Jake Eagle's Blog, page 11

The Hole In My Heart

Do you have a hole in your heart?

Have you had different romantic partners, but the basic dynamic between you and them remains the same? The dynamic, in short, is this—you don’t get what you want. Somehow you keep making the same mistake, either choosing the wrong person or looking for the wrong thing from the person you choose.

There is a solution—it involves choosing a different kind of person to be your partner and then having different expectations about being in partnership.

And if you already have a partner—one you just don’t want to trade in—but you’re not getting what you want, everything in this articles pertains to you as well. In your case, you don’t give up on the other person; you apply the solution (below) within your existing relationship.

What I often see in my private practice are adults who are trying to fill some hole in their hearts that is left over from their childhood. Typically the hole is the result of feeling unsatisfied—or worse (possibly abused)—in one of their early life primary relationships—with mom, dad, or some special care-giver.

There was something that wasn’t right in that relationship and as children we couldn’t make it right. For one thing, we were just kids. For another, the other person had some deficits.

So we grow up with a hole in our hearts. And it’s a hole that we try to fill, often for the rest of our lives. If when we were young the other person didn’t know how to love well, when we grow up we want to find someone who can love well. If the other person was abusive, we want to find someone to be kind. If the other person didn’t give us sufficient attention, we want to find someone highly attentive.

However, the twist in this story is that we are drawn toward people who remind us of the person with whom our dynamic originated. If I wasn’t loved well as a child, when I grow up I’m drawn toward those who don’t love well, and I’ll try to get them to love me well. It might make more sense to look for someone who is really good at loving, but that doesn’t fit with my original experience. I can’t correct my history unless I repeat my original dynamic and create a different outcome. That’s what I strive to do.

Why I attract the wrong people

That’s why I attract the wrong people; I’m drawn toward people who can’t give me what I really need. I’m drawn to someone abusive who I will try to get to be kind. I’m drawn to someone inattentive who I will try to get to be attentive.

You can see that my task is impossible. I will not succeed. Just look at the structure of this. I must find someone who is incapable of doing what I want them to do and then try to get them to do what they can’t do. I will fail.

This is one of the three major reasons why romantic relationships fail. I keep picking people to fulfill a childhood need, but they are people incapable of fulfilling that need. The second major reason why romantic relationships fail is because I tolerate my own—and my partner’s—immaturity . . . but that’s for another article. However, if you want to learn to behave maturely, as well as learn how to attract the right partner, invest three hours going through our Dating Relating Mating course—half price on Amazon right now. And for those who are curious, the third major reason I fail in romantic relationships is that I lose myself when I get involved with a partner . . . also for another article.

The solution . . .

The solution to attracting the wrong people is simple, but not easy. It is to give up. Give up expecting anyone, ever, to fill the hole in my heart.

Learning to live with my hole is the first step. The second step is learning to satisfy the need I have—for love or kindness or attention—as best I can, for myself.

I was just suggesting to a client that he needs to take a break from women—not go right away from one woman to another—and during the break he needs to learn to care for himself. He said, “Oh, I’ve already done that. I’ve spent years alone when I was between partners and it didn’t solve the problem. I would just make the same mistake again when I found my next partner.”

I explained, “What I’m talking about is different than what you did. Because when you took a break in the past you felt like a victim. You felt angry and resentful or hurt and wounded. Or maybe you kept busy by distracting yourself. Or maybe you punished yourself by atoning for your mistakes. None of these are what I’m talking about when I suggest that you be alone for a while and care for yourself.”

He asked, “Well, what’s the difference?”

What do you need to do to care for  yourself?

I encouraged him to ask one simple question, “What do I need to do to care for myself?” I said, “Ask that question and then do it, learn to care for yourself. The point isn’t to crawl up inside the hole in your heart; the point is to learn to live a rich and nourishing life with the hole in your heart. I’m not suggesting you be alone and miserable. The point is to learn how to have fun and enjoy yourself—comfort yourself. You can learn that all the feelings that come up within you are temporary. Allow them to come, allow them to go.

“Once you experience caring for yourself—emotionally nurturing yourself—you will stop desperately seeking someone to fill the hole. Then you will attract different people into your life—healthier people.”

Our session was coming to an end and I offered my client a date to meet again in a month. He said, “Actually, could we meet again in two weeks?” I said, “Absolutely we can meet in two weeks and asking to do so is a perfect example of taking care of yourself.”

Yes, it’s okay to ask other people for help as you learn to live with the hole in your heart. The only rule is that you can’t ask the people—I call them the “hole fillers”—you can’t ask them for help. Because if you do you’re buying back into the myth that someone can fill that hole. Not only can’t they fill it, but the people who want that job are the people to avoid.

You don’t need to be fixed. You’re not broken. You simply have a hole in your heart from a parent or caregiver who didn’t know how to give you what you needed as a child. That’s okay. Learn to live with that hole and you will be better able to emotionally self-regulate—care for yourself—which is a sign of maturity. Then, you will attract different people into your life, not people who want to fix you or people you want to fix, but rather people with whom to share your joy and celebrate your lives together.

