I ran across a quote this week that I want to share with you It’s from Kent Nerburn, an Native American author who has been called “one of America’s Living Spiritual Teachers,” and I think the quote will show you why.
Before you read it, take a moment to breathe slowly a few times with your eyes closed, to relax and to open yourself to receive these words as a gift of wisdom.
“Remember to be gentle with yourself and others. We are all children of chance and none can say why some fields will blossom while others lay brown beneath the August sun.
“Care for those around you. Look past your differences. Their dreams are no less than yours, their choices no more easily made.
“And give, give in any way you can, of whatever you possess. To give is to love. To withhold is to wither.
“Care less for your harvest than for how it is shared and your life will have meaning and your heart will have peace.”
Let me invite you to dwell on those thoughts a bit, to let them settle in your heart. Then imagine how your world—our world—might be transformed if each of us let them be a guiding light for us as we went through our days.
If we truly look past our differences and recognize our shared humanity, if we could extend to each other the respect and kindness we want so deeply to receive, perhaps we would meet each other with a new gentleness, with compassion, with a willingness to let there be understanding between us.
It’s a long quote to remember. But you can remember the feeling it creates in you and take that with you into your world in the coming week. You can remember to give of whatever you possess—even if it’s no more than a smile, or a decision not to complain or blame. You can start your day with the conscious intention to be generous of spirit to others, even with those who push your buttons, or whose differences are outrageous and glaring.
Care for those around you. Ask, “What can I give here? What can I share?”
It’s a worthy experiment. And as Nerburn says, the rewards are a life of meaning and a heart at peace.
And that, my friend, is what I wish for you this week.
I looked at the list I compiled yesterday of events that have transpired since the beginning of the year. I was trying to sort out why I felt so overwhelmed.
It revealed a lot.
Just think, a week and a half ago we were all checking out the skies for drones and orbs as we bid 2024 farewell. Then, the next day, we were hit with the news of a man driving an electric truck into the New Orleans crowd, killing 15, wounding more, and the news of the electric Tesla truck exploding in Las Vegas in front of the Trump Towers.
Seem like that was a long time ago now?
Well, as we tried to learn more about that, a mysterious fog veiled large swaths of the planet, giving off a chemical smell, making some people sick.
That was followed by the first human bird flu death and the reemergence of Drs Burke and Fauci, promoting testing of every chicken and pig and cow in the nation. Well, maybe just the chickens and cows, I forget.
China reported a massive outbreak of a viral disease, respiratory if I recall correctly; attacks children hard.
Former President Jimmy Carter passed away at age 100 and was given a State funeral, which all the living former Presidents attended.
President Elect Trump was sentenced to nothing but having to carry a conviction on his record.
And then the fires broke out.
And nothing else mattered. They eclipsed everything.
Well, unless you lived in the wide swath of southern states from Arkansas to Virginia that were hit with a major winter storm. 55+ million affected.
And all this, in a little over a week and a half!
Didn’t I tell you it looked like this year was going to be a humdinger? That pronouncement still stands.
Close to Home
Because so many people have migrated to southern California from all over the United States and all over the world in the last few decades, a lot of us have connections to someone who lives there. The impact of the fires will be felt across the globe.
Personally, I have an 87 year old friend who lives in Santa Monica. Her apartment building is only two blocks away from an Evacuation Warning zone. A warning means to get your things together and be ready to go. It’s the step before a Mandatory Evacuation order. I haven’t been able to find out if she’s okay. The winds are supposed to pick up again tonight.
I think about all the people trying to find out if loved ones are okay.
A friend of mine got a call from his brother who lives in southern California, a good distance from the fires. His daughter, her hubby and three small kids lived in the Palisades, and lost everything they couldn’t pack into their car. Burned to ashes. Gone.
I multiply what they’re facing by the thousands of destroyed homes.
And we’re just at the beginning.
If you know anyone who’s been affected by the fire – or by loss or tragedy of any kind – let them talk with you about what happened and how they’re experiencing it. Listening is more helpful that you might guess. It lets people sort out their thoughts and put an explosion of pieces into some kind of picture. It helps them process their forever-altered reality.
“What must it be like,” my friend asked me, “to be going through this as a kid! Imagine being seven or five and suddenly everything you ever knew of home disappears. You wouldn’t have any way to understand.”
I reminded him of the studies of children who had come through World War II’s bombings and disruptions. As long as they felt cared for and loved, they grew up pretty much unscathed by the horrors they had witnessed. Children are remarkably resilient. Their forming minds don’t yet make the judgments ours do.
