For you, I wish:
In the name of your full blossoming, the removal of all self-doubt.
In the name of liberation from suffering, the discovery of what is unmistakably worthy of veneration.
In the name of stability, joyful residence in your one true home: your body.
In the name of ease, willingness to ride the waves of breath which are your unerring connection to the present moment.
In the name of your brilliance, recognition of the enormity of your own mind (which is inseparable from the divine mind).
In the name of your fierceness, ability to remain powerfully open in all circumstances, no matter how difficult.
In the name of generosity, absolute acceptance of yourself and, therefore, of others.
In the name of discipline, willingness to refrain from self-harm and, therefore, harm of others.
In the name of patience, freedom from expectation.
In the name of exertion, willingness to turn your mind toward joy.
In the name of mindfulness, the delight of perfect focus in the midst of enormous speed.
In the name of wisdom, in all circumstances, knowing what to accept and what to reject.
In the name of discernment, knowing in all situations of your life whether to pacify, enrich, magnetize, or destroy.
In the name of peace, taking up residence in your indestructible worthiness.
In the name of peace, that your every gesture, whether soft or hard, telegraph love for your fellow beings.
In the name of peace, knowing in your heart of hearts that the beauty and magnificence of this world is continuously unfolding.
And, of course, the delight and power and warmth of a completely open heart.
Happy new year!
Chelovek s kinoapparatom (Man with a Movie Camera) (still)
When I was a little girl, I would walk around viewing myself from the outside. Even then, I wondered about the advisability of assuming this perspective. It just seemed odd that I viewed myself as though I was on a television show about my life wherein I was playing Susan Piver. Rather than absorbing what was happening to me and deciding how I felt about it, I framed it all as scenes and decided whether or not they played to my advantage.
Fast forward a bunch of years.
When I first began to meditate, I believed that the practice was about cultivating the inner observer—that if I could notice my thoughts, feelings, experiences, and so on, I was meditating. Fair enough. As I practiced, this power to observe became stronger and stronger. Thus, I reasoned, my practice was becoming stronger and stronger.
Only partially true.
Two things happened to cause me to reconsider. One was a thought that arose suddenly and the other was something someone said to me that sort of blew my mind.
The thought: I was sitting there on my meditation cushion observing my mind when I realized that I was also observing myself observing myself. I mean, how else would I know I was observing myself? If I could see that another observer was observing the observer (stay with me here), then who was observing him/her? I could almost hear the accompanying clap of thunder as I realized, there is no end to this observational chain. Given this, who was I? The space within was so much larger than I had imagined (one Susan looking at another Susan) that it was literally beyond my comprehension. There was no end. I could not locate my “self.”
The thing someone said: I was talking to a friend and longtime meditator about the ins and outs of practice. I said something like, the inner observer is becoming very strong. I’m more and more able to let go of thoughts to simply observe. He said, “Then the next step would be letting go of the observer.” Wha?! How is that even possible? Where would I be if I actually could do that? “I” would disappear.
I realized that for all of my life, I had somehow located my “self” somewhere in the vicinity behind my eyes. “I” was looking out from that inner perch, no? However, if I somehow took my face away to try to find this person, there would definitely not be anyone there. Where was I?
Just this morning I was pondering all of this yet again when it occurred to me that there was another observer to let go of in addition to the inner observer: The outer observer. The one who is outside of me viewing my life as a theatrical event. The one who has been framing my life as tableaux that show me off to good or ill effect. The one who is judging my every move. The one who is seeing me through the eyes of advertisers. The one who is always comparing me to others. The one who is looking at me through the lens of convention.
There is more than one observer here.
I’m not sure, but I bet this second observer was not an issue for the people of thousands of years ago. The selfie culture which began slowly with film in the 20s and sped up with the advertising ethos of the 50s and the television culture of the 60s and then ramped to warp speed with the internets has bred this relatively new observational point: Outside looking in. (Thus, I posit.)
So perhaps step one for spiritual practitioners is not to strengthen the inner observer but to weaken the external one. Every time you gaze at yourself as if from the outside, cut (as it were). Just stop. Drop that perspective. You have the power to shift away from how you imagine you appear to how you actually feel. Come inside. Align with the inner observer.
We could do this for ourselves and we could teach our children to do this. It is a great first step, a crucial one in battling one of the most rampant epidemics of our time and a great, horrific block to wisdom and compassion: what I call “image poisoning.” When we try to appear wise and kind rather than be wise and kind, well, all kind of problems emerge.
