Monica Berg's Blog, page 30

To Boldly Go (or Not Go) Where We Belong

“True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are. It requires you to be who you are.” –Dr. Brene Brown

In her book Braving the Wilderness, Dr. Brown describes belonging as the practice of believing in and belonging to yourself enough to “find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness.” To belong is, in this sense, a valiant act of courage. While sometimes it may mean doing the thing that we fear most, at other times, real courage means NOT doing (or thinking or supporting or saying) what others expect from us. This is the wilderness we bravely enter alone, despite the taunts, laughter, or wild wolves urging us to forego our own best inclinations.

Like happiness and other pursuits in self-growth, courage is an inside job. It doesn’t come from being pushed or pressured. From our first steps as toddlers (because what’s bolder than teetering on untrained feet?), we stand and move forward when we are ready. Author Glennon Doyle recalled a time when she witnessed a mother pressuring her daughter to jump into the harbor from a dock. The mother was relentless, shaming the girl, calling her a ‘sissy,’ and so forth. The daughter’s internal struggle was palpable, and it bothered Doyle deeply. In contrast, she remembered another parent-child exchange that felt very different. While shopping, she’d heard a child express anxiety about “having to go on a roller coaster” at an upcoming park outing. The father replied, “Don’t forget, if you decide to go on the roller coaster tomorrow, that’s brave; but if you decide not to go on the roller coaster, that is brave, too.”

I, too, have experienced both sides of the courage coin. There have been some who tried to drown out my voice, make me feel small, and shut me down. If I had listened to them, you would not be reading this blog; nor would I be speaking or writing or sharing my love for Kabbalah with the world! But I did not choose them; I chose me–even though at times those voices seemed louder and more powerful than my own. I had a deep knowing, rooted in the connection with the Creator I have felt since childhood, that there was an unmet potential in me. And the only way I could ever hope to reveal it would be to turn up my own volume.

It didn’t happen all at once. For years I worked behind a desk, writing marketing copy to attract people to Kabbalah studies. Meanwhile, I longed to connect in a different way–to use my voice and my learning beyond marketing. I wanted to help others expand their consciousness, to help them find their own courage. Again, the naysayers told me I couldn’t do it. Even after I had begun to share my message, I was told to make myself smaller so that people would feel more comfortable around me. (I did that until I stopped being excited about waking up in the morning.) Now I am sharing through many different channels–and all because I chose what did and did not work for me, rather than allowing others’ lack of faith direct my actions.

According to Dr. Colin Torney at the University of Glasgow, “The challenge [lies] in evaluating personal beliefs when they contradict what others are doing.” His team’s research at University of Exeter showed that we humans are increasingly less reliant upon our own instincts and therefore more easily swayed by others’ thoughts and behaviors. A second study, led by Dr. Jens Krause at The University of Leeds, involved participants being asked to “wander” through a specified area. The results? It takes only 5% of a crowd to change the group’s direction. The other 95% will simply follow, without even realizing it.

When individual decisions take a back seat to the crowd’s, we forget who we are, which can be detrimental, even dangerous (we all know about peer pressure and angry mobs!). Being brave means listening to ourselves, rather than defining bravery by anyone else’s definition. As Doyle said, ‘Brave’ means living from the inside out. [It means] turning inward, feeling for the Knowing, and speaking it out loud.”

Kabbalah teaches that this “knowing” is a space we all can access. To reach it, we need to shut out the roar of the crowd, however large or small it may be. There lies the quiet, hidden center that is often elusive in our busy lives. Some think of it as the Creator’s wisdom speaking to and through us. Others call it our inner compass. By whatever name, when we listen to it, we know what’s right for us! We know whether to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ whether to pause or change course or forge on. We know, even when that other voice–the one fed by the outside–makes us question and judge ourselves: “Don’t be a wimp,” it might say, or “What’s wrong with you? You’ll never belong if you don’t (or do)… ”

