Here in western Pennsylvania I watched as September came to an end, ushering in what promises to be a colorful autumn. The goldenrod is glowing in the fields, and already the leaves are beginning to fall. They crunch beneath your feet as you walk down a sidewalk or, if you’re lucky, down a woodland path.
The beauty was a comfort to me as I waited for word about how family and friends in the path of Hurricane Ian fared. The first news from the region after Ian made landfall wasn’t good.
Life holds frightening, disappointing and painful times for us all. And sometimes it hurts terribly.
And the only refuge I have ever found for pain is kindness. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned that from Tara Brach. “Say to yourself,” she advises, “’this is suffering. Everybody suffers. May I be kind.’”
Be kind to others. You never know what burden someone is carrying in silence. And above all, be kind to yourself. When you’re in pain, recognize that what you are experiencing is universal; everyone suffers.
Part of that self-compassion means you set aside, at least for the moment, your longing to have things be different than they are. Accept that reality is what it is. Accept that you are hurting. Accept that you are angry, or deeply disappointed, or in pain, or overwhelmed. Accept that those feelings are part of being human and that it’s okay to feel them right now. Hold yourself as tenderly as you would hold a crying child.
Know, too, that all suffering is temporary. It exhausts itself, all of its own accord. It may return; it may come in waves. But always, it exhausts itself and finally gives way to a new perspective, and you go on.
Life isn’t static. It carries us into new circumstances at every moment. And at every moment, it offers us comfort and peace. As soon as we are ready to receive them, life’s gifts are there, waiting for us. And they wait with patience and love until we can be ready.
Sometimes it’s as simple as letting go of the story you’re telling yourself about how awful things are, and of waking up to the broader reality. Sometimes it takes a good meal, or a good night’s sleep, or some time with an understanding friend. Sometimes it takes a new idea, a willingness to try something new.
And sometimes it just takes the passage of time.
But whenever you’re ready, the side of life that’s good, and beautiful, and true will be waiting. Keep your faith in life alive, and be kind.
And when the goodness returns, breathe it in right down to your toes and let every cell in your body feel it and give thanks.
Life can hurt, and life can be exquisitely beautiful. Go with the flow, and say, “What a ride! What a ride!”
Yesterday would have been the 76th birthday of a beloved friend of mine. He returned from the Viet Nam war with a heart full of pain, developed paranoid schizophrenia, and ended up hanging himself one cold, winter day.
I thought about him as read Even Alexander’s book Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife. If you have heard that near-death experiences are nothing more than an illusion created by a dying brain, Dr. Alexander’s vivid description of his own near-death will seriously challenge your assumptions. Until he experienced it himself, he was wholly skeptical about the reality of life after death. But given what he understood about the human brain, he knew his experience wasn’t a product of its creation.
Like most who have had an NDE, he struggles to find words to describe his own experience of what he says is so profoundly rich and beautiful that it cannot be put into the narrow framework of human language.
It’s a fascinating read. And I found comfort in it as I thought about family members and friends who have passed away.
Anyway, yesterday was my old friend’s birthday, and I raised my coffee cup to him and sang “Happy Birthday” and remembered his extraordinary personality and brilliant mind – the one that I was privileged to see and know beneath his mental illness and his pain. And I smiled inside, feeling that he got my greeting somehow and returned his own beams of love.
He was pretty convinced that the world was a dark and confusing place when he died, seeing it as being awash in danger and evil. When I read the daily headlines, I can understand how easy it might be to see things that way, and to lose hope, and to lose sight of how fully goodness outweighs the evil in the world. Dr. Alexander, by the way, says that evil exists so that we can experience free will and learn to use it wisely.
I was thinking about all these things yesterday, as I drove through the countryside collecting photos of autumn’s first days. To my surprise and delight, when I happened on a tiny farm town, down the other lane of the highway came a parade! I pulled over to watch.