Instead of following a narrative structure, my life will always be a story in process, one that is being told each day with every word and gesture. I’m not living in a story. I’m writing one. Somehow it feels more true to align with the artist than the creation.
PS When pondering the non-locatable “I,” it is always help to remember Chogyam Trungpa’s dictum: “The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hold on to, no parachute. The good news is, there is no ground.”
Recently I began working with a master coach to develop my public speaking chops. While watching a video together of a recent talk I gave, he pointed out to me every instance where I gave away my authority, whether through intonation or body language. It was eye-opening to say the least. “See how you’re rocking from foot to foot? That’s what teenagers do when they’re asking to borrow the car.” “Notice how your intonation goes up at the end of most sentences? It appears as if you are questioning yourself which actually causes the audience to question you.” And so on.
It was crazy and also embarrassing. I had never noticed these things about myself.
When planning a talk, I think about what I can offer that is useful and what words I might use to express my ideas. Throughout, I ride a roller coaster of self-doubt. Do I really have the right to teach? There are actual experts on this topic and I know I’m not one of them. What if a real expert is in the audience? What could I possibly add to this topic that hasn’t already been said more effectively by countless people? And so on. The thing is, I thought I was hiding all of this. Come to find out, I was not. The disconnect between verbal and non-verbal communication was palpable.
As he pointed all of this out to me, I realized that this was not the first time I had heard some version of, “Please own your authority.”
I remembered a time I submitted the first draft of a manuscript to a publisher which was sent back to me with the following note: “Susan, please delete all such phrases: ‘it seems this way to me, but it may not to you,’ or ‘this is my opinion; you may disagree,’ and ‘this is what I learned; you may find otherwise.’ Not only is it confusing to the reader, it is irritating.”
I remembered the moment before I was about to give a talk on meditation and was all ready to parrot what I had been taught about the practice when I realized that if I did so, there would be no life force whatsoever in my presentation and rather than interesting people in the idea of spiritual practice, I might turn them off to it. I had to drop the way others taught and use my own means of expression. On the spot.
I remembered a recent lunch date with a friend who said, “I don’t think you realize your impact on people. I can’t tell whether that is charming or irritating.” (Again with the irritating.)
I’ve written 5 books and edited 3, given countless public talks, and taught many workshops. I still struggle with self-confidence and like many who do, choose one of the two main coping mechanisms: downplaying myself and what I know and situating myself as one of many voices on the topic. (The other is overplaying and claiming complete authority while attempting to damn all others as pretenders.)
For most of my life, I thought these were the only two choices. You were either humble, open, and likable or arrogant, offensive, and insulting. I chose to err on the gentler side of the equation, I suppose, because of how much personal pain I’ve experienced at the hands of the aggressive side, from grade school teachers to bosses to (ex) colleagues. As one who grew up feeling continuously misunderstood by those in authority, I vowed never to create such circumstances for my own students.
When you abdicate your own authority because you don’t want to threaten anyone you also abdicate the possibility of helping, leading, or healing. As a teacher, people come to you because they want to know what you think and suggest. When you hem and haw overly, they drift away. Similarly, when you lay down the law too vociferously, some may experience the momentary charm of being overwhelmed, but eventually they too drift away. When you offer what you know with confidence and kindness, your students go one better than learning something from you. They discover something about themselves and in so doing unearth their inner teacher.There is some magical sweet spot that is neither pal nor boss, companion nor guru. That spot is called “teacher.”
In my Shambhala Buddhist lineage, we often use the phrase “to take one’s seat.” Meditation practice quite literally begins by taking your seat. When you do so with a sense of firmness and commitment, it informs your practice. When you do so tentatively, that has equal bearing. The same applies whether you are taking your seat around a conference table to discuss a new idea, at the dinner table with your family, or alone at your writing desk.
The truth is, we each possess wisdom and confusion. As teachers, some of us are too afraid to own what we know because then we will claim authority and become some kind of target. We cling to our confusion without acknowledging our wisdom. In this way, we deprive our students of the power within the teachings. Others of us are too afraid to admit vulnerability and over-stake the claim to authority. We cling to our wisdom without acknowledging our confusion. Thus, we deprive our students of the chance to make their own connection to the teachings.
“To take your seat” means to own your particular spot with neither false humbleness nor false pride. True humbleness and true pride look the same. They look like genuineness. They look like an invitation. They look exactly like you. When you take your seat in full unabashed possession of both your wisdom and your confusion, the teaching channel opens in a most interesting way.
