Terri Herman-Poncé's Blog: Terri Herman-Ponce, page 6

June 28, 2016

The Joy of Missing Out — How to Disconnect from Technology (and Leave Space for Being Alone)

Well, the folks at Mindful.org did it again. Another wonderful blog post, this time about how technology gets in our way (if we allow it) and how, despite all our interconnectedness, we’re becoming more disconnected from each other. And from ourselves. This behavior change holds a special place in my heart, as it’s something I see happening more and more frequently lately. I even see it in myself, because I’ve also been known to pull out my cell phone looking for something to do even though mindfulness and quieting the mind are far more beneficial and healthier.

“Our devices hold out the false promise that there is something more important, more urgent, more interesting than our present-moment experience.”

Mindful says you should ask yourself:

How long do you spend in the morning checking in with yourself and your loved ones in person before you tap the glowing screen of your phone?
Where is your phone right now?
How do you feel when you don’t know where it is?
Do you usually keep it in your pocket, your bag, your desk, another room?

And, when you think about it, the impact isn’t just to ourselves as individuals. What we do, and the examples we set, impact everyone around us. Even kids.

“’If we don’t teach our kids to be alone, we will teach them to be lonely.’ Explicitly and implicitly, the way we live and the media we consume are teaching all of us to be lonely, to be too busy to attend to our needs.”

Click here to read the article in full. But put away your devices first. It’s the only way to truly focus and, trust me, you probably aren’t missing much if you do. You’ve just been conditioned to think you are.[image error]

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: happiness, helpful tips, human behavior, inspiration, mindful.org, mindfulness, Self Awareness, self help

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Published on June 28, 2016 10:16

June 12, 2016

Practice, Not Perfection

Perfection is a fantasy. It’s not attainable, as none of us are perfect. It’s also insidiously dangerous because the pursuit of perfection raises expectations of yourself, of others, and of things around you that you can’t control. Which, in the end, can lead to unhappiness.

So how do you accept that there is no ideal? That there is no such state of perfection? That, no matter how hard we try, we will be caught in an endless loop of trying to finish a job perfectly, or with 100% completion, when, in fact, that will never happen? That our efforts to learn the piano, or to write novels, or to be a better dancer or cook or fill-in-the-blank will never truly be reached unless we learn to bypass perfection, or learning, in favor of practice?

And if we understand that on a logical level, why do we continue pursuing perfection anyway?

Lots and lots of questions…

“In a world that conditions us to obsess about outcomes while encouraging us to multitask rather than focus on a single goal, it’s easy to undervalue the importance of practice.”

These are wonderful words of wisdom from a recent post by ExperienceLife.com, which reminds us that “an attachment to results (which we can’t control) rather than to the process (which we can control) is what causes us to feel perpetually discontented.” It’s all about a shift in perception.

Hmmm. I think they’re onto something here because when we focus on an outcome we experience stress, anxiety, and a lack of presence. We’re never truly in the moment. And the next thing we know, the moment (or the hour, or the afternoon, or an entire day) is gone and there’s no way of getting it back. No way of reclaiming what has been lost due to the time spent pursuing a perfect goal rather than enjoying the simple pleasures of the process along the way.

So how do we avoid getting caught in that mire? By practicing, rather than perfectioning. Read here to find out more.[image error]

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: Experience Life, happiness, learning, mental-health, perfectionism, practice, psychology, self improvement

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Published on June 12, 2016 10:04

May 30, 2016

REVIEW: “Drawn” – Sinister, Scary, and Suspenseful

There are few books that make me shudder because the writing is that good and because the story is that chilling. Drawn is one of those books.

I started reading Drawn because it was part of a very large to-be-read pile on my e-reader. Knowing I had so many books to read, I went to the beginning of my list and decided to start reading in reverse order. The book downloaded the earliest was where I was going to start.

Well, I got a nice, if not super creepy surprise with this one.

What makes Drawn different is that it mixes up characters you truly (and heart-wrenchingly) feel sorry for with bad guys who are truly (and I mean truly) bad. You want to see the hurt, damaged guy win. You want to see the pained woman move on from her anguish. You want to see the father come to terms with what happened to his missing son. But the book also adds in a riveting paranormal angle that locks all the characters, and their stories, together. I’ll admit to some confusion at first as to why James Hankin (the author) gives us snippets into seemingly different characters with different goals. But through the paranormal, and a very deft writing hand, we eventually discover there’s a connection. Had the storytelling not been that good, I would have given up after the first four or five chapters. But I hung in there only to discover a real gem, and boy was I glad I did.

