This weekend I watched Hamlet with a friend of mine and remarked how the play touched me in a way it didn’t when I was a teenager.
I’ve seen Hamlet on numerous occasions, I’ve heard the famous soliloquy a million times, even unknowingly quoted from the play in this blog. Hamlet is a story I’m familiar with, but watching it this weekend I could relate to him, I understood him. No, my uncle did not kill my father and marry my mother, but I, too, understand about anger, grief, and despair. Maybe it’s a consequence of practicing nonviolent communication and meditating regularly, but when I watched Hamlet all I could think was, “Me too.” I wouldn’t have taken the actions he took, but I empathize with his feelings in a way I didn’t before.
I’m reminded of that quote by Maya Angelou who said, “We are all human; therefore, nothing human can be alien to us.” Yeah. Pretty much. I’m not a scholar, but it seems to me Shakespeare’s work endures because he taps into the essence of what it means to be human, with all the pain, glory, comedy, and tragedy. One minute Hamlet is contemplating suicide and the next his friends burst through the door talking and laughing. That’s certainly how my life is. I think I mentioned it here, but literally the day after I found out my co-worker died, I unintentionally participated in a wedding held in my neighbor’s backyard. My windows were open so the sounds of the ceremony wafted through the air. Life is tragic and comic, something Shakespeare understood and illustrated.
This also means all the emotions Shakespeare’s characters express, we express too. Even though he wrote his plays hundreds of years ago, they’re still relevant. There is no emotion anyone has ever felt that I haven’t felt too. Our experiences? Highly variable. Our emotions? The same.
I bring this up because I wonder how things would be different it we all held this viewpoint. Instead of calling Mexicans rapists like a certain high-ranking official, instead of calling people aliens, what if we recognized that we are all human and thus nothing human can be alien to us?
My spiritual teacher said:
Human society comprises various races. There is no reason whatever to recognize one race as superior to another race. The external differences in constitutions among these human groups cannot alter their basic human traits – love and affection, pleasure and pain, hunger and thirst. These basic biological instincts and mental propensities equally predominate in human beings of all complexions in all countries and in all ages. A mere rustic, illiterate, half-naked tribal mother of an unknown hamlet … in India bears deep maternal affections for her young children; in the same way, a well-educated mother of a locality of New York pours out of her heart a great love for her own children.
The subterranean flow of love and affection exists in all hearts alike. Every person cries out in pain, everyone feels pleasure when there are occasions of joy and happiness. [F]undamentally, their mental existences flow along the same channels of ideas and consciousness. Containing the same cosmic momentum and under the same cosmic inspiration, they all have set out for a tryst with the same destiny.
I dream of a world where we recognize we all have the same human emotions. A world where we remember there is nothing anyone can feel that we also haven’t felt, and vice versa. A world where we recognize we aren’t so alien from each other, in fact, we’re not alien at all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately I find myself wading deeper and deeper into the realm of emotion. That may sound funny because people often describe me as “emotional,” but what I mean is instead of flirting with an emotion, I’m embracing it. The despair, the anger, the disappointment. All of it. Not only am I embracing my feelings, I’m also no longer trying to fix them.
For me, whenever I felt really down, or lonely, for instance, I turned to something to make myself feel better: I called a friend, turned on the TV, picked up a book. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with those activities, but they became compulsions, ways for me to avoid diving deep. To avoid the emotional pain of fully embodying my emotions. These days I’m learning to sit with my feelings, no matter what they are.
These days I’m embracing everything, even the prickly bits.
Matt Licata, a psychotherapist, has a blog I read every couple of weeks. In one blogpost he wrote:
[T]he question during these times is: Are you going to use these reorganizing and shattering experiences as vehicles though which to befriend yourself, to attune to the unprecedented flow of feeling with you, and to weave a sanctuary for the wisdom-pieces of the broken world to be held and illuminated? Or, will you fall back into your habitual, conditioned history, attack yourself, your tenderness, and your sacred vulnerability, spinning into the habitual fight-flight urgency of shame, blame, resentment, and self-aggression?