A color guard of four young teens led it, marching proudly in their crisp high school band uniforms, perfectly in step, solemnly bearing their flags. Next was a big tractor, driven by an old guy in a straw cowboy hat, pulling a float with a sign that proclaimed its occupant the Grand Marshall. He was even older than the man driving the tractor, grinning broadly and waving at the people who lined the highway. The Potato Queen rode the next float, blushing and lovely in her pretty blue gown. Then came the village’s sole fire truck and a gleaming red antique car and cheerleaders from the high school showing off their newest routines. That was about the whole parade, and it looked like a third of the village’s population had come out to cheer it.
I thought about how festivals and parades will be happening all over the planet as people celebrate harvest or, in the southern hemisphere, the coming of spring. Community still thrives.
I thought about a young friend of mine who is starting college this week, and about all the young minds that are preparing themselves to be doctors and astronomers and teachers and artists, to explore the intricacies of math and science and the beauties of language and culture and the arts.
I thought about all the sports teams that will be competing now that schools are open, and about all that kids will learn from participating in them about how to handle victory and defeat, about disciple and teamwork and striving to be your best.
Yes, our world has its evils; but it is far richer in things that are good. And that’s true of each of our individual lives, too. We all have our personal mean streaks, our shadow sides and failings. But we learn from our unwise choices and keep reaching to be better, and stronger, and kinder, and to love more.
And in the end, it’s the plus side that will win out, no matter how dark things may sometimes appear.
Wishing you a week rich with awareness of life’s wondrous balance and beauty. May it comfort you in times of loss and darkness and shine its light on all your days,
I have to confess that it’s been work to keep a positive perspective on life this week. It was as if Murphy himself had moved in and delighted in throwing obstacles my way. And in the larger world, well, you have only to turn on the news to see that things appear to be coming apart at the seams.
What’s helped me the most is accepting that this is life. And gosh! Good or bad, I get to live it. I get to experience the whole range of human emotions – from irritation and anger, shock and disappointment, anxiety and grief, to gratitude, serenity, hope, and joy.
And by accepting, I mean allowing myself to experience whatever emotion is flowing through me at any given time. Not to fight it. Not to push it away. Not to want to hold onto it. Not to judge myself for it. But simply to let it be and to feel it.
It helps, too, to look at the story I’m telling myself about whatever circumstance I find myself in, and to ask myself, in Byron Katie fashion, whether it’s true and whether I can be certain, and how I would be without that story.
When I do that, I often find an old Zen story coming to mind that reminds me that none of us has any idea how things will turn out, or what fortunes await us. Maybe you’ll remember it; I’ve shared it before. It goes like this . . .
Once upon the time there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.
“Maybe so; maybe not,” the farmer replied.
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other additional wild horses. “How wonderful!” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe so; maybe not,” replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.
“Maybe so; maybe not,” answered the farmer.
The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.
“Maybe so; maybe not,” said the farmer. ###
That story has served me well over the many years since I first heard it. I hope it will stick with you and serve you, too, when you’re tempted to label your circumstances as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’
As a final thought, let me say that the beauty of emerging autumn has held me in its arms this week, too, reminding me that for everything there is a season, and that the seasons turn. This is life. And we get to live it. And that, my friends, is miracle enough and then some.
“Time has a way,” I sometimes tell my friends, “of doing things in the right order.”
That’s not always an apparent fact, nor is it always easy to accept. But if you look back at your life, you’re likely to discover that decisions you made in the past put you exactly where you needed to be a couple years farther down the road.
Everything that happens is for our enrichment in one way or another. Everything leads us to the fuller knowledge of ourselves that only experience can bring. Understanding that lets us relax a little. It lets us settle more fully into the present and to appreciate whatever is unfolding in our lives right now.
I’ve been thinking about time this week, as summer morphs into fall. After the long green days of warmth and light, I’m eager for a nip in the morning air and for the blaze of autumn’s crimsons and golds. But while I’m enjoying the delicious feeling of anticipation, I’ve been reminding myself not to let it so overpower me that I miss what is happening right now. It’s as easy to get lost in anticipation as it is to get lost in reliving the past.