So here’s the deal: we have Alice who, for some reason, keeps sketching scenes with the same boy in them. It doesn’t matter what her canvas, the boy keeps reappearing and it’s someone she’s never met. Boone is a handsome guy disfigured from a horrible car accident and who is now almost completely blind, and whose apartment suddenly becomes haunted. Then there’s Nathan, an older man desperate to find his military son who disappeared years ago, and Miguel, a young boy met by misfortune that is a result of his abusive past and a life now spent on the streets.

I know. It sounds awfully heart-tugging, but that’s what makes this book so terrific. Hankin takes these very lonely, very damaged people, throws them into a paranormal pot, and cooks a tale that brings them together in a most unusual way. By the time you’re halfway through the novel and heading into the climax, the storylines are so interwoven – and so desperate and dark – you just can’t put the book down because you absolutely have to know what happens next. From there, you live through horror holding onto the hope that somehow the good guys will win. That somehow humanity will finally show its good side and save them all. That somehow good can trump evil – even with help from a dimension on The Other Side.

It’s a riveting treat that will steal your breath away and leave you speechless by the time you reach the end. Which, of course, I can’t tell you.

Warning:

Drawn is not for readers looking for light-hearted or airy or fun. It’s also not for those looking for straight supernatural or paranormal suspense. More than that, it’s not for the squeamish. But if you’re open to a damn good ride, solid storytelling, and characters that jump off the page screaming Help Me!, this is the one for you.

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: #thriller, Amazon, book reviews, Drawn, fiction, psychological thriller, reading

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Published on May 30, 2016 08:54

May 20, 2016

99cents — IN THIS LIFE — “Lovers that should never have met, nor parted”

I’m happy to announce that

IN THIS LIFE

(Book 1 of the Past Life Series)

is 99cents!

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Cover art: G.S. Prendergast

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IN THIS LIFE

When psychologist Lottie Morgan meets Galen, their encounter is as intense as it is eye-opening. Something about him is familiar. His looks. His words. His touch.

Lottie can’t resist the urge to know more about him, or the smoldering memories that surface every time he’s near. Only Galen’s keeping a dangerous secret, one linked to a life shared thousands of years ago. One that could destroy the relationship Lottie has with her current lover David.

One that is about to cost Lottie her life. Again.

Take a trip to mysterious ancient Egypt, where powerful passions ignite and deadly deceptions begin. The Past Life Series starts here.

Buy IN THIS LIFE today

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CHAPTER 1

When you’ve known someone your entire life, there isn’t a lot they can say or do that can surprise you anymore. So when David entered the bedroom, tea and toast in hand and a determined look on his face, I knew the words that would come out of his mouth before he even said them.

“No, Lottie. You’re not going into work today.” And he watched me with an expression that said he knew what I intended to say, too.

“I’m feeling better.”

“Really?” He sat down on the king–sized bed and placed the food tray in front of me. “Eat this. All of this. Then we’ll talk.”

I smelled hot green tea and fresh toast and, for one brief moment, my stomach reminded me that it was empty before rolling over with nausea again.

He sent me a long look. “I figured as much.”

I shifted in bed and tried again. “I have a meeting with my boss today, David, plus a new client who’s expecting me. I’ve also got four appointments that I can’t walk away from.”

“You have the flu and can get your clients sick.”

Now he stared me down, aiming for intimidation despite the bare feet, blue jeans, and faded T–shirt. And I saw why the men that David commanded feared and respected him. Powerful stature aside, his green eyes had a way of cutting right through you until you felt compelled to obey his every word.

However, I wasn’t one of his men.

I nibbled the toast to prove a point more to me than to David, and my stomach pitched again. David said nothing, probably because he knew better, and I pushed out of bed and headed for the master bathroom. Halfway there, my legs turned rubbery and I knew I’d lost the battle.

Another therapist would have had a field day with my stubbornness.

I leaned against the counter and dropped my head. I felt beaten and fatigued, and uneasiness I’d been experiencing since getting sick prickled at me once again. I couldn’t pinpoint the emotion except to call it restlessness, living in a fog that would eventually lift and reveal something with life–altering clarity that I hadn’t discovered before. It was an irrational sensation and one I attributed to the flu.

