of becoming a bag lady and I lived a pretty worry-free life. 

By the end of the summer, my vacation ended and, unfortunately, so did my slight sojourn into inner peace. As soon as I got back to work (at a job I no longer liked), I contemplated quitting, only to be placed dead center into the homeless fear again. 

"You absolutely cannot quit," Blanche said, "You will be homeless." 

I bring up this fear now because last week, I sat down with my boss and told him that I would not be signing my contract for next year. (Currently, I am a middle school teacher and contract renewals go out next month).  He asked if I would consider staying on part-time, and although at the time I said it might be appealing, I know in my heart of hearts that with the (at least) 30 minute commute there and back home, it won't be worth my time to make the drive each day. Especially when I've already got a handful of clients to tend to. 

Even though G. and I have got our financial plan ready for next year, and even though both my fiance and my soul keep saying-Start this business! Now is the time when everyone is freaking out and scared and NEEDS this!-well (sigh) the homeless thing got a hold of me again.  Who could blame me? Every time I turn on the car radio, NPR is covering the thousands of people who are losing their jobs and the extreme measures some are taking to cut living costs. Newspaper headlines are shouting their doom and gloom. Friends of mine who are getting their advanced degrees and graduating soon, whisper their secret fears of being unemployed with thousands of dollars of  student loan debt.

"THE WORLD IS FALLING APART!!" Blanche keeps yelling at me. "HELLO!?! HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED? And you want to, what? Get a job that you feel called to do? In a collapsing economy? Are you crazy?"

"My God, Blanche," I said yesterday after listening to several very educated experts chronicle an economic Armageddon,  "You may be right."

Then a funny thing happened. I realized the truth of uncertainty. 

As part of my life coach training, I listen to recordings of experienced life coaches coaching clients.  In one of them, Martha Beck walks a new client through her fear of starting a job she really wants to do, rather than taking a job in a cubicle. At the end of the session, the client realizes that even if she DID take the corporate cubicle job, there is no guarantee that she would earn a steady paycheck for the rest of her life. "There's no such thing any more as job security," Martha reminds the client. Then it was like: Eureka! She's right!

Ever since December, when I decided that I was leaving the teaching profession to pursue life coaching, I've heard every report of rising unemployment rates and economic trouble as warnings that doing what one loves is a frivolous luxury. Now I'm seeing things in a different light. Every report of rising unemployment rates and economic trouble could just as easily be seen as proof that no job is certain. No company is recession-proof or layoff-safe. No career is steady income guaranteed. Even teaching, which I always thought of as a secure gig, can no longer be thought of as so. An article in our local Atlanta Journal Constitution a few weeks ago talked about how Georgia may have to start cutting teachers. 

No job is certain. For that matter, nothing is certain. Certainty is an illusion.  

If this is true, then it really frees me up quite a bit. I feel safe with the thoughts: Why not try and do something you love and see what happens? Why not be creative and see how you can make ends meet? This is much better than the thought I woke up with this morning which went something like: If I don't stay in this soul-sucking profession, I will end up rotting in some back alley in a cardboard box. 

"You are naive to leave your job and think everything will be okay," Blanche told me earlier this afternoon. 

Nothing is certain. Anything can change. In fact, everything does change. So I'm sorry, dear Blanche, but it is naive to believe anything other than the truth of this. 

*Name a time when a positive change in your life resulted from something unexpected and unwanted happening. I'll go first (I have so many but I'll use the job one since that's the theme of the day). I got fired from Barnes and Noble. I was given a management position that wasn't supposed to be given to a part-time worker and the district manager found out. They laid me off over the phone. I was freaking out because I needed a job to pay for my groceries. The next week, I got a seasonal job at a great little store with an awesome, funny boss that paid me more than B&N, gave me a bigger discount and (after the holiday season) offered me a store management position upon my graduation. I didn't take it because I had a teaching job already lined up but it was nice little ego boost :)

The wise woman inside of you

Many spiritual texts and enlightened people speak of a "wise centered voice" within us all. There are several names by which I've heard  this voice called: seat of the soul, essential self, true self, higher self, the God within (or Goddess within). There are a lot of them. 

