I was invited to two weddings this weekend, so it seems only fitting to reshare this post on marriage that I wrote 10 years ago. Enjoy.
So often when I hear or see depictions of marriage, it’s about finding a companion to build a life with, someone you’ll love forever, your best friend, the person you’ll turn to in times of joy and sorrow. However, what I don’t often hear discussed is how marriage can enhance spiritual growth.
We get so caught up in the mushy-gushy stuff of marriage that we forget there’s another side. As was so aptly pointed out in a New York Times piece called “The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give,” there will be times when a person will look at their spouse and feel only rage. That doesn’t mean the marriage is bad or wrong – it means it’s normal because a marriage isn’t a pleasure cruise.
I often paraphrase Marianne Williamson, who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” What does that mean exactly? It means other people don’t exist to make me feel good; it means every person and every relationship is a teacher. All of them provide opportunities to bring me closer to the divine. And sometimes that means the other person serves as a mirror to reflect some painful truths. Things about myself I don’t like. Things about myself I wish I could change. Things in me that are still unhealed. But a marriage is a commitment to walk that sacred spiritual path together.
Walking hand in hand means something different in a spiritual context. Photo by Jeremy Wong Weddings on Unsplash
Marriage becomes about living your life in a “new way with a special type of responsibility,” as my spiritual teacher would say. In fact, the marriage oaths in my spiritual tradition state that each partner takes on the responsibility for their spouse’s food, clothes, education, medical care, etc. And also that the person will be vigilant to ensure their spouse’s mental and spiritual progress. The oaths are a genuine desire to take care of another person’s all-around welfare and growth. Marriage not only takes into account the other person’s needs, but also tries to help them along the spiritual path. The emphasis is not on the self, but on another.
Does that sound dry and kind of clinical? It’s not meant to be – there’s something special about romantic love, something almost magical. That matters. I’m not discounting pleasure or love; rather, there’s more to marriage than just love, at least from a spiritual perspective. Marriage isn’t about having someone warm your bed or keep you from feeling lonely. Marriage is about helping you grow as a person in good times and bad, whether that’s easy or hard. It’s about standing in the sacred fire of truth and saying, “I’ll stay and let myself be transformed.”
Joining with another person isn’t for the faint of heart. It requires courage, commitment, but also an understanding that the other person isn’t a dopamine patch. They aren’t there to “make you happy.” Rather, the other person is on a spiritual assignment to help you grow.
I dream of a world where we understand what it means to join with another from a spiritual perspective. A world where we revere love, but we also add something more to the mix. A world where we understand sometimes we’ll hate our partners but that’s normal. A world where we understand marriage isn’t about finding a person to bring us eternal happiness, but a person who aids us in moving closer to the divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m editing a fascinating book about judgment. I can’t quote from it because, hi, it’s unpublished and also not my writing, but I can talk about the general ideas and also quote from others.
My client makes the case that when we judge other people, it’s often because we aren’t tending to the vulnerable parts of ourselves. The parts that need to be met with love and care. For instance, if I say, “He’s so lazy,” it’s likely there’s a part of me that’s sad because I long to rest. But instead of holding that grief – that I desire to rest and feel unable to do so – I’m projecting and calling that man lazy. And judgment of any kind, toward others or the self, breaks connection with our own heart, to paraphrase Tara Brach.
Why does that matter? The older I get and the deeper I go into spirituality, the more I understand that enlightenment is not only living in the light. It’s going into the shadows. It’s descending into the metaphorical underworld to rescue the parts of ourselves that we’ve exiled. The ones who are scared. The ones who are ashamed. The ones who feel unlovable. Writer and spiritual teacher Jeff Foster Brown says: “Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ – it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”
Meeting the Self is one the hardest and most healing things we can do. Photo by Михаил Секацкий on Unsplash
The unresolved elements of our story remain unresolved until we face them. It’s the low hum of anxiety in the background, even though on paper everything looks fine. It’s the vaguely dissatisfying nature of our relationships. It’s the knowledge that we could be doing so much more but we’re not. You could live your whole life like that, and many people do. But regardless, these feelings are symptoms; they are an invitation to meet your Self.
Psychotherapist Matt Licata wrote:
“The invitation is into intimate communion: to move closer, and even closer still, into the feelings, the emotions, and the sensations as they surge. To surround the surging material with curiosity, warmth, and most importantly with kindness, as an inner explorer of the galaxy of your own body, of which there is no temple more sacred.”
So many people try to escape themselves – into the arms of another person, via the bottom of a bottle, through the excitement of a video game – but it doesn’t work long term. Speaking as an addict in recovery, I know from experience. I have the receipts. But my whole life got so much better – richer, fuller, more joyful – when I stopped running and met my Self. You might be saying, “That’s so vague. What does it even mean?”