You do the same with kids as you do with adults. Listen. Let them know you care enough to sit with them and share the moment together.
Life can be scary, and hard. But we can be courageous and open to the possibility that, in the end, everything will turn out fine. Life goes on. Even when we sometimes wish it wouldn’t. And it always comes with it a choice to decide what you’re going to make of it.
Make of it the best you can.
Remember to ask how easy you can let it be. Remember to breathe and to look around now and then. Be an encourager in the world. We all need that.
Each week when I sit down to write these Sunday Letters to you, before I begin, I pause to think about you, the person on the other side of the screen reading this.
I silently ask that my words be exactly what someone out there needs to hear. Maybe you. Maybe someone who needs an understanding smile, a listening ear or a laugh, a pat on the shoulder, maybe a hug.
It’s a kind of meditation I do in honor of the privilege of serving in such a way. It inspires me to give you the best that I can offer.
I confess that sometimes my best falls short of what I’d hoped I could produce. But you keep on reading week after week anyway. And gosh, that touches my heart. Along the way, I hope you’ve found a gem or two to carry in your pocket.
If you’re new to these letters, know that I welcome you joyously. To you, as well as to those who have been with me across the years, I vow to continue to give you my best, and to keep working to make my best even better.
Striving to be our best, after all, is what it’s all about—what these letters are about, what our lives are about. Reaching toward our highest vision of ourselves is what gives our lives juice.
My goal is to inspire you to keep reaching, to keep refining your vision, and to encourage you, when your highest ideals seem impossibly far off, to keep on keeping on.
The Celebration
Here on the verge of the holidays and the birth of a new year, I find myself remembering one of my long-time favorite quotes:
“The purpose of life is the celebration of it.”
I don’t know who said that. But it rings true for me because of the depth of the word ‘celebration.’
On one hand, it means to mark an event with festivities, to express our joy. In this sense of the word, it means the purpose of life is to be glad for it, to look for and appreciate its mystery and wonder, to savor its fullness and pleasures and delights.
On the other hand, ‘celebrate’ means to solemnize, to take something seriously and to hold it in reverence. In other words, don’t take life for granted. Give the mystery and wonder of your life its due. You’re only you once, and not for long. Take the reaching seriously, and delight in the journey.
Whatever holiday you may be celebrating this week, may it be filled with beauty and joy.
I’ll see you next week and we can peer into the New Year together. Sure feels like it will be a humdinger, doesn’t it? Don’t they all?
Whatever it brings, we’ll travel it together, reaching for our best, becoming more and more the selves we always wanted to be.
Come pull a chair by the fire and let’s drink a toast to the holidays. I’ve set out a virtual plate of my fanciest cakes and cookies and some nuts and cheeses and fruit for you. Help yourself!
See the intricate hand made ornaments in this crystal bowl? They come with a story. I love their sparkle and glow. They mesmerize me and send me back in time to the days when my mother made them, stacking sequins and crystal beads on tiny pins that she pressed into Styrofoam forms, arranging the brocade and satin ribbons just so
It was tedious work, especially since she had limited control of her hands. But when her ALS-like disease forced her to retire, she vowed to do at least one creative act every day for as long as she was able. And that particular year, she made these precious ornaments for our Christmas tree.
They’re among my most cherished possessions, and every year they pull me into Christmases Past, where I open a treasure chest of special memories.
I was thinking last night about how much this annual ritual means to me, how it connects me to past generations and gives me a deepened sense of who I am, where I came from.
Holiday celebrations are much different now than they were when I was a small child. The world has become a different place. It moves at a different speed. It seems storm-tossed now, its people searching for something sure to which they can cling in the midst of life’s turbulent seas.
As I lifted the sequined bulbs from their tissue paper wrappings this year, I realized that this annual tradition secures me to my past, to my ancestors, my heritage.
Then I came across the strands of red and silver and gold glass beads that I’ll drape around the beautiful green glass jug that we bought on a family vacation one year as we traveled through rural New Hampshire. That was over half a century ago, and the beads have graced the jug every year since.
That’s the value of tradition. It provides a link to the past. It speaks to our connection to what has gone before, even if the meanings attached to it have transformed over the years.
We light the candles or put up the tree or sing the songs from ages past not because the act embodies the same beliefs, but because, in connecting us to our past, the act reminds us of the lives and cultures from which our traditions arose.