In another he wrote:
The invitation is into intimate communion: to move closer, and even closer still, into the feelings, the emotions, and the sensations as they surge. To surround the surging material with curiosity, warmth, and most importantly with kindness, as an inner explorer of the galaxy of your own body, of which there is no temple more sacred.
Communion. Yes, that’s what I long for. And communion means befriending my pain, befriending my sorrow, befriending my disappointment. Every cell of my being longs for love, and that means the pain, the sorrow, and the disappointment too. In my journey toward wholeness, toward the divine, I must embrace everything within me.
In my spiritual practices, we view everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, and that means me too. Not only the me in this physical form, but the internal me as well. The one that feels pain, the one that feels lonely, the one that feels disappointment.
These days I’m practicing loving those parts too and I have that wish for others as well.
I dream of a world where we embrace all parts of ourselves. A world where we feel every emotion as it arises. A world where we sit with our pain because we recognize it, too, is divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I notice there’s a tendency in me and in society to avoid the deep and dark places. We are uncomfortable with displays of depression and despair.
The other day, a friend posted on facebook that she felt depressed and the majority of her friends said, “Are you getting help? Are you taking medication?” I’m not saying people shouldn’t take meds and shouldn’t seek help, but it’s interesting to notice their reactions. How quickly people turned to solutions instead of saying, “I hear you,” or “Me too.”
I understand the rush toward solutions. I know in myself, the minute I feel depressed or hopeless, I want to leave those states as quickly as possible. I don’t want to sit with the feelings, I don’t want to acknowledge them, I don’t want to give them air time. If I could bypass all the uncomfortable feelings, that would be great, thanks.
Even small acts of love can have great effects.
As my therapist reminds me, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t pretend certain feelings don’t exist just because I’d rather they didn’t. The only way to move through the feelings is to first have awareness of them, and second to feel them. In thinking of my spiritual practices, I’d like to add a third step.
I am reminded of the work crafted by a monk I knew. He used to say every cell of our body is longing for liberation, is longing for oneness with something greater than ourselves. Not only the parts we acknowledge, but the parts we push away as well. He went to graduate school for psychology and developed a mantra therapy technique combining what he learned there with the principles of our yoga and meditation group. In these heart circles, as he called them, people would sit in a circle. One person would sit in the center of the circle and think about an emotion or belief they wanted release from. Then everyone on the perimeter sang to the person in the center. They verbally bathed the person with a Sanskrit mantra, sending them love. They imagined love coming through them and directed it to the person in the center of the circle.
I’ve been in many a circle, and people often weep or their expression softens or they start beaming. Something happens. Something happens because all parts of us want love. All parts want acknowledgment. All parts want us to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I love you.”
This week as I’ve sat with my own hard feelings, I’ve directed love their way. Not to drown them out, but in an act of tenderness and care. As Doreen Virtue says, “Love is the miracle that heals all things,” and that includes me. Instead of hating certain emotions, instead of pushing them away, instead of pretending they don’t exist, instead of skipping over them, I’m sending them love. I’m going to the deepest, darkest places within me and saying, “I’m here and I love you,” because that’s ultimately what I want. And what we all want.
I dream of a world where we give all parts of ourselves air time. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves and say, “I’m here and I love you.” A world where we recognize love is the miracle that heals all things and it’s a miracle we can give to ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve come to believe that to be alive means to experience trauma; and I don’t mean things like war, or car accidents (although those things too) — I mean things like death, divorce, and anything else that shakes us up and makes us feel unsafe physically or emotionally. Trauma can also be secondary, by the way. It can be hearing or seeing someone else’s traumatic experiences. When you take into account the majority of news stories, I’m pretty sure we’re all walking around a little traumatized.