In his book High Performance Habits, Brendan Bruchard says that courage begins with “honoring the struggle.”Once we recognize that we are struggling with a decision, thought, or action, we can constructively process it. Here are a few steps for calling on your inner courage:

● Begin by silencing the outer voices (even if they are close by)

● Find your quiet center; tune into that inner “knowing”

● Ask what is truly best for all involved

● Listen for the answer, and act accordingly

That Universal guidance has led many to affect positive, even historic, change in the world. During WWII, medic Desmond Doss had refused to use weaponry, citing his strict religious adherence to the commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” When his unit was attacked on a hilltop, he refused to take the loss. Running unarmed through heavy fire, he rigged up a pulley-stretcher and lowered scores of injured men down to safety. His courage was both in the doing and in the NOT doing. He saved 75 lives without utilizing a weapon. (No wonder Doss was later awarded the medal of honor for his actions!) Countless others, too, have stood their ground against social, political, and personal pressures. Some have been shunned or punished. Yet all were and are heroes in their commitment to their own authenticity.

When our son Josh was born with Down Syndrome, there were people who suggested that I couldn’t handle his diagnosis and that, subsequently, I would not be able to parent him. I deserted those voices immediately. Instead of taking in that false narrative of what I could NOT do, I invested in a positive one. I focused on the potential I saw both in myself as a loving parent and in Josh as a productive, beautiful human in the world. My favorite sweatshirt reads, “Underestimate me, that will be fun. I encourage you to… it drives me.” In other words, I am a work in progress, as are each of us. And to do that work takes both courage and moxie!

A common precept in spiritual and religious circles is “Love your neighbor as yourself”… or, when switched, “Love yourself as your neighbor.” Because when we value our own views and truest desires, we belong first to ourselves. From here, we are able to act from a deeper, more authentic place.

So… only you can decide whether or not you want to ride that roller coaster, go for that career change, or jump off the dock. It matters less which way you decide to go. What matters most is that the decision–whether it inspires thunderous applause or utter silence–leads you closer to the best and most “you” version of YOU!

The post To Boldly Go (or Not Go) Where We Belong appeared first on Monica Berg.

On Starry Skies and Apple Pies

An old Indian parable tells of a night when terrified residents were awakened by blasting and thunderous sounds outside the walls of their city. Six brave, blind scholars had been studying near the gate, so they ventured out to investigate. Each came back with a differing report of the culprit: a giant snake, a strange tree trunk, a massive leaf, a trembling stone wall, a whipping rope. Each description relied solely upon whichever part of the trespassing elephant the scholar had grasped!

This story was shared in the film Awake: Glimpses of Consciousness (2022). It got me thinking, Do any of us really understand our place in the Universe? And how can we, when we have no way to objectively observe it?

Yet both Kabbalah and science continue to show us that we are not merely conscious beings interacting with some vast, lifeless unknown. Rather, we are part of something far greater, a living and evolving process that relies in part upon our own participation in its unfolding.

I remember when this idea first crystallized for me. My husband and I had traveled to Big Sur. I was mesmerized by the immense, dramatic coastline views; I felt diminished and humbled beneath the expansive redwood trees. The wide sky filled with glittering stars inspired a profound realization deep within me. It reminded me of the “99% and 1% realm”: the Kabbalistic idea that our senses allow us to perceive only 1% of what is actually out there. I was struck by the extraordinary grandness in our smallness.

As astronomer and author Carl Sagan noted, “For all our conceits about being the center of the universe, we live on a routine planet of a humdrum star stuck away in an obscure corner on an unexceptional galaxy, which is one of [billions of] galaxies.” We now know that there are between one and four billion stars in our Milky Way alone, and an estimated 200 billion galaxies in the observable Universe! This number is nearly impossible to comprehend… but if you were to count every grain of sand on every beach, you’d enter the ballpark.

And not only are we microscopic by universal standards, we’re also exceedingly isolated. The closest star to our sun, Proxima Centauri, is around 4.37 light-years away. However, since light speed is unattainable (at least for now), getting there on a craft like our Voyager would take 73,000 years! (For you brave readers, consider further: Our galaxy is more than 100,000 light-years wide, and the next closest galaxy lies 2.5 million light-years away.)

