“The whole fight would've been avoided if I had remembered not to defend.” “I forgot to tune in to the pain body, so I couldn't get out of my head.” “I was so thrown off I forgot all about dropping judgments about myself and the reaction I was having.” Clients often bring me their dismay at what they fail to remember in the moment. I've written about catching yourself in the old way after you've set a new intention. (It's ch. 18 of Scooch!: Edging into a Friendly Universe, called "The Power to Change.") There, I emphasize that you can celebrate catching yourself—and then don't even bother with that first twirl-and-strike of the whole self-flagellation routine. In fact, think of it as step two in a three-part process: 1) set an intention for the new way, 2) catch yourself doing it the old way, and 3) course-correct toward the new intention. Catching yourself is good: it's the doorway between the old way and the new. In this writing, I want to look at the point of remembering—the moment you catch yourself. I want to invite you to create a lot of spaciousness around what's acceptable to you in terms of when you get there. Short version: Anytime is brilliant. Here's a totally random story from some random woman's life: we'll call her Jaya. If you're anything like her, you may, as she did, catch yourself giving—no, having given—your son the third terse lecture (in that many days) that went on too long about something that wasn't that big of a deal or even fully his fault. (My inner defender puts in, They didn't go on half as long as the lectures used to—but honestly, three sentences in and you're probably into useless reiteration.) So there it is, you caught yourself late in the game. What are your options? The most popular by far is self-flagellation, and, Americans, it's still on sale since Black Friday because you'll probably need extra to get through the holidays. Another option is to sit in the reality of where you are right now. That is, connect to and accept what's actually happening. It doesn't feel good to do this, especially if you have some story going about how you shouldn't be here, you should be beyond this, you should catch yourself much earlier in the process (none of which can be true, because here you are). So okay, it doesn't feel good to be still with what is and let it be. Still, it (really, truly) doesn't feel worse than self-flagellation, and it's much kinder, because it's just a matter of aligning with what's actually happening. In other words, it involves a letting go into what is, not a straining, stretching, contorting into what isn't. And while you're aligning—in the release and relief of that—there's the possibility of allowing or accepting. There's the possibility of what Byron Katie calls loving what is, but if that language feels too strong or somehow false, how about nonresistance? The very word brings in expansive breath. (Parenthetical, potentially life-changing musing: What if you didn't judge yourself, ever?) So I was sitting in the reality of where I was that day, in the driver's seat of the Ithaca Carshare pickup truck (named Beau), with my son in the passenger seat, and Silence sulking between us. But not for long, because I used the moment of remembering (that NOW moment) to fully take in and accept where I was—that being the tail end of that third lecture in so many days and the dismay of finding myself so off. I duly noted that I felt rotten about where I was, and directed some breath to the pain body, that place in my chest that likes to scream like a muted pressure cooker when things aren't going so well. I tell my clients to access the witness in those moments, and if you find you're witnessing with judgment, see if you can just scooch toward the compassionate, dispassionate witness. I scooched. Then I spoke frankly to my son. This went something like, “Buddy, I realize that I've been off for a few days and it upsets me to see myself being this way. I hate hearing myself talk to you this way. I'm a real fan of getting okay with whatever's happening and not thinking there's a problem, but look, I seem to keep reacting like there's a problem. I'm sorry for how that's affecting you. You know, it's possible to just say to someone calmly [here I inserted the super short and entirely neutral version of what I'd just lectured tersely about] and not go [here I inserted some obnoxious noises that were like a meaner version of how adults spoke in the old Charlie Brown cartoons].” (For the younger set: never any words, just semi-musical sounds used as filler to indicate the cartoon kids were stuck listening to and having to respond to what some grown-up was saying that of course had no import to them.) My son said something along the lines of, “I'm glad you notice all that, and [little smile creeping in] I'm really glad you know exactly what it sounds like.” This guy happens to be the best sport on the planet, and as soon as this exchange happened, it was over for both of us. (That is, besides my mental note to get quite clear with myself about what was throwing me off, which I later did—this requires trust that you will indeed get to it and that life or Source or the Universe, in the meantime, will hold it for you; thus, you can truly let it go for now and get present to the business at hand.) We had the truck because we were going to a tree farm to cut our own Christmas tree, and it was the day a bunch of Newfie dogs would be there to haul trees for people, so it was lovely to be