“I’m on leave for the next two weeks,” David called out. “Take advantage of that and stay one more day. You know you need the rest and I can take care of you over the weekend until you go back on Monday.”

His taking care of me wasn’t the issue. The love of my life was an ace in the kitchen and a neat freak with an affectionate bedside manner. I simply wanted to get back on my own two feet, and under my own terms and steam. I grabbed a brush from a drawer and worked it through my hair. As I bent over to get the underside, dizziness followed and I held on to the counter until the room settled down. I drew in a breath, straightened and tried one last time with determined optimism. My hands moved up and down, up and down and then once again.

Two hands became three, then four. I felt a gentle tugging at my head and the weight of something heavy settle on top of it. The hands stroked and pampered, moving from my hair to my face and neck. A noise followed, the sound of a lid removed from a bottle, and a rich, spiced scent spread over the room and over me. I inhaled, long and deep, wanting more. Much, much more.

“Does it meet with your pleasure?” someone asked.

I could not answer. The aroma was too intoxicating and reminded me of him. Of us.

The person spoke my name and repeated the question, and still I could not answer. My name was uttered once more.

“Lottie?”

Hands settled on my shoulders and shook.

“Lottie?”

The aroma started fading away.

“Lottie, can you hear me?” The scent evaporated and I shook my head to clear the remnants of its evocative memories. David stood just behind, a firm grip on arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.” I saw his worried expression in the mirror and its intensity surprised me. “What’s wrong?”

“Enough of this already.” David steered me from the bathroom back to our bed, tucked me in and made sure I felt comfortable. He stood near me for some time and asked, “What happened in there?”

“A little nausea and another dizzy spell.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to put a name to what I felt. “Maybe I still have a fever, too.”

David touched my forehead, shook his head and sat down beside me. He was studying me now, probing, and trying to see something he didn’t see before.

“You were immobile for almost five minutes,” he said, tucking my hair behind an ear.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Five minutes.”

The restlessness I’d been feeling surged through me again, stronger this time, and I didn’t like the way it felt. Something seemed off, and I wasn’t sure if it was with David or with me. Remnants of last night’s sleep started trickling in, and then a connection clicked into place.

“I had a dream last night and I started remembering it in the bathroom.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember more. “I was in a room with a servant who was waiting on me. She was preparing me to meet someone. A boyfriend.” No, that wasn’t quite right. “A lover.”

I felt a tingling uneasiness as I said the word.

“A lover?” David asked.

I opened my eyes, saw David’s grin and recognized the bait for what it was.

I grinned back. “The lover wasn’t you.”

His grin widened and then faded away. “That still doesn’t explain your behavior in the bathroom. You looked like a statue.”

“I’m tired, David,” I said, sliding down under the covers. “ The human mind is capable of doing unusual things when a person is under stress, like when they’re sick, and the gods only know I’ve been feeling a lot of that these past few days. Forget about it. It’s not a worry.”

David paused. “Is that your professional assessment?”

“Yes.”

It looked like David wanted to say more but he got up and walked to the windows that overlooked the backyard instead. I wasn’t sure what was going through his mind but I knew him well enough to know not to pry. It always backfired whenever I did. So I let him have his moment, toyed with the toast, and then passed on it in favor of some tea. My cell phone rang as soon as I put the mug on the nightstand, and I answered it on the second ring.

“Tough night’s sleep, Lottie?” The voice on the other end was male and one I didn’t recognize. “You shouldn’t tell your boyfriend about your other lovers. Especially those you dream about.”

“Who is this?” I asked.

“I’m disappointed you don’t recognize me.” He laughed, the sound crawling over my skin like a snake over sand. “I’m the man you dreamed about last night.”

Buy IN THIS LIFE today

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: 99cent sale, alternate history, Amazon, David Bellotti, historical fantasy, In This LIfe, Kindle, love triangle, paranormal, paranormal books, paranormal suspense, Past Life series, reincarnation, romance, soul mate, suspense

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Published on May 20, 2016 08:04

May 8, 2016

Funny (and Odd!) English Words

melanie cook | Flickr

I learn some very interesting things when I write. Because I string words together to tell story, and because I try very hard not to repeat words in a novel too much, I often look up synonyms to make my storytelling more compelling. Which can lead me to some very odd, often funny, English words.