We recall the old stories. We think about the struggles and hardships that had to be lived to bring us to where we are right now. We think about the courage and determination it took to endure them. We think about the values and the love that made the struggles worthwhile.
And even if we don’t think about them, the performance of the traditions in and of itself quickens them in our hearts and has a meaning that our hearts understand.
I hope you have some little token of past holidays that speaks to you of days gone by. I hope you have something that you’ll pass on to your children, or a special memory to share with a close friend or two.
If not, find one, find a token that can hold the memory of this holiday for you, a bauble of some kind, a word that you write on a piece of paper. Hold it in your hand and make a heartfelt wish—perhaps for peace, perhaps for greater joy or faith, perhaps for comfort, for forgiveness and healing—whatever you want the holiday to mean for you. Then, when the holiday season is past, wrap your token in paper, write the date on it, and put it away to discover next year.
That’s how traditions begin. With hope and reverence. And that is what they carry forward.
Wishing you fond holiday memories and a heart full of hope and joy.
What was, isn’t. What is, won’t be. But always, there’s the now. Right in front of our noses. Full of everything and always a different shape than it was before or soon will be.
And most of the time we don’t even notice, being all caught up in our stories and calculations and all. Anyway . . .
Hello! I send you smiles today!
This time of year, I spend a lot of time working in my studio, a cozy second story room, with a window that overlooks the wooded western hill.
I like the view and it’s comfortable.
Every time I look up from my laptop’s screen, the walls and furniture, the plants and lamps and paintings are exactly where they were before.
The only thing that seems to have changed is me. And it wasn’t, I can tell you, much of a change.
Maybe I wasn’t jiggling my toes before. My thoughts were different. The furnace’s fan has kicked on. Other than that, it’s the same old same old.
It could seem like a pretty boring place, I suppose.
But that’s only the case if you forget that all the walls have another side. One of them even has an outside, and that’s a doggone huge place. You can’t even get to the end of it, it goes so far.
And just down the road a piece, there’s mountains and deserts and forests and oceans, and all of them with their own inhabitants, every one of them as real as you and me and alive in this very same now. And some of them are humans.
And for all you know, a particular human you’re thinking about right now might be thinking of you, too. Maybe because they felt your thoughts in some subliminal electromagnetic way. Or you felt them.
And once you start thinking about another human being, you can drift off into all kinds of imaginary conversations and memories and dreams.
So what difference does it make if the walls don’t seem to change? A patch of relative sameness is a good thing. It can give you a sense of stability, something to hang on to when fierce winds blow.
Be grateful for the slow-to-change, for the ordinary and familiar. Someday you could be amazed that you ever took it for granted.
Rest in that. And from there, watch, and let life flow.
Remember that what was, isn’t. And what is, won’t be. But there is always now, dancing, and it goes on and on and on.
As you go into the holidays, may the dance bring you moments that glow with peace and shimmer with joy.
Those of us in the States kicked off the big slide to year’s end this past Thursday with our annual Thanksgiving celebration. It unofficially marks the beginning of the winter holiday celebrations.
It’s a glorious, maddening time of year, with all its expectations and demands. It’s a roller coaster ride through a land of fantasy and faith, memory and anticipation. But since it’s seemingly unavoidable, regardless of where on the globe you live or what your traditions or culture, I think it’s wise to make up your mind ahead of time just how you’re going to play it.
Personally, I’ve decided I’m going to be grateful to be alive to see it yet again, with all its music and show and color, and to love every minute of it as hard as I possibly can.
I’m going to remember my mantra: How easy can I let this be?
And the power chant I learned a while back from the incomparable Joe Vitale: “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.”
But listen, since the spirit of Thanksgiving week still lingers, will you indulge me and let me ask you to think with me for a few minutes about gratitude?
I know a bit about it. For several years now, I’ve kept a Gratitude Journal. Every night, I write down three sentences that begin with the words, “I’m grateful . . .” and name something that brought me satisfaction or pleasure during the day.
I confess that sometimes I have to think for a while before I can name three things.
That’s not because my day lacked something for which I could feel appreciation. It’s because sometimes it’s hard to get to the place inside yourself where genuine gratitude lives. And, I’ve observed, it’s because, like everybody else—maybe even you—I take so very many things so much for granted.
That’s what keeps me keeping the journal. It invites me, once a day, to pause and consider all the things and people and experiences in my life that make it what it is, and to feel a reverence for them. I get to hold up all the shining moments of the day and choose three to note.
Really getting in touch with your sense of gratitude is a genuine celebration of your life, of the wonder of it, however humdrum it may sometimes seem.