It’s fine to savor sweet memories from the past, to anticipate the joys the future may bring, to dream and plan for the way we would like our lives to unfold. These, too, are enriching parts of our experience. But it’s right now where our real living takes place.
Right now, after all, is where our power is. It’s the only moment in time when we can act, and feel, and love. It’s the only moment in which our senses are alive, where sound and sight and taste and touch are real.
The present is a refuge, too, from the pain of the past and the error of dread. Right here, right now, we’re okay. We’re alive and breathing. Right now, we can choose. We can choose to be here, to notice how we are —and that we are. We can choose where we will direct our attention and how we want to respond to whatever life is presenting to us right now. And it’s in the choosing that we create the quality of our lives.
As for me, I’ll choose openness and joy. I’ll feel the tingle of anticipation that September’s winds bring. I’ll revel in the winds themselves, and in the fragrances they carry, and in the bold and joyous colors of the leaves that ride them.
Time has a way of doing things in the right order. Trust tomorrow to to be tomorrow, and let the past rest in the place where days gather at their close. Do that and you are free to make today a day of genuine happiness and peace.
One night this week I happened on an old interview with Neale David Walsch, author of the popular Conversations with God series. At the time of the interview, Walsch was just out with his fourth book, Awaken the Species, and he was talking about some of the main concepts it covers.
In case you’re not familiar with the Conversations series—or not even vaguely interested in reading what somebody says about God—you may find it intriguing that the first point the voice that Walsch identified as “God” had to make was, “You’ve got me all wrong.”
As Walsch pointed out in the interview, even if you’ve dismissed the idea of the existence of God entirely, if that sentence has even a smidgen of truth to it, it suggests that you may want to question what you do believe about the possibility and nature of a conscious, unimaginably vast and creative Supreme Being.
That suggestion—about questioning beliefs—prompted me to remember one of the most challenging and valuable assignments I was ever given in college. It was the final exam in a course called “American Thought and Language,” which covered significant (and often opposing) ideas that had arisen in the country from the time prior to the Revolution up to the present. The assignment was to write an essay entitled “I Believe,” in which we were to discuss a few of our personal beliefs and give our reasons for holding them.
Every now and then, I assign that essay to myself again, just to uncover the beliefs that are driving me now and to examine them. If you’re up for the challenge, I heartily recommend it. It’s very revealing.
But that’s not the main thought that I brought away from the Walsch interview. The idea that struck me most deeply was one Walsch shared when the host asked him what was the biggest piece of advice he could give people, based on his latest book. Walsch said he would tell people what he was told was the most important thing: “Your life isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with you. It’s about everyone whose life you touch and the way in which you touch it.”
My whole being breathed a sigh of awe over the profound beauty of that thought. Imagine what it would be like if each of us asked, “How can I help? What can I do to make your life easier, more comfortable, more peaceful, more pleasant?” What if we looked for ways we could give encouragement to each other? If we set out to make the environment a healthier more beautiful place? If we listened to each other more? If we looked more into each other’s eyes? If we looked for ways to ease another’s burden or to alleviate some of their stress? If we did our jobs knowing that they were contributing, in however small a way, to the well-being of others and took joy in that?
So that’s the thought I leave with you this week, the message that it’s all about every life you touch and how you touch it.
I wish you the insight to see what’s needed, and the generosity of spirit to give as only you can.
A couple decades ago, I began my online writing career with a now-defunct site called “The Magical Mirror Machine.” It was a continuation of a paper newsletter of the same name that I sent to people who signed up for it at The Mind’s Eye, a metaphysical bookstore and art gallery that I ran at the time.
The premise of the Magical Mirror Machine is that the world reflects back to us exactly who we are.
I remembered it this week when a bout of introspection got me to thinking about the way that we often criticize in others the very shortcomings that we’re most blind to in ourselves. If we paid attention to what the Magical Mirror was showing us, we’d have a good idea where we could use a course-correction ourselves.
