What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

An open letter to my Twitter stalker burglar

But let me catch everyone else up first

I read a post the other day about the fear that unscrupulous so-and-sos could read your Twitter* posts and use information about your where-abouts to (god forbid) break into your home.

∗ collective stream-of-consciousness internet-ey thing

Anyway, if you’re over 55 and/or related to me, this thought will scare you silly. If not, it’s completely possible/likely that it’s a direct hit to the funny bone for you.

But moving away from you for a minute … I have something to say to my Twitter stalker burglar.

Hi there, Twitter stalker burglar

There is so much I’d like to be able to say to you. For one thing, your ingenuity: it is impressive.

You obviously work very hard at what you do. Which is admirable. And intense. I mean, most people would just stick to easy stuff like casing an actual neighborhood or stealing someone’s mail (I hear identity theft is very trendy right now). Not you, though.

What really gets me? All the steps you’d need to take to burgle someone via Twitter. Honestly, I get a stress-headache just thinking about it. Let’s make a list so it’s not so overwhelming.

You’d have to:

  1. Follow thousands of Twitter folk and devote a huge chunk of time to tracking all their updates just in the hopes that someone announces a jaunt out of town. That’s probably already half your day.
  2. Then you have to find out if that person actually lives in your city or state. If not, you could alert a burglar friend of yours who happens to be from those parts, if you have one. Silly me, you’re probably only following people where you’re from.
  3. Once you have your mark and you know when they’re leaving town, you need to nail down their address.
  4. Now the hard part. Once you’ve nailed down the address, you still have to ascertain that it’s their actual abode, and not the place they have their mail sent to because most people with businesses have both and don’t give out the former. That might take some complicated hacking, but you’ve got time on your hands so it’s no big deal.
  5. Then it’s time to find out if your intended “burglar-ee” (sorry for not being more familiar with the jargon in your field) has arranged for a housesitter or is letting their brother-in-law stay over. Or if they have dogs. Or an alarm system.

    Oh, well, if they didn’t say anything about it on Twitter, just assume you’re fine. It’s all part of the game.

  6. And of course you need a way into the house without any of the neighbors seeing you.

There are probably more steps than that, but I’m already boggling at your work ethic. So let’s just pretend you’ve already done all this and more — and now, after days of hard work, you’re in my house and ready to burgle the day away.

Please, make yourself at home. You’ve earned it.

Welcome. If you don’t know where to start, let me suggest that stack of old New Yorker issues. Isn’t Calvin Trillin the best?

In fact, if you like to read, boy are you in luck because we also have a ton of books. If they’re about history and design they probably belong to my gentleman friend, and if they’re about language and metaphor, or written by Seth Godin, they’re mine.

I hope you’re not looking for electronics because — and this is really too bad for you — we don’t have any. Yeah, we’re anti-television and things like that, and of course the laptops are with us because we both have online businesses.

Though now that I think of it, there is a little plastic radio in the closet. We got it from a KQED pledge drive. That’s right, San Francisco. It works at least half the time. You can totally have it.

You know, it occurs to me now that there might not actually be anything here that someone who isn’t us would value. And even then, we probably won’t notice. Though if you don’t mind, the blue mug was made by a friend of mine, so if you could leave that, I’d appreciate it.

Hungry? Please, help yourself. We’re all about bulk food, so I hope you like to cook. Let’s see, you could make quinoa. With an onion and the garlic. Mmmmmm. Bon Appetit.

Oh, and if you’re in a cooking mood, do make a lot so there will be leftovers for our house-sitters. You know, the ones we didn’t Twitter about because when you’re limiting yourself to 140 text characters, brevity is the name of the game. Anyway, I’m sure they’ll appreciate having something to eat.

But wait, don’t leave yet! You just got here.

There’s got to be way more for you to do here.

What are you looking for now? Cleaning supplies? I wish we had some to give to you, but we make our own from scratch. If you’re in a cleaning mood, though, you can make your own from borax and vinegar and stuff. It’s all under the sink and the recipes are on the side of the refrigerator. Ha ha ha, I’m just kidding, you really don’t have to clean. We’ll do that when we get back.

We do have a couple of DVDs. If you ever steal a computer from someone else you could watch them on that. They’re mostly yoga theory though. We also have Oh Brother, Where Art Thou. You’ll identify with that because it totally features people who steal stuff.

