In bowling, the area of the lane where balls are thrown is called a track. On both sides of the track is the gutter. When kids bowl, parents who eagerly want their kids to have a fun experience, or who want to avoid meltdowns at all costs and have thirty minutes of peace (this is me) can ask for a bumper to be installed to keep the balls out of the gutter and on track.
In our game called “life”, most of us are like kids; we need bumpers to stay on track. For most of us (and sadly our kids too), our corrective bumpers are competition, comparison and metrics. We compete for grades, market share, medals, recognition, varsity teams, jobs, and a spot in a top school. We compare products, features, people, candidates, companies, policies, slogans, parenting styles, schools. We keep track of money, salary, revenue, results, followers, calories, pounds, email subscribers, and GPAs.
In his daily blog, Seth Godin’s recent question “What are you competing on?” made me pause. I’ve always been overachieving, ambitious, competitive, and driven. Not so much because those were qualities I consciously chose for myself, but more so because those were the bumpers that were deployed for me growing up by my mom, or teachers, or within the environment in which I grew up. I’m not judging, but simply stating what is. Competition is so much a part of me that I don’t pause to observe or examine it. It’s a bit like flossing my teeth without looking in the mirror. I can feel my way around with my eyes closed.
When a swimmer competes, her every day goal is to beat the time she set the day before. When a martial artist competes, he pushes to make every kick faster, more controlled, and more precise and impactful than the kick before. But what happens when you take a close look at yourself and realize that what you’ve been competing on sucks the life out of you?
My whole life I’ve competed for significance. Everything I’ve done has been to prove to others and to myself that who I am and what I do matters, that I am lovable, worthy, and important. That what I do has merit, power, impact, endurance, and that it can withstand the test of time. That, no matter what, at some point in the future, that one pebble I throw in the Universal pond, would create a ripple that would somehow withstand the test of time, and would keep on creating ripples. And of course the insanity of it has always been that the more I tried to be significant, the more insignificant I’ve felt. No matter how hard I worked, I would still fail at pleasing someone, whether a customer at work, or my kids or my honey, or inevitably myself.
There are life experiences, fears, or stories I’ve created about those experiences that are at the core of my quest for significance. Fear of being left behind, abandoned, forgotten, voiceless, disconnected, and the fear of the inevitable end itself. The fear of being insignificant pushed me to compete every day towards significance. And when that is at the core of it all, comparison and metrics are the worst corrective bumpers. Because to compare one’s significance is a sure way to end up in a dark rabbit hole with no end, and to measure it, is in itself a prescription to slowly dying. What is significant? Having touched the lives of my children, or other people? How many people; one, two, ten, one thousand? Living a financially rewarding life, volunteering my time, giving of myself and my resources? What quantity, or number soothes the fear of being forgotten when gone?
Shortly before I turned forty, my life hit a wall. My mother died quickly after a six month battle with cancer. I was so afraid of dying, I was afraid to go to sleep. So I didn’t. I would ask my husband to hold me in his lap while I was sleeping, and would ask him to wake me up if he thought I was falling asleep too deeply. “If you think I’m dying, please wake me up”, I’d say.
The work I did to crawl out of the dark hole of anxiety and fear is the subject of another post. It took therapy, prayer, meditation, reading, journaling, support from generous friends, an immensely loving and patient husband and son, and the birth of my daughter. I adopted a personal mantra Let Go, Find Wonder. I gave myself permission to worry less, let go of perfection, and attachment to certain type of outcomes or results. I tried on the idea that, in the long term, I am and will be insignificant but that in each moment – now – I am hugely significant, to myself and to my young children.
I’m not completely transformed. Not yet. I still catch myself comparing something I do, something I write, or draw and questioning whether it matters or if it will ever matter “enough”. But that moment of inspection is brief and powerless.
I’m still extremely competitive. But I’ve changed my game. I now compete on Faith and Self Acceptance. When I compete on Faith, every day I ask what else could I do or who would I be if I had more faith than the day before? What would open if I had more faith in people, moments, intentions, God? And how can I accept myself just a bit more than then day before?
If you also compete on significance and you are ready to find a new game, here are a few suggestions from my journey:
Seth Godin writes, “In any competitive market, be prepared to invest your heart and soul and focus on the thing you compete on. Might as well choose something you can live with, a practice that allows you to thrive.”
I’ve finally chosen something that delights my soul. How about you?
“This situation here is terrible,” I heard myself say. My finger was pointed and making broad circles towards the big pile of things that my son was asked to put away repeatedly this morning.
The problem was that he was sitting in the middle of the pile and my finger was more or less pointing at and around him.
“I’m not terrible”, he said frustrated and clearly upset. His reaction baffled me.
“I never said YOU were terrible. I said THIS was terrible,” I said defensively and taken aback.
I straightened up and walked away.
“Not ok,” I squeezed in, feeling like I had to have the last word.