Well, I think they’re English anyway. Here are a bunch that might make you laugh, or at least raise a curious eyebrow:

Allegator — Someone who alleges

Argle-bargle — A loud fight or quarrel

Batrachomyomachy — Making a mountain out of a molehill

Bumbershoot — An umbrella

Bumfuzzle — To confuse

Callipygian — Having an attractive butt

Collywobbles — A bellyache

Crapulence — Discomfort from eating or drinking too much

Doodle Sack — Bagpipe

Ecdysiast — A stripper

Flibbertigibbet — Nonsense

Formication — When it feels like ants are crawling over your skin

Frankenfood — Genetically modified food

Hobbledehoy — An awkward young boy

Oocephalus — An egghead

Smellfungus — An eternal pessimist

Tittynope — A small bit of leftovers

Winklepicker — A type of shoe from the 1950s

There you go. Some fun words I wanted to share with you. But just because I shared them doesn’t make me a panjandrum who wants to bombard you with taradiddle.

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: book research, English, fun words, odd words, words, writing

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Published on May 08, 2016 10:04

May 1, 2016

What Real Yoga Bodies Look Like

Let’s face it. It can be intimidating when you work out regularly as part of your healthy living lifestyle, and you see online or magazine photos of “perfect bodies”. Sometimes, seeing those “perfect bodies” can make you feel bad about how you look even though your body is fine just the way it is.

When you react from a place of comparison, it diminishes who you are. Which is why my eyebrows raised when I recently ran across a blog that talked about (and showed) real yoga bodies. According to the blog, “The magic of yoga is that it has the capacity to bring us back over and over to the perfectly imperfect nature of our truest selves.”

Walk into a yoga class and you’ll likely hear discourse about multiplicity and acceptance, but look around and you may see why the Western yoga world has a reputation of uniformity. Recent conversations have focused on the way in which “curvaceous” bodies have been left out of mainstream yoga culture.

Click here to see 34 Stunning Photos That Dispel the “Yoga Body” Myth.

Photo by Raisa Aziz |from http://www.sonima.com/yoga/yoga-body/

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: fitness, health, inspiration, yoga, yoga bodies

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Published on May 01, 2016 09:43

April 24, 2016

A Day in the Life of an Author (well, this one anyway)

In all the years I’ve been writing, it’s been interesting to hear non-writer perspectives about what an author’s life is really like. A lot of people think we earn heaps of money, wonder why we still work full-time if we’ve got books published, and ask why it takes so long to finish a book.

Well, first off, 90% of book profits are earned by 10% of authors (don’t ask me where I read that statistic, but it’s the one most often used). Most authors keep their day job because it’s what pays the bills. And writing story can be a very painful process. Sometimes a scene comes with ease but, often enough, writing a novel is like pushing out a baby. Painful at times, though with a tremendous amount of glory once it’s all over.

Which leads to the point of this blog. The other day, someone asked me what it’s like to be a published author. They wanted to know what my typical writing day is like. I thought about that and figured, what the hell. I’ll share what a real writing day is like right here.

This is what I want my writing days to be like:

I wake up at 4:30am so I can catch my train to my office in NYC. For the first 45 minutes of the train ride, I write. I’ve got a full scene in my head and the words fly out of my brain, through my hands, and onto the screen. I’m pretty happy with what I write.
On the way home from work, I read. That’s a vacation for my mind. It helps me de-stress from work and sparks creativity.
At night, I watch some television. Also, for creative spark. That’s when I copy over the day’s scene into Scrivener (the tool I use to write), back up my copies, and then snuggle up in bed thinking about the next scene I want to write the next morning.
Saturdays are reserved for blog work and marketing and promo and social media for the upcoming week. When I do this, no one bothers me.
Sundays are strictly reserved for more writing. When I do this, no one bothers me.
Then the next Monday comes and I start all over again.