One more thing. If you want to take a shower, feel welcome to do so. I wish we could offer you shampoo and conditioner, but we make those ourselves too and finished the last batch before we left. Oooh! You know what, though? You should definitely take the soap.

Like in a hotel! That’s always fun. Plus it’s made locally and smells yummy. Seriously, we don’t mind getting more if it means we’ll be supporting local craft-ey people.

Let me see … is there anything else? Seems like that’s it. Do you need rainwater? I didn’t think you did but some of our neighbors collect theirs in barrels. We’re like that in Portland. If you want to steal yourself help yourself to some rainwater, know that this should be relatively easy.

Well, I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. Please don’t blame yourself. Or Twitter. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Better luck next time and all that.

A postscript for everyone who isn’t my Twitter stalker burglar

If you’re wondering where all the change-yer-habits techniques and random pearls of self-work-ey wisdom went today, please know that I’d planned to do this differently.

Here’s what my plan was: tie all this into a neat little package, and weave in various threads from the relating-to-your-fear theme. Like how, when you default into fear patterns — as we all do when stuff pushes our buttons, your fear becomes reality-defining.

Which means that the fear essentially acts as a filter, like a dirty pair of glasses through which you take in and analyze all the pieces of information that come your way.

I also thought it’d be neat to talk about ways to take care of yourself so that other people can’t intentionally or unintentionally press your buttons and manipulate your fears with their words. Or maybe the power of reminding yourself when you’re afraid that you’re allowed to be afraid. Or how it sometimes helps to insert a little humor into your fear in order to interact with it from a new perspective.

Good stuff. Thing is, though, I just don’t feel up to it today. So if you don’t mind rain-checking it, let’s do it some other time, okay? It’ll be fun. Maybe my Twitter stalker burglar will come too and we’ll all eat quinoa together and have a good laugh.

Because everything sounds better in German

So … I’m going to be in Berlin all month

Ostensibly to be presenting my (speaking of wacky) yoga-based epiphany-centric brain training work (aka Dance of Shiva) at the Berlin Yoga Festival (English).

Yes, Selma (my duck) and I have been invited to bring it on and knock people gently over the head with some of the more habits-changing aspects of yoga-related stuff.

But it’s also an excuse for me to get back to my favorite city ever which I love like a second home.

(No, I’m not talking about you, West Berlin, you can be my fourth favorite city. I’m talking about the East. That’s right.)

Anyway, it’s all good news for me and the duck.

What this means for you

  1. If you call me on my cell or at the office I won’t be around. I do have a German cell phone but the number for it is stored in my brain and only comes back to me when I’m speaking German.
  2. If we have calls already scheduled or you’re scheduled but need to move stuff around, I’ll still be doing calls — we’re just going to have to tweak stuff due to the time difference.
  3. You can absolutely still reach me — as my mother until relatively recently used to say — on the emails. We will have regular access to the internets.
  4. If you’re in Europe, and you still haven’t booked your cheap flight to join me for one of the oh, ten workshops I’m teaching while there, there’s still time. Not much, but come on — it will be fun! Programs are all in German/English

What this means for me

I have just a few days to get back into “Sure I speak German well enough to teach a three hour seminar” mode, so …. hmmm, I now realize I don’t know how to end this sentence but please join me in laughing at my comical situation. I thrive on this stuff.

That’s it! Prepare to enjoy a few more normal-English posts before I make the switch and my syntax goes all whonky. And expect considerably more mentions of cheese.

Healing heartache (with a side of wackiness)

A point is coming, but first a story

A story served with wackiness. Because, believe me, I am no stranger to the ways of wacky.

So, this is not at all the point, but last night I went to a yoga nidra class here in Portland. And I’m still recovering. Not my body*, of course. It’s the heady mental trip that gets me.

* For the uninitiated: yoga nidra ≠ physical. No moving. Hard-core guided relaxation.

Also brain-rewiring to plant subconscious seeds re: stuff you want to work on.

If you’ve never tried it, take it from me — yoga nidra is a pretty ridiculously awesome practice, especially if you’re lucky enough to land a teacher who doesn’t wander too far into the whole annoying “welcome to the journey” stuff.

Even as ridiculously awesome practices go, last night’s was especially so. And one specific exercise (mental exercise, we weren’t actually moving) just knocked me out.