Since that morning’s encounter, about a year ago, I’ve been hard at work connecting to the “me” in that moment. It’s not that I’m still frustrated, or that I’ve not stopped hearing Brené Brown’s voice in my head teaching about shame, and the importance of separating behavior from the person, or that I truly don’t like conflict. It’s not even that I’ve needed a lot of time to let go, process, and make decisions about how and what to auto-correct for the future.
The truth is that I really don’t know where I was in the moment. My honey was trying to run out the door already late for work, baby was hungry, breakfast was on the stove, and we were running short on time, and looking like we’d be late to our first morning school appointment. Looking back at myself, I think I was impatient, irritated, agitated, authoritative, unyielding, and rigid. Also, I must have had a big frown, and my voice was strong.
There are days when I want to hold the power button on my iPhone and ask Siri, “Where the heck am I?” I tried it and, as expected, it showed me my precise location on the local map.
I also asked, “How am I feeling today?” Here’s what I got:
You seem ok to me.
You are great.
Hmm, let me think … Ok I found this on the web.
I don’t know what you mean by how am I feeling today.
I found an article on Wikipedia about feelings, would you like me to read it to you?
(Ok, that last one made laugh out loud.)
In my tough moment with my son, I desperately needed an activated emotional GPS tracking device. I needed a blue dot to move from Mildly Irritated Avenue to Now I’m Pretty Annoyed Street. Ideally it would have had some kind of alarm when I turned into You’ll Regret You Said This Dead End.
All this made me wonder, what is my emotional map, and how do I launch my inner GPS?
Most of us hang around within the same predictable geographic radius on a daily and weekly basis. Most of us can tell with accuracy where we’ve been – home, work, after school activities, meetings, doctor appointments, and grocery store.
The same, however, is not true about our feelings. Ask me how I felt two weeks ago, or even yesterday, and I can’t remember. That’s why we say things like, I’m doing fine. Or, I’m feeling stressed. Fine and stressed are the all-encompassing words that mean, either I really I have no idea, or there’s so much to say, I don’t think I can summarize it in one word.
I suspect, however, that if we kept close track of how we feel on a regular basis not only would we be more present, and better equipped to handle each moment, but also we’d be able to build a pretty comprehensive, detailed, and intricate map.
One of the benefits of not liking conflict is that I pay attention to it very closely. I generally know my triggers, but once in a while I notice my emotional reaction to something new. I’ve become very curious and interested in noticing deeply. I pay attention to sensations, vibrations, heart beats, tone of voice, environment and situation. I can tell when I’m being triggered or whether the person I’m talking to is. This gives me choices. I can either choose to acknowledge or choose to ignore. I’ve done both, and dealt with the consequences both ways. What’s noteworthy is that I generally feel I have a choice. I don’t have to be swept up by my triggers.
I used to be extremely hard on myself. When I felt irritated, or unappreciated, or felt I was being treated unjustly, I used to feel like I had to pull myself together fast, and be tough, strong, firm. I used to get very quiet with people I don’t know, and very loud with people who are close to me. The problem with that is I never liked the way I felt. Now, I’ve gotten to the point where I generally try to be open and honest about how I feel. I notice my physical reaction, my heart beats, my shallow breathing. I am able to tell myself to breath deeply, notice and fully feel my emotions. I’m still working on making this feel easy and graceful, but I’m working on communicating how I feel clearly in the moment. Shutting down, putting up a barrier, and a tough face have not served me well in the past. My approach now is to communicate openly. I work hard to use the precise words that closely describe my moment. I don’t shy away from saying things like overwhelm, confusion, sadness, angry. They may not be words we frequently use in our “well put together, professional way”, but I’m embracing them fully. I also embrace delighted, enchanted, joyful, and inspired.
I have a standing date with myself. I like to spend some time digging in deeply. I ask questions like, how did I feel, why did I say that, what’s really bothering me but I’m too embarrassed to admit? What do I not want people to know, and why? I sit with the chairwoman of my board – my inner wise self – at a coffee shop and I lean in.
You know me! I believe deeply that the secret to figuring out just about every challenge we are going through can be unlocked through movement. Whether it’s taking a walk in nature, or playing a fun tune and dancing in my kitchen, moving my body unleashes torrents of positive chemicals in my body that make me feel happy, present, strong, and confident. I believe five minutes of squats and wall pushups can be miraculous. I believe that a super tough argument with a kid can be solved while walking, running, or throwing a ball. Action talk is profoundly more impactful than stationary alternatives.
I am a big fan of Danielle LaPorte’s Core Desired Feelings (CDF) as well as David Allen’s Getting Things Done (GTD). Fridays, when I do my weekly GTD review and planning for the next week, I first take a look at my CDFs. I look at how things went, what new feelings came up for me, where I want to be next week. I try to make adjustments, schedule clean-ups (emotional ones), and celebrate successes. Roughly once a month, I include my kid in this process. We make a date of it and get ice cream together. I make it fun, and he rolls with it.
To me, this journey is about small steps. Don’t get me wrong. I am still a work in process. I have great weeks, and I still have pretty uninspired and energy draining moments. These steps have served me well.