We all deal with trauma in our own ways, but I’ve noticed I deal with trauma by minimizing it, dismissing it, or doing whatever I can to distract myself from the depths of my feelings. Who wants to feel sad or angry or insecure when there are movies to watch, people to call? Who wants to feel sad or angry or insecure when there are places to visit and dreams to chase? I certainly don’t. But the reality is, we can’t outrun our trauma; it clings to us like a shadow. Carl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you’ll call it fate.”
Go with emotions like flowing down a river.
Carl, why you gotta be so spot on? I don’t want to make the unconscious conscious, but I’ve reached a point in my life where I can’t ignore it anymore. As someone said to me once, “What you resist, persists.” I wanted to punch them in the face when they said that to me, but I found, yes, it’s true. I kept working so hard to resist, but my resistance didn’t banish the problem, it only served to keep it alive. The question then becomes, how is a professional emotional runner, so to speak, supposed to all of a sudden stop running? How can a person face their demons instead?
When I brought this up to my therapist, he said to me, “Just lie down. Instead of actively trying to skirt the perimeter, yield, and let the flood wash over you.” And wash over me it did. When I stopped actively trying to do anything, all of the emotions overtook me. I didn’t enjoy it, it wasn’t “fun,” but I feel relieved. It takes a lot of energy to run away from feelings. A LOT. By stopping, by turning around to face my feelings instead, I feel drained, but in a good way. Like after a full day swimming.
To tie all of this to a spiritual concept, people talk a lot about being in the flow of life – me too – but I think it’s important to remember, getting into the flow is not always an active process. Sometimes being in the flow is allowing ourselves to be carried by whatever is here. Just like flowing down a river, it’s a lot easier if we don’t resist, and also, we have no idea where it will take us.
I dream of a world where we yield to what we’re resisting. A world where we feel our feelings instead of pushing them away. A world where we put ourselves into the flow by understanding sometimes that’s a passive process.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The Thursday before Halloween I pinched a nerve. A friend massaged my neck and shoulders on Saturday and Sunday, which helped, but what really gave me full range of motion was rage. On Monday, I started thinking about that quote I posted last week, about how nothing in this universe happens unless God desires it, and it pissed me off. More than pissed me off, it infuriated me. I started blaming God for every crappy thing in my life.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I hate you!” shook my fists, and destroyed a book. It was the most angry I’ve ever been and certainly the most angry I’ve ever been at the universe. As soon as I calmed down, the pain in my back and neck almost completely diminished.
I bring this up because so often I hear people say, “Don’t get angry,” or proclaim that anger is not very spiritual. There’s an expectation that we meet every situation with peace and contentment, that nothing ruffle our feathers. I’m sorry, but I’m not evolved enough for that. The best I can do is suppress or repress my feelings and that’s not a solution because suppressed and repressed feelings have a tendency to act as ticking time bombs or come out in other, non-healthy ways. In my case, repressed anger manifested in my physical body as a pinched nerve.
There’s a place for everything in this world — even angry lightning storms.
My spiritual teacher says we should not be misguided, swayed away, or unduly influenced by anger. That we should not allow the instinct of anger to take control of us. That anger should be regulated. He very much advocates non-anger, but I don’t know how to cultivate non-anger, so the best I can do right now is work on regulating it. And how am I supposed to regulate anger if I constantly keep it locked away in a drawer? In order for me to control something, I have to understand it’s full range so I know what’s appropriate in any given situation. That means allowing myself to get angry, and yes, even get angry at God.
What I find interesting is even anger brings me to my goal of union with the Supreme. My teacher says, “Even when you think of God as an enemy, you are involved in Him. Really, our mind is more activated [to think about somebody] by anger and hatred [than by positive propensities]. When we have a quarrel with somebody, we keep on thinking that the next time we meet that person, we will say this or that. Therefore, God will be attained whether you love Him or hate Him.”