But for those of us who are just a few lifetimes short of enlightenment (like yours truly) all of this talk of a wise inner voice can be pretty intimidating. When I would try to sit quietly and "hear" this voice, the only thing that came up was, "I'm hungry," or "My arm itches." Since it never said anything huge, dramatic or life-altering, I decided the inner voice was either a) inaccessible to someone of my lowly stature in the reincarnation cycle or b) just a bunch of bunk.

I've read Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way several times. Each time I read it, I do activities at the end of the chapters that I didn't do during my previous readings. As I was working through this book for the third time, I found my 85 year old self. She's been with me ever since and she's pretty much the only one who can quiet Blanche when she's running around in a tizzy.

If the lizard (see my last post) is the irrational, inhibiting fear inside us all, the 85 year old self is the compassionate liberator. She's the person who has lived a full and exciting life and now that she is at the end of it, she is peaceful and content and ready to give you wise advice whenever you ask her. She is you, only more experienced and insightful. 

The specific activity that Cameron suggests to the budding artist is this: Write a letter to your present self from your 85 year old self.  What dreams would your 85 self suggest that you pursue? What fears would your 85 year old self tell you to ignore?

At the time, I was struggling about my decision to leave a romantic relationship that I had invested three years in. I was in my late 20's and the thought of starting over with someone new was terrifying.  In addition to the relationship, this guy and I also shared a group of mutual friends. I realized that I would not only be ending our relationship, but that the relationships I had with our shared friends would also change. I imagined, or rather Blanche imagined, living in a city by myself, with no one to love and no one to love me, without even a group of girlfriends to help me through my pain.  But because I was so unhappy with this man and with the relationship, I took Cameron's advice. I imagined my 85 year old self and then wrote a letter to the (then) 27 year old me. 

It was amazing what this old woman had to say. She told me that even though three years seemed like a long time to a woman in her 20's, a lifetime spent with the wrong partner would be a lot of wasted time, for both him and for me. She also told me that my happiness was of the utmost importance. If you pursue a new path, she wrote, the right partner for you will come when you're ready to receive him. In fact, she said in her knowing voice, I am glad you left those who did not fit you, for you opened the door to meet someone truly wonderful and spent a fulfilled life with wonderful friends. 

For the first time in my life, the inner voice of wisdom that I had read and heard about so often was there with me, on a piece of a paper.  Her kind and confident way of saying things helped me become brave. Knowing that one day I would be her, with a lifetime full of experience and looking back upon my days, helped me gather up enough courage to make some tough decisions. 

These days, I don't write letters to myself from her, although I'm sure if I made the time to do this it would also help. I just imagine sitting around with my grandchildren. I imagine them asking me about the adventures I lived in my life. And then I think, do I want to tell them, "And then guess what I did? I broke up with the guy, gave away all my stuff, and drove my Mini Cooper out to the west coast to spend a year hiking" or do I want to tell them,"I was too scared and comfortable to leave a man I no longer loved, so I stayed with him and watched my life, and my friendships, deteriorate because I could not be honest with myself"?

I'm glad I can proudly tell the former story because it's what actually happened after I wrote my letter. I look forward to the other adventures I can tell my grandchildren too. Each time Blanche rears her slimy reptilian head, I know my 85 year old self is there to guide me through my fears. 

*Please note: you don't have to be a budding artist, a wannabe artist or a trying-to-be artist to do this activity (although you are creating an important piece of work-your life.) The point of this exercise is to get in touch with the wisdom that is already inside you. Think of a problem you are facing right now in your present day life. Imagine you, at 85, having lived a wonderful and fulfilling life. What would your 85 year old self tell you about this problem and its solution? If you can quiet your lizard, I'd love for you to post your response here. 