How about you? How do you activate and fine-tune your emotional GPS?
With love and appreciation,
”Mama, can I go to the North Pole?”
I briefly wonder if he has recently watched an episode of the Wild Kratts and wants a close encounter with some Arctic animals. I consider reminding him about the weather conditions. But something in his voice tells me to shut up and listen. His crackling voice, which tells me of his need to go there, is urgent and filled with emotion. Is he going to cry?
My kid is seven years old, going to first grade next year. He is no longer a “baby”. He likes facts and figures, animals and bugs. I jump from my computer and join him on the couch where he is immersed in watching Polar Express again, for the I don’t-know-how-many-times-this-is time. I give him a hug and desperately hope to find the words to answer his question.
Of course you can go to the North Pole, I think to myself. You can go anywhere your mind and spirit want to take you. But I say nothing. Squeeze tighter. My voice breaks and I tell him that I love him. He looks up at me surprised, and asks me, why there are tears in my eyes. “Because you are magic, and I love you.” And because Santa is not real, but I don’t want you to ever lose your faith in magic.
I sometimes catch myself scared of the moment when my boy will figure out the truth about Santa, or the tooth fairy, or the superpower-full, wonder imaginary pets of whom he so tenderly takes care. Will he be crushed to know that the old man does not live at the pole, does not have a sleigh, and most likely is lactose intolerant? Will that discovery turn off the spark I see in him every day?
To be completely honest, I am afraid to admit that believing in magic is more about faith than it is about fairies, unicorns, and stars over the rainbow. Losing and finding faith is a journey we all must take, sometimes more than once, sometimes on our own and often with our kids.
I recently heard an interview with Mastin Kipp of The Daily Love, in which he described a challenging point in his life. He was living in an eight by eight foot borrowed room in the pool house that belonged to his ex-girlfriend’s mom. He was working on his dream of launching his (now well-loved and famous) site, and was looking for a sign or an answer about what was next for him. As he says it, a universal voice told him that his faith was as big as his room, but that was enough. It made me wonder about mine.
Sometimes when I am looking for big backpack sized amounts of faith I forget about my appreciation, and, dare I say it, love of paperclips. I have paperclips in all my desks, and always carry a few with me in my pencil bag. Weirdly though, when I seem to be in most need of a paperclip, and I am desperately looking for one, there is rarely one around. I can never find a paperclip when I need one. Moments, hours, or a day later, however, three of them show up.
Faith is my paperclip. It holds me together: the small parts of me that need remembering to listen, to cry, to let go of getting it right, to surrender, and yes, to trust fully in myself and my soul’s ability to find magic. I will admit that my faith is often not in sight when I need it, but like my paperclips, I always seem to find it.
I believe in magic, especially the magic of children. I know this because I tear up when my son talks about far-away places where wishes come true, with the clarity and conviction of someone who has had the chance to be there and see sparkling lights dance across the night sky. If it is true that losing our faith is a journey we all must take, then keeping our magic is a requirement for finding it. Here are small steps to nurture and connect with magic.
I recently visited my sister in Baltimore. My son saw fireflies for the first time, and in some ways, so did I. Seeing the fireflies fill the night with sparkles, like a universal electric parade, was breathtaking, even for me. Seeing my boy light up with joy was magical.
In connecting with others, we expand our awareness of the world around us, both of its splendor and its challenges. Sharing grief over the loss of a beloved pet fish may not be uplifting. However, the realization that we are not alone, that we have someone else that shares the pain with us, that allows us to feel hurt and vulnerable, is uplifting and magical.
At first sight, it appears many of us have an ordinary life. I hear this frequently from parents, “Growing up, I had an ordinary life. Sure, my parents worked hard, things were not always easy, but overall, it’s not like I had to endure torment, torture, famine, or war. I feel pretty blessed.”
I believe in the magic of all our stories regardless of how ordinary. I delight in the simplest of stories my friends tell me, especially when the insignificant details are vividly colored in for me. As an immigrant to America, I share my stories of growing up in far-away lands, climbing trees to snatch a few of my neighbor’s peaches, and playing in the streets with my friends. I share the evolution of my dream of coming to America from its genesis, when I was seven or eight years old, to its fulfillment when I landed in New York at seventeen. I share both big chapters and very small details. All our stories are magical.
Every January my friends and I get together for a “Dream Session”. We share stories, laughter, and good food, and we write our dreams for the year on sticky notes. I love seeing the colorful puzzle that results when we all display our dreams for everyone’s viewing. I can feel the energy of a dream session in my body. It’s tingly, exciting, and it makes me giddy. Looking ahead towards new dreams and imagining the delightful “what-ifs,” makes me happy, hopeful, and faith-filled.
Every night when we go to bed, my boy and I go over the things we are grateful for: our health, family, work, house, community, and planet. The list gets very interesting (and long) every night, and before I know it, we say thanks for our Lego® toys, dinosaur pets, the sting rays at the local aquarium, our creativity, and ideas.