That to me means it’s OK for me to hate God right now. It’s OK for me to be angry at God right now. All of my feelings are allowed and acceptable. I don’t have to hold anything back for fear of being punished or unloved. Do I enjoy feeling so angry? No, of course not, but until I get to such a state where anger no longer exists for me, I’m learning to control it and that means feeling angry in whatever capacity I do. Who knows? I might improve my posture in the process.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to feel all our feelings. A world where we understand to control an instinct, first we must express it. A world where we know it’s OK to be angry at God and even to express hatred because it all leads to the same place.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
I want to be happy all the time. I don’t think I’m alone in this. What I’m noticing lately is whenever I’m scared or anxious I turn into Judgey McJudgerson and tell myself it’s bad to feel what I’m feeling. I make myself feel worse because I tell myself it’s stupid for me to startle at every noise or to have a fear of driving. Mostly I tell myself I shouldn’t feel the way I do.
Even if I don’t explicitly tell myself I shouldn’t feel scared or anxious or unhappy, I do so tacitly whenever I try to change my feelings. When I use affirmations, yoga, meditation, tapping, self-talk, going to my happy place, etc. I’m not saying these are bad tools, they’ve been very helpful, but this week I’ve been trying something new, which is to let myself be. To let the anxiety spring up without judging it, without trying to change it. Just noticing it and seeing what happens.
Let it be! I’m not sure why this image says “let it be” to me but it does. Image by James Douglas.
Ever since I was hit by a car in November, I’ve felt a little panicky every time I cross the street. My heart starts to race and I have to psyche myself up, triple checking where the cars are to ensure my safety. When I’ve tried something different, i.e. neutrality and self-compassion, I’ve noticed my fear of crossing the street has abated.
I don’t know this will work all the time, but it’s a bit of a relief to not try so hard to feel a certain way. To not judge myself and criticize myself for feeling something I don’t perceive everyone else does (i.e. being afraid of crossing the street). When I treat myself with love and self-compassion, the anxiety doesn’t fight back nearly as strongly.
Why am I telling you this? Maybe you can relate. Maybe you try to coerce yourself into being happy all the time or believing that if you’re not it’s your fault. That you’re not thinking the right thoughts, or meditating enough, or affirming enough, or eating the right food. And while those things may be true, what’s also true is that you and I are human. We are made to experience emotions. We are made to experience highs and lows. It’s unrealistic to expect that I’ll be happy all the time, and placing that expectation upon myself only makes when I’m unhappy that much worse.
How much easier would it be if we let our emotions pass like petals floating down a stream? If we didn’t expect that we could control our emotions with such exactitude? If we practiced radical self-acceptance and were kinder and gentler to our internal selves? I, for one, am finding there are a lot of emotions I’ve buried beneath my anxiety, and I wonder if I excavate them and allow myself to feel them, if my anxiety will disappear.
I dream of a world where we don’t try to force ourselves to feel one way or another. A world where we practice neutrality and self-compassion instead of judgment for our inner selves. A world where we let ourselves be.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had a very interesting conversation this week with a friend. He said there’s a difference between feeling an emotion and attaching a story for it. For instance, I may be sad about losing a relationship, which is a natural emotion, but what makes it worse is the story I tell myself on top of it such as, “I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, no one will ever love me the same way,” etc. What can compound an emotional state is the added storyline we give it.
I like storytelling, but not when I use it to manufacture misery.
I bring this up because I have trouble letting emotions go through me. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life doing what I could to not feel, to avoid feeling my feelings at all costs, to keep them at bay because I was afraid of feeling the feeling. In my mind, it was better to not feel angry, sad, lonely, etc. in the first place. So now that I’m sober (i.e. actually feeling my feelings and not trying to numb out), I still have a hard time letting my emotions pass through me, precisely because I can drag them out by adding a story to them. The emotion turns into a big dramatic thing, I make it so much worse on myself by piling on untruths such as, “I’ll feel this way forever,” or “Things will never change.” There’s a lot of “always” and “never” in my stories. And a whole lot of catastrophizing where I jump from, “My neighbor is playing loud music,” to, “Oh my God, I need to move somewhere else!”