there free and clear of tension. We had a great time and got the best tree ever, and a big happy dog named Captain did the drag-it-back-to-the-truck part. It's astonishing to me how often I remember to live in ease and joy and kindness and love. It's amazing that I can be light and present and connected so very often. The fact that I used to be a moody, depressive, overwhelmed victim accounts for the if-I-can-change-anyone-can mentality I bring to my work with clients. I honestly wasn't sure I could. And the thing that accelerated the improvements most was to stop judging myself, my process, how long things took, what I found myself doing again, and so on. (What if you didn't judge yourself, ever?) I learned to drop judgments (not stay out of judgments) and question my thoughts about everything (not be without thoughts) thanks to The Work of Byron Katie. When I started applying all of that to my judgments about myself and the things I believed I could or couldn't be, do, or have—that's when life started getting really good. Bring nonjudgment to the point of remembering. It doesn't matter at what point in the process you catch yourself. When you remember, you're there: You've remembered! You've caught yourself! Excellent! You may prefer to catch yourself when your tone first has the slightest edge of irritability or dismay, but honestly?--you may be in full-blown yelling mode when you come to. You may want to catch yourself when you first speak whatever hints of victim because it contains some I have to, or I can't, or something about how much you do and how hard you work and it's all on you—but you could in reality be two weeks into resentful tones and tense reactions before you notice what you're up to. It may feel great to catch that first nano-flash of your spouse warping weirdly into your parent, way, way, way before you start that pointless and misdirected resisting or confronting or sinking into whatever emotional ploy makes them quit what they're not even really doing. … Ah, dreamer, let it go. Sometimes you might catch yourself that early, and sometimes you just won't. Wherever you catch yourself is good. With that established, how might you remember earlier, or maximize your chances of remembering before being off for three days or weeks or months? On some level, you have to seek to hold onto what you're up to; that is, you need some system to keep it in view. In other words, if you have a vision, you need something to help you hold the vision. (I say there are just three things to do with a vision: have a vision, hold the vision, move toward the vision.) Because you're amnesiac by nature, like every other human being, put something in place to support you in keeping the new vision close at hand. If not, what's close at hand is the old well-rehearsed and -reinforced default, which you've taught yourself to go to for years and years. (This is already true if you're even 21.) You can do this by having a written statement of what you're up to that you review often (daily is lovely; having a day of the week when you sit with it again and check in with how you're doing works too). Post a reminder in a place you'll see it often—or several places: by the kitchen sink, near light switches, on the steering wheel of the car, on your bedside table, in a drawer. Find an image (or a statement in a cool font) that evokes the intention and set it as your computer's desktop background or your phone's lock screen. Talk about it, journal about it, blog about it. Create a piece of art about it and place it where you'll see it. Whatever you're up to, give it enough energy and attention and resources to keep it in view, keep it current, keep remembering. It's so easy to forget. It's not that hard to remember, though; in fact, remembering is effortless—it just happens when it happens. It 's a pretty sure bet that you're more likely to remember if you don't make remembering a miserable affair—justification to be awful to yourself. Love remembering, having fully expected to forget, and step into the remembering anywhere you catch yourself in the process: before your big toe even dips in is as good as when you're up to your thighs in it or well over your head. NOW is the only time you can call yourself back anyway. Now is all you've got for stepping toward your vision. Now is truly all you need: it's the only point of remembering possible. Love & blessings, Jaya
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My invitation to you here is to practice ongoing self-forgiveness so you can live free and clear! Have you noticed how we human beings bind up our energies by getting stuck in small and large ways we can’t forgive ourselves? In other words, in not forgiving ourselves, we're not free. It doesn’t much matter whether it’s some seemingly huge, shaming event—the affair, the ugly breakup, the fiasco at work—or something minor that’s been blown up in our minds—the rampant p.m.s. the other day, the rude moment with a customer service person on the phone: either way, we get all tied up with some past vision of ourselves that we allow to define us. We give it the power to limit how we can show up here and now and who we can become next. Simply put, we can’t be present when we’ve got feelers out to some old story we think we have to keep checking in with and referring to. If that past story involves something unforgiven toward ourselves, we walk around feeling like a bad person, like there’s some wrong in our lives that colors everything