When you let yourself sink into the warmth of gratitude, your heart opens. It lets go of the trapped hurts and disappointments and lets them fade away. When you see how the goodness outshines them, hurts seem to lose their sting.
Sometimes, I’ve noticed, when I allow myself to be awash in gratitude, I can even appreciate the times and the people who brought me disappointment, or irritation, or pain, and to see the gifts of insight and learning they carried with them.
But the main thing I wanted to say about gratitude is that it’s worth it to take the time to tune in to it. It’s worth the effort to calm yourself enough to feel its power and graciousness warming you from within the very center of your being.
We don’t do that enough. We’re too busy. Too stressed. Too distracted. Too tired. And I gotta tell you, that’s a damned shame.
Because you know what? Gratitude is so jam-packed with sheer, transformative, replenishing, healing, lifting, soothing power! You just owe it to yourself to let yourself sink into its arms.
That’s where I’m going to spend my holidays. Enveloped in the stuff, and loving life as hard as I can. I joyfully invite you to join me
Happy holidays, my friends, every day of the week.
“Okay,” said November, washing the gold from the trees, spilling it all over the road and the lawn, “Enough of that. Now, let’s get down to business.”
It’s as if she has a switch of some kind that she flicks half-way through her stay. We’ve had our spell of magnificence. Now comes the rain, and the dark, and the cold.
It makes me want to hibernate deep in my cave, and not come back out until the berries are ripe.
I want the long green of summer, and its warmth and light.
I growl to myself. It all went away far too soon.
But just as I was thinking that and feeling like quite a crabby bear, my eyes fell on an index card that’s pinned above my desk.
“How easy can I let this be?” it says.
And all at once, I remember.
I love those words: “How easy can I let this be?” The moment they wash into my awareness, a kind of gentle softness flows through me. I remember that I can let this be easy: the rain, the dark, the cold.
What did I think I had to steel myself against? Why did I think it had to be hard?
“Easy” is just a state of letting-things-be, and being with them. And all you have to do to get there is to let go of your preconceptions of how things “should” be, or of wanting them to be different than they are.
When things seem hard, it’s because we’re reacting to an old movie in our heads instead of responding to what is real right now.
Right now, it is raining, and when I let myself be at ease with that, I hear the sound of the raindrops softly striking against my window pane and see them shimmer as they slide down the studio’s antique glass. They look a bit like jewels against the sketch of wind-blown woods behind them.
It’s cold out tonight. But when I am at ease with that and step outside, my skin feels awake and alive, and a fresh alertness brightens my mind. And when I come back inside, the warmth of the house wraps around me and welcomes me.
Easy lets you pay attention and to ride the moment’s flow.
Even when the moment holds pain, or regret, or sorrow, if you can put aside your resistance to it and allow it to be what it is, and allow yourself to experience it fully, you will bear it with so much more depth and grace.
Easy lets you discover the moment’s meaning. It points you toward what you are doing or could do, right now, easily.
Easy is a kind of listening – as if you are hearing a new sound. It’s listening to what is around you, and to what is within – and that is always new, for the world and you are ever-changing and this moment never was before. Easy allows you to embrace it and opens you to its wholeness and wonder.
Try it. With a sense of curiosity, just ask yourself, “How easy can I let this be?” and notice what happens.
It’s become an annual tradition, the telling of this tale. Pour yourself a mug of mulled cider, sit back and enjoy . . .
I noticed with a bit of disgust that before Halloween had even come to a close, the clerks at the local department store were busily stocking the shelves with Christmas-themed goods. Some of me wanted to run screaming, bury my head under my covers and not emerge until, oh, December 23rd or so.
It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. But when it begins so early, we’re all just sick of it when it finally arrives, and instead of peace and joy, we find ourselves feeling nothing but relief that it’s finally over.
Nevertheless, as the saying goes, it is what it is. And what, exactly, is this tinseled decoration? Nothing but a shift in the colors on the shelves and the music on the speakers. And I am free to make of it what I choose.
When I remembered that, I thought about what I learned from the blackberry thieves.
One summer, I looked out my second story window and noticed a station wagon parked on the path adjacent to the field I own across the highway. And in my field, I saw a man in a straw hat helping himself to the wild blackberries that were growing there quite abundantly that year.
I felt a bit peeved that he felt free to drive onto my property and help himself to the berries. But they were plentiful, and neither I nor the birds were going to eat them all. I decided just to wish that he might enjoy his find.