And there’s a neat little self-work change-yer-habits take-away in there, which I’ll get to eventually. But first let me tell you about this one particular (mental) exercise.

Here’s what happened.

The exercise goes like this. You’re in this incredibly floaty relaxed state and you’re directed to think of words. And then to try to awaken the word-sensation so you actually get the vibe in your own body or body-mind or whatever.

Hot/cold. Pleasure/pain. Heaviness/lightness. The idea is to use this conjuring-up-of-sensation-at-will as a way to deprogram old patterns and remind your mind that everything is temporary.

Course if you like being all metaphysical and stuff, you could go deeper into theory-land and talk about breaking through human-constructed dualities and oneness and things like that. But — never fear — we’re not going there.

No, this is about the exercise itself. I was fine until the pleasure/pain. That was the one where it all went all intense.

The specific pleasure and pain sensations are entirely up to you to choose. And the sensations you’re summoning up can be physical, mental, or emotional. Any or all. It’s your call.

No matter how many times I’ve done this exercise (ten? fifteen?), I’m not actually able to choose anything. Whatever I try, one just comes up. In fact, the exact same sensations and the same memory come up every time for both pleasure and pain.

** Personally I prefer gentler “bypass the pain” work. (Who coined the phrase, “Comfort rocks.That’s why there’s a zone for it!”)?

I’d never “conjure up pain” with a client. We play safe. Self experimentation only.

Also: it’s always emotional pain more than mental or physical. Yes, being human and all, I’ve had my fair share of both pleasure and pain in the physical, but when I give myself the cue (or the permission) to intentionally (and temporarily) conjure up these experiences**, it’s the emotional that surfaces and wants attention.

Pleasure, pain, sensation, memory

For me, the pleasure perception is always that feeling of unexpectedly running into someone you love, and feeling that wild, palpitating rush of joy-shock-adrenaline combined with an outpouring of loving-kindness and good-will brain drugs.

Usually the mental picture that arises is a memory of turning a corner and seeing my childhood best friend coming towards me, walking her dog and grinning from ear to ear. Occasionally the memory features someone else, but it’s always the exact same “Hey, I didn’t know I was going to see you and now there you are and it feels seriously joyful” feeling.

The pain perception I get doesn’t alter at all from one practice to another. It’s always one particular scene and one particular image. Here’s what it looks like.

In this memory I’m in Israel, where I lived for ten years. More specifically I’m in my boyfriend-or-maybe-ex-boyfriend’s flat. He’s in Berlin. Without me. For three whole months. Background: many break-up attempts followed by repeated get-back-togethers despite this clearly being a bad idea for all concerned.

Anyway, in the memory, I’m sitting there watching the phone and smoking (yes, this is before I knew how to resolve habits) and my misery is so acute that I can’t even get close enough to it to define it (Is it sadness? Anger? Regret? Remorse?).

Who knows. It just hurts. Like the dickens. In an all-consuming broken-hearted kind of way. I’ve conjured up the pain and it’s pretty awful.

All that is a ton of background, but I’m working my way to the point.

Now getting slightly closer to the point. Point approaching.

Everything I’ve described up until now is just what happens for me in yoga nidra practice, and each time I imagine that I’m getting better at releasing some attachment to both the pleasure stories and the pain stories.

I tell myself that I’m steadily getting better at unloading all the residual, old, stuck stuff from my present self. All the stuff that really belongs to my past self that I don’t necessarily need to keep holding on to. That this is just one more way that I’m rewriting old patterns and living by what I believe in.

This time though, things veered sharply off course. Sure, when we got to the pain point, my subconscious (or unconscious or whatever is in charge) dropped me smack-dab into the usual memory.

But this time, I — as in, me: the person writing these words right now — was there in the room too, along with my hurting-self-from-then. There were two of us: Then-me was sitting on the bed, looking at the phone, and Right-now-me was standing by the closet watching Then-me.

Keep in mind that I have done stuff like this before — going into past memories to do some sort of clearing-things-up, so it didn’t feel weird or unfamiliar. But it wasn’t like that either.

Here’s where it gets a little wacky

It was like this: Right-now-me was really wanting to give Then-me some kind of help and support. A hug. Words of comfort. A useful technique.