My client said, “I understand that I need to stop looking for someone to mend my heart. But what about my need to love someone—for me, this isn’t just about having someone love me? What do I do with that? I was robbed of someone to love when I was a child.”

I said, “You can love two birds with one stone. Accept the hole in your heart and then love yourself.”

 

Thinking about going?

Only 2 spaces are left!

Register Now »

The post The Hole In My Heart appeared first on Reology.

Acceptance

The difference that makes the difference.

Over the last few days I’ve been thinking about why Reology is different than other forms of psychology, self-help practices and group dynamics. I’ve been in therapy several times over the years— in my mid-thirties I did cognitive therapy—basically I spewed and my therapist asked questions and felt sorry for me and then told me that I was no longer a “survivor” of childhood sexual abuse I was a “thriver.” Then she suggested we write a book about our time together and the work we did—I declined.

The second time was what I called “kick and scream” therapy. To this day I don’t know what the proper name is—with this therapist I spent hours on a mat on the floor wailing and kicking and screaming at my abuser and then after 7 months I left-perhaps less angry, certainly more exhausted and definitely more broke.

The third time I went to Art Therapy—at least Art Therapy was fun—I let my inner “kid” color and my therapist and I discussed how scared my inner child was and how terrible my early life was and after a few months I had learned nothing new so I stopped going—again, poorer than before I started.

From Amma to Zeus

Soon after that I began going to alternative groups—I went to healing circles, drumming circles, sweat lodges, church, got hugged by Amma, went to Findhorn, did past life regression, studied the occult and went to hundreds of 12 step meetings and tried several types of meditation. I saw Osteopaths, massage therapists, crystal healers, Reiki masters, energy workers and had my cards read.

I’m not saying there is no value in all the stuff I did—I am saying what I did get was volumes of knowledge about my history, a keen awareness of my “issues” and a great deal of reinforcement of my identity as a victim. No matter who I saw or what method they used or what we discussed I always left completely convinced that I was and continued to be a victim of my childhood and although I was brave, smart, had great tenacity and inner strength, nothing really changed for me.

I still felt powerless, I was fearful and believed I was unsafe and I continued to blame my abusers for my current state. I was told repeatedly by my therapists and other practitioners that I had the self awareness to heal myself– armed with self-knowledge and a higher power I should be able to go out into the world and be a success at whatever I set my mind to—and yet, I continued to “fail.”

I continued to fail because the methods were faulty—but I didn’t know that at the time. Each time I went out and tried to “do” myself differently I ended up stuck in the same spot. Yes, I was healthier—I stopped drinking, I stopped using drugs, I stopped associating with my abusers, I stopped dating abusive partners, I stopped stealing and running from the law, but my insides really hadn’t changed much.

What was missing?

I continued to identify as a victim, my favorite emotions were self-pity and righteous anger and I continued to struggle to find any peace, balance, contentment, honesty or joy in my life. After 40 years of “working on myself” I still felt flawed and I continued to lie to you about who I was—because if you knew what went on in my head you would bolt out the door and never look back.

What I see now is that the piece that was flawed was not me it was the method—without exception each of the methods I tried emphasized similar practices. I was encouraged in each circle, office, group and practice to tell my story, learn more about my story and then work myself out of my despair by learning the lessons of my story.

In meditation I practice non-attachment to my pain (story), in therapy I talk about my history (story) and then develop compassion and forgiveness for my abusers and move on. In past life regression sessions I see that I’ve lived my story many times, my job is to rise above it. In sweat lodges I send my pain (story) into the fire and watch it leave me. In AA I tell my story over and over and over again and united in our powerlessness we stay clean. In Findhorn and other healing circles I gave my pain (story) to angels, crystals, energy meridians, big and little spirit helpers and gods ad infinitum.

What I didn’t get was a way out of my story—a way to shift how I create my identity—a way to stop being a victim and to feel safe in the world. And because I didn’t succeed I labeled myself as a failure. Did all those methods work for everyone else—if so, what was wrong with me? Why did I continue to fail?

When I finally found Jake and Hannah Eagle and Reology I began to develop a more realistic view of the “self-help” world. I stopped blaming myself so harshly.

I was able to begin the work of really letting go of my story. With Jake and Hannah’s help I began to see that my story is just that—it’s a story and in less then two years I have shifted how I make meaning and how I relate to the events of my life. For the first time in decades I feel safe in the world and I no longer identify as a victim.

Two key pieces

The shift for me was two-fold—first Jake helped me see that how I relate to my story is a choice and he helped me learn how to nurture and grow myself up. With his help I was able to stop identifying as an abused kid and begin to live as a mature adult. The second piece came about from the very beginning of my contact with Jake and Hannah because they told me about how they struggled. We began our work with the honest assumption that as humans we “fail”—we lose ourselves, we struggle, we forget ourselves, we hurt ourselves and others and we stumble. We also find ourselves, remember ourselves, help ourselves and each other and move gracefully.