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I’m laughing as I reread those hopeful 6 steps. Because this is what my real writing days are like:

I wake up at 4:30 so I can catch my train to my office in NYC. I open my laptop and stare at a blank screen. The words won’t come. I turn on my iTunes playlist to get the creative spark going, and push out about 500 words. Operative word: push.
Often I stare out the train window, trying to find inspiration to write the next scene. I crank up the playlist even louder to get the creative sparks going.
Someone sits next to me on the train and sighs a lot. Apparently they don’t like sitting next to people who work on their laptops during a commute. I ignore the passive-aggressive behavior and crank up the playlist even louder to drown them out. Oh, and I still have a semi-blank screen in front of me, but at least it’s not completely blank. Progress!
On the way home from work, I fall asleep for about a half hour. I’m exhausted from work and the fact that I’ve been up 13-14 hours already. Then I sneak in 15 minutes of reading, if I can. Once I wake up, I crank up the playlist to get the creative sparks going. But instead, I start thinking about cooking dinner, paying bills, and the open items I have from work that day.
I’ll ping my best friend and vent. Many times, I curse.
When I get home, I do yoga and meditate to reconnect with myself and find mental and spiritual balance. I feel refreshed when I’m done.
At night, I transfer my morning writing to Scrivener and back up files. I reread what I wrote earlier that day. Decide it’s crap. Go to bed trying to figure out how to fix said crap.
The next morning, the routine starts again on the train. If I’m lucky, I’ve reworked the scene in my head and know where I went wrong (it’s usually lack of conflict). I rewrite what I wrote the day before. I crank up the iTunes playlist to get the creative sparks going.
I go to bed that night, trying to figure out how to make that day’s scene sing. My last thoughts before I fall asleep are always of my story or the characters.
This continues through Thursday or Friday.
On Saturday, I practice yoga and run. Then it’s laundry, food shopping, errands. Somewhere in between, I sneak in blog work and marketing and promo and social media for the upcoming week. This is done typically with the laptop in the kitchen while I bounce around the house and back to the laptop over and over again, to finish what I’ve set out to do. I’m always interrupted. I write story notes on stickies and plop them on the kitchen counter – prompts for what I want to write during the week. I operate off a to-do list because, without one, I’d forget half the crap I have to get done.
Saturdays are also reserved for more writing. I fire up the laptop, get homemade iced tea or water to keep me hydrated, and crank up the playlist to get the creative sparks going.
The words come. Alleluia! Just as I hit my stride, the washing machine dings.
I put the laundry in the dryer and the next load in the washer, and I sit down at the laptop again. Someone on one of the writer groups pings with a question. I answer it. Sometimes two or three or more requests may follow.
Fifteen to thirty minutes later, after I’m done helping the friends, I’ve forgotten what I was writing. I go back to what I’ve written, read it, then wonder how in the gods names I thought that scene was a good idea. I hit Delete Delete Delete.
But then…BAM! The words come again and I’ve hit my stride! Then the dryer dings.
I’ll ping my best friend and vent. Many times, I curse.
I go back to the scene, reread it, and hit the delete key again. Wipe out a sentence. Then two. Then whole paragraphs. Sometimes it’s a whole chapter.
I stare at a blank screen. Sometimes I’ll put bullshit text on a page just so I feel like I’ve written something.
Saturday night is reserved for date time with Left Brain, hanging out with friends, having friends over, or seeing a movie. For some reason, this is when nearly all of my creativity explodes in my head and I feverishly type out my notes on my iPhone to copy over to my working file the next morning. Left Brain thinks this creativity is prompted by the wine we drink on weekends. He may be right.
On Sunday, I practice more yoga and run. Then the rest of the day is strictly reserved for more writing – in between laundry, ironing, final food shopping, and prep for the work week. I’m always interrupted. Left Brain and I have another date night to close the weekend, either by the fire in the winter or the pool in the summer. Two hours into bed time, my brain goes wild with all kinds of story to write during the week. After an hour of typing all this stuff out on my iPhone to work on during the week, I go to bed content. Because, you know, this writing week will finally be different from all the others…

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: author, editing, novel writing, novels, Past Life series, writing, writing advice, writing fiction, writing inspiration, writing life

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Published on April 24, 2016 09:53

April 17, 2016

The Mystery of Ancient Aircraft

Boy, ancient history sure does have its secrets.

I follow Sacha Black’s blog, which often posts interesting and thought-provoking topics that deal with the history of ancient man. I have to admit that, as an author, I find tidbits like these very interesting. It’s what typically fuels my writing. But I also have to admit that while some ancient curiosities (remember my post on OOParts?) can be easily explained, others leave us with more questions than answers.