Or even just a reassurance that “Hey, I happen to know for a fact that one day your life will be seriously great in every way, and you’ll have a partner who madly loves every single thing about you.”

I didn’t make the offer out loud or anything. Just in my thoughts.

And instantly the room went dead cold. Ice. Then-me wasn’t looking at me but it was as if she knew that I (Right-now-me) was there. And Then-me was unequivocally rejecting any possibility of help and support.

Do. Not. Want.

It was as if there was a ring of icicles surrounding Then-me and she wanted them to stay there.

So I said to myself, “Okay, even though I’m really wanting to give my past self this help and support, she doesn’t want it. And I can respect that, so I’ll just sit down and leave her alone until the yoga nidra teacher moves me on to the next exercise.”

I sat myself down — yes, all this is still happening in my consciousness and not in real-time — and did nothing. And the room warmed up, and Then-me appeared to soften and even smiled. Not at me, but yeah, it was a smile.

And you know what? I knew with a sudden and absolute doubt-free clarity that she was really, deeply relieved that I wasn’t trying to take away her pain. She needed her pain because the pain, even though it was full of all kinds of horrible, was defining her at that moment, and anything trying to relieve her of this pain was an enemy.

Once I’d stopped sending out those “let’s-do-something-about-your-pain” vibes, she melted. And, you know what? The pain was gone. I tried, but I couldn’t conjure up the pain anymore. No more hurt. It just seemed more like a memory of something that was.

Okay, HERE’S the point

Thanks for hanging in there. We’re at the take-away.

The main moral-of-story, for me at least, is this: you gotta acknowledge your pain — and not just your pain, but your relationship to your pain and your need for your pain way, way before applying any technique that will ease that pain.

I already talk a lot about the importance of meeting yourself where you are and really, all of the techniques I use with clients and students are based on the completely counter-intuitive concept that you can’t do anything with the stuck before you acknowledge it and let it have its say. That you can’t release your resistance until you let it be there.

But this extremely personal experience that I’m sharing with you, blog-reading stranger, took that knowing and that conviction to a way deeper place.

You have to let the pain feel safe. It doesn’t matter which technique or what methodology you’re using. This holds true for all of them.

Imagine a continuum stretching from the more conventional, not-at-all-wacky methods (conflict resolution and mediation) to my Emergency Calming Techniques or the MPDFWD — Magical Procrastination-Dissolving Fairy Wonder Dust (which are more complex and nuanced and also slightly wackier), and all the way to pure all-out-wacky spiritual/energy practices.

It doesn’t matter. Whatever you’re doing to work on your stuff***, you gotta let your stuff be there first. Let it be what it is. Let it know and really trust that you’re not going to rush in and try to fix it or zap it away. All you’re going to do is sit there and let your stuff feel safe and secure.

*** The “Don’t Try This At Home, Kids” qualifier: you can do a ton of self-work on your own, but be careful when dealing with old hurt and pain. Personal traumatic experience mileage may vary.

You are just going to let the pain have its pain.

That is what opens that hard-to-find-door. And the thing that is right past the door is the moment when the pain decides it doesn’t need to be there anymore.

P.S. Interesting. You know that bit about choosing an intention (sankalpa if you’re into that whole Sanskrit thing) to work on? I’d completely forgotten, but mine had been “I’m ready to get better at feeling safe receiving help and support”. Sweet.

A blog: I has one

Whoah, it’s here

So two years after I read Andy Wibbel’s book Blogwild and was convinced that I wanted to start blogging right this second, I’m launching a blog. Hi, this is my blog.

It’s taken me a seriously long time to implement the Andy-ignited *spark*. It’s been oh, let’s see, a year and eight months since I got my wordpress API KEY thingey.

And about nine months since that one time I talked my designer, a colleague and several client into blogging (which they took to like the proverbial duck to water, if Selma will excuse the duck reference). Now even their clients blog.

And it’s been at least six months since I realized the following three things:

  1. If you have a business and you’re not hanging out in (and actively participating in) the land of blog, you’re doin’ it wrong.
  2. Someone who is incapable of not writing and actually misses writing when not cranking out noozletters and ebooks really needs a platform to dump out all the wordishness happening in her head. That someone is me.
  3. Remember when Kelly Parkinson from Copylicious wrote me that email and said all those things*? She was totally right and actually she’s always right and anyone who doesn’t listen to every word she says is a moron, including and maybe even especially me.