When I was young, growing up in communism, there were times when my sister and I went to bed hungry. Part of the insanity of the regime we lived in was the slow and gradual torment of its people through consistent deprivation from basic needs like food, heat, and electricity. I frequently share my story with love and courage because I am grateful for the great gifts I have been given, but especially for the small ones we typically take for granted.
I frequently look back and try review and explain my journey from childhood to now, and realize there are no words that can make sense or explain all of it. The only word I use often, crazy as it may sound, is magical. With profound gratitude and thanks, I wonder to the universe: who am I to say that going to the North Pole is not possible?
And now it’s your turn. Would love to know, what resonated with you? What do you do to encourage your kid and yourself to believe in the power of dreams and magic? Please leave a comment below and let me know.
With love and appreciation,
It’s a well-established idea in the entrepreneurial world: “start before you’re ready.” Steven Pressfield wrote about it in his highly motivating book, Do the Work.
While I’ve taken it to heart as a mantra and find myself saying it with my daily affirmations (alongside Marie Forleo’s “everything is figure-outable”), I’ll admit I’m the last to want to start anything before I feel fully prepared. My perfectionist, anal side often just does not let me. (I’ve waited seven years to have a second child, mostly because I didn’t feel ready. See what I mean?)
I’ve mellowed out a bit over the years, mostly because of necessity, and have taken leaps – literally at my third degree black belt test and figuratively just about every day. (This blog is one good example!)
But starting before I’m ready is still hard for me. I always wonder: how? What is the actual process that allows someone to jump off a cliff, without the guarantee that some kind of safety device will activate to prevent a major catastrophe? Can someone just show me what it looks like when you do something when you’re not fully there?
Two weeks ago, I got to see how it’s done. I went to see John Leguizamo’s new stand up comedy show, Latin History for Dummies. It was artful, funny and inspiring.
John Leguizamo walked on stage and straight to one of the two props in the room, a laptop computer (the other prop was a blackboard). The computer was on.
What?! You’re gonna read your jokes? This is going to be interesting …
John told the excited audience that he was preparing his show for Broadway, and he would be reading most of his material to us, as he was still perfecting it. He would welcome our feedback.
I think someone actually said “What?” or maybe something more obscene. John made a joke about the Oscars, told us not to worry, he would make the reading worth our time. And he did!
For over an hour, John read (but not really because he already knew most of the material) at times a brilliantly funny, and at times a biting and cynical, yet real, informative, and soulful recount of history, as most people don’t know it. A couple of times he cracked himself up, and a few times he actually messed up (as in he stumbled through a few words).
The show was hilarious, and I laughed my heart out. But the biggest reason why I loved it was because I got to see how a pro does this thing called, “start before you’re ready”.
In the process I got to see – really see the man – Mr. John Leguizamo, not because of how I watched or listened but because of how he showed up: open, vulnerable, and fully present.
Here’s what I learned that evening:
Have a vision
Yes, John had a laptop for facts, numbers and some of his material. But the vision started way before there was ever a file on a computer. It started with a dream of what he wanted people to know – the untold and uncelebrated side of history – and how he wanted the people to feel; all people.
Use my tools
If a pro like John is not afraid to use notes on stage, what excuse do I have? Really?! There is no shame, no fear, and no embarrassment in using tools. Pay attention to and let go of the voices in my head that insist I memorize, perfect, fine-tune a blog post (a document, a program, or a speech) because that’s what pros do. Stop listening to those voices.
An audience in one room is not the whole world. It is just that: one audience, one moment in time. Include the people in the room fully, by not only letting them enjoy or participate, but also by giving them a way to shape and mold the experience – if not for them, then for the next revision.
Under promise over deliver
John walked on stage and said he would read his jokes, right off the bat. I knew what to expect. During the show, however, he walked away from the laptop, a lot. In fact, I forgot all about the laptop. I was intrigued, mesmerized, entertained. It was magical!
Make people feel good
Know what I want people to walk away with. I walked away feeling light, happy, smiling. I appreciated John’s comedic genius, but also my life, my time to see the show, the people that I love who saw the show with me.
I’m totally energized to ask: where am I holding back? And where am I waiting to be ready?
What kind of mom, entrepreneur, world-changer would I be if I stopped holding back?
Here’s Steven Pressfield’s full paragraph:
“Don’t prepare. Begin.
Remember, our enemy is not lack of preparation; it’s not the difficulty of the project, or the state of the marketplace or the emptiness of our bank account.
The enemy is our chattering brain, which, if we give it so much as a nanosecond, will start producing excuses, alibis, transparent self-justifications and a million reasons why we can’t/shouldn’t/won’t do what we know we need to do.
Start before you’re ready.
Good things happen when we start before we’re ready.”
I’d love to hear from you. Where are you holding back, and are you waiting to be ready? Leave me a comment below, and hop over to my Facebook page to find out my answers.
With love and appreciation,
P.S: I recommend the show whole-heartedly!