“The Ancient Flyer is a sculpture and carving that has been found all over the world. Said to be thousands of years old and yet, upon looking at it, appears to be an aircraft…[it] was first found in Colombia and is believed to have been from the Quimbayan civilisation 300-1550CE. The reason it caused so much controversy is because it was originally thought to be an insect – much like the other golden sculptures from that era. However, no insect has its wings attached to the bottom of its body, nor do they have upright tail fins or stabilisers as the sculpture does. Weird, right?”

Check out Sacha Black’s thoughts on this very odd, very out-of-place piece of history here. Like me, she also loves things that are strange and unusual. What about you?

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: ancient Egypt, Ancient Flyer, Ancient Mysteries, Egypt, OOParts, Sacha Black, writing

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Published on April 17, 2016 08:34

April 10, 2016

What It Means to Be a Real Woman

A wonderful thought for today…

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can’t see.

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need for my care.

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

BY MAYA ANGELOU

Maya Angelou, “Phenomenal Woman” from And Still I Rise. Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou.

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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: maya angelou, Phenomenal Woman, poetry

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Published on April 10, 2016 09:20

April 3, 2016

Why I Don’t Like the Phrase “Suck It Up”

Suck It Up:

To endure a period of mental, physical, or emotional hardship with no complaining. “I don’t care if you’re sad, get out there, suck it up and deal with it!” (definition courtesy of Urban Dictionary)

Okay. There it is. I said it…the phrase I really, truly don’t like. It’s a commonly used phrase, too, and I hear it often. And when I do, I cringe.

Why?

I’ll tell you…

There’s an implied meaning in the phrase “suck it up” that sends the wrong message. It tells another person that their feelings about a situation don’t matter. That you need to deal with a problem and get over it even though it may not be easily surmountable. It diminishes emotions related to a state of mind or attitude. It’s aggressive and trivializing and argumentative. And, most importantly (in my opinion), it doesn’t offer solutions. Telling someone to “suck it up” is a demand to ignore who we are as humans while also ignoring encouragement or positive movement.

As someone who practices mindfulness, meditation, and yoga, the term “suck it up” goes against everything mindfulness, meditation, and yoga teach me. Though achieving a perfect state of Zen in any of those practices isn’t practical (we’re human, and can only do so much to achieve harmony in our lives), the concepts behind those practices encourage embracing who we are and accepting our limitations. Totally opposite of what “sucking it up” tells you to do.

So yeah, I get the idea of not complaining. Or maybe not wanting to hear someone complain. But “sucking it up” is akin to telling someone to “shut up”, and that’s not a positive practice.

So what IS a positive practice then, when faced with a challenging situation?

As humans, we all want to be heard and understood. On a very basic level (think Maslow’s hierarchy of needs), Esteem is secondary only to Self-Actualization. In Esteem, one of the things we want is respect by others and respect of others. To “suck it up”, when you think about it, works against that very important need on an individual level as well as a relationship one.

Think about the last time someone told you to “suck it up”. How did it make you feel? Dismissed by the other person? Ignored? Pushed aside? Not heard?

Now think about the last time you told yourself to “suck it up”. How did it make you feel? Impatient with yourself? Angry? Helpless?

Mindfulness, meditation, and yoga focus on Acceptance. Yes, that’s a capital ‘A’ I put in there, and for a reason. Acceptance, which is the opposite of “sucking it up”, allows for and embraces emotions and difficulties and reactions. But it also provides you with the tools to watch and understand why those emotions and difficulties and reactions exist. The practices of mindfulness, meditation, and yoga don’t dismiss those emotions or feel impatient with your difficulties and reactions to them. Instead, they watch. They label feelings without judgment. And then they release them so that you, once again, can have clarity of mind and heart to move forward. To make decisions. To act positively. To live in compassion for self and others.

In the words of WildMind:

Mindfulness involves an attitude of acceptance, which is the opposite of either pushing an experience away or longing for an experience. With mindfulness we’re prepared to take on board how we actually are. This doesn’t mean that we want to stay the way we are at the moment. On the contrary we almost certainly will wish to move on from there, but the first step in moving on is to recognize fully where we are, and to accept it.

Recognize fully where we are. Accept. Move on.

Sounds a heck of a lot more encouraging and supportive and pleasant than “sucking it up”, doesn’t it?[image error]

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