But the next day, he was back, and he had a woman and a dog with him. And he and the woman were filling pail after pail with berries and putting them in the back of his old station wagon.
I thought that was a bit over the top and decided I would walk down and confront them. Were they selling my berries or what? But by the time I got my shoes on and headed out the door, they were gone.
Again, I told myself that it was no big deal. If they were my friends, I reasoned, I would be happy to share.
The next day, they came again. And now I had a plan. I would go introduce myself, make friends with them, and tell them I hoped they would enjoy the berries.
I walked down into the field, petted the mutt who came bounding cheerfully over to greet me and looked into the wrinkled face of an 80-some year old man.
When I introduced myself and said it was my field and I was just curious what they were going to do with so many berries, he was flabbergasted.
He lived in an adjoining town and his nephew had given him directions and told him it was my neighbor Bob’s field, and that Bob wouldn’t mind if they picked berries there. They planned to freeze them, and his wife would make jam and pies. I told him I didn’t mind either, I just decided I’d feel happier sharing with friends than with strangers, so I thought I’d come down and make his acquaintance.
I invited him to pick all he wanted and took one of the quarts he offered me with a handshake and a smile.
They never came back. But I often thought they were sent into my life to teach me a lesson about the importance of interpreting events in the kindest possible way.
One day in mid-December, I was hanging Christmas decorations in my living room when there was a knock at the door. It was the berry picker. He’d brought me a freshly baked blackberry pie that his wife had made and bottle of home-brewed blackberry wine.
The pie was one of the best I’ve ever eaten. And the wine was smooth and sweet and tasted like friendship and summer.
Remembering that story, I decided I’ll let the colors and music that so suddenly sprang up in the neighborhood’s stores be triggers for feelings of peace and generosity and joy.
That’s what it’s supposed to be all about anyway, isn’t it?
Wishing you peace as we enter the holiday season—ready or not.
Well, here we are, a third of the way into November, about to plunge headlong into the holiday season, with all of its stresses and joys.
Before it gets into full swing, I thought I’d share with you a quick and easy practice you can adapt to ensure that your time is rich and full and your stresses no more than tiny bumps in the road.
Ready? Okay, here goes.
Choose Your Theme
The first thing you want to do is decide on a theme for the upcoming weeks. What feelings or attitudes would you most like to have filling you as you travel to the year’s end?
Would you want to be flowing with gratitude? Ease? Kindness? Contentment?
Would you want to feel inspired most of the time? Creative? Appreciative? Energetic?
Pick two or three of your favorite feelings or attitudes and write them down as your theme. Then say to yourself, right out loud, “My intention is to be filled with ___________ and _________ .”
Install It In Your Mind
Next, take a couple minutes to remember a time when you felt each of your chosen feelings or attitudes and let yourself experience feeling them now as fully as you can.
Maybe you’ll remember where you were and what you were doing when you felt that feeling before.
Maybe you’ll notice a little smile on your face as you call the feelings or attitudes to mind.
Maybe you’ll simply feel the depth and strength of them
Once you’re experiencing a clear memory of each of your chosen feelings, name them out loud, one at a time, as you pat the heart region of your chest three times. “Thankful. Thankful. Thankful.” Then do it with the next feeling.
Take It to the Park
Super. Now you have installed your intention. And it only takes two small actions to activate and strengthen it daily.
1st As soon as you wake in the morning, remember your intention, repeating it to yourself, saying it out loud. “My intention is to be filled with __________ and _________ today.”
2nd As you go through your day, do this little PARK exercise to reinforce and nurture it. (PARK it any time you think of it, or on the hour, or before each meal.) Here’s how:
P – Pause in whatever you are doing, momentarily setting it aside.
A – Become Aware. Allow yourself to become aware of the present moment.
Do a quick body scan and let go of any accumulated tension. Notice the data your senses are bringing to you: What are you seeing? Hearing? Smelling? Tasting? What is your skin feeling? How’s your posture? Your breathing?
If you like, you can also do a quick review of how you spent the past hour and acknowledge yourself for it.
You can do all of this very effectively in a matter of a few seconds. Or stretch it out as long as you like, enjoying the way this break relaxes and refreshes you.
R– Remember. Remember that the purpose of this exercise is to energize your intentions. Briefly touch your heart center and let the beautiful feelings of your intention fill your awareness for a moment. Feel how alive they are within you, quietly guiding you. (If you’re in circumstances where you would be uncomfortable touching your heart center, simply focus your attention there.)
K – Keep on. Return your attention to whatever you were doing or would like to do next.