The degree of acceptance that I encountered when I began my work in Reology astounded me. Many of the other practices I tried preached, wrote and believed in self-acceptance but I rarely encountered it. If a person drinks in AA they are welcomed back with open arms but they carry a stigma because they didn’t work the program “thoroughly”, if I continue to feel miserable in therapy I am given medication, If I leave a healer and still feel heavy, it’s because I am blocked or possessed or unwilling.

In Reology I begin with the idea that freeing myself from my habitual story is work and it takes practice—remembering that I am a miracle takes effort and faith, staying awake in the present moment is a life long process. In my first session with Hannah she said to me, “There is nothing you can do that will make us stop loving you.”

When I would try and tell Jake what my family of origin was doing he would say, “I don’t care about them, I’m not working with them, I’m working with you. What I want to know is what are you doing right now with what is happening in your life right now?”

Throughout my first two years of working with Jake and Hannah whenever I slipped, lost myself, confused myself, depressed myself, made myself angry, sad, miserable or lost all hope they listened to me and honored me in whatever state I was in. Sometimes they gave me feedback, sometimes they reminded me that I was simply stuck in my story and sometimes they just acknowledged me as I was in the moment.

Yet, they always expected me to return to myself. They continually loved me and held high expectations for my eventual return to health and a saner and more mature state of awareness. They knew I would wake myself up and I felt them waiting for me no matter how far away I went.

I already spend enough time judging myself; I don’t need help in that area. What I need is help accepting myself, without praise and blame, without labels and without the details of my story. And I get that in Reology, I get that at a Reology Retreat, I get that every time I talk to Jake or Hannah or another Lab veteran.

There are a few spaces left for the winter lab, come see what real acceptance feels like, inside and out.

 

Thinking about going?

Only 2 spaces are left!

Register Now »

The post Acceptance appeared first on Reology.

How To Lengthen Your Life

Cause we’ll all be dying in a moment.

When you look back at your life so far, how quickly has it gone by? Long and drawn out, or has the time gone by in the snap of your fingers?

At deaths’ door most people will say: “My life went by in a flash.”

Why? Because most of us spend most of our lives in our heads thinking—and on autopilot. That’s why days, weeks, years, and whole lives fly by without a connection to the time spent.

None of us will, or even can, be continuously present all the time, but if you choose to remember—often—to pay attention to what’s happening NOW, you could stretch out your experience of time and in a way, lengthen your life.

What is happening NOW?

Can you remember a moment when you really felt alive and awake—when you engaged yourself in your experience so thoroughly that there were no thoughts—just pure awareness of what was happening around you? Perhaps this was a walk on the beach or in the woods or a time when you really connected with another person.

Some people seek moments that demand intense attention, say in high risk sports like hang gliding, river rafting, rock climbing, or race car driving— activities where you cannot afford, even a moment, to concern yourself with anything other than what you are doing. These people seek the Zone as a way to really feel ALIVE. This is a state of pure awareness—of being connected to what is happening NOW.

But most of us don’t get into extreme sports.

What excites me, is that us normal folk can experience this pure awareness in every day activities, if we remember to take notice and pay attention to whatever we’re doing.

The key is connecting . . .

The key to connecting with the present moment is to get out of my head and into my body—actually into my sensations. This includes noticing—paying exquisite attention—even during the most mundane everyday experiences. When I stop to hear, see, smell, taste, touch everything that comes into my awareness, I begin to notice what it feels like to be awake and alive.

Slow down and notice

In our Reology Retreats we practice sensory awareness—where we practice slowing ourselves down enough to NOTICE what we are experiencing in the moment. Right now you are likely sitting on something while reading this blog.

Notice the surface your bottom is touching—is it soft or hard, warm or cool? Notice any sounds coming your way. Notice the colors of everything in front of you. Bring your breath deep into your belly and notice the sensation of breathing.

If you really take the time to notice whatever is going on right now, this simple act of awareness can bring you into a version of the Zone.

Making up the bed, doing dishes, driving a car, gardening, cooking, eating, going for a walk can be used as vehicles for becoming present if we just get into our senses and pay attention.

And the more moments you are present for—the more connection you will have to your life. This is how to lengthen your life—this is how to avoid feeling like your life has gone by in a flash.

But start now before you forget—wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Notice what’s happening NOW!

 

And if you want to start the New Year learning how to be more present—contact us about joining our January retreat . . .

 

Thinking about going?

Only 2 spaces are left!

Register Now »

 

 

The post How To Lengthen Your Life appeared first on Reology.

Why Not Be Present? There’s A good Reason

Life is difficult

There is a simple reason why most people choose not be present in their lives. It’s because being present sucks—if you don’t like your job, don’t get along with your partner, don’t feel good in your body—and therefore you’d rather be someplace else.