else, like we're not worthy of better than this. We can't dance with our potential. We can’t even be at ease! At the School for The Work, I heard Byron Katie talk about moving without a trace from one moment to the next. Her words struck such a chord inside me. I felt like I never did that—like it wasn’t in my repertoire! It was as if some Velcro or another always kept me stuck to something or many things that should be bygone. I saw for the first time how this kept me from being fully present—or fully free, fully me, fully anything! Just try to get through a human life without having done some(sizable)thing, that could bring on shame when put under a microscope. Just try to get through a month—sometimes a day or an hour—without some little moments that just aren’t the most sterling examples of the levels of lovingkindness and serenity you’re capable of. What if you gave yourself full permission to be human? Can you let yourself witness your bad moments without judging or attacking or shaming yourself? You might learn from your observations if you just allow those moments and get curious about them. You might also simply course-correct into the next moment and be fully there (with no sticky finger pointing back to what went before). I had one of those, um, not-so-shiny evenings with my children recently. I growled at one kid (really, I felt so frustrated that I just let out this warped, oversized feline growl), and I railed at the other, overriding the look on his face and the knowing in my gut that I'd completely departed the realm of clean communication. I'm sure I said what I needed to say three times over, instead of the once that would have done or, better, instead of waiting for a calm moment another day—like most space-sharing issues, it was nothing that wouldn't keep. And I'm sure I didn't speak sweetly. Okay, you know that harsh-Mama off-key strident tone that you just don’t want to hear coming out of you? When I went to bed, I felt all disturbed. I felt mean. Mean and rotten. Lying in bed, I said my forgiveness prayer, which is a reconstruction of something I heard Marianne Williamson teach some time ago. Let me be clear: I have no idea what her words were, but I learned the concept from her. Also, because she elucidates A Course in Miracles, her language is full of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. My version drops all that. I have people send it out to whatever God or Higher Power they connect to, the Universe, the Force—whatever: God or current resident. Here's the prayer applied to the self: “I forgive myself. And where I can't or don't know how, Universe, you forgive me for me, and hold that while I catch up to it. I acknowledge that it is done. Somewhere beyond time and space, the forgiveness is complete.” After I said the forgiveness prayer that night, I witnessed my behavior in my head retroactively. I saw very clearly that I had simply exhausted myself that day by walking far more than my body was ready to walk in the wake of hip surgery. That failure in self-care cost me my patience with my children. (It's very good to notice what your lapses in self-care cost you and others.) I looked at the good reasons I had walked so much (the innocent motive* for the lapse: my son and I were on a joyful mission to find him some boots) and I told myself I would be more careful henceforth to figure in my limitations—because that works better and is kinder for all involved. What follows is important: in the name of not telling myself lies, I put specific application to this broad concept. I decided to check in with myself on school nights (this could mean lying down!) at least half an hour before time to cook dinner. After that, I felt as caught up to the forgiveness as I was going to get that night, and I slept well. The next morning, when I woke one beautiful son, he was just my son: he wasn't the boy I'd been mean to the night before. Thanks to The Work of Byron Katie and the School for The Work, I no longer tolerate holding on to grievances against myself. It's too painful, and I don't like unnecessary pain. And it disrupts the peace that I love to cultivate on an ongoing basis. I'm stunned at the self-loathing people allow to take hold in them, to take up the air waves in their heads, to fill them, body and soul. Actually, I recognize it quite well, and for years never imagined it was possible to be without it. It's possible. It's even imperative. Do whatever you need to do to question your thoughts about any punishment you deserve, anything that's proof you're not worthy, anything that you must hold on to—perhaps to make sure you never do it again. Find (or at least notice that it's possible to find) a way to manage what you do or don't do again without the stress of never forgiving yourself. Forgive yourself daily for everything large or small you or anyone accuses you of. Because when you can move without a trace from one moment to the next, you can feel free and clear; you can spend a whole lot more time in peace and love; and you can do a whole lot more good both to yourself and to others on the planet. Practice it! Make it something to experiment with. Love & blessings, Jaya *Note that my friend Jude Spacks, a talented personal-growth coach, especially for creative types, is the one who taught me to think in terms of innocent motive. Whenever I use this term I think of her, and I'd like for you to think of her as well. |
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