If any of this overwhelms you, read on…

Despite the remoteness of our earthly condition, science increasingly reveals the interconnectivity that Kabbalah has posited all along. The Zohar states that each person is “a replica of the universe as a whole.” A recent study published in Frontiers in Physics found remarkable similarities between the structure of the observed Universe and that of our own brains. Among the many parallels: both systems are organized in defined networks, with nodes (neurons in the brain, galaxies in the Universe) connected through filaments. While no one is claiming that the Universe is literally a giant brain, the macro-microcosmic connection becomes increasingly undeniable.

In fact, there is no such thing as an unrelated, completely independent entity in the Universe. Every system is either directly or indirectly connected with every other. Likewise, Kabbalah teaches that there is only one light–the Light of Wisdom (or the Light of the Creator)–and only one consciousness. Rav Ashlag talks about one consciousness as expressed in varying levels in different objects, such as a table, a tree, and a person. Each is different, yet each is integral to the whole. The more we recognize this, the more we can tap into our connection to ourselves, to each other, and to the world. We can let go of some of our more trivial worries, concerns, and strivings–and know that in the end, these annoyances aren’t worth our precious and brief time here on Earth.

As Sagan remarked, “If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.” Without the countless processes that have formed the simple ingredients for baking (including the right amount of oxygen, sun, minerals, chemical reactions, gravity, and so on), neither the pie nor anything else would exist. We are nothing short of miraculous!

Like the ever-evolving Universe, the goal of our lives lies in the process. Sometimes we may think we’ve been led astray, but we are wrong. We are here to grow, to become, to connect and form meaningful relationships, and to realize our singular, essential place in this magnificent scheme.

So today, I encourage you to remember and appreciate the wholeness in all you encounter.

Because while it’s good to be part of a couple, a family, or a community–we are, above all, vital members of a beautiful, shared unfolding… one that has the potential to unify, mystify, and elevate us beyond our imaginings!

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Because to Have is Not to Hold

One of the most pervading assumptions that we humans make is the simple, misleading notion that everyone in our lives will always be there. That the things we worked so hard to create won’t ever change.

Sure, plain old logic tells us this isn’t true. No one is immortal, we learn from a young age (superheroes aside). And all things are constantly changing. Sadly, as we grow older, we inevitably experience the truth of this firsthand. Yet, in our daily lives, how often do we overlook the immensity of richness, the color and texture and quality of light we receive from our relationships? How often do we forget the momentous opportunity we are presented with each day to give back of ourselves–our talents, our humor, our insights, our capacity to simply listen and be there for those whom we love and who love us?

Kabbalah teaches that our meaningful connection to others is our soul’s highest purpose in this life. And every relationship, either directly or indirectly, is at its foundation based in friendship. Our lovers, our children, our teachers, students, workers and bosses–they are all friends to varying degrees. The closer the relationship, the more it needs constant care and feeding (yes, just like those garden plants). Friendship, which lies at the heart of love, is a process, not a destination. It ebbs, it flows, it moves and grows. And each unique relationship brings with it an opportunity for personal and mutual growth.

That’s why none should be taken for granted. A couple of years back, I counseled a woman who was hedging towards leaving her husband. She was keenly aware of her dissatisfaction, and in her mind, her husband was to blame. I encouraged her to consider the best in him, but she was inflexible to that suggestion. She didn’t like the way he combed his hair or brushed his teeth. And his method of handwashing was a complete travesty: he splattered water everywhere, so she couldn’t use that sink without getting her shirt soaked. (We’ve all been there–leaning in towards the mirror to put on your eyeliner, only to find your silk blouse wet from the countertop!) Anyway, one day her husband went in for a minor procedure, and he never woke up. After that, the annoyances were forgotten. The woman only remembered the good. In mourning, her story moved from “Why am I with him?” to “Why was I so blind?”