Try it out. The next time you catch yourself criticizing somebody, think about what you want them to be that you believe they’re not being. Then ask yourself in what ways you are guilty of the same thing.
It can take a little digging. If you’re nagging your roommate because he always leaves his socks on the floor, the Mirror probably isn’t saying that you should be neater yourself. (Although that might be the message. Are you always leaving globs of toothpaste in the bathroom sink?) Instead, the Mirror is often seeing through your surface complaint to a deeper issue.
It could be saying, for instance, that you wish your roommate would be more appreciative of the work you do to keep your environment clean and tidy. In other words, you want more appreciation for your contributions to the household. Hmmm. And just how appreciative are you of his contributions? When’s the last time you sincerely and specifically expressed your thanks for all he does?
The way the Mirror works is that what you put out, it reflects back. If you want to get back something different, try putting it out. If you want to be listened to, listen more. If you want more affection, give more of it.
But don’t forget to look at the merit that the Mirror shows you as well. When you’re keenly interested in something, the Mirror is hinting at one of your strengths. When you’re enjoying making something, it’s reflecting your creativity and skills. When you notice how kind people are, it’s reflecting your own kindness. When you’re laughing, it’s showing you what you enjoy.
And it’s these kinds of messages, the positive ones, that will tell you what will truly enrich your life. Notice when the Mirror is reflecting your best traits, and cultivate those. Learn what makes you happy, what touches your heart, what makes you feel strong and capable and confident, and make a point of doing more of those things.
We always get farther by cultivating our strengths than by trying to fix our weaknesses. And once you know what your strengths truly are, you can draw on them to guide you the next time the Mirror shows you a place that needs a little polishing.
This week, I watched as a series of nasty energy waves ensnared a bunch of folks in my circle of loved ones and acquaintances. A couple of the waves that hit were made of nothing more than incessant aggravations. But some were huge and full of fury. And they came out of nowhere, without precedent or warning. I won’t burden you with details. I will say that I got caught in a couple of them, too.
There was a time when blows as hard as these would have been enough to knock me down and maybe even drown me. But luckily, over the years, I’ve learned how to ride them.
(I like that description, by the way, because it reminds me of an old poster that shows this robed, bearded old guru, soaking wet and riding with outstretched arms and a broad grin on a surf board atop a big, rolling wave. “You can’t stop the waves,” the poster said. “But you can learn how to surf.”)
Ah, yes. Surfing the waves. It’s not a skill that you develop overnight. Well, unless you’re one of those blessed few who are suddenly struck with enlightenment or maybe have a near-death experience that convinces you that in the end all is well.
Nope. It takes practice. It’s one of those things that are simple, but not easy. And it’s not easy because you have to remember to practice it. In essence, it’s a matter of being in the present, of attending to what’s right in front of you, of what you’re doing right now.
We get caught up in playing emotionally charged tapes from our past – like the argument we had with someone this morning, or something somebody said that pushed one of our buttons . Or we get lost in problem-solving for the future, like planning what we could have for dinner or what might happen at the meeting tomorrow. The present zips past without our even noticing. We’re so mesmerized by our mind-movies that what’s right in front of us is absolutely invisible.
I went for a walk once with a friend who suffered from schizophrenia. He was taking his meds and in an upbeat mood that day. As we walked he was telling me about his favorite Broadway plays and singing the lyrics from them with heart and animation, as if he were the star performer on the stage.
Every now and then, I’d point out something in the environment that caught my eye. “Oh! Look at the trim on that house!” I’d say. Or “Isn’t that a beautiful flower!” Then I’d let him talk and sing some more. He sang wonderfully and was very entertaining.
As we got back to my house, I pointed out one more thing that I noticed. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me in wonderment. “Can you do that all the time?” he asked incredulously.
“Do what?” I asked. I had no idea what he meant.
“See what’s out there!” he said.
His comment gave me a profound insight into his situation. The thoughts in his head were so intense that for someone to notice what was in the immediate environment seemed an act of magic.