Of all the varied skills I’ve taught over the years to youth of all ages, the one that I find most challenging is learning to let go. While we all have a tough time with this, it is especially difficult for kids with developing and learning differences. For example, a child who has ADHD, who hears many times in one day to stop moving, pay attention, focus, and control her body has a particularly hard time letting go of repeated reminders that she is not doing what she is supposed to. In today’s video, I’m excited to show you three ways to practice this important skill.
Create a time for family check-ins where you notice, acknowledge and air out the heavy feelings. In my house, this is our Sunday ritual. This does not have to take a long time. Twenty minutes goes a long way.
Simply ask, “what has weighed you down this week?” At first, kids may not know how to answer. You can model by answering honestly. Pick examples that are easy to understand. Don’t be shy to present difficult moments. Just be mindful of the words you choose. Stay safe and positive.
Here are some examples.
A. You have a difficult situation at work. You have too much on your plate, not enough help or support. You feel stressed out, tired, and overwhelmed.
You could say: what is weighing me down is feeling like I want to do a really good job at work. I have so much work to do, sometimes I really feel I could use some help. But right now it feels like there’s no one around who can help me. I feel alone and sometimes frustrated. I want to acknowledge that I feel frustrated with how much work I have to do.
B. You have had a difficult argument with your child at home. You were forceful with your words, loud and irritated with your voice.
You could say: what is weighing me down is the argument we had at home. This argument made me feel like we are not fully connected. Sometimes I feel like we have this big car called family, and each one of us has an important job to make it run. I sometimes feel like I’m trying to keep the car running but it can’t happen without everyone’s help. I would have liked to have more patience and be less forceful with my voice.
The kids and you can write these feelings on pieces of paper, or big rocks. If your kid loves to draw, let him. You can use chalk and write on the pavement. If you have young kids who don’t write (or talk) yet, try do this anyway. Take one minute, hold a rock and say what you are willing to let go of this week. The kids will pay attention (even if it seems they aren’t), and after a few times, they’ll look forward to seeing what you have to say. By the time they are old enough to write, they will feel excited to participate.
I believe it is extremely important to ground our learning in some kind of physical movement. Whether it is crumbling the paper and throwing it in the trash, flushing it down the toilet, washing the rocks with a sponge, or hosing down the concrete, letting go is a physical practice.
Although it may seem silly at first, the practice of letting go, is simply that: a practice. The more we do it, the more we learn to associate the physical movement with a much needed sense of lightness. We want to feel as though a weight has been lifted (or washed off, tossed in the garbage, shredded, ripped) off of our shoulders.
I’d love to hear from you! Do you have a favorite way to practice letting go? What works for you and how does your practice work inside your family?
Thank you so much for being here.
With love and appreciation,
“What is your relationship to anger?” my teacher, Roger, had asked me out of nowhere.
I was on top of Cloud Mountain in Santa Barbara, at a week-long Qigong and Tai Chi teacher training, ten years ago. I felt serene, peaceful, and full of joy. I was alone, doing something I had dreamed of for a long time. My body buzzed with warm energy and my cheeks and hands felt uncharacteristically warm. My only nuisance was a persistent headache on the right side of the back of my head with which I had arrived, five days before.
“In Chinese medicine headaches have a lot to do with the liver, which has to do a lot with anger”, he continued.
“Tell me about your anger.”
The memory of this conversation was running through my head as I was speeding down the freeway. My son’s teacher had called and requested I come early to have a talk with her before the end of the school day. My heart had not stopped pounding. My thoughts were racing. What had he done? What was so urgent she couldn’t wait and tell me at the regular pick up time? Why couldn’t I just let go, breathe, and wait to get there?
Letting go has never been my forte. It’s not only anger, as my Qigong teacher pointed out, but also all the feelings that drain me like fear, anxiety, and disappointment to name a few.
What has become glaringly obvious over time is that my kids reflect the energy of my feelings back to me. If I am happy, joyous, calm, they are too. If I am agitated, frustrated, angry, or upset they multiply it … exponentially.
I deeply want my kids to find peace in their mother, our connection, and in their surroundings. Mainly for this reason, I gave myself a new challenge at the beginning of the year. I would stop to notice where and when I don’t let go. I would create my own practices for letting go and I would use then as a map to navigate through fear, anxiety, worry, and overwhelm.
As we get close to ending this year, I can’t help but gasp at the intensity with which I find myself, face to face with my life’s biggest challenges.
When I picked my theme for 2014, late in December of last year, I had no idea how this intention would unfold for me. All I knew at the time was that I was willing to take on a giant self-healig project. I would become a crusader of self-love, I would stop to pay attention and take note. I would stop to breathe.
#LetGoFindWonder was born from a deep desire to be intentional about my work to let go.
What I’ve learned this year, as I look at the loads I’ve carried, is that my life is far from homogenous. Rather than white or wheat bread, my life is more like a multi grain loaf, full of seeds, swirls, and nuts. Even when I seem to be anxious or frustrated, when I slow down to notice and pay attention, the feelings I experience have complexity. They have shape, texture, hue, and tone.