I remember many years ago when I was making myself miserable. I was doing work I didn’t fully enjoy. I was confused about my marriage at the time, to my first wife. I experienced a lot of tension with my family of origin. So I went on a weeklong meditation retreat in northern Vermont. The purpose of the retreat was to learn to be present. The more present I became the more unhappy I felt. By the end of the week all I wanted to do was start a fire in the meditation hall and see all those Buddhists pushing and shoving one another to get out the exit door.

The meditation retreat was my unconscious attempt to spiritually bypass the issues in my life. I didn’t know how to deal with my day-to-day challenges, so I tried to cover them up with high minded ideals and a spiritual blanket. It didn’t work.

So what can I do when the current realities of my life are such that I would rather not be present? I think that there are two general ways to approach this situation.

Reality Therapy is One Approach

The first is what I call reality therapy. It involves directly addressing the things that feel wrong or off. This was the path I chose. It involved breaking free from my family of origin, getting divorced, quitting my job and starting a new career. The journey was both hard and rewarding.

As my life steadily got better, the idea of being present became more attractive to me. Now I’m at a place in my life that I would describe as delicious. Being present in my current circumstances is mostly pleasurable. And recently I hear myself advocating to my clients the value of being present.

But I realize, being present isn’t always enjoyable. One solution, as I just mentioned, is reality therapy—making corrective adjustments in your life. But I think that there is an alternative approach that no one told me about, and I wish that someone had. This alternative approach requires me to understand that my life is the way it is because of the way I make meaning—my subjective interpretation is what creates my experience of my life, both the good and the bad.

If I don’t fully grok this—that I’m responsible for the meaning I make—then I’m likely to believe that other people are making me unhappy, or treating me unfairly, or not sufficiently appreciating me, or holding me back in some way. Maybe I feel burdened by the job I have and the responsibility to support my family. Maybe I feel resentful of my family of origin because I get ensnared in dysfunctional dynamics. Maybe I feel trapped in my marriage.

Fair enough . . . all legitimate feelings. But if I don’t understand that I am the one who has interpreted the events in my life in such a way to make me feel as I do—burdened, resentful, ensnared, trapped—then when I go to extricate myself from the situations in which I’m unhappy, I will do so aggressively or guiltily—or both.

I will be aggressive toward the people I depended on to make me feel okay—because they failed—and I will feel guilty about leaving those people who depend on me for their emotional well-being. To avoid these feelings—aggression and guilt—I may choose not to extricate myself. I may just do nothing, continuing to feel burdened, resentful, ensnared and trapped until my life becomes unbearable.

Changing the Way You Create Reality is Another Approach

However, if I really understand that I am the one who is making meaning of all the events in my life, then I bring about a radical shift in my consciousness. I no longer feel like a victim. I no longer feel trapped. I recognize that I have made deals—with myself and other people—that are not serving me well. And I can change those deals.

This is what I wish I had known so many years ago when I was making myself miserable. Had I known this, I could have made the changes I need to make in a much more graceful and mature way.

You see, I can change the deals I have made with other people and I can do so without being aggressive and without feeling guilty. This is possible after I realize that I am the one that is making up the meaning. Because after I take this level of responsibility for my own life I am no longer holding others responsible for my well-being and I am no longer assuming responsibility for the well-being of other adults.

All I need to do is two things.

First, I need to acknowledge that my life is exactly as it is because of the ways I make meaning.
Second, I need to learn new ways to make meaning of the events in my life.

Whenever I talk about this subject people always ask, “What do you mean when you say ‘change the way we make meaning’?” I’ll give you a few examples.

Some of the ways that people make meaning include:

Reliving the past and anticipating the future, but spending little time in the present.
Judging people’s behaviors as being being “right” or “wrong.”
Blaming other people for how we feel.
Using a cause-effect explanation to justify why we behave the way we do. “I did X because you did Y.”

When I make meaning in these ways I limit myself because I am not present, I live in fear of being viewed as “wrong,” I give my power away to other people, and I use my stories to justify my immature behaviors instead of taking responsibility for myself.

Reology offers a unique solution. First, we learn to speak in such a way that we are constantly reminding ourselves that we are the ones who are making meaning of the events in our lives. This is incredibly freeing and empowering. Second, we learn to speak so that we are present, living without fear of being made wrong, owning our feelings, and instead of telling stories to justify our immature behaviors we learn to ask for what we want.

The difference in my life has been remarkable. Had I learned this all those many years ago—instead of going on a meditation retreat—my journey would have been much easier, and there would have been less pain for me and others I loved.

 

Thinking about going?

Only 3 spaces are left!

Register Now »

The post Why Not Be Present? There’s A good Reason appeared first on Reology.

A Remarkable Woman — my mom

How old do you feel like you are?

It was about a week ago when I asked my mother, “How old do you feel like you are?” She said, “Twenty-three.” And if I were to measure her by her spirit and enthusiasm for life I would agree.

In physical years she is eighty-nine—and dying. She finds this quite confusing. As she explained to me yesterday, “It’s mostly old people, tired people who die, so why is this happening to me?” I have no good answer. She is one of those people who should keep on living—not just because she wants to, but because her life has been one of giving to other people.