But the fact is, without being ill at all, most of us spend nearly all of our time lost in our own inner dramas, in our thoughts and our interpretations and our memories and problem solving. We’re just wired that way. We live in our stories instead of in the actual moment that’s unfolding all around us. And we react with our emotions to whatever stories we’re telling ourselves, instead of seeing what is real and choosing how we want to respond.
The key to escaping from these inner movies is simply to practice noticing what’s really going on right now. In fact, that’s a question you can learn to ask yourself: “What’s really going on right now?” (Jot that down and put it somewhere that you’ll spot it from time to time.) Then tune in to the moment. You can practice doing a body scan, for instance, to see where you’re tense right now and let that area soften and relax up a bit. Or notice what your posture is telling you. You can take a sensory break every now and then and notice what data each of your senses is offering you. You can stop from time to time to see how long you can keep your attention on your breathing. You can describe to yourself what you’re doing: “This is me, washing dishes, seeing the soap bubbles, feeling the warm water and the texture of the plates, hearing the sounds they make as I wash them.”
The big benefit of staying in the present is that you learn not to make programmed judgments about what is happening. Things are just happening. Right now. You don’t know where they’ll lead. The future isn’t here yet and could hold anything. So you’re not upset, or giddy, or frustrated, or angry. You’re not projecting into the future or resurrecting reactions from the past. You’re not comparing what’s going on to what you wanted or feared. You’re simply observant, and maybe curious, and probably more awake, and most likely quite appreciative.
Don’t worry; you won’t get stuck there. You’ll still look for the way that events have meaning for your life. You’ll still have real problems that require real solutions. But you’ll look at things from a refreshed perspective, and the rhythm of the waves will be just that – a rhythm that you learn to flow with, atop it all, wet maybe, but balanced and at peace.
Wishing you presence, right here, right now, all week.
I’ve been listening lately to lectures by Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, a clinical psychologist and professor emeritus at the University of Toronto, whose complex thoughts attract me with their depth and insight. When you listen to him, you need to stop doing anything else and truly listen. He speaks quickly and packs each sentence with layers of meaning. But listening thoughtfully is worth the effort it requires of you.
One of the ideas he conveyed in the lectures I heard this week is that dragons, in mythology, represented (among other things) chaos. And that slaying them makes you a hero.
Our own lives are a constant battle between chaos and order, and to be a hero in your own life means you slay the dragons that are bringing chaos to it so that you can have less confusion and greater clarity and competence in your life.
The first step in battling your dragons is the toughest. You have to face the fact that they’re there. You know that they are, and that they’re keeping you from being all that you can be.
Dr. Peterson says that the secret of overcoming your dragons is to take responsibility for them. Taking responsibility builds your character and gives your life meaning. It allows you to aim for living on a higher level than you are now.
Here’s how he says to do it. You know there are things in your life that aren’t in order, where you’re not together, and they’re causing you some discomfort or suffering. Every morning, or every night, ask yourself what those things are.
Ask as if you’re asking someone you really want the answer from, not telling yourself or preaching, but sincerely asking what needs to be put in order. You can easily name five of them he says, “Bang-Bang-Bang.” These are the little dragons of chaos. “And they’re just little, but that’s good, because you’re not much of a hero warrior, so maybe little dragons are all you can put up with right now.” So you name them and the begin sorting them out.
You ask yourself which one you’ll put some work into, even if the work is tedious or boring, or whatever it is that’s been allowing you to put it off. And you do the work. You sort those things out.
And what happens is it will bring more order into your life and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be just a little more focused and together. Then you ask the same question, “What are my dragons?” and the next problems will be a little more complex and challenging, and you sort those out. And you keep going with this, and you become stronger and more clear-headed for the next set of dragons you take on.
If you continue to do that, you’ll find that your room gets cleaned, your health improves, and your house gets put in order, and then maybe you can stick a finger out and begin looking at the dragons in your community. By that time, you’ll have some real personal power and self-confidence, and some practice at identifying dragons and taking them on.