For me, letting go is about discovering the granularity of daily moments. It’s about stopping long enough to notice what it is I’m feeling deeply. It’s about taking some of what I teach to kids, and teaching my own inner child.
Here’s what I learned this year, and how you can practice letting go.
1. Close the chapter.
Be done – as in complete, closed chapter, nothing else to say or add … done. Make a list of all “loads” you still carry. What needs to be completed? Is it something you did, something you said, something you did not do or say? Whatever it is, do you know what needs to happen to feel completely done? Reach out, communicate, forgive. Make peace. Close the chapter.
2. Conflict has no meaning.
Make friends with disagreement. Notice when and where confrontation and conflict show up. Look at what you are doing. Understand your relationship with confrontation and conflict. Notice the underlying concern it brings forth. Don’t give the conflict any meaning. Wondering why this conflict is happening to you, will not offer peace. Conflict has no meaning. It simply is a present force in your life. Acknowledge and see it as it is.
3. Love your vulnerability.
Appreciate the parts of you that allow you to be vulnerable. Celebrate them, and celebrate you. Create a practice to anchor your vulnerability. You could talk to someone who knows you well, who loves and supports you. Loudly express that you feel vulnerable. Create a writing practice. Journaling is a powerful tool for reflection and self-discovery. Be honest with yourself and admit to feeling vulnerable.
4. Reset your awareness clock.
Are you haunted by “shoulds”? You should finish your work, should volunteer more. Should spend more time with your kid. Should go on more dates. Should be more patient. Your kid should do a better job in school, should pay attention, should get more sleep, or should play less on the computer? Who do you have expectations for, and what exactly are those expectations? At the heart of an expectation is a desired future outcome that you hope you’ll get. Expectations are not rooted in the now. Be in the now, with whatever it brings forth.
5. What do you get out of not letting go?
What is NOT letting go worth to you? For example, perhaps letting go of an argument with someone in your family is difficult because, like it or not, it’s the only way you and that family member can stay connected. Or perhaps, it’s the only way to avoid disappointing more members of your family. Be honest. Why are you not letting go? What’s your payback?
6. Love and adore yourself.
Where is your self-love rooted? Trace back to the time when you first noticed how much you love yourself or, if that has not happened yet, then start today. You are magical, beautiful, perfect, on time, and on track. Everything is as it needs to be right now. You are love. My mentor, Louise Hay, has a powerful practice. She looks at herself in the mirror and says: I adore you. I love you. Give yourself some LOVE.
7. Practice, practice, practice
Give yourself permission to make mistakes, and be proud of yourself for taking a step towards letting go. Create your own practices and rituals for letting go.
8. Find wonder.
It all started here. If you let go, what will you find? There is magic in front of you when you practice letting go. You need to develop a keen willingness to be curious and open, and fine-tune your ability to read your feelings. Learn to notice how you feel in the smallest of moments: when your kid gives you a hug, when you sip your warm coffee in the morning, when your cat purrs in your ear, when the sun shines on your face, when you move your body. Join me on Instagram and post a picture of your wonder moment. You’ll find many of mine under #LetGoFindWonder.
With love and wonder,
“Each day is a little life” – Schopenhauer
The magic dust of New Year excitement has settled. It now takes longer to see the sparkle in the midst of preparing lunches, attending meetings, and doing life every day. I recently caught myself evaluating how I’m doing by analyzing my output thus far, which inevitably led me to feeling like I’m not doing quite “enough”, and like I’m already falling “behind” (whatever that means). Feeling behind, in one word, feels: Yuck!
Depending on the study you read, it takes 21, 28, or 66 days to build a habit. This is why we have 21 days cleanses, 28 days diet plans, or three months to a 5K programs. Most of us put our best effort forward for those days, and then, admittedly fall off the band wagon again, and again, and again.
Here’s my interesting non-scientific observation both of myself and my students: it only takes one failure to take down our meticulously built tower of confidence, one mean glance to make our delicate self-esteem shatter into million pieces, one limited belief to make our teeter-totter balancing self-worth lean to the side of insignificance.
That’s just c r a z y!
Sure it can take one day to stop a healthy habit, to postpone our dreams, or to make ourselves and others miserable. But by that same token, it takes only one day to get back on the inspiration bus and on the unstoppable action route to dream-your-big-life land. Here’s a list of a few of my favorite things to do when I’m feeling that “not quite enough and totally behind” feeling:
1. Shrug and Flush
I’ve learned to say “oh well” even though I know my seeming indifference to the issue at hand would drive my mother mad (as it makes me too). As I tell the kids: you don’t stand there and look at your poop in the potty, do you? You flush it! Flush the mistakes, the mean words, the sour looks. Flush, flush, flush. (I use the toilet brush too when necessary).
When I was a dancer I was taught to smile in spite of the blisters on my feet inside the pointe shoes, the tight hair bun giving me a headache, the long rehearsals. One of my favorite mantras is: no matter what, smile!