Even on her deathbed, she wakes from a medication induced stupor, opens her eyes, sees Hannah and me, smiles and asks, “How was your workshop last night. I hope a lot of people showed up.” Then she apologizes that our visit with her doesn’t appear to be much fun.

She’s been like this her entire adult life—concerned about the well being of others. When I was a child she was a volunteer for the Red Cross. Years later she became a psychiatric aid, working at the Hartford Hospital as a therapist. Today, twenty years later she still gets letters, packages, and phone calls from ex-clients. She has always related with and spoken about her clients as people in her life, not as clients.

As a child my mother’s nickname was “Joe.” When she went to Skidmore College in upstate NY, she had to choose between her dream of becoming a horse stunt rider or a nurse. I think she would have chosen the horses and a circus, but her parent’s influence carried the day and she pursued her education.

After school she didn’t become a nurse, but married my father, raised a family, and lived in love with him for sixty years. Their marriage is best characterized as something that was meant to be. They didn’t work at it. They just loved each other fully, 100%, and had a great time doing so. It was easy.

A miracle

“Joe” is a bit of a miracle—because of her continuous joy and optimism, but also a literal miracle. She was told she would never be able to have children; it was a physical impossibility. She only had one ovary and one fallopian tube—and they were on opposite sides. This resulted in five miscarriages, but also three children, two of whom are still alive—my sister Lizabeth and me. This miracle is written up in medical text books.

Do I sound enamored with my mother? I am appreciative and admiring. I see her as a remarkable woman. But I also did the hard work required to individuate from her. I started my process when I was very young, at age 16. That’s when I left home. And the reason I left is because my mother was my best friend and it was starting to become awkward to be a boy of 16 with my mother as my best friend. But, she was. There was no one I would rather spend time with.

My departure from my family of origin was abrupt and mostly unconscious. I didn’t know why I was doing what I did, I only knew I needed to break free or I never would.

In my late twenties the process became more overt. I went through years during which I distanced myself from my parents. I called them by their first names instead of “mom” and “dad.” I changed my name. I don’t think that I broke their hearts, but I’m sure that my process was painful for them. I don’t think that I broke their hearts, because even though I disengaged, I was almost always respectful. And I was doing well in my life, which helped them trust my decisions.

I say that I was always respectful, but I can’t take full credit for this. “Joe,” as loving and giving and generous as she has always been, has had clear boundaries and if they were crossed I would hear about it. She has had a sharp edge her entire life. She expects to be treated respectfully. And she earned this right based on the way she treated people, so if someone violated it, the rebuke was immediate and strong.

But never any grudges. No holding onto hard feelings. If there were a problem, we would talk it through and reconnect—almost always with laughter and enthusiasm for whatever was next.

So, largely because of her nature, when I was done pushing her away—so that I could grow myself up—we reconnected and have enjoyed an adult/adult relationship for the past 25 years. My mother survived the death of my brother—her firstborn—and a year later the death of my father, her lover. That was five years ago.

To my surprise, after these tragic losses she went on and found joy again and beauty—in simple things. Picking fresh raspberries from the plant just outside her kitchen door. Watching a good movie, reading a good book. Listening to music and singing in the local choir every Thursday night. Listening to her grandson, Chama, as he has visited with her every day after school. And watching Roger Federer play tennis when she was no longer able to do so, but continued to think she would.

Tomorrow will be better

“Joe” is close to the end of her life. Don’t tell her. But it’s inevitable now. She will live on in me until I die. She will be my—and other people’s— inspiration for living a simple life and being an abundantly good, loving and generous person—always believing tomorrow will be better.

 

 

The post A Remarkable Woman — my mom appeared first on Reology.

Make The Most of NOW

Do you want to be happy?

Do you want to live with an open heart? Do you want to conduct yourself so that you feel good about yourself?

All of this is possible—the key is learning to do two things. Not “learning two things,” but “learning TO DO two things.” Both of which I wish I had learned a long time ago because when I started doing these two things my life became much easier.

In the past few months I’ve fervently been doing these two things and nothing has ever had a bigger impact upon my well-being and happiness.

First, is to really grasp the idea that all  meaning is made up.

Doing this results in me living in this moment, while understanding that I am making—shaping—this very moment. When I fully grasp this I no longer limit myself based on my history and the stories I’ve told myself. Those stories no longer hold water.

This means that I don’t have to spend endless hours or years trying to figure out why I behave in the ways I behave. Instead, I can ask a simple question, “How do I want to behave right now?”

I’m not saying that self-knowledge isn’t useful. I’m saying that I believe I spent too much time looking inward in ways that weren’t sufficiently productive. And a lot of this has to do with the ways I used to make meaning. By changing the ways I make meaning my self-reflections have become transformative (more on this later).

The second thing TO DO differently

The second thing is to let go of arguing about the past, and instead, talk about what’s happening now, which is easier to do if I accept that meaning is made up, because then I’m less attached—I take myself less seriously.

