Photo by DAVIDCOHEN on Unsplash
A number of years ago I was at a self-development training where the teacher, in response to someone lamenting about their suffering, asked them how they would treat themselves if they knew that they would always feel this way. The question might seem shocking, but it moved the learner from a place of resistance to a place of presence. From “I don’t like this” to “Oh, this is how it is.” From projection into the future to acceptance in the moment. After some thought, her response to the question was, “Well, I’d be kind and take care of myself.”
I watched a movie called “Dying to Know” about the lives of Timothy Leary and Ram Dass, and their commentary on living and dying. Ram Dass said that he didn’t see the moment of death as being different to any other moment, and that our lives are simply this moment, and this moment, and this moment. And that in one of these moments we die.
Neuroscientist, David Eagleman, in the documentary, “The Creative Brain” offers three ways to nurture creativity:
- To try something new, to get off the path of least resistance that our habit-seeking brain wants to keep us on;
- To push boundaries, to create something that’s not too new or too familiar;
- To not be afraid to fail.
Where am I going with all of this?
I no longer had the choice whether to listen to my body or not – my body was clearly in charge.
My health went downhill about three months ago. I went from working 50 hours a week to working 30, with the lost 20 hours spent resting mostly on my bed. My brain stopped being able to multitask, and struggled with even single-tasking for longer than about an hour. I found my short-term memory failing me, even in crucial moments of listening to someone’s important sharing about their experience during my online courses – I struggled to remember the important things folks were saying to me. My body slowed down. I became aware of a multitude of aches and pains. I no longer had the choice whether to listen to my body or not – my body was clearly in charge. I could no longer get up in the morning and hit the computer full of energy and dopamine-driven determination. My brain and body couldn’t really do much until late afternoon.
I gave up caffeine, sugar, alcohol, refined carbohydrates, dairy and chocolate. OK, I did not give up chocolate.
I would stop withholding love pending improved health.
I resisted this experience as I waited, desperately, for medical test results to tell me what was wrong with me, and projected myself into the future where I could finally get back to full health. I felt let down by my body. I felt depressed. I felt fearful of losing my vocation and my community.
“What if you knew that you would always feel this way?” These words came to visit me in a moment of contemplation about my health situation. “How would I treat myself if I knew that I would always feel this way?”
I would love my dear body for all she has done and is doing. I would stop withholding love pending improved health. I would slow down and be with her. I would rest without resistance. I would release fear (I do not have time for that).
I would be here now more.
…try something new, push boundaries, don’t be afraid to fail.
Ram Dass’s words hit a chord. If I’m slowing down, I’m more aware of each moment. I’m in this moment and this moment and this moment. And I’m different in each moment. One of these moments I’m well, one I’m unwell, one I’m working, one I’m resting. Who knows what future moments will bring, but I do have the power to love myself in this one.
David Eagleman’s recipe for creativity came right after: try something new, push boundaries, don’t be afraid to fail. What if my work was adapted to my abilities? Ram Dass kept teaching after his stroke. What if I accepted my abilities and opened my mind to new possibilities? What if I pushed the boundaries of what “teaching” or “running a business” meant? What if I saw slowing down as an invitation to deepen? Another of my teachers, Ginny Morgan, helped me toward some of my most profound insights while she was dying from cancer. What insights might an undiagnosed malaise bring to me? And what might I be able to share?
I have a course for contemplative teachers coming up on my schedule and had planned to be spending this time of the year putting together material in preparation for that course. I can barely keep up with my current courses. What if this new course was something completely new for me? A reliance on emergence in community at each Gathering? A dana (donation) course? An invitation to participants to share their gifts in service of group learning?
Who am I being relevant for?
My sixth Somatic Self-Compassion course is undersubscribed and will likely need to be cancelled. What if this gives me time to strengthen that offering as I have a few months’ break from teaching it? What if this is my time to offer something very new? To think something very new? How might my mind open when I am not in fear of low enrollments and loss of data for research and loss of income and loss of relevance and loss of identity?
I have been afraid to fail, but I have pushed the boundaries anyway. I feel grateful that I can rely on this capacity. Right now, in a time of clarity about what is important, I’d like to explore the frontier of authenticity. What does decolonizing my mind from the fear of not meeting expectations look like? What barriers am I still not seeing? Where am I trying too hard at the wrong thing? What identity am I squashing myself into in hope of acceptance? Who am I being relevant for? What do I think the prize is? And what might the real prize be?
I feel called into a new way of being, but I am kicking and screaming. I want my coffee and my long days and my survival drive to work harder and my ladder climbing and my growing credibility in areas I think are culturally, conventionally credible. I want my life to look like what I think that other person’s life is (pick any successful contemplative or creative teacher and I probably want parts of their life). I want unassailable markers of success … forever.
And yet I am here now. And now looks pretty average. As does here.