Now that, he says, is an interesting and exciting game. “If you started doing the things that you know you should do and you did that diligently, what the hell would you be like in ten years?” You might not reach the very pinnacle, but you’ll be a lot better off than you are now, a lot less self-pitying and resentful, with a lot less suffering in your life, a lot less cruel to yourself and other people. “And that’s a pretty good start.”
So here’s to slaying dragons. Which ones will you start with today?
Wishing you a sharp sword and hardy determination!
Some time ago, I received an invitation to participate in an unusual study. Its purpose was to determine the impact of a simple five-minute daily practice on participants’ fears and their experience of well-being.
Because one of the designers of the study was a former mentor and instructor of mine, Ann-Marie McKelvey, whom I like very much and trust deeply, and because I only had to invest five minutes a day for two weeks, I agreed. Who can’t clear five minutes in their day?
The practice is called “The Three Treasures Practice,” by the way, because it draws on the disciplines of loving-kindness meditation, EMDR (a therapy technique for reducing the effects of trauma), and the findings of positive psychology.
My immediate response to the practice, after did my first session, was, “Wow! That was easy – and do I feel great!” But it was only after the first full week of doing my daily sessions that I began to see the incredible power of the practice.
Before beginning it, we participants took a brief survey that had us identify one of our biggest fears and to rate it, and the negative feelings that went with it, on a scale of 1-10. I rated my fear at a 5. But my feelings of grief and sadness over it scored a 9. To my surprise, by the end of the first week, all my scores dropped dramatically. I was looking at the situation from an altogether different perspective.
By the end of the second week, my fear and the sadness and grief were hardly at play at all in my life. I felt free from my concerns and saw clearly that if the situation I had feared did materialize, I would be able to deal with it , minute by minute, as it unfolded. I thought about the old adage that most of what we worry about never happens. And even when it does, it rarely takes any of the forms we imagined. All my apprehensions had done nothing but waste time I could have spent enjoying life in the present.
I ‘knew’ all of that about worry before I began the practice. But I worried anyway, and was deeply attached to my concerns. What you know in theory is far from the things you learn from experience. The Practice simply melted my worries away. Life became lovelier and more vibrant again. Day by day, I was effortlessly moving into a broader, easier world.
It’s been a long time now since I first learned The Three Treasures Practice, and my understanding of its beauty and power has only deepened in that time.
My own experience with the practice has been so profound that I wanted to share it with you. And I’m delighted to say that the developers of the practice and of the study have given all the participants full permission to share it.
So consider this a happy invitation to try it yourself. Make a commitment to give it a full two-week try. Start by writing down what you biggest fear is and rate its intensity from 1-10, where 10 is complete, abject fear, and 0 is no worry. Then think about the feelings that accompany your fear. Does it make you feel any of these emotions: Loss? Anxiety? Grief? Sadness? Anger? Loneliness? Which ones? Rate the intensity of those, too, so you can see the changes in your life at the end of the first week and at the end of the second.
Remember that the practice is designed not only to ease your fears, but to heighten your sense of well-being as well .
Before I share the instructions for the practice itself, here’s a worthwhile little exercise to do first, a kind of warm-up session. For me, it was quite interesting.
All you have to do is jot down the following feelings and rate each of them from 1-10 as you’re feeling them right now: Joy, Peace, Openness, Love, Connection, Kindness, Trust, and Happiness.
You don’t have to do that part. But if you do, it will give you a way to evaluate how the practice is working for you.
Now here are the actual instructions for the practice, as given to those of us who engaged in the study:
Instructions for The Three Treasures Practice
Sit comfortably in a quiet environment. Take deep inhales and deep exhales as you settle.
Cross your arms over your chest and place your hands on alternate shoulders. [Right hand on left shoulder; left hand on right shoulder.]
In a determined way, gently and slowly tap each shoulder one at a time. Tap so that it is loud enough to hear. This is called the EMDR Butterfly Hug.
Keep doing the Butterfly Hug as you say the following phrases to yourself in rhythm with your taps, silently or out loud, Repeat them until your five minutes are up.