3. Get an inspiration infusion stat
I get my inspiration from walking in nature. I have a special spot where the pelicans come to hang out at the Bayshore. I love watching them organize themselves for long trips, and take flight. I go there to listen to my thoughts and to talk to my inner spirit. I go there to pray and say thank you. Whatever it is that inspires you – music, art, reading, watching movies, exercising, a TED talk – take one hour off and indulge yourself.
4. Do the Work
Sometimes the best cure for the yuck feeling is blocking out time on the calendar with your Chief Executive You, turn off email, phone and any other interruptions and get the work done! In a favorite book of mine, Do the Work, Steven Pressfield says it well: “Resistance is a repelling force. It’s negative. Its aim is to shove us away, distract us, prevent us from doing our work.” You hear the man: Do the Work! (Read the book if you need to add another source of inspiration to your infusion above.)
5. Take a Siesta
Sometimes the truth is simple: we just need to take a break. We don’t do it more often because we feel we should be doing something more productive instead. Why would you waste this precious time taking a break? My Qigong teacher, Dr. Roger Jahnke calls this “napping Qigong”. A great many things happen when we rest; our body restores and replenishes. Our mind relaxes and declutters. Our spirit performs jumping jacks and blissful cartwheels.
6. Start with Thank You!
It sounds cliché and yet here it is: be grateful for what you have. Here is the full extent of the quote at the start of this post:
“Each day is a little life; every waking and rising a little birth; every fresh morning a little youth;every going to rest and sleep a little death.”
Knowing that you have one more special gift to have a full life today, what one person, dream, place, thing can you be grateful for and how will you show it?
With love, for the joy you bring to my life, your generosity in reading this blog, your persistence advocating for wellbeing for yourself and your kids.
I thank you!
Last year, while I was working on putting my life together after my mom’s passing, my best friend and Hiruko Co-Founder, Angela Booker and I started to talk about our dreams. We realized we both had goals and major projects on our plates, but we both pondered this crazy and scary question. What do we still dream of?
Growing up in a communist country with a pragmatic, tough, single mom, hope or faith were words we didn’t use much, if at all. We hoped that the government would turn the heat on when it was brutally cold outside, or that we’d be lucky to find toilet paper at the store. We had faith in our very close friends, and trusted that we could share a political joke once in a while, without fear of being turned in.
If necessity is the mother of invention, dreams are the fuel for an indomitable spirit. Somewhere, in my childhood I started to imagine. I (crazily) dreamed of being a spy, saving the world from mean dictators. Like many girls, I dreamed of being a famous singer and dancer. I also dreamed of moving to America and living in California. In 1989, six months before the collapse of the Eastern block we did come to America, and two years after that I found myself in California.
Nine years ago, my husband and I dreamed of opening a school for youth to learn to be confident, completely unstoppable, and madly in love with their own wonder, where movement, contemplative practice, and creativity work in synch, and are celebrated as essential components of holistic wellbeing. Hiruko Wellness opened its doors in 2005.
Last Sunday my trusted life coach and friend Stacy Parson, hosted our second ever “Dream Session”. The point of this time together is to play with what’s possible, and put things out into the universe, however outrageous or simple. I always find it a bit hard to start. Like a muscle that needs to be stretched, my imagination can be stiff and is guarded carefully by protective inner critics who work hard to keep me safe. I have to start with small dreams like a monthly date with my husband or eight hours of sleep at night.
The thing about dreams is this; once you start, you can’t stop. On my dream list are things like speaking at TED, going to Costa Rica, dreaming with Luca, writing books, drinking green juice daily, becoming vegan, competing in a Tai Chi tournament, visiting China. And the list keeps going.
It really does not matter if you actually see your dream become reality. Simply allowing yourself to picture the dream being real creates unexplainable shifts in energy, motivation, commitment, focus, love, and relationships. Some dreams are like shooting stars, they delight us briefly and in passing and fade before we see them shine. Other dreams have a life of their own, and they turn out way bigger, richer, bolder than we would have ever imagined. Both are great!
For now suspend your disbelief, and dare yourself to play with your imagination. What courageous, bold, inspired, funny, wacky, totally unrealistic crazy dreams do YOU have?
I love learning from youth. I recently taught an introductory first class to an eleven year old girl; let’s call her V. As part of the session, I asked V if she knew what it means to focus. “To focus is to reset,” she said.
The simplicity of her answer struck me. With my martial arts instructor hat on, I typically teach that focus is a way to reach deeper levels of concentration. I teach students how to listen carefully and look at the teacher, how to be present and aware, and how to control their bodies. What I loved about V’s answer was that her take on focus had nothing to do with martial arts and everything to do with living in the moment.
People – myself included – do a lot when we focus. We make lists and action plans, we create and organize our work environment. We plan meetings, review action items, negotiate with ourselves and others. V’s reframe of the word focus implied that there was not much to do.