The other day I was involved in a conversation with three other women who speak publicly. One of them brought up the notion of “transmission.” Rather than giving just another how-to talk, she said, she wanted to transmit something of value. Words are useful, she continued, but authentic presence is more instructive.
I agree. But there is a conundrum. What do you transmit? Where does it come from? How can you find it, feel it, and then offer it? And how can you bring it to a public forum where people have shown up hoping to gain something of value? What do you put in your event marketing materials? “Show up and see Susan transmit something that she promises will help you” is not going to work.
These questions are at the very heart of what it means to be a spiritual teacher. As one who has been trained very carefully to teach meditation (and only after more than a decade of practice and months and months of meditation retreats), it was pointed out that meditation instruction is more than a simple explanation. It is a transmission. The “transmission quality” ensures, perhaps, that the instruction is received by both your wisdom mind and your conventional mind. Your wisdom mind (or higher self, soul, spirit, whatever you would like to call it) uses the instruction to deepen whatever dialogue(s) you’re having in unseen realms—with relatives, heroes, sages, Self, or who knows what. (But we all have such inner dialogues.) Your conventional mind uses the instruction to lower your blood pressure, treat insomnia, or just be less stressed out. Both are important.
In a transmission, something generates a signal. Something else conducts it. When most of us think about transmitting, we forget about that all-important first step: something generates a signal. In other words, the signal does not start with me yet it cannot be conducted without me. Lots (and lots) of trouble ensues when the conductor confuses herself with the signal. But I digress.
Though this may sound impossibly woo-woo, I’m going to step out here and advocate the traditional view. The signal comes from your lineage. If you are Buddhist, as I am, the signal comes from the Buddha or Manjushri or Padmasambhava. If you’re Christian, the signal comes from God, Jesus, or the Holy Ghost. If you’re Jewish, perhaps it comes from YHWH, Maimonides, Moses or the Lubavitcha Rebbe. And so on.
However, most of us don’t hold with established religions—are transmissions out of our reach? Certainly not. Whether you think of it in this way or not, you definitely hold a lineage. Think of the beings you most admire. Think of the values you hold the highest. Think of the people with whom you feel most at ease. These are your lineages. Maybe your lineage is songwriters and you revere Bob Dylan, Willie Dixon, and Nick Lowe. Or perhaps you’re of the lineage of scientists and you esteem Einstein, Newton, and Nikola Tesla. Maybe you’re of the lineage of people who have no lineage, of loners and cowboys and outlaws. Your lineage could be that of mothers, Italians, activists, gardeners, executives, or simply your immediate family. These all work. (BTW, if you are so moved, in the comments, tell me what your lineage is and who your lineage holders are…)
Before you teach, it is enormously helpful, critical, even, to invoke the power of your lineage. If you’re a traditionalist like me, there are prescribed ways of doing so via spiritual practices. But it is just as good to simply think of those you admire the most and hope to emulate. Bring them to mind. That’s all you have to do. But if you want to take it a step further, say to them in whatever way feels comfortable something like, “I hold your lineage and I’ll try to do you proud by extending what you started.”
Before I teach meditation for example, I think of my meditation teacher (with unending gratitude, I might add). He was taught by his meditation teacher (in this case, Chogyam Trungpa). Chogyam Trunpga was taught by his teacher who was taught by his teacher who was taught by her teacher…and on and on. There is an unbroken line of transmission all the way back to the Buddha. When I am about to teach, reflecting on this gives me tremendous ease.
This is how the transmission quality arises. I mean, it’s one way. I’m sure there are others.
Some years ago, I was producing a book with a CD called “Quiet Mind.” It was intended to introduce people to various kinds of meditation through essays written by some of the greatest teachers in the world. The CD featured each of them teaching the practice they had written about. Before I began work on it, I went to visit my teacher, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche. I didn’t know if the transmission quality could be preserved on a recording! I asked him if it was possible. After thinking it over very briefly, he said “yes” and then offered me a formula for transmission that I have abided by ever since.
“When you are trying to teach something spiritual,” he said, “the first step is to establish confidence in the mind of the student.” Which makes total sense, because then the student can actually relax and open her mind to what you are saying and spiritual teachings are confusing enough without hearing them through a partially clenched mind.
“How do you establish confidence?” he continued. Step two! “Offer something real.” Yes! “And how do you know what is ‘real’?” he said, whereupon he laid step three on me. “Only that which you yourself know to be true via your personal experience.” In other words, not what someone else told you, not what you hope is true, not what other really cool people think is true. What YOU know.