*Here’s what Kelly said:

You need to be blogging. This stuff you write about is solid gold. There is no reason you shouldn’t be out there doing teleconferences with the Seth Godins of the world. Take this as your kick in the pants message: Get a blog!!! It is just wrong that you’re not allowing the random people who need this stuff to find it. Please! I beg you! Blog!

But getting back to Andy.

Andy Wibbels was my very first internet-crush. Not in a “If only you liked girls” way, but more in a “Whoah, you are so not a phony and yet you’re totally successful at this stuff” way.

It was such a relief to encounter someone who was so obviously not sleazy and just being all this-is-my-authentic-self, but not in a calculated “strategic” (gross) way. Total happy exhale moment. I felt tremendously reassured to know that someone was modeling something sorta like what I wanted to do (help people, but in a way that it’s accessible and that the right people can find you).

Plus he could teach me useful stuff about this whole running-your-home-business-on-the-internets thing. But the most important thing I’ve learned from Andy is one of those yoga-style lessons of life: “Show up completely, wackiness and all.” That means weaknesses, warts, quirkinesses, the toy duck that you talk to and everything that makes you a real, live human being with stuff.

Hmmph. Stupid transparency.

You might be noticing that there aren’t a lot of comments here aren’t any comments here. Yes, I live a yogacentric lifestyle and one of the principles of yoga that I’m so serious about is that of speaking truth, which is way, way harder than it sounds and which will trip you the hell up if you don’t watch what you say, which of course is the point. But enough about bringing conscious awareness to every living moment and more about the comment situation.

There aren’t any. Yet. And that’s because this blog launched yesterday.

Which, as I was explaining above is because I have been working on my “stuff”. Yeah, the hardest part of being a habits expert is modeling the whole being-gentle-with-yourself thing. It means that I work really hard to get better at giving myself permission to take my sweet time to work through my own stuck bits and do things in my own quirky (quirkified?) way. And boy did I have a bunch of resistance to work through around this blogging thing.

But the point is: I’m here now. I’m ready now.

And I madly adore you for being part of it. (Or at least I think I do)

My super-brief Oscar acceptance speech: thanks and crazy gratitude to everyone who kept nudging me forward with this (especially Copylicious Kelly Parkinson, Pam Slim, Nathan Bowers). And Andy, of course. Oh, and Naomi Dunford from Itty Biz.

Naomi is my current internet-crush. Not in a “If only you liked girls” way, but in a “you are the person I’d probably be if I hadn’t lived abroad for eleven years and become a yogi, please let’s be kindred spirits forever” kind of way. She has given me so much inspiration juice.

And thanks/hello to all the great people I haven’t met yet.

If you’re not someone who has been part of my foray my emigration process as I move out of whatever you’d call where I am right now and into the land of blog — actually if you’re someone other than my one subscriber (hi) –, I would love it if you would read some of my old noozletter bits o’ self-work wisdom that are hanging out here while I get into my blogging Schwung.

And if you feel so inclined, leave a comment or two on your favorites to remind me that I’m not just winking in the dark. Would be awesome. Or if you want to celebrate with me. Or if you have suggestions of the “learn from my horrible mistakes” variety or just want to be all encouraging and stuff. Whee, encouragement! Thanks.

How to ensure that you never get anything done

carrot stick method

Hey! The way you’re trying to motivate yourself: totally not working

We all know the “hey, look, I’m not doing that thing I said I’d do” feeling pretty well. And yeah, it’s not fun. When that sinking feeling shows up, you start looking for something that you think will “motivate” you. Something to push you harder so you can get in gear and get that thing done already.

Unfortunately, you (and by you I mean probably you but really, uh, me and everyone else I know) tend to choose ways to motivate yourself that aren’t very good for you. Even worse, it might sorta kinda feel like they work, so you keep using them.

I’m talking about the way you goad yourself with some complicated system of rewards or punishments. Or torture yourself with the “Oh, I just work well under pressure so I intentionally create stress to light a fire under my big old behind” thing.

Two good examples of how this can (not) work, taken directly from people I work with:

Smart, capable woman. Went to great lengths to remove all distractions and fun from her house/life in order to devote the weekend to a project. Which just increased the frustration when the project still just didn’t budge. In fact, it felt like being in prison, but even worse since it was a prison that she’d made for herself. Oy.