I’ve spent the last few months noticing moments where I’ve had an opportunity to focus and re-set: waking up each morning, opening my calendar at the start of a busy day, tossing my to-do list when my son got sick and I had to stay at home. With no objective in mind other than to simply notice, I found that my life was filled with reset points. I loved this realization and not surprisingly, it felt deeply calming and comforting.
You know when the power goes out, and for one instant your digital clock says 00:00? We usually get annoyed at ourselves for forgetting to put in the back up battery, and mumble under our breath about the pain of having to reset all the alarms, snoozes, naps and radio stations. What if instead of getting annoyed, we could just all take a deep breath and think “Re-set”.
Starting a new year is an obvious and welcomed reset point. This past week we’ve all been hearing and reading of goals, resolutions, intentions, vision boards, dreams and action plans. Do you have yours written down, or are you stressed because you’re starting out without a plan?
I offer this: start 2012 with a moment of mindful self-awareness. Write a big 00:00 on a Post-it® and put it on the mirror where you can see it when you wake up. Allow this reset to be a full zero-out! Start fresh. Look at things from a new angle. Believe –truly believe – that anything is possible and, in the words of Marie Forleo, everything is figure-out-able.
Think of your health, career, dreams, relationships, money, kids, parents, friends, and not-so-friendly acquaintances. Anything else that needs a quick zero out? If you RE-SET your attitudes, mindset, and emotional reactions today, what will 2012 bring you and your family?
Happy New Year. May your new year be filled with calm, present, reset moments!
Let’s pretend that you were equipped with a gauge that reads your confidence level, and gives you a reading between 1 and 10. What does yours say right now? When you feel confident, where in your body do you feel it? And what does it feel like? Is it more like a sunny spring day hike, a delicious home cooked meal, the last mile run in a marathon that you are winning, a warm hug from people who love you, or a quiet moment of peace, self-reflection and gratitude?
Of all the things we teach, it’s confidence that seems to give people – children and adults – the toughest time. How can we feel so fully confident one day, and quickly turn to not feeling prepared, loved, respected, strong, and simply just not good enough the next day? If you are tired of on again, off again confidence, here area some ideas we use in our classes that you can try for yourself and with your child, to tap into the powerful feeling of “I rock”.
What you most likely know but may forget sometimes …
1. Trust yourself
Know what is true about you. You are grumpy when you’re hungry, hate/love competition, perform well/poorly under pressure, love your TV show at the end of a long day, nervous about taking tests. Whatever it is, no matter how silly or weird, knowing (not judging) what is true about yourself builds self-trust. I once asked a five year-old what he knew to be true about himself. He told me, “I love rocks. I really love rocks”.
2. Let go
Write a rejection you received from someone (or from yourself) on a piece of paper, crumble it and toss it in the trash. Flush your mistakes down an imaginary toilet. Practice letting go a few times a day, and practice appreciating the lightness that comes from it.
3. Do something you love
Is your life filled with must do’s, honey do’s, I should do’s? When’s the last time you took inventory of all you do, to make sure there’s at least one thing you fully love to do on the list? It really won’t matter how you do, when you do something you love.
4. Develop self-compassion
You are reasonable and kind with the people around you, but turn into a monster when you talk to yourself. Is this you? Any time you get down on yourself, critical, judgmental and just plain mean, ask yourself if this is how you would talk to a friend or to your own child. Take a deep breath, be gentle and calm. Whatever it is, you are whole, creative, and resourceful. You will figure it out.
Do you ever notice how often and fully young kids laugh? And how often they laugh at their silly, funny, made-up stories? It’s ok to start with a shy smile, but try to get to the place where you laugh fully and happily at yourself (and your made-up stories).
6. What others think about you …
… may be interesting, but it does not influence what you know to be true about yourself and is valuable input until it no longer is valuable input. What others think of you is not as important as what you think of yourself. Turn the volume down when you need to, and learn to listen to your self-loving voice. It may whisper at first, but it will get stronger.
7. Celebrate small victories
Who says you have to win a marathon to feel victorious? Putting on your running shoes, and going out for a 20 minute run or walk is a good reason to celebrate. Keep your big goals, but celebrate the small successes that get you there.
You can be anyone and anything you want to be in your dreams! What do you dream of doing, who do you dream of being, seeing, visiting, talking to, where do you dream of working or with who? My friends and I got together at the beginning of the year and made a dream list. It was fun, uplifting, creative, motivational, and energizing. Find inspiration and power in your dreams.
What you most likely forget or never knew …
Your confidence level is your choice! Remember your confidence gauge, and whatever number it showed you? Throw away that number and give yourself a 10. It’s that simple. Say “I am a 10, and the rest of this day will be a 10”.
Early in the morning, look in the mirror and say “Today, I am a 10.” You can add whatever else you want “I make good decisions, I am smart, I am resourceful, I am safe, I am loved.” You want to teach your kids to be confident? Model this to your children and show them how you do it. Make a game of it and do it together.
What do you look, sound, talk, act, move, listen, love, perform, self-defend, run, exercise, work, learn – like when you are a complete 10? Whatever that feels like, that is your gift to you, your family, community, and the world. Please share it.