The Flow of Compassion

The Flow of Compassion

This quote from Rumi has been on my mind.

Your hand opens and closes, and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced 
and coordinated 
as birds’ wings.

If I pause long enough to feel the rhythm of the ocean, I can feel it pulsing through me.  My heart beating with the flow.  

 Like the rise and fall of my breath, I can let myself open to the experience of others.  With empathy I can recognize and acknowledge their emotions.  Mirror neurons allow us to sense the feelings of someone else.

Because emotions motivate behavior, the feelings leads to an urge to act.  If there is pain, I want to help.  I want to alleviate the suffering.

That’s compassion.  Recognizing the suffering and wanting to help.

But Rumi’s right.  If I stay open, I’ll get stuck, feel paralyzed.  I may feel like I”m drowning in other people’s pain.  That does not help anyone.

I need to close again.  I need to step back, reclaim my own energy for myself.

I have to learn over and over again how to do that.  How to separate and make sure I’m filling my own bucket, wearing my own oxygen mask.  

And I have to remember to do that over and over.  Even if I only remember when I’m already a bit overwhelmed, that’s ok.  But over and over and over, opening and closing.

I’m starting 2022 with some new ideas on how to do this.  Because I have a steady stream of clients, I need to practice this opening and closing over and over.  I have some new strategies I’m trying, and I’ll share those in another blog post.

For now, I’d love to know what you’re doing.  What strategies or techniques do you use to open and close?

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My Difficult Week

My Difficult Week

Last week, I had a tough week.  Now, let me give you some background.  I live with my significant other, Dennis, who goes by Dee, my adult daughter, and my two grandchildren., who are 8 and 5 years old We are fortunate to share a house with enough room for all of us and, even now, when we’re all at home all the time, we can be pretty comfortable.  But last week was tough.

On Monday, my daughter’s work schedule changed.  Changed for the foreseeable future.  And will keep changing for a while. We had worked out a pretty good routine so that she could work, I could  work, and the kids were taken care of.  “Dee” is retired, and he spends a lot of time with the kids, thank goodness. But suddenly, our system was thrown into a state of upheaval and no one knew what we were doing when or what to expect tomorrow.

On Tuesday, I spent hours finishing my taxes. Having my own business, I knew I would owe money. I did not know it would be “that” much money. But that’s ok.

On Wednesday, I got a couple of bills that were more than I expected. And we were still dealing with figuring out new schedules and systems, the kids were out of whack, and we were too. There was more stuff in the house that needed attention. Seemed like everything was demanding my time.

On Thursday, I faced the reality that the kids are not going back to school in person . Not now, probably not for a long time. No, I don’t think it’s safe for them to go back, we probably wouldn’t send them if we could. So in a way it’s a relief to know. But at the same time, the prospect of who-knows-how-long with them home all the time and the on-going support they’re going to need for school to be good seemed overwhelming.  I mean, how do you even do kindergarten on line?

So all of that was just weighing on me. But the worst part of it was that even when I had time to spend on my own work, I couldn’t get in the right frame of mind to actually do anything. Yes, I could see clients – when I have a client scheduled, that time is sacred – the door to my “office” is closed and even the kids know to leave me alone.  But other work?  Blog posts? Making some changes on my website? No. Not even planning – I’d sit down and try to get started but my mind was going in one hundred other directions.

Some of the time, I was thinking, “How am I going to do this? I can’t work like this. Omg, I’ll never be able to build my business the way I want to. I’m going to spend the rest of my life watching kids and doing house stuff and, sigh, nothing will ever get better. I can’t do this!. I just can’t!” I felt trapped, and alone and generally miserable.

 But Thursday evening, I got a message from someone I know just well enough to respect them and their work. They wanted to schedule a consult with me to talk about some work I’m doing. And y’all. Suddenly, my world opened up again. Just the fact that they’d reached out to me, and I had the prospect of an interesting, new conversation was enough to shift everything. Like a kaleidoscope. Just one little twist and it’s as if my life had a whole new perspective.