May I now be filled with loving kindness
May I now be safe and protected
May I now be resilient in mind and body
May I now live with ease and joy
The Loving-Kindness Meditation is an ancient tradition that goes back thousands of years. Although the phrases may differ from culture to culture, the basic principle is to alleviate suffering. Please use the positive Loving-Kindness phrases above for the next 14 days along with the Butterfly Hug for five consecutive minutes each day.
If you have trouble remembering the words, please print them on a card to look at during you initial repetitions until you know them by heart.
Should you find yourself becoming drowsy, please stand up to do the practice until the five minutes have transpired.
That’s it!
I would love to know what your experience with this easy and, in my view, powerful exercise is. Think about taking five minutes a day to try it for two weeks and if you do, let me know what your experience with it is. What have you got to lose?
Wishing you a week of increasing contentment and peace.
“It’s just going to be that kind of day,” my friend said as he got in my car. “Everything’s gone wrong.” He started on a litany of all the bothersome things that had happened since he got out of bed.
“Well,” I said, “I’m glad you got all that out of the way! Used up all your bad luck first thing. Now you can let it go and have a fine rest-of-the-day.” And he did. But if I hadn’t steered him to look at the possibility of a good day ahead, he might have gone on and on about his little clashes and misadventures.
Painful events produce mental movies of what happened, replays of the situation. They’re daydreams our minds create to help us realize that it was true, that it really happened and that it hurt. That’s a pretty common response to pain. It’s the first step toward accepting things, to getting to the point where we can say, however reluctantly, “It is what it is.”
The next step is figure out what you need to do next. What are some of your options? What’s most urgent? What direction do you want to go? You might still feel the raw pain, but it, too, is what it is—an injury of some kind, and injuries take time to heal. You let it sit there, acknowledging it, but accepting it as a part of your current experience. In the meantime, take a survey of your resources and start moving in the direction that your better self most wants to go, the one that makes the most sense.
But first, you’re in that place where you’re remembering what happened, trying to get a grasp on it and somehow make it different. There’s a trap here, though. If you play the movie over and over and over, you can get stuck in it. You can get so stuck that it becomes the focus of your reality. That’s when our daydreams become living nightmares.
Remember the phrase, “What you focus on expands?” It applies full force here. Your mind will always search for information to bring you when it knows you’re interested in something. If you’re looking at nothing but your mental movie about the hurtful thing that happened, your mind will bring you more and more ways that you were hurt like this in the past or might be hurt in similar ways in the future. That generates fear, anxiety, and avoidance strategies–none of which are helpful. In fact, your fear makes your brain think that looking out for danger is now a priority matter. It will point out all the signals it can find that you might be risking another blow. And there you are, stuck in the nightmare.
Now here’s the good news. You are the one who’s in charge of what’s playing in the theater of your mind. You’re running the projector that beams the movie onto the screen of your mind. If you can see that this movie has played over and over, you can look for a different movie to play. That lets you break the nightmare’s spell.
You might not be able to switch movies instantly. The nightmare one has dug itself into the screen of your attention and its drama has you hooked. But you can interrupt it as often as want by asking yourself a simple question like “What’s good about her/him/this mess?” or “What’s good about this present moment?” Questions like that take your brain by surprise. “A new game!” it says, happy to have a new assignment. And it will start looking for answers to your question. Robert Maurer, Ph.D,,says in his book One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way, that you can start by asking your little question at leaset once a day, and keep it up every day for a couple weeks. Link asking it to brushing your teeth or drinking your morning coffee, or when you go to bed. You could also jot down the answers you get if you’re so inclined.
Gradually, looking for the good will become a habit, quieting and eventually replacing your nightmare. Your world will expand and brighten, your moods will shift to the enjoyable end of the scale. And it starts by asking a simple question: “What’s good here?”
Remember, what you focus on expands. Focus on asking yourself one little question at least once a day about what’s good, and see how the goodness grows.