Let’s explore the idea that meaning is made up.

Meaning is made based on the questions we ask, the shoes we stand in—our own or someone else’s—whether we hold a short or long-term perspective, whether we focus on the past, present or future, and how we make sense of things.

Once we begin making meaning of things in a certain way (let’s say that based on my past relationships I believe that relationships are hard work—that’s the meaning I make), then I will typically go through the rest of my life seeking relationships that reaffirm what I think I know to be “true”—so the beliefs I hold become stronger and more rigid over time.

The way you make meaning has created exactly the life you have today. If you love your life and feel satisfied, the way you make meaning is serving you well. If you aren’t satisfied, there is a powerful solution.

You can change the way you make meaning. The most effective way I know to do this is to change the way I use language—that’s largely what Reology teaches us. ReSpeak, the language of Reology, has five ways of altering our language. I’ll share one with you now.

ReSpeak is a present tense language

When we use ReSpeak we talk about what’s happening now, right now, in this moment. We often don’t agree on what happened in the past, anyway. Who said what. Who did what. Who used what tone of voice. So, instead, we shift the focus and talk about now—“What can I do now to address this situation.”

When Hannah and I used to experience conflict, I would spend a lot of energy building a case to justify my feelings. Usually this involved going back in time and finding examples to support my case, whatever that might be. She would then go back in time to find counter-examples to whatever I was saying. We both used the past to justify our current behaviors and feelings.

There were two problems with this kind of exchange. The first is that we were no longer in the present and the present is the only place where we can connect.

The second problem is that we were both making up all the stories we were telling each other. We didn’t think we were making them up. We were sincere. We believed we were telling our own personal truths, but really, we were just making stuff up. I call it back filling. I now consider this to be a waste of precious time.

If you want to learn to live in the present and learn ways to make meaning that simplify your life, create ease in your relationships, and allow you to stop being driven by a need to protect yourself—come to our next retreat. Is it the only way to learn this? No, but it’s the quickest. Come, learn to make the most of NOW.

 

Thinking about going?

Only 4 spaces are left!

Register Now »

 

The post Make The Most of NOW appeared first on Reology.

Live Well So You Can Die Well

I want to die in the same manner that I am learning to live—with gratitude and a sense of wonder and awe.

Wednesday night I got a message that one of my oldest and dearest friends had a stroke. I’ve been a good friend with Jimmy and his wife Katie for over 30 years. I lived with them for a short spell in their home in New Jersey, I baby-sat their 4 children and I’ve vacationed with them numerous times over the years.

The guy that everyone relies on

When I think about Jimmy I think of a rock—Jimmy is the guy that everyone relies on. Whenever anyone is in trouble or needs advice or needs their water heater replaced they call Jimmy and he has an answer.

And now, Jimmy is in a hospital in northern New Jersey and he can’t feel his left side. He can’t see out of his left eye and his left leg buckles when he tries to stand on it. He can move his limbs but he has no motor control and he’s looking at months of physical therapy to learn how to walk, buckle his pants, or tie his shoes. This is our rock now, this is Jimmy today—the guy we all relied on to make things work, to help us with our problems and feed us pizza and talk about the Yankees.

Today as I was riding home from work I realized I was feeling sad about Jimmy—not sad because I don’t think he’ll recover and not sad because I am worried about him. What saddened me is the idea that even with all the love of his huge family, Jimmy is, as we all are, alone in his experience.

Are you prepared?

I don’t know if Jimmy ever thought to prepare himself for an experience like a stroke or some other serious and debilitating illness. I don’t know how Jimmy lives in his own heart under such difficulty. I don’t know how Jimmy will cope with being weak and slightly broken. I don’t know how Jimmy will be asking for help with his basic needs. I hope he is peaceful and I hope he finds refuge in the quiet of his heart while living in the pandemonium that comes with being in a hospital and for the arduous months ahead.

And this led me to what I want to focus on for the rest of my life. I want to live consciously and be ready to face illness and death. I want to be emotionally, mentally and spiritually prepared so that when my stroke or heart attack or whatever it is that starts killing me occurs, I am okay. I want my inner peace to be reliable enough so that it supports me when I need it. I want my heart to be open to the reality that I am going to die and I want to be accepting of whatever comes. I want to be humble enough to ask for help and I want to love myself in my frailty and weakness.

I want my cabinets to be tidy and I want my paper work to be in order. I want my family and friends to know exactly where they stand and I want the people I love to know that I love them. I want my clients and my associates to know my gratitude and respect.

Inner sanctuary of love

I want to be able to imagine myself mostly paralyzed or in great pain in a noisy, brightly lit and badly painted hospital room and I want to look at this image of myself with compassion and steadiness. I want my inner sanctuary of love to be strong enough that I can retreat there while the doctors are standing over me shaking their heads and saying there is nothing more they can do. I want to know that I lived my life well and I loved all of you to my best ability. I want no regrets—I want only gratitude and a sense of a job well done, a life well lived. I want to squeeze every last drop out of being alive and I want the last drops to taste just as sweet as they do today.