Sorry Blanche, I'm going topless

As of January, I've gotten into Bikram yoga. I got just plain sick of the gym and then Atlanta got an unusual cold spell so a yoga practice in a room heated to over 100 degrees seemed appealing. At the very least, I reasoned, it'll be warm. They don't call it hot yoga for nothin'. 

I don't have any tank tops (one of Blanche's strong suggestions because of my not-so-toned arms) so for my first class I walked into the room wearing a T-shirt and some shorts. It was pretty warm. I began to sweat just sitting on my mat. Then the instructor began the breathing sequence and oh how the streams of sweat began to fall. But when we began doing the actual poses? Well forget it. Within five minutes I could squeeze a puddle out of my T-shirt. 

I noticed the yogis near the front, the more experienced ones, were wearing bikini bathing suit tops and sports bras. I also noticed the nicely sculpted abs of each of these scantily clad women. I thought how nice it would be to do these poses in this godforsaken sauna with just my sports bra on but Blanche started having a fit. 

"Seriously?!?" she said as soon I suggested this. "C'mon! You've got a roll of fat right around your middle! How could you even think of letting anyone see that?"

"But jeesh Blanche, it's hot," I said. "I'm dying here." 

"Do you want to embarrass yourself?" Blanche replied. "Do you want the whole class to wonder why you're showing off your fat?"

You're probably wondering who this horrible Blanche is. You, dear reader,  would probably never say anything like this to one of your girlfriends, and neither would I, but Blanche is my lizard and she doesn't seem to have a problem hurling the insults, especially about my body. 

We all have this part of ourselves that tries to protect us from what it perceives as frightening even though this unproductive fear often inhibits our growth (or, in this case, my need to be comfortable in a heat like the Amazon jungle). Enter: the lizard. 

In her book Steering by Starlight, Martha Beck nicknames this scared voice inside of us "the lizard" because she relates it to the part of our brains we've kept with us since the reptilian age. This part of our brains says "Run!" or "Attack!" even when there's no real danger to send us into this fight or flight mode. Beck encourages her readers to name their lizards, to even find or draw a picture of them so that they can be better viewed as what they truly are-frightened parts of us that erroneously believe we need to be protected from some imagined danger.  

I've noticed that Blanche is often most scared of what other people think of me. Her biggest fear, it seems, is me becoming a social outcast. 

Thank God I've got another, more benevolent voice inside my head who usually chimes in just as Blanche is going into a frenzy. I call her my 85 year-old self and my next post will be all about her, but for now, I'd just like to share with you her wise words as I attempted to do "The Eagle" pose while torrents of perspiration ran into my eyes. 

"Take off your shirt and be comfortable," she said, as Blanche screeched in horror, "And watch what happens." 

So I did and several things happened. The first one being that I was immediately more comfortable and my shirt served as a nice substitute for a face towel.  Soon after, I noticed that I actually looked pretty good doing the poses. My form was great and all the hard work I'd done at the gym had paid off. I could see muscles in every part of my body, even in my abdominal area. 

But that's not even the best part. Some of the girls in the back of the room (the newer students like myself) had also naively come to class with T-shirts on. Perhaps they have a lizard like mine who tells them not to wear sleeveless shirts. At any rate, once I took off my shirt and therefore stated with my actions that it was more important for me focus on the yoga instead of on Blanche, others followed. In that moment, I felt like the leader of the lizard-disbelievers. 

My 85-year-old self just smiled. 

*Name and describe your lizard. If you want to get really creative, find a picture that represents your lizard. One of my fellow coaches-in-training has a great post on this on her blog.  

              This is Blanche. Notice her smug, know-it-all pose.

The Simplicity of Happiness

February 1st is an insightful day. It is my remission anniversary. It is also my anniversary with my husband-to-be. It's amazing to have an anniversary of life and love on the same day.