I have tried to abide by this 3-step system for more than a decade since I first heard it. I have found it to be extremely reliable. So, as you go out there hoping to teach anyone anything whether through public discourse or private instruction, via the written or the spoken word, remember your lineage. Then establish confidence by offering something real based solely on your experiential wisdom. This way, I have learned, the signal remains strong and the conduit becomes ever stronger. You are able then to transmit in the best possible way: again, in the words of Sakyong Mipham who said to a gathering of dharma teachers, “don’t teach anyone anything. Help them to discover something.”
In this podcast, Susan discusses some of the most basic points about the Buddhist path: the Four Noble Truths, the three yanas (or teaching cycles), the ceremony by which one becomes a Buddhist, the main types of meditation practiced in the West, and more.
If you’ve ever wanted to get to the bottom of your deepest childhood wounds, stare unblinkingly at your creative terrors, or shine klieg lights on the dankest areas of your personal blind spot, I have a suggestion for you. Start your own business, preferably as a solopreneur. (Well, you could also write a book.)
When you work alone to launch an initiative that stems from your personal creativity and conviction and then put a price tag on it, you have just created the perfect storm for seeing what you really think of yourself. It’s like you’ve taken up residence in a hall of funhouse mirrors. If you receive a compliment or make a sale, you are tall and gorgeous. If your numbers come in below projections, you are squat and hideous. If you receive a message that a journalist has called you, you see yourself as put-together and on the leading edge. If you find she has called you for someone else’s contact info, you’re dressed in rags, about to trip on a rock.
As a solopreneur, every encounter turns into an encounter with self-worth. Every phone call, email, text message, business meeting, blog post, class, or conference is an opportunity to bolster or diminish ourselves. Each sale is a test of your belief in yourself and your offering. Invariably, the moment before hitting “publish,” great self-doubt arises. If someone buys it, self-esteem goes up. If no one does, it plummets.
I try to accrue as many positive moments as possible with the hope that someday I will reach a tipping point and no longer have to go through these calculations. Thus far, that day has not come. (I often tell my husband that my real job is managing my own moods.)
It never will.
Making the calculation is itself the problem. When I determine that I am unworthy, of course that undermines all of my efforts, not to mention zaps me of the energy needed to accomplish anything. And, while it feels great for a little while, it is equally as detrimental to determine that I am “worthy.” Worthiness is not mine to determine. It is inherent. It’s here right now and it is beyond question. Attempting to measure it is like trying to gauge the size of a mountain by crawling around on it. From one angle, it appears that the peak is just around the bend. Round that bend and you see that it’s much further (or closer) than you thought. All calculations are kind of useless. The mountain is what is. No matter how your perspective changes, this remains so.
You are what you are. You possess true brilliance, unique genius, and a singular point of view. Trying to gauge its worth is irrelevant. If your work happens to correspond with the current gestalt and you receive rewards for it, fantastic. If it doesn’t and you don’t, I’m sorry, I know how painful that is. But it doesn’t change your genius.
In addition to this genius, of course, no doubt you are also confused, mistaken, have pissed people off, and/or refuse to acknowledge your shortcomings. Thank god. I mean, it’s cliché to say so, but without these dark areas, you would have no platform from which to leap into uncertainty and it is in uncertainty that innovation, creativity, and wisdom are born. Seriously. Smooth sailing is not very interesting. At some point, anyone would fall asleep.
So as you go about this day and the invariable moments of “I suck” or “No, I don’t” arise, try to set both aside as momentary glimpses from a perspective that is bound to change before you get to the end of this paragraph. Remember: You’re allowed to feel excited, daunted, confused, depressed, exhilarated, bored, exhausted by your work. You’re just not allowed to doubt your worth.
The other day I wrote a blog post called Self-Employed: Three Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me. The response told me that the growing solopreneur subclass shares many concerns and issues. For example, when we look at each other, it seems that everyone else has got it together while we do not. This is often untrue. (But not always.)
It seems there is a need to discuss what really goes on behind the impossibly perfect FB posts (“Sitting on my veranda in Hawaii, exhausted but happy after teaching a sold-out workshop, sipping a glass of wine and loving my life. You?”) and perky-spiritual tweets (“The Dalai Lama promotes absolute compassion and so do I!!!!”).