I want my friends and family to know that I think about them today and I don’t want to leave them a huge mess to clean up after I’m gone. I want to make sure the directions about my details are clear and succinct and I want to leave small gifts and tokens of my love for my dearest friends. I want to die as I am learning to live—with gratitude, a sense of wonder and awe and this great feeling of safety and kindness that I found inside myself when I attended the most recent Reology retreat.

I want to spend more time with myself

I want to play more and travel to places I’ve always dreamed of visiting. I want to spend less time indoors and more time under trees and next to water. I want to spend more time getting to know me and less time worrying what you think about me. I find myself drawn to meditation at least 2 to 3 times a day, because when I meditate I am inside myself, exploring my heart, my mind, my body and its myriad of sensations.

I want to know what a safe romantic relationship feels like and I want to explore myself and my future partner(s) with wonder, curiosity, passion and kindness. I want to discover who I am in every circumstance and be able to softly assert myself instead of shouting from the rooftop or whispering from behind closed doors. I want to care less about your opinions and interpretations and discover my own. I want to know the depth of my own kindness and compassion and I want to be familiar with all my emotions and express myself maturely and responsibly. On the top of my list of learning to live is learning to love. I want to love well—you, me, us, god, humanity and all creations. I want to die knowing I loved well—and to do that I have to live by loving well now.

I believe I can die well

I think I can do it, I think I can live well if I live consciously. And I believe I can die well if I apply myself and continue to live intentionally. I think maybe the best way to appreciate life is to live with the awareness of death. I don’t dwell on my death, but I don’t let it get more than an arm’s length away. Death helps me stay awake.

There is another Reology retreat in January, what do you need to do before you die?

The post Live Well So You Can Die Well appeared first on Reology.

The Faster You Run The Longer It Takes To Get There

Run from what?
And where is there?

This past week I worked with a couple of different clients who have made remarkable progress in terms of their personal growth and maturity. Both men. One thirty-years-old, the other forty. Good looking to boot.

What they are both doing is slowing down and accepting, maybe even embracing, what I call the existential angst that’s part of life. They are no longer running from their pain, their limitations or their fears. They are no longer looking for ways to get around the discomfort that’s part of life.

For example, in the past year one of these men physically injured himself, stepped down from a position of authority in his work life, struggled with a health issue, broke up with a dear romantic partner, and then helped a friend die. And, today, he says, “I feel a connection, depth and calmness that I’ve never felt before.”

When I wrote, “The faster you run the longer it takes to get there,” the “there” that I was talking about is where this man has gotten to—a deep level of connection and calmness within himself.

What makes things sacred?

He told me about a hike he just went on with his teenage daughter. It sounded beautiful, both in terms of the sights they saw, and also in terms of the insights they shared. Imagine a forty-year-old man sharing a weekend with his teenage daughter, sleeping under the Milky Way, talking about the origins and meaning of life, what makes things sacred, and pondering “why can’t people just get along.”

At the end of their weekend together this dad said to his daughter that he hoped they would return to the very same spot next year, but he also said, “a lot can happen in a year and we might never come back here together.” His daughter said she was pretty sure that they’d make it back next year, which is a very healthy way for a teenager to view the world—with hope.

But it was the dad’s acknowledgement of uncertainty and impermanence that impressed me (“we might never come back here together”). No pretense. And that’s one way that I measure his personal growth, there is no pretense in his life.

Ironically, when I stop pretending, stop hiding my fears—and instead I face them, which means facing myself—that’s when my anxiety quiets down. This may seem counter-intuitive, but it works. When I face my fears and address the incongruities in my life, I’m taking control. I may not immediately experience less anxiety, but soon after acknowledging where I’m at and what I have to do—my anxiety diminishes.

Fear of Failure

The other man I was working with this week—the younger one—was attempting to deal with his fear of failure. To quiet this fear he found a spiritual teacher who put forth a philosophy that “there is no failing.” The teacher said, “you will do your best and if you accomplish less than you hoped for you will come back in another lifetime and finish whatever you need to finish.” My client found this comforting, but the issue didn’t seem resolved.

So I suggested to my client that what he was doing may be a kind of spiritual bypassing. I was not commenting on the validity of the claim that we have multiple lifetimes, I was commenting on how this idea encouraged my client to walk around his fear of failure instead of walking directly into his fear of failure.

I shared my philosophy which is that I’m not looking to find a way around the human condition. Instead, I embrace the human condition, with all its fears—fear of failure, being alone, not good enough, growing old, dying. Doing this helps me work with people who are wrestling with all these, and other, fears. I wrestle with my own fears on a regular basis. And my goal isn’t to get rid of them, my goal is to conduct myself well (maturely) while wrestling.

My client responded to me by saying that he saw how living with this level of acceptance would give him more time and energy to work on whatever was immediately in front of him. As he began to embrace his own fears he liberated himself. He slowed down. He stopped trying to get from where he was to where he thought he should be. That doesn’t mean he stopped making progress, actually, his progress accelerated.

