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 Walk at the Beach

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My Walk at the Beach

My Walk at the Beach

A wise friend posted this quote today.

I am of a mind to leave my anxious self sleeping in the summer heat, sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of my life, while I creep down the steps, my younger spirit ready to play, unburdened by the what if’s and why not’s, running out into the wide yard of hope, running in the joy of freedom, chasing the light across the lawn. Come join me. Let your older worries doze in the shade, they will still be there when you return, and stretch your spirit out to the full length of its innocence, the new creation you were meant to be, the child of a brighter day to come. ❤

~ Bishop Steven Charleston, Choctow

I thought about it on my early morning drive to the beach. The beach is my place to reconnect with myself, where I can “stretch out my spirit…” I didn’t go for almost 4 months, early March til late June, and I missed it dreadfully.

This is my second venture back. I’m out of the house and on my way before seven, so I’m confident there will only be a few people scattered around the beach.

Mostly, I go to the beach so I can walk, ankle deep in water, letting the bigger waves wash up over my legs. It doesn’t matter if I get wet, the sun will dry me out quickly enough.

I hear the waves crash, feel the wind, the salty air, and the gritty sand,

while my heart beats to the rhythm of the waves rolling in and rolling out…

I love it all.

I’ve talked before about why I call my business “Fausta’s Place to Ponder.” It’s my reminder that we all need that space to be able to take a step back and reconnect with ourselves. It’s hard to remember that when we’re surrounded by trauma, our own or other people’s. It feels like we have to be there to help, to manage, to take care of everyone and everything.

The truth is if you can’t take a step back and reconnect with yourself, you can’t help anyone, not in the long run. We all need our own “Place to Ponder.”

My favorite place is the beach, that’s what calls to my spirit, but yours may not be the beach at all. My friend, Monika, makes space for herself with adult coloring, especially mandalas.  She makes some incredibly beautiful ones.

Adult Coloring by Ms. Monika

What does your Place to Ponder look like?

Is it an actual place or an activity? Is it a person you can be around who helps you find that sense of who you are? How do you carve out that space for yourself?

I work with people who are nearly overwhelmed with the suffering around them, people who are trying to make the world a better place, but feel like they’re drowning in other people’s pain.  I help them reconnect with themselves and find ways to get the support they need to keep doing the work they love. If that sounds like you, email me: Fausta@faustasplacetoponder.com and let’s see how I can help.

Second Hand Trauma

Second Hand Trauma

I first became aware of the impact of secondhand trauma back in the mid-90s. I was working as a therapist in a Community Mental Health Center and a lot of my clients were survivors of sexual abuse. So I was already learning about the effects of trauma when there was a dramatic increase in the crime rate. Suddenly, people in the neighborhood were getting shot – and killed.

I began to see first-hand how one person’s death impacted their family and the people around them – their church family, the people they went to school with or worked with, everyone who knew them. Each shooting was a trauma that rippled out and affected the whole community. The ripples touched the staff at our center too – often, when someone got killed, we knew them. Sometimes they were our client, or maybe we knew their mama or their brother and sister or even the person who sat next to them back in third grade. We were connected to them.

One of my former clients was killed, a woman I’d worked with for a long time. After that, I started getting the newspaper at home – first thing in the morning, I’d check the neighborhood section and the obits to see if anyone I knew had been killed.

Stories from those days stuck with me. I remember a teenager in one my groups – we were talking about feeling safe, and she said, “Well, I feel safe in my neighborhood, I mean, you hear gunshots at night, but that’s everywhere.” And I thought, no. No, I don’t hear gunshots in my neighborhood at night, and I felt this deep sadness and a tinge of guilt. I remember a little boy, maybe eight years old, telling me, “Oh, no, my mama won’t let me play outside – it’s not safe.” And I thought about how it would feel to not be able to let your child play in the yard.

But I didn’t even realize it was affecting me til I was at the park one day. It was a beautiful day, and I was walking on a path near a creek and there were some other people around, but not too many. There were these three teenagers – two boys and a girl, and they had a big goofy looking dog with them. Just ordinary looking white kids in jeans, hanging out. And I was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that something bad was going to happen. I didn’t know if it was going to happen to them, or if they were going to do something terrible – was that girl going to be ok? Did she really know those guys? Or maybe it was the dog – maybe they were going to do something to the dog? My heart was pounding, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and I wanted to go warn the kids to go home where it was safe – and I held it together just enough to know that was crazy and to NOT go say something to them.

I left instead. Went and sat in my car til I could breathe again, and drove straight home. But that was when I knew that the things that were happening to people at work – people I cared about – were touching me on some deep level. It took that panic attack to make me realize that other people’s trauma was becoming my trauma too.

That was the beginning of my own journey – my own efforts to figure out how to manage my feelings – how to hold my own space – so I could be there for the people who were actually going through the trauma. I’ve wandered down all kinds of roads, taken wrong turns, lost my maps, and started over. I’ve collected tool kits and self-care techniques, used mindfulness strategies and listened to TED talks. That’s not to say that I’ve got all the answers, but I know the questions really well. Kind of like in The Wizard of Oz, I’ve met amazing people along the way, and sometimes I’ve been scared and felt overwhelmed. But these days, I usually remember that my ruby slippers will always take me home.

So I know what it’s like to be a compassionate professional and in the middle of it – when it feels like there’s trauma all around you and you can’t think straight. You can feel like you’re losing your self. And you wonder if you can even keep doing the work you love. That’s when I can help. I can help you take a step back and find space to breathe. Help you reconnect with yourself and figure out what you need to be ok, how to keep your own balance and find your own strength. You’ll learn how to manage your own feelings and hold the space you need for yourself. You’ll be able to bring your gifts and talents to the people who need you, able to have a life that lets you shine.

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