I was diagnosed with a rare form of lymphoma twelve years ago. After one year of treatment, I was handed a certificate. It said something along the lines of-Congratulations! You've completed your treatment! and the date next to the doctors' signatures was February 1st. At the time I was told I could not be guaranteed a diagnosis of being in remission. My cancer was rare, I had a horrible time with the treatments and I was told that what looked like scar tissue on the MRI's could be cancer immune to the chemotherapy. So for a year after my last radiation treatment, I had to see the oncologist every three months for a series of tests to determine if I was okay to live a somewhat normal life until the next appointment. 

For several years, I lived my life one day at a time, from one appointment to the next, feeling awash in a feeling of gratitude when the doctor would announce that I was cancer-free and then, almost immediately thereafter, overwhelmed by the possibility of a different diagnosis the next time. 

Looking back, I'm not sure how I handled all of that fear. I developed a meditation practice, drank excessively, got into yoga, ran up my credit cards and wrote. Each year the necessary appointments became fewer and fewer. And then, before I knew it, I had passed the five-year mark, an important date for cancer survivors. The possibility of a recurrence after a five year remission is significantly lower and this is when I began to celebrate February 1st as my remission anniversary. 

This year, my fiancee and I spent our anniversary in Austin, Texas. As we were walking along the riverwalk, we began to talk about our dreams for the future. G. wants to run his own investment business so he can get paid to do something he loves for something he already does quite well. I'm training to be a life coach and began sharing my grandiose plans for international recognition, a healing center and a huge income. Then G. said, "Even if we become millionaires, I don't think I'd want much to change. We have such a great life." 

I was quiet then, for quite some time, because his words held a kind of peace that I didn't even realize I was longing for. 

 

The Christmas before I was handed my much coveted certificate, I was hospitalized for a week. My cancer had been stubborn so the doctors upped my dose of several chemo drugs and my body reacted as a body should when it's being poisoned way beyond its capacity. And although I had spent a large amount of money on Christmas gifts for friends and family, they lay unopened underneath the tree in the living room as I lay in a third story hospital bed.

The doctors had been frank with me. The chemotherapy treatments would have to stop or else they would kill me. If the cancer did not respond to radiation, there was nothing more they could do. So I lay in that hospital bed in Chicago and watched the snow fall from a velvet black sky and realized, with a deep understanding, that I may soon die. 

A wise voice from somewhere inside me spoke then. "Yes," it said, "But, also, you may live." 

I spent that Christmas night pondering the possibility of getting my life back, a hope that seemed dangerously close to not happening. If I live, I remember thinking, what would I do? 

The answer came in a series of mental images. A flash of me spending a snowy afternoon sledding with friends and then coming inside to a warm drink near a fireplace; a spring hiking by myself up a mountain when flowers were blooming; an autumn riding my bike with someone who loved me and appreciated the changing tree colors as much as I did; a summer doing yoga with a beach sunrise. Prayer in a temple filled with candles, good fresh food, the warmth of sunshine. 

These were the visions that came to me when I contemplated what I loved about life. 

More than a decade later, I'm cutting out a picture of a multi-million dollar house near a lake and writing my name on a "pretend" New York Times Bestsellers' List and posting all of this on a vision board. Don't get me wrong; I'm not taking these down. These dreams are as important to me as breathing. 

But while thinking of the possible future (of which I've been doing a lot lately), I need to make sure I stay grounded in the present, in the simple things I have already that bring me joy.  Like holding G.'s hand as we walk by a river, and the thirty minutes I make for myself each morning to drink homemade chai and to journal, and the sound of the fountain outside my bedroom window that lulls me to sleep. This year, Year 12, I would like to remember that happiness really is this simple. 

I would love to hear from you. You can leave your response as a comment, or, as some of you have done, email me personally. 

*Name the simple things that bring you happiness.