In that moment, with a big AHA, I suddenly remembered that things change. I had forgotten that. For almost a week, I truly felt like things would be the same forever  – and THAT is not true. We have no idea what’s going to happen next. Suddenly, I was back to my more usual self, where I can embrace uncertainty on some level and take comfort in the idea that change will happen.

When I look back on it, I have to laugh. As miserable as I was, I didn’t do any of the things that I might tell someone else to do to feel better. I didn’t talk to anyone about how I felt, didn’t challenge my thoughts, I didn’t exercise more, my sleep patterns were messed up, I didn’t journal, basically I did nothing but wallow in my own misery. I was lucky that it didn’t take a whole lot to snatch me back out of that mess. And it was a great reminder for me of what it feels like to “be in the stew.” That’s always how I think of it, when I’m sinking in that sort of soggy, yucky feeling – like treading water, but worse, and just barely hanging in there.

When I do manage to climb back out of it, it’s like a new world. For me, it’s like having a big rock to stand on. The stew is still there, nothing’s changed, but I have a place to stand. I can look at it from here, rather than being directly in the middle of it, about to get pulled under. I have perspective and room to breathe.

Note:  I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, to use as the basis for my first “Ten Minute Break” FaceBook Live video.  When it was time to do the video, I discovered that I had a technical issue and had to switch to my iPad and couldn’t access my notes at all.  So the camera is at a terrible angle, and I had to wing it, which I’m not too bad at, but it threw me off track a bit, and then… well, I won’t go into the rest of it.  It was a great exercise in non-perfectionism.

In the future, I’ll be posting the video and the blog post together, but if you want to watch this one, I’ll invite you to visit me on FB here.  The story starts at about the 7:20 mark because I do a brief mindfulness practice first.  Join me on Wednesdays at noon if you want to catch the new ones live.

Your Own Place to Ponder

Your Own Place to Ponder

When stress is unrelenting, you can’t think.

You probably know what stress feels like. Your breathing gets shallow.  Your heart rate speeds up. You may feel hot. These are some of the signs that your body is ready to respond to danger. It’s the classic fight/flight/freeze response and it’s a basic biological fact. 

We don’t often talk about the next part of this. When your body is poised to deal with danger, your frontal cortex – the part of your brain that thinks things through, that uses logic to weigh the pros and cons and make decisions – that part pretty much shuts down. And that makes sense. Of course it does – it doesn’t want to distract you from reacting to the danger.

When you say, “I was in such a panic, I couldn’t think straight,” that is literally true. When you’re sensing danger, it’s not the time to get philosophical, and your brain knows it.  

Calming Your Brain

Fortunately, there’s a very simple way to change that. By focusing on your breathing, you can re-engage the frontal cortex so you can think clearly again.  It doesn’t have to be deep breaths, although they can help, but just noticing your breath, as you breathe in and breathe out, can make a big difference. You can add a smile – or even just a half-smile. Both of those steps let your brain know that you’re safe, you’re not going to die right now, and it’s ok to start thinking again.

When the stress you’re experiencing comes in waves, when it is unrelenting, you may find yourself feeling constantly tense and on high alert. That can cause a new level of problems, from high blood pressure to burn-out.  You need a lot more than a few breaths. You need time and space to look at your thoughts and feelings, to be able to share them, to challenge them, and to reconnect with your most resourceful self. In fact, you need a place to ponder.

Ponder –  to spend time thinking carefully and seriously about a problem, a difficult question, or something that has happened; to contemplate

Defining Your Place to Ponder

When your work involves trauma, finding your very own place to ponder is essential. Maybe there’s an actual place where you feel relaxed. Maybe you need to be around a particular person, or people. Maybe you just need the time to breathe for a little while. What you need may not be exactly the same as anyone else, but it’s important to find that time and space. When your work involves trauma, it’s essential.

Using R.E.A.L., with me as your coach, we begin there. The Discovery process guides you to really look at who you are and where you stand right now. In Reconnect, we help you bring your life into alignment with your inner self. Next, we Explore the range of tools available to use to maintain your balance and alignment. We determine if you need to Add skills to your toolbox.  Finally, we help you bring your new-found sense of who you are to Let your life shine.

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