He slowed down and was immediately closer to himself.

Both of these guys are tremendously impressive to me. They turn toward life instead of away. They turn toward other people instead of away—even when there is conflict. And because they conduct themselves in this way, they live, largely, in a state of gratitude.

And both of these guys are Reology graduates. I feel like maybe we should start a dating service — “Reology Graduates Available”

 

Thinking about going?

Only 5 spaces are left!

Register Now »

The post The Faster You Run The Longer It Takes To Get There appeared first on Reology.

Manifesting Maow

Years of study with a Japanese Zen master gave me a strong referent experience of what it means to be here now. He was my first Zen teacher and now there’s our cat, Maow. He is the master of simple enlightenment.

Maow is always in the moment. He’s completely connected to his senses, noticing all that goes on around him (perhaps even when sleeping). He doesn’t worry about where his next meal is coming from, he just asks— often loudly—to be fed when he’s ready.

He simply chirps out a sweet purr

Our cat loves to be loved, knows he is loved, and never doubts he’s worthy or deserves a special place in the world, and that’s wherever he desires to plop his furry body. If surprised by a hand that wakes him from a deep sleep, he simply chirps out a sweet purr, happy for the attention.

Of course he does not share our human worries about house payments, life’s details, and keeping other humans satisfied.

But given that I can needlessly anxious myself about a future that is completely imagined, or obsess over how I did myself in the past, I find our cat’s omnipresence a constant reminder to simply return to what is happening now.

Return to now, Maow

Even in my most difficult moments, like when a loved one is sick or dies, if I stay connected to this moment, without all of the ‘what ifs’ or ‘should haves’, I can calm myself and hold my center because my pain’s not magnified by concern about the future or regret of the past.

In our Reology Retreats, our cat’s kind of presence begins to become palpable in the group and this kind of attention builds every day. With the help of sensory awareness experiments, unique tools for becoming more aware, and learning how to speak in present tense, we all begin to move at a slower pace and connect deeply with each other and with ourselves.

This is a pace we take home with us, making an enormous difference in how we experience the world around us.

At our periodic Reology gatherings, if no one has cat allergies, Maow often sits in the middle of our circle or walks around gracing everyone with his presence. He’s a great example of what happiness looks like and how we all can be if, like him, we just focus on what is happening now.

So what can you do if you don’t have Maow in your life?

You can begin to practice noticing what is happening right now—what we call Sensory Awareness. Get in touch with your senses. Using your sense of touch, notice what you are sitting on while reading this blog. What do you feel as your body connects to the chair? What are your feet doing and touching—and your hands?

Notice what you are reading this on, perhaps your computer, maybe a paper. Notice the room beyond what you are reading. Notice colors and textures. Notice the sounds around you, right now. Notice if there is movement in the room or a smell in the air. Breathe deeply into your belly and drop your shoulders on your out breath. Noticing what is happening right now is really what it’s all about and all we need for simple enlightenment.

The post Manifesting Maow appeared first on Reology.

A Mindful Life

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”  —Henry David Thoreau

 

Thoreau went to the woods, to learn how to be radically alive, and get the most out of being here. He was seeking, in more modern terms, a mindful life.

This is my core desire, too. This has been the driver for most of my adult life—to wake myself up, to be as alive as I can be, while I’m still breathing.

Short of living in the woods, where life becomes so simple and raw and stripped down to what is essential, how can I rout out “all that is not life” and “reduce it to its lowest terms”?

I have learned, when I remember, to make every single moment—a practice of being mindful.

It doesn’t matter where I am at or what I’m doing. I may be standing in line at Hobby Lobby—where the manufactured eco-toxins whirl into my nose making my tongue feel weird—where the woman four people in front of me is arguing over the price of her purchase, and my recently purchased chard is wilting in my car.

I can be present and awake for even these moments rather than waste a moment of my life.

Mostly I practice NOTICING rather than just seeing or being lost in my head. I notice the sensation of my breath and my body balancing on top of my feet, and even notice my impatient thoughts in my head and let them go.

This less than preferable moment in Hobby Lobby can still be a moment of noticing I’m alive–one that will be otherwise lost in the millions of moments already lost in my vast unconscious collection. And when I do this, my consciousness is no longer hijacked by my impatient, avoidant thoughts.

I become happy and then peacefully wait in line.

In fact, I then begin to notice the sweet old woman behind me with her arms so overly full of red silken flowers that bring out the rosiness in her cheeks. If I’d stayed focused on my negative, anxious thoughts, I wouldn’t have noticed her.

I even let her go ahead of me because she’s so overloaded. And like myself better for being kind.

There’s a kid in front of me clutching his father’s finger and the two of them exchanging love with their eyes. I wouldn’t have noticed that.

Mindfulness can be an every moment meditation on absolutely everything—if I just notice.

Like Thoreau, I so much don’t want to come to die and discover that I had not lived.

 

The post A Mindful Life appeared first on Reology.