One thing I see in myself and others are complex and often undeclared feelings about selling. I will be the first to admit, I HATE TO PROMOTE MY STUFF. It is just so embarrassing. First, I have to write about what is so great about me. That just feels weird. Then I have to get it in people’s faces and somehow divert their attention from whatever they were just doing. Then I have to talk about how awesome my offering is and why. Then I have to enlist my solopreneur friends by asking them if they would please, if they feel like it, if it won’t trouble them, if Mercury is not retrograde—tell their peeps about it. Next comes the issue where self-esteem meets bookkeeping: figuring out what to charge and putting it up for sale. Finally, and most difficult: figuring out how to stay cool with myself when people pony up (I’m awesome!!) and when they don’t (no one likes me…), both singularly unhelpful reactions.
There are three sales personalities I’ve noticed.
1. You probably won’t want this. Oh shucks, what I have probably sucks but if you’re not doing anything and won’t expect too much, you might maybe want to consider my paltry offering. I don’t really know anything but maybe if we band together in our not knowing, something will become known. Or at least we can cry and hold each other.
I will charge you the least amount possible.
2. I am King Shizzle from the Land of Shizzle and I come bearing shizzle. I know the secret. I’ve got what you need and I know how to make you a star, a success, a sex symbol, and rich. Just do these three or seven or twelve things and it’s yours. If you don’t, you’re crazy. My method will take you over the finish line. All killer, no filler.
I will charge you the greatest amount possible.
3. Here is what I know and this is how I can help. I’ve trained in my craft and I’ve vetted what I’m selling you. I know what I know and, more important, I know what I don’t know. I can tell you honestly that this will empower you in the following ways because this is how it’s empowered me and others I’ve taught. I will give you the following tools and stick by you as you figure it out for yourself. You can do it. My customer knows who they are and will self-select.
I will charge you a price that is a combination of fair market value, tempered or expanded by what I believe it is worth.
Personally, I aim for #3 but have been known to fall back into #1. #2 is a complete mystery to me.
Each method has its strengths (and obvious) weaknesses. The first exhibits the highly desirable quality of humility but taken too far becomes redolent of pathos. (PS: pathos does not sell…) The second reeks of confidence but rings hollow and phoney. The third is very measured and pragmatic but may not be sufficiently diverting to cut through the noise.
For each of us, some combination of humility, confidence, and pragmatism is required. Working alone, how do we know what we are projecting? The best source of feedback comes from your fellow solopreneurs, a community of generous, smart, semi-crazy lone rangers who are trying to figure it out just like you. Personally, I’m happy to share what I know. Up to a point… Then I’ve got to get back to being alone because that’s where my art can be found.
When in doubt, consider being guided by the following:
Most important is healthy respect for your own natural inner richness and awareness of the inseparability of giving and taking. As the image above indicates, it may be impossible–and unnecessary–to differentiate.
The other day I received this text from a dear friend who had recently started her own business: “When you started your own thing, did you spend any time hiding under the covers?” Only the first three years, I replied.
There are particular inner difficulties in working for yourself. No matter how carefully your plan has been researched, how market-ready your idea is, how deep your faith, and even how much money you have, certain issues seem to arise. I began working for myself close to a decade ago and I’ve experienced them over and over. And of course during this time, about 2 gazillion other people I know have started working for themselves and I’ve seen it in them too.
I applaud you, brothers and sisters! Please live your dreams. Please untether yourselves from the status quo.* Know that you are extremely brave. And try to remember these three things.
1. Allow your daily schedule to arise over time and then have faith in it. When I first started working for myself, I tried to implement a schedule that mimicked as closely as possible the work I had just left (working for The Man in the entertainment industry). I sat down at my
desk dining room table at 8a. I planned to “work” (on what??) as if I had a predetermined set of responsibilities. I broke for lunch at around 1. I planned to knock off around 6p.
I did it this way because I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way. Month after month, I forced myself to stick with this schedule because I thought that if I did not, I’d end up watching TV all day. Without a firm structure, I feared, I would not get anything done so I tried to replace the discipline of accountability to The Man with the discipline of…beating myself up.
It takes awhile to remove the harness of indentured servitude, so please be patient with yourself. Working on your own after years (or decades) of working for someone else leaves an imprint of fear, lack of imagination, and self-judgment. Even if you revered your boss/company/mission, someone else has set the context and that “someone else” provided you with the safety and constraints of an other-referenced work setting. Thinking you can simply transfer that work ethic to your new situation is not only nutty, it is not good enough or big enough to serve your brilliance.