Hardworking guy working even harder towards a “reward” vacation he’d promised himself which seems farther and farther away. He just never feels like he’d earned it. To make himself feel better he gives himself mini-rewards, which then trigger the whole guilt cycle again. Oh no! Aaaaargh. Exactly.

Why carrot-stick-ing it is a seriously bad idea

All carrot. All stick. Alternating carrot and stick. There’s a big problem with all of these scenarios. Whether you’re meting out reward or punishment to yourself, it always comes back to the same question:

Do you really want your relationship to yourself to be one where you rule over yourself? Where one part of you gets to boss the other part around?

Whether you’re ruling over yourself with an iron hand or with cookies, it’s still a pretty screwed-up power dynamic. It’s also one that springs naturally from your own life, mirroring past relationships. It’s essentially a parent-child relationship, or teacher-student, boss-employee … you get the idea.

Thing is, though, you’re your own person now, which means that you’re allowed to start being a companion to yourself and not a cranky whip-cracking (and/or cookie-bribing) master.

What would someone who really, really, really liked you do?

If you think about it, all that finger-wagging and keeping yourself in from recess is a surefire way to make sure you resent yourself, sabotage yourself and fight with yourself. This is terrible for motivation — especially since you can’t get much done when you’re stuck in a big pile of internal resistance.

Same goes for trying to impress yourself by being the best student or the best kid so you’ll get a pat on the head. Or trying to meet your needs with toys.

When you get right down to it, self-mastery is just kinda mean. On the other hand, self-friendship — the cheesy-sounding process of learning how to treat yourself mindfully and with compassion — is good stuff. Having access to things like warmth, respect and love is not only more pleasant, but gets you the results faster. It works.

What would it feel like to be able to drop the reward-punishment game? Or maybe a better question is how does it feel to be pushed around when what you’re needing is attention and support? What you would do if your own best friend were hurting?

Dangle a carrot in front of her? Beat him with a whip? Right. I know.

So what’s left?

Sometimes you want to treat yourself like a true friend. Part of you does actually want to be that compassionate, kind person to yourself — you just don’t know how to do it without losing control. Or you don’t want to find out, because what if it’s hard, what if it’s embarrassing, what if you just don’t feel like you deserve to actually be nice to yourself, etc.?

Luckily, you’re not going to have to cheer yourself along like a hyperactive motivational speaker. Or affirm into a mirror that you’re the bestest and the smartest. Because that would be ridiculous.

Three steps, just to get started with.

The three steps (being an amazingly great friend to yourself)

Step 1: Observe

Notice where you’re at. Check in. A really great friend wouldn’t rush right in with a pile of judgments and start beating on you with a guilt-stick. That really great friend would just be concerned about figuring out how you *feel* about the whole thing.

Step 2: Let it be what it is for now

A true friend is not going to think it’s stupid that you’re, say, really, really angry. That kind of friend is also not going to be impressed by it. You are the most important person in their whole life, and if that’s what you’re feeling, that’s what you’re feeling.

This great friend is going to acknowledge what you feel and let you feel it. In fact, your friend will think that whatever you’re feeling is understandable and perfectly justifiable.

Step 3: Find out what you need

That really great friend cares about you deeply. All your really great friend wants to know now is what do *you* need? Not how to fix it, not what you did wrong or where you messed up, but what you need and how you need it.

Bottom line: self-mastery is just not a healthy or sustainable way to have a relationship with yourself. If you ever want to be able to relax — a little or a lot –eventually you’re going to have to work on this friendship thing.

And one little caveat for the road

It sounds obvious and still it’s the first thing that everyone forgets. Forcing compassion = not very compassionate.

Guilting yourself into being a good friend to yourself is that same old self-mastery thing again. It’s very, very easy to slide into “Aargh, I “should” be nicer to myself but actually I’m a terrible person! Oh no! I’m doing it again. Why can’t I just be more freaking compassionate?” mode.

But if you aren’t ready to be nice to yourself, that’s where you are. It’s temporary. No need to turn kindness into another should. It will show up eventually when you’re ready for it. Baby steps are fine. There’s no rush. It’s perfectly okay to find out what’s the nicest thing you can stand right now and leave it at that. That’s where I’d leave it.

The Fluent Self