Yet we’re all guilty at times. We get impatient with our children. We feel unnecessary stings from our friends’ minor infractions. We shoo away our cats or dogs and tell our partners we’re too tired to connect. All these things are human; they’re entirely understandable, especially when we’re tired, stressed, or compromised ourselves. But can we try, just for today, not just to look, but to truly see the gift of presence in those who are present in our lives? Can we shift our perspective from “what are you doing or not doing for me?” to “how can I enrich your life today?” This is a step. We can take another when we realize that what is in front of us now is not the whole story. There’s a history inside every relationship.

Last week, I was reading about a cardiac anomaly called “broken heart syndrome,” or, in medical speak, stress cardiomyopathy. Resembling a heart attack, it occurs in some people who have lost spouses or other close relations, and usually within the first year of loss. (Thankfully, most patients recover.) According to cardiologist Patrick O’Gara of Brigham and Women’s Hospital, the phenomenon “reconfirms the relationship between the brain and the heart.” It’s a striking reminder that we are co-creators of our health, just as we are of our lives. Nurturing our relationships nurtures ourselves as well; and, as in so many spiritual practices, we can start the process with gratitude. We can be thankful for others’ presence in our lives and for all the unique qualities each person brings to us and the world.

Rav Berg once said, “The moment appreciation is lost, the relationship is lost.” As we head into this “week of love” (though, really, aren’t they all?) I encourage you to open your eyes and heart fully to those important people in your life, yourself included. Make the effort, make the call, and tell those you love what you appreciate most about them!

Because we may have each other today, but today can’t be held forever, at least not in the way we expect it to be. As Carl Sagan wrote, “Compared to [the stars], we are like mayflies, fleeting ephemeral creatures who live their lives in the course of a single day.”

So let’s seize this one, with all our hearts.

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You ARE, and You CAN!

In the game of life, we’re both spectators and players, both winners and losers (though I’d argue that even “losers” win in some ways, too!). The question is, whose side are we on? Are we truly rooting for our own best selves, or, at times, are we breaking out the pom-poms and subsequently cheering for the wrong team?

Put it this way: would a football player purposefully run the ball towards the opponent’s goal? Would a golfer decisively drive a shot from the green into the sandpit? Of course not! So why do we do this to ourselves?

Every time we say things like, “I’m not good at that”… “I’m not creative”… “I’m not athletic”… “My temper? That’s just who I am,” we are scoring against ourselves. Because when we argue for our limitations, we give them power. Cheer for them, even. We allow them to define us; and, in doing so, we cut ourselves off from manifesting our greatest potential. Instead of winning, we leave the game during warmup, before it’s even started.

So how do we shift our inner game in the right direction? We can start by better understanding the source of our limiting beliefs. More often than not, they come from those voices in childhood that took us from our pure, light-filled selves into the dark rooms where the “I’m nots” and “I can’ts” flourish. I know firsthand how the echoes from those hallways can resonate for years.

I heard that self-defeating sort of narrative throughout my middle and high school experience: I’m not a good student… I’m terrible at math (my bully of a math teacher worked hard to convince me of this one)… I’m a terrible public speaker… and so forth. And at home during my formative years, there was the unspoken message that mistakes are both unacceptable and, more specifically, unchangeable. Only after years of work did I come to realize that mistakes are, in fact, THE most important part of mastering anything! Think about it: how many free throws did Michael Jordan have to miss in order to become Michael Jordan? From the looks of it, he probably didn’t spend too much time arguing for his limitations.

Sometimes we argue for our limitations to excuse ourselves from putting in effort. This is fear-based thinking and amounts to self-sabotage. It’s much easier to say, “I can’t learn a new language” than it is to make the effort to take a class, struggle in the process, and study enough to become proficient. It’s easier to claim, “I’m not athletic” from the sidelines than it is to train your body and mind for the challenge. But no limiting belief can stay with you without your permission. As writer Richard Bach says, “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.”