I’ll admit much of this has to do with the fact I’m an anxious and melodramatic person. For those of you who aren’t, you probably can’t relate to much of what I’m writing about. However, for those of you who can, I want to point out how these stories and the catastrophizing makes the emotion so much worse than it has to be. If I allowed myself to feel my moments of grief, or sadness, or loneliness, they wouldn’t last NEARLY as long if I didn’t throw extra fuel onto the fire.
I’m not sure what to do about all this other than to make myself aware of it. My dear friend who’s a therapist tells me often awareness by itself can make a huge difference. Maybe by understanding I tell myself a lot of false “truths” I can catch myself in the act and remind myself they’re not the case. Just because I’m scared about not receiving my passport on time to leave for Europe, doesn’t automatically mean my boss will get pissed and fire me and never send me to Europe again. Instead, it’s better for me to stay present with what is and acknowledge, yes, I’m anxious about my passport arriving in the mail, but that’s all I get to be anxious about, because nothing else has happened.
A lot of what I’m talking about – stories, emotions – has to do with being present, with paying attention to what’s in front of me and not future tripping or spinning out to what could be. There are a million things that “could be,” and when I start attaching emotion to all those possibilities, that’s when I really get into trouble.
I dream of a world where we feel, process, and let go of what’s before us. A world where we stick with whatever emotion we’re feeling and not compound it by telling ourselves falsehoods. A world where we act like straws, allowing emotions to come in and emotions to go out, understanding the process to be fast or slow depending on how much extra stuff we throw in. A world where we cut down on the stories we tell ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Happy New Year! On Sunday I was out of town at a retreat so I didn’t blog, but when I was there I experienced a nuance of one of my favorite quotes: “You are never alone or helpless, the force that guides the stars guides you too.” (In fact, it was even made into a song!) I have definitely felt that way – that an invisible force permeated me and my life – but this week I experienced it on a different level.
While in Austin, Texas I shared how I was feeling with some friends of mine and it turns out they were feeling the exact same way! It’s so nice to tell someone you’re heartbroken, or sad, or happy, or scared, or tired, or whatever, and have them say they feel the same way. It makes me feel less alone and crazy. I feel more connected to those around me and less isolated when I know someone else is going through the same thing. There’s a fantastic quote that I can’t find for the life of me that goes something like, “A friend is someone who says, ‘I know, I’ve been there.’” It’s so true! Sometimes I get really in my head and want to pull away from those around me because they can’t possibly be feeling what I’m feeling! They look so together! But it turns out those around me can and do feel similar to me. It’s in that sharing that space within me opens up and I feel less alone. I feel connected.
This is not the most profound post, but in essence, sharing with others reminds me I’m not experiencing life in a vacuum. That other people have problems, other people have feelings, other people don’t have all the answers either. It reminds me I’m human and that we’re all trying to buoy each other. That we’re supporting one another while working through our “stuff.” It reminds me I don’t have to be “perfect” before I can help others because instead it’s my imperfection that bonds me to others. It reminds me I’m not supposed to weather storms all on my own. And sharing how I feel also lessens my emotional load. Expressing it to someone else who is undergoing the same thing makes it seem less weighty. It’s the concept behind “misery loves company.” In my experience misery is not the only emotion that loves company, they all do.
Mostly, as I re-enter real life after coming back from vacation, I’m reminded I’m not alone. Not only because the force that guides the stars guides me too, but also because those around me are going through similar experiences. And being able to share it is a beautiful thing.
I dream of a world where we express how we’re feeling. A world where we know other people can and do understand us. A world where we open up to others because we realize we’re not alone in our experiences and nor should we be. A world where we understand we are never alone or helpless.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The message I’ve been getting over and over this week is “Forgiveness.” The interesting thing is when the event happened to me I jumped from feeling sad to trying to let it go. I looked at my part in all of it, but I never felt the anger in between and I think that’s what’s kept me from forgiving. I’ve tried to be “spiritual” and say, “Oh it happened, it’s over now, it doesn’t matter.” But you know, it does matter. I stumbled across an amazing quote this week that emphasizes the point: “Whatever you can feel you can let go of.” Somehow I’ve resisted feeling angry because I didn’t think I had a right to be angry. So the resentment, bitterness, etc. has stuck with me because I never allowed myself to feel all my feelings about it.