That’s it. Choose two or three feelings as your theme for the remainder of the year, install your intention to be immersed in them, do a morning reminder when you wake and practice PARK as you go through your day.
This practice has been one of the favorites of my coaching clients, by the way. I hope you’ll give it a try and experience the sense of well-being that it can bring you.
Given the way that tensions are ratcheting up for those of us who live in the US as we enter the last days before our Presidential election, I thought I’d share with you a little exercise you can do to help you recover your inner peace if it gets disturbed. I call it “R&R.”
In military lingo, ”R&R” stands for “rest and recuperation,” and that’s a fine way to deal with stress—to rest from it so your mind and body can normalize. But in this exercise, “R&R” stands for “Release and Receive.”
It’s a kind of first-aid or emergency exercise you can use whenever you notice that you’re feeling an upsetting negative response to a situation or remark.
Here’s how you do it:
Step I: Release
First, notice where the feeling is located in your body. Is it in your chest? Your throat? Your belly? Your shoulders?
Next, find a way to describe it to yourself. Is it hot or cold? Is it solid, or liquid or gaseous? What color is it? How dense is it?
Is it in motion? Is it, for example, throbbing? Or is it still, like a rock? Try to get a good, clear sense of what this negative sensation really feels like.
Once you have it described, see if you can name it. Is it anger? frustration? Sadness? Disgust? Hurt? Disappointment? Fear? Some combination of those?
If you can’t identify the emotion, give the feeling any name to remember it by, like “Sally” or “Fred,” (No offense to any Sallys or Freds out there!) in case you want to call it up for a conversation later.
Now imagine that you’re pulling it, the whole negative feeling, from your body and placing it the palm of your hand. Raise it up so you’re eye to eye with the feeling and can have a talk with it.
Tell it that you know it’s trying to serve you in some way but that you can’t give it the attention it deserves right now, so you’re going to send it to the Wait Space (a little space in a back corner of your mind). Then curl your fingers over it and squeeze it down into a tiny little speck. Now open your palm and gently blow it away.
This completes the “Release” part of the exercise. You can, by the way, do it very quickly. You can even do it completely in your imagination if you are in circumstances where you can’t easily hold the feeling in your hand. But do it as thoroughly as your situation permits.
Step II: Receive
Once you have blown your negative feeling away to the Wait Space, keep your palm open and face up.
Imagine a stream of refreshing comfort, understanding, forgiveness, and peace flowing into it, and from there, into your whole being.
Bonus: The Conversation
To get the maximum benefit from this little exercise, follow up when time permits by having a little conversation with the negative feeling you parked in the Wait Space.
First, open your palm and invite the feeling that you sent to the Wait Space to return. Feel it land on your palm and lift it to where you can comfortably talk with it.
Begin by thanking it for caring so much about you and your values that it made itself so big and loud. Ask it if it has anything that it wants to tell you about why the situation seemed so important and what it wanted for you.Then listen for whatever insights might present themselves.
Ask it if it has anything more that it wants you to know. And when it is finished showing or telling you all that it wants to share, ask if it’s okay for you to let it go now, thank it again, and watch it dissolve away.
This follow up lets you receive the lessons to be learned from the upsetting situation. It can provide you with truly meaningful insights about what happened, why you responded the way you did, and how you might respond in a more effective and helpful way in similar situations that come along.
You may find it worthwhile to do a little run-through with the process right now, recalling a past upset or an imaginary confrontation of some kind. That will make it more real for you and help you install it in your mind as a helpful tool to pull out when it’s needed.
Many of us have deeply held beliefs that we have attached to candidates, parties, or issues in the upcoming election. And it’s our tendency as humans to seek out evidence for our beliefs and to identify with them.
Remember that someone who has chosen to attach his or her beliefs to an opposing side may very well, at the core of things, want the same things you do: well-being for us all.
Each of us can see differing paths for achieving the same ends, and the fact is that if people truly knew how to attain the world of goodness, fairness, and peace for all – the world that we all want – we would have already built it. Right now, we’re all struggling toward it together in a big trial and error dance.
Share your ideas with each other. But bear in mind that vehement arguing does little to persuade. And by all means, please vote.
Then, knowing you have done all that you can do to influence the outcome, return your focus to living the values that lie at the heart of your choices.
Radiate loving kindness and remember, no matter how things may sometimes seem, each of us can be a source of light and comfort in our personal worlds.
Wishing you a week of calm and peace, regardless of the turmoil that surrounds us.