Kabbalah teaches that each of us vastly underestimates what we are and what we might be. No matter how much we have or think we can accomplish, our potential for growth, success, and fulfillment is exponentially greater. Case in point: In 2006, Mark Inglis, a New Zealand mountain climber, scaled the summit of Mt. Everest after a 40-day trek. Although he was almost 50 years old, he believed he could do it, and so he did. Never mind that Mr. Inglis, a double amputee, had no legs.

Zero limitations.

Countless others have found success against the odds, too–because they’ve refused to give power to their limitations. FDR held four terms in office after becoming paralyzed with polio. J.K. Rowling was nearly penniless and had suffered scores of rejections when she finally published Harry Potter (now a 45+ billion-dollar empire!). As Rav Berg said, “Consciousness is everything.” If we believe it, we can achieve it. This is when we become truly powerful, when we trade limiting for limitless.

What is a limiting belief that you’d like to change? Ask yourself:

● Where is this belief coming from? (Is it from childhood? From fear? From comparing myself to others? Or from somewhere else?)

● Is this belief pushing me forward, towards my own goals and potential? Or is it holding me back from something my best self would benefit from experiencing?

Rather than thinking of memory as a permanent record, think of it as something more malleable, a location we can return to in our minds to “rewrite” our inner narratives. How? By declaring the exact opposite of the limiting belief, while adding the action that will help co-create a new belief. So instead of saying, “I’m not talented enough to act,” try, “I’m an actor-in-the-making… I will take that workshop, and eventually, I’ll join a community production.” Where your attention lies, your life will follow.

Of course, sometimes limiting thoughts are both healthy and warranted. For instance, thinking, “I won’t get burned if I touch that fire,” is a thought that cries out for limits. Or believing that you should be promoted to president of a company after a week at an office job may be stretching the “positive self-belief” thing a bit too far.

Kabbalah teaches that we cannot have two competing desires or thoughts and expect either to manifest. I’ve learned to trade those old self-defeating beliefs for winning ones. For instance, while I may not be the next math genius, I’ve learned a few tricks for keeping my accounts in fine order (take that, Mr. Palzer!).

So next time you find yourself tempted to argue for one limitation or another, remember which team you’re rooting for. Because look! The crowds are cheering, and the stakes are high. But when we’re growing towards the light, the game is ours to win.

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Rediscovering You: Pisces 1

Closed and open. Off and on. Dark and light.

We live in a world of dualities. Pisces, the Latin plural of “fish,” is symbolized by two fish swimming in opposite directions. Why? As Kabbalist Rav Berg explained, Piscean energy is connected to two worlds: the physical world as we see and experience it, and the spiritual, or unseen, world. This month of Pisces (Adar) brings an opportunity to access the deeper, more hidden aspects of ourselves. And knowing ourselves more fully brings us closer to fulfilling our unique potential.

Consider a typical tree in the middle of the forest. We see its rough bark, its reaching branches, its leaves unfolding like hands towards the sun. Yet we cannot see the sap deep within it, rising and falling with the seasons, pooling in the damp darkness of its roots. Our eyes are unaware of the constant exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen occurring, along with the miracle of photosynthesis, that ongoing quest to harness the light. Still, who can argue that all of these and more are critical in manifesting the tree’s “tree-ness”?

Josh, our younger son who was born with Down Syndrome, is often able to perceive the less-seen aspects of life’s complexities and communicate them in surprisingly simple ways. I remember one day when he burst into the room and announced, “I’m going to be a football player when I grow up!” He then asked me whether I thought he could do it. I told him that I always hope for my children to do the things they most hope for themselves, and that I admire him for going after his dreams. He then asked, very seriously, “So what are you going to be when you grow up?” I told him that I’m already grown up. He immediately replied, “So, then, what are you?”

Now, if I didn’t know how beautifully nuanced Josh’s mind can be, I might have just laughed it off. But it made me think—he did not see me as a finished product, as a simple entity such as “mom,” “spiritual student and mentor,” “sibling referee,” or any label others might place on me. He sensed the hidden parts of me, the ones still growing and evolving. He sensed the sap in the tree, yet rising.