What if I knew that I’d always feel this way? I’m curious to see if I can be here to do that. And here. And here.
- Lovingkindness for Ourselves (13 minutes) - November 17, 2021
- Lovingkindness for a Loved One (19 minutes) - November 10, 2021
- Soothing Touch and Self-Compassion Break (24 minutes) - November 3, 2021
- Affectionate Breathing (18 minutes) - October 27, 2021
- Arriving Meditation (9 minutes) - October 20, 2021
Let’s be curious whenever we can. This is what I feel invited to aspire to after reading your post Kristy. I acknowledge and admire your honesty and depth of inquiry. Now and here, here and now indeed 🙏🏻
Thanks so much for commenting, dear Mac. I agree – curiosity might be our daily/lifetime practice. There’s so much to learn. I’m glad we’re in community together 😉
I want my coffee, too! A lovely, honest read, Kristy! Thank you for sharing your path with us.
You make me laugh, dear Barb. Thanks for being on the path with me <3
Loved your post, Kristy! I went kicking and screaming into a similar health experience 5 years ago. The books How to Be Sick and How to Live Well with Chronic Illness by Toni Bernhard might be right up your alley. Thank you so much for sharing your experience, it helps me have more compassion for my own body and uncertainties. Wishing you lots of rest, creativity, and ultimately healing!
Thanks for commenting, dear Erin. So there’s common humanity in the kicking and screaming!? Thanks for the book recommendations. I read “How to be Sick” a while ago (I think) and I’ll pick it up again if it feels right. May we all have more compassion for our dear body that is always doing it’s best 😉
Kristy – whenever you share your inner process, I’m deeply effected – in a good way. Your honesty and vulnerability serve my own journey and I’m grateful to you. This post feels very tender and it really does speak to the dilemma that many of us face who have chronic health issues as I do. I appreciate that you speak to the 50/50 of the process. Thank you for using your own life to teach at such a deep level. Your writing is beautiful and clear and resonant.
I’ve also been wanting to tell you that ever since you shared in one of our classes about putting your hand on your forehead whenever your inner critic was acting up, I started doing that myself. I’ve found it to be powerful – and as I place my hand on my head I say to myself “friendship” – it’s a shorthand reminder for my daily intention to build a steadfast friendship with myself. That hand on my forehead has become an “exit ramp” off the myelinated pathway of my inner critic.
Blessings in abundance to you as you navigate these deep waters. I truly believe that you will quietly amaze yourself by what’s next. Here is a poem for you by Juan Ramon Jimenez called Oceans (translated by Robert Bly):
I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.
And nothing
happens! Nothing … Silence … Waves …
– Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and we are standing now, quietly, in the new life?
Thank you so much for your sharing, dear Mary. I really appreciate being in community with you. Thank you for telling me about the “exit ramp” off your myelinated pathway (love that imagery) and for sharing that poem – I feel quite inspired. Much love to you, my friend.
Dear Kristy, I’m really sorry to read your ill… Wish you a lot of light and wisdom! Love, Marieke
Thank you so much for your kind comment, dear Marieke. I’m happy to be in community with you. Much love from over the ocean 🙂
Love all the questions which seem like answers just in the asking. I’m so interested in looking at assumptions these days and your questions seem in part to ask “What am I assuming that I need to do and don’t” and so there is a sense of freedom to how many options it opens to. And, please feel free not to respond! One less thing to do. xoxo
Thanks so much for commenting, my friend. I appreciate you pointing out that the questions seem like answers. “What am I assuming that I need to do and don’t” – thanks for distilling the matter down to that essence. What a great question!
Dearest Kristy,
I am only reading this today, on June 20th! I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner! I am here for you. I resonate with so much of the striving and the questions of the relevance and the prize. You are a fabulous teacher and a beautiful human being. What ever you can do, and when ever and in what manner, it is a gift to us all. You have already made your mark, and I’m sure you will continue to do so. I am ready, willing and able to support you in any way that I can. I’m glad you have the tools to take refuge at this time, and continue to fill yourself back up.
I so appreciate your support, dear Julie. I actually only just made this post public even though I wrote it nearly a month ago – this is my work life now 😉 She’s slow and she’s learning to be OK with that. Thanks for sharing about your resonance with striving and questioning. I think many of us feel this, but we don’t talk about it. Glad to be in conversation and in community with you around this. Much love, Kristy.
Thank you for sharing this painful and difficult journey, Kristy. Your courage and compassion inspires me. I read this a couple of days ago and it helped me look after myself during a two day ferocious migraine. Instead of angrily ruminating on why my body had let me down yet again, I was able to let myself go to ground and rest. I appreciate you and the community around you.
Thanks for joining the conversation, dear Diane. I’m sorry you’ve been struggling with a migraine, and I also hear you say that you were able to stop struggling at some point. Going to ground is a great self-compassion practice. Much love to you, my friend.