This week the universe has very clearly indicated it’s time for me to forgive. If I want to move forward in my life, forgiveness is a must. Here’s the interesting thing about forgiveness – it’s never about the other person, it’s about me. I forgive so that I can move on, so I can let go of the issue. As I’m sure you’ve heard over and over again forgiveness is not saying what the other person did is right, mostly it’s saying “I release you and let it go.”
As much as I want to forgive there’s still a piece of me that wants the other person to apologize first. I want them to say, “I’m sorry, what I did was wrong.” But at this point in my maturation I know the apology isn’t necessary and most likely I’m not going to get it. So all I can do is really feel I’m ready to forgive and then do it. To help with this issue, I turn to my favorite EFT guy Brad Yates:
I forgive so I can create space in my life for something better to move in. I forgive so I can release the bitterness, the resentment, and bring in the love. I forgive because I remember other people are also flawed. I forgive because I’d rather live in love rather than anger or fear.
I dream of a world where we let ourselves feel all our feelings. A world where we know what we feel we can let go of. A world where we forgive ourselves and each other. A world where we know we may have been wronged but we can always move past it.
Another world is not only possible it’s probable.
Last week I had the good fortune of attending my brother’s wedding in Puerto Rico (yay weddings!) and while talking to a friend of mine was reminded beliefs shape reality. What I mean is what I believe dictates what happens in my world. This is a very small example but on the flight home yesterday a woman walked down the aisle carrying a Styrofoam cup of soda in addition to her bags. She couldn’t put her bags in the overhead bin and carry her soda at the same time so instead she turned to a man sitting in the aisle seat and said, “Here, can you hold this?” and handed it off to him. What struck me about her interaction with him is she didn’t even question the idea he would hold her soda. Asking him to hold it was a formality because she handed it off to him before he even responded; she assumed he would say yes all along. She believed he would say yes and he did.
What’s interesting to me about beliefs is they seem to come from a different place than thoughts. I don’t know about you, but when I even say the word “belief” I feel something in my heart. It evokes an emotion. When I think something it’s more head-centered. Another interesting thing about beliefs is they leave little room for doubt. There is no wishy-washy-ness. You either believe something or you don’t.
I bring this up because despite my post from a few weeks ago I’ve still been wrestling with feelings of jealousy about someone else’s life. I want an aspect of what she has and somehow I’ve been feeling like it’s unavailable to me. When I spoke to my friend about it she said, “It all comes down to belief. What you believe is mirrored back to you.” When she said that to me I felt such relief because it’s so true. If I believe I will always be taken care of, that money will always come to me, that people will treat me kindly, they will. There is no room for doubt and uncertainty. I have to bring my heart into it, to know it with the fullness of my being.
I think that’s what the whole Abraham Hicks deal is about; really it’s the law of attraction in action. It’s putting the energy of my heart into something. It’s when affirmations start to take root. That’s some pretty powerful stuff.
I bring this up because instead of going through the machinations of how to change my life by following in the footsteps of other people, first and foremost I have to change my beliefs. I have to believe I can make a living doing what I love, I have to believe people will enjoy my book, I have to believe I’ll eventually get married. Because from the beliefs everything else follows. I love knowing I can change my beliefs, that I can change my reality, that I can make things so that were not so before. That I can absolutely do everything I want, live the life I want, and have what I so desire in others just by changing my heart-centered beliefs. And the way I do that is by asking my higher power for help.
I dream of a world where we all understand we are co-creators of our reality. A world where we know beliefs shape our lives. A world where we understand our hearts are more important than our heads. A world where we flow with life knowing we can have what we desire as long as we shift the focus back to ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.