According to Sefer Yetzirah (the Book of Formation), Pisces is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of spirituality, abundance, and generosity. Adar is the month of jubilant manifestation. These convergent energies invite us to discover and reclaim those unseen parts of ourselves that may have become waterlogged for too long. Beneath the murky undercurrents of our busy lives, colorful corals and flowing seascapes of overlooked or forgotten passions await our discovery. If we bring them to the surface, they can lead us to new and purposeful actions, connections, and joy. So, where to begin? You can start with this exercise:

We often leave our childhood far behind us, and sometimes that’s just as it should be. But in searching for lost pieces of yourself to reclaim, start at the beginning. What were your favorite experiences growing up? Was it walking in nature? Coloring or painting? Playing kickball at recess? Singing? Art or math class? Visiting the library?

I was a “dance kid” growing up. I took lessons, performed in recitals, the whole thing. Later, I traded dance for running and recitals for marathons. But something was missing; I missed the music and the expression dance offers. So I got out there and looked for a good fit, which turned out to be Tracy Anderson. The bonus: in pursuit of revealing my passion, I found a dear friend as well. Now I know that I will, I must, keep on dancing–even if I have to roll myself to the rhythm!

Chances are, there may be some long-lost passion lying in wait for you to rediscover as well… or maybe it’s a new one you’ve put in the “I’ll do it someday” pile. Why not make “someday” NOW, and sign up for those cello lessons. Or take that writing course, or join the theater, or step into an active role for a cause that speaks to you. Or maybe it’s simply a weekly visit to your local library, browsing books and tucking into a quiet corner for a couple minutes.

The purpose of life is transformation. We are always becoming the next version of ourselves. It’s ceaseless, much like the seemingly endless updates our computers are always demanding we install. And like our computers, if we don’t update to your next level, that next version of you, things go awry. As you seek out your concealed gifts and rekindle old passions, don’t be afraid to explore them or hold back because they don’t seem to fit into your life, or because you aren’t currently as good at skipping rope as you once were. Release the beta test of your next version. You can refine it along the way.

What the world sees in us is only a glimmer of who we are or who we may become. An ancient Hermetic maxim reads, “As above, so below.” When we bring our concealed gifts and passions into the world and act on them this month, we create a new level of unity and wholeness within ourselves, which in turn brings more unity and wholeness to the world.

Happy Adar!

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The One About Mr. Grumpy

In last week’s blog, I talked about how we are all ‘mood inductors’ and thus, have a great responsibility not only to ourselves but to everyone around us to be, if not ‘good,’ then at least ‘mindful,’ inductors of emotions. Like most spiritual teachings, it’s simple to understand but not always easy to do!

A few months back, Abigail and I met a friend out for dinner. It was Saturday night, the end of Shabbat, so Abigail and I walked. And walked. And walked. It was a good walk, but I had slightly underestimated the time it would take (plus Abigail figuratively and literally likes to stop and smell the roses). We turned up late. When I did arrive, the restaurant was a little dark, our table a little crowded, and it became immediately apparent that they were understaffed.

So we left, opting to go down the street to another restaurant that was a little less busy and that had an outdoor table open.

We had been seated, were settled in, had our drinks, and were perusing the menu when I noticed some energy. There was a man looking at me and heading in our direction with a certain set to his shoulders. He had been at the first restaurant, sitting with his wife next to our dim and cramped little table. And he had feelings. Feelings he was on a mission to share with me. So he walked straight to our table and started in about how he felt that deciding to leave without ordering had been rude, unconscionably rude, the rudest thing he had EVER seen.

Looking back, it’s laughable. If THAT innocuous interaction was the rudest thing he’d ever seen, then maybe he doesn’t get out much!

My friend had been seated with her back to him, so she was taken unaware by his sudden appearance. And when he started to berate me, she interjected. But I decided that we were not going to have a discussion about this. So I pointed out how inappropriate and unwelcome his behavior was. And he was doing all of this in front of my then 7-year-old daughter. Talk about audacity. He huffed off, leaving the three of us staring at each other with wide eyes.