I tried to shoehorn myself into The Man’s schedule for about 18 months when it dawned on me that I could do it another way. Instead of forcing myself to do this or that, I wondered, what would I do if left to my own devices? Would I watch TV all day? Would I sit at my desk, twirling a lock of hair and gazing into space? Would all my plans and dreams disappear into slothfulness?
Yes. On some days. But those days don’t trouble me as much as they used to.
This experiment was scary at first because I took away the net of predictability to find my own natural structure. I dropped what I was used to and also stopped listening to “experts” and their theories about productivity to see what my intuition told me to do. For some months, I experimented and it was from this that I learned to trust in my own crazy, circular, bumpy, mysterious process.
Here are the very loose parameters of the schedule that arose when I let my day unfold rather than hog-tie it to something external:
Do creative work in the morning, as early as possible. Try not to schedule anything, anything before noon. Safeguard this time. Even if I sit there twiddling my thumbs, sit there. Exercise before lunch. After lunch, do what takes the least amount of brain power. Towards the later afternoon, try to do some project planning. If I feel like working after dinner, I do. Sometimes I work on the weekends, sometimes I don’t.
This is what works for me, not you. You have to discover your own rhythms and this discovery comes only when you relax and allow your creative wisdom to guide you. It takes time. Throw in some good old-fashioned pragmatism and a couple of hard core reality checks and you’ll do fine.
Expect this to go fairly well about 30%-50% of the time. I know, that’s not a great percentage. But that’s how it is. Travel, loved ones, fatigue, and loss of heart can all interfere. That’s okay. It’s just you and you can figure out how to adapt.
This may always be a bit of a struggle but not because you lack discipline—because each day possesses so much possibility and so much richness that it is hard to figure out where to start.
2. Watch out for the roller coaster. The emotional ups and downs of working for yourself are extraordinary and have the power to dictate how you feel about your entire life. Someone sends you a positive email and you think, “This is working. I’m good at what I do!” Three people cancel their subscription to your newsletter and you think, “I’m such a fool, this will never work. People hate me.” You see a news headline predicting growth for your industry and you’re all, “It’s a sign! I’m on the right track.” You logon to Facebook and see someone doing exactly what you do but making beau coups of cash and you fall into despair. “I’m such a fool, this will never work. People hate me.” Seriously.
It seems you are only as good as your last email or phone call. Don’t worry about it. These thoughts are only meaningful if you believe any of them. So when despair dawns (for the zillionth time), try to say something like this to yourself: “Oh, there’s that thing again that is pointing out to me how deeply I long for success in fulfilling my mission. I long for it so much that I’m incredibly sensitive. But every other time I’ve had such thoughts, they’ve eventually gone away. I’m going to assume that this current batch will too.” And when great hope arises, try for a mindset akin to this: “Things look awesome and I’m so excited. *Yay Cheering Back Slapping Celebrating Jumping Up and Down Congratulating Self* for about 60 seconds. Then go back to work and enjoy how much you love the added energy that comes from faith in yourself.
PS If you have a book for sale on Amazon, never read your reviews. EVER.
3. Get away from your desk. I can be having the most down-in-the dumps kind of day and then go for lunch with a friend whereupon I return to work vastly energized. Even if you don’t talk about work, taking time away from your (necessary, useful) focus on yourself creates perspective. When you’re on your own, it’s very easy for that perspective to becomes twisted. I often say to my husband that my main job is managing my own moods. Connecting with others for a meal, a chat, a walk, a yoga class is more stabilizing than anything.
And of course, don’t be afraid to hide under the covers from time to time. We all do it. I might be doing it right now.
*Special thanks to Seth Godin for continual reminders and encouragement. If you’re making the leap to working for yourself, his books and daily newsletter are a must.
Hello and welcome to your meditation practice! I look forward to practicing together.
It is very common to think that negative thoughts can harm you and you shouldn’t think them. I disagree. Before today’s meditation, I explain why! Hint: your mind is vast…
Audio-only version can be downloaded here.
Hello and welcome to your meditation practice. Today, as per usual, we sit together for 10 minutes and I give the full instruction.
Before we sit today, I encourage you to relax self-judgment, especially when it comes to your meditation practice. Our practice, rather than trying to get meditation “right,” is about relaxing with ourselves just as we are. Instead of critiquing our every move, we extend the hand of friendship. This, it turns out, is the way to find our innate, pre-existing wisdom which is always there.
Thoughts? I always love to hear them.
Audio-only version can be downloaded here .
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