What had just happened?!

I am nothing if not self-aware, and when he made these accusations, I took a careful inventory of my actions, words, and tone thoughtfully over the next few days. What it came down to was that I had made this decision standing up, rather than sitting down. I suppose by standing in his proximity, I’d created some stress or discomfort for him. But I certainly hadn’t been hovering above him!

Interactions like this have the ability to derail our mood and invade our thoughts long after the situation has passed. But we don’t have to let them. And I know, it’s hard. Certainly, as I did, investigate if there is anything to be learned. But then we need to powerfully reclaim our thoughts and feelings.

Our boundaries are there to help us hold and protect our own space. And when someone crosses ours with rudeness, judgment, excessive fault-finding (with little or no cause), or a general “glass is half empty” mentality, we have to learn to find the balance between empathy and boundaries. I propose the idea of redirection as a place to start.

In the Japanese practice of Aikido, the force of an attack is redirected, weakening the opponent (and often even causing the attackers’ own power to bring them down). Because of this rerouting of energy, smaller, weaker people are often able to win over stronger, larger ones. There’s no hitting back, no suit of armor needed. So how might this play out in life?

We can redirect and help people reframe their emotions and thoughts. We can empathize without being pulled into the drama, sadness, or anxiety. We can redirect gossip into a more productive conversation about how we might support someone instead of judging them. Complaints are often made to vent, and a little venting is fine; but the redirect is to focus on what is good that the person can be grateful for, rather than leaving the sole focus on what isn’t working.

Or, like me with Mr. Grumpy, we can simply refuse to participate.

It always helps me to remember that everyone is doing their best, even if it seems otherwise. We are all fighting battles that those around us are completely unaware of.

So when fraught situations arise, we can be proactive or reactive. If we’re reactive, we are not in control of our own lives. We are accepting someone else’s panic (or complaint, or gossip, or anger) as being true—or worse, feeding into it—as a reactive response. We are accepting their reality, versus creating our own.

We always have a choice: Light or darkness. Building or destroying.

Every person and situation in our lives is there to help us grow. Why another person behaves the way they do is part of their own journey with their own set of lessons to learn. If we choose to have them in our lives, and sometimes we do not have that choice, we can decide their place and space.

The bottom line is this: Whether it’s a stranger shouting expletives at you in traffic (been there, too), or a barrage of ick from someone close to you, stay calm. Be understanding, try redirecting the darkness to light, and protect your boundaries.

The more we understand our own lives in a spiritual context, the better we’re able to keep our course, regardless of the challenges. Thinking: “I want to be the light in the room” can go a long way.

We talk about ourselves as being co-creators of our lives, to strive to be like the Creator, to be leaders in our own right. Likewise, instead of falling to a lower common denominator and allowing the energy around us to determine ours, we can turn that around and decide how we want to feel.

Because the Mr. Grumpies in life shouldn’t get to ruin a nice dinner. Or a good night’s sleep.

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PIX11

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Stellar Life

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Actually, the Sky Isn’t Falling

In the classic film, The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy’s adventure rings with more familiarity than fantasy at times. We, too, are each following our own yellow brick road, meeting all sorts of people along the way: those seeking heart or mind or courage, those who would thwart our dreams, those who cheer for us, and those who have known us from the very start. What we all share is a common longing for a sense of security and belonging, our own symbolic Home.

After my recent surgery, I was working from my literal home and found that the background television was projecting a lot of emotions into my space. It was right before the holidays, so the ads running at that time were reminding me that shipping days were running out, that there was a turkey shortage, and if I wanted one, I should get one fast….and then there was the news itself, with this alarming trend or that terrifying warning. The endless barrage made it seem as though famine, shortage, and danger were all impending realities. At first, I was only subtly aware of all those messages, but when I paid more attention, I almost had to laugh at the multitude of fears my tv (or rather the people on it) was asking me to accept and embrace.

Remember the children’s fable about Chicken Little? You know, the silly fowl who, after being pinged on the head by an acorn, became convinced that the sky was falling? How often have we, too, “freaked out” in the face of perceived catastrophe, only to find out it wasn’t as dire as we’d first thought?

More likely than not, most of our impending “disasters” aren’t nearly as calamitous as we’d imagined. A friend of mine says that nothing in her life has turned out to be even half as terrifying in reality as it was in her imagination, except for skydiving (I’ve never been skydiving, but seeing videos of my friend’s experiences made me move this way down on my bucket list!). At one time or another, we’ve all looked with dread upon an impending event–maybe a surgery, a math test, dental work, or a confrontation. We tend to conflate the potential negative outcomes and the pain we think we will experience. But usually, it’s not as bad as we’d imagined, is it?

So many terrors are merely acorns that we’ve written a horror movie plotline around. In The Power of Bad, John Tierney and Roy Baumeister explore the phenomenon of negativity bias, or as they call it, the Negativity Effect. Their studies show the myriad ways our brains–not to mention the media and society–focus on the bad and discount the good. As they put it, we humans are wired to be “devastated by a word of criticism but unmoved by a shower of praise. We see the hostile face in the crowd and miss all the friendly smiles.” And naturally, we do the same for our own storylines, turning poppies into poison and minor glitches into exaggerated dramas.

There’s danger in going into panic mode. And it’s our responsibility not to drag others with us. Chicken Little ran straight to his friends and engaged them in the terror of impending disaster. The other animals became so rattled, they foolishly fell for the Fox’s “kind” offer for shelter without knowing he’d planned to eat them all for dinner! Likewise, we tend to ring our own alarm bells to anyone who will listen, whether or not our fears or complaints are warranted. Our motivations may be well-intentioned; we want to warn others in an effort to keep them safe, or perhaps we’re seeking their solace to calm our stress. But before we upset everyone else, it behooves us to do some due diligence and make sure that the threat is real.

Science tells us that we are profoundly affected by those around us. Whether someone lulls us, cheers us, or sends us into stress overload, research has shown that what psychologists call “emotional contagion” occurs among groups of nearly any size. As Dr. Sigal Barsade explains, people are “walking mood inductors” who continuously influence one another.

Maintaining a constant consciousness in the face of outside influence takes consistent awareness. When we knowingly (or unknowingly) subject ourselves to a steady stream of depressing news stories, or we consume large portions of disturbing fare via social media or video games or violent shows on Netflix, we’re being influenced by those messages.

The good news is, we always have a choice.

We will never be able to control all the challenges that come our way or the multitudes of influences that surround us at all times, but we can choose how we feel and react to them. In my book Fear Is Not an Option, I share some practical tools to help you tackle those acorns that make it feel as though the sky is falling.

To start, I encourage you to get objective and see if you can identify any areas of your life where you tend to catastrophize. It’s a common phenomenon and nothing to beat yourself up about. The tale of Chicken Little is really a parable about the dangers of catastrophizing, turning one small acorn into the belief that the sky is falling and the world as we know it will never be the same.

At one time or another, we all have the propensity to assume the most extreme outcome with little or no evidence to support that it is even possible, let alone probable. A catastrophizing thought might sound like this: “If I go to my manager and explain that I am unable to take on another project, they will fire me, and I’ll be in financial ruin.” Catastrophizing thoughts usually have no evidence whatsoever to support them; in fact, in many cases, all evidence points to the contrary.

We owe it to ourselves to objectively consider the reality of our situation, even ponder possible outcomes, but not immediately jump to the worst-case scenario. We don’t have access to our best problem-solving skills from a place of fear or panic, and the toll that stress takes on our physical bodies is profound, especially over time. Likewise, we have a responsibility to every other person around us not to be a mood inductor of anxiety, panic, or fear.

Remember that the sanctuary we’re seeking has been with us all along. Just like the ruby slippers, we always have the power to call ourselves back to our own center, our truth, our true home. And from there, we can respond as our best selves. After all, “There’s no place like home.”

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My Voice, Our Story

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