I can’t condense nearly two decades of personal development into a single blogpost but if you’re interested in meeting your Self, and I recognize you may not be, a good place to start is with a timer.
When I was early in recovery, feeling my feelings was like being flayed alive. It was excruciating. Deeply painful. Scary. Feeling my feelings was the last thing I wanted to do! What if they never ended? What if I was sad/scared/angry forever?!? What helped was setting a timer. For five minutes, I let myself feel whatever I was feeling and after the five minutes (that usually turned into 10), I would stop. The feelings had a beginning and an end. When the timer rang, I could go on with my day. That was the beginning of meeting myself.
As my client emphasizes, healing happens with presence – not trying to fix, change, or solve anything. Just presence. Just being with. And we don’t need to wait for someone else to do that, we can give presence to ourselves. And the more we are present with ourselves, the more we are present with others. The more we meet ourselves, the more we can meet our true selves as divine beings of light. And that’s something I wish for everyone.
I dream of a world where we understand judgment is a protection mechanism. A way of not tending to the ones inside. A world where we see these judgments as invitations to turn inward. A world where we commune with the entirety of who we are because we understand enlightenment is about enrealment. A world where we are brave enough to meet ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve had an interesting experience over the past month or so. People whom I thought I’d never see or talk to again have been resurfacing. Not one or two people, either – five. Folks that I haven’t seen, talked to, or thought of in one year, two years, three years, five years have been popping up in unexpected ways and places.
So often I get stuck in binary thinking: “This person is in my life forever,” or “They’re gone for good,” but life is reminding me I don’t actually know. I don’t know who will cycle in and out of life. I think I know. I want to know, but there’s evidence staring me in the face of how wrong I am. To be clear, resurfacing doesn’t always mean reconnecting. Sometimes people show up again only for you to say, “Ew. No. Hard pass.” But still. It’s interesting when people reenter your life.
The whole thing is reminding me of humility. I don’t mean humiliation or low self-esteem. The word “humility” originates from the Church Latin word humilis, which literally translates as “on the ground.” Other words that mean “Earth” are also part of the etymology of “humility.” Being humble means keeping your feet on the ground and staying present here on Earth.
Sometimes you think the flower is fully opened but it’s not. Photo by Nova Shrayber on Unsplash.
In my post from two weeks ago about grounding in reality, I talked about discernment and using the mind to vet information. But what I’m also recognizing is that grounding in reality means accepting we just don’t know. We don’t know the future. We don’t know if a project is finished even if we think it is. We don’t know who we’ll be connected to a year from now, two years from now. We don’t really know anything.
As a journalist, as someone who loves investigating the truth in herself and others, this is incredibly humbling. Over and over again, life says to me, “You think you know what’s coming? Baby, you don’t have a freaking clue.” That can feel scary. Or at least it does for me. But this, too, is reality. And instead of spending countless hours trying to predict what will happen next, it’s better for me to be here, now.
Do I sound like a broken record? I kind of am right now because I’m trying to anchor in truth and reality. I’m trying to live the principles Eckhart Tolle talks about in The Power of Now. He says, “Most people treat the present moment as if it were an obstacle that they need to overcome. Since the present moment is life itself, it is an insane way to live.” The present moment is life itself. Life is what’s here, now, here now. Even the hard parts. Even the things I want to skip over.
Life is always a mixed bag – it will never be all good or all bad. This is why every happiness expert talks about gratitude and focusing on the positive. There will always be something negative. Always. That doesn’t go away. But what’s positive about the present moment? And can I stay humble, recognizing I don’t know what’s next? Can I remember it’s better for me to not even try to know? That’s what I’m working on, anyway. And life keeps sending me reminders when I forget.
I dream of a world where we stay humble. A world where we understand we don’t actually know if something is finished or whether a person will resurface in our lives. A world where we stop trying to predict the future and instead live here, now. Because the present isn’t an obstacle we need to overcome. The present is where life happens.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
There’s a Post-it taped to my bathroom mirror that says, “Remember: Life can be surprising and delightful.” I need this reminder because one of my trauma responses is hypervigilance. I’m constantly scanning for threats and waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. It’s a survival strategy, but not a particularly fun one.
Saturday was a sweet reminder that life can be surprising and delightful. I met up with a new friend at my favorite vegan bakery and coffee shop. She’s a professional astrologer and, of course, someone I’d like to know better. During our conversation, she said she’s moving. When I asked where, it turns out she’ll be about five blocks away from me! OMG, amazing! I love hyperlocal friends! The possibility of a spontaneous hang increases exponentially!
Ever since my friend and neighbor Emma moved out years ago, I’ve wanted another hyperlocal friend, so this is a potentially answered prayer. TBD because we’re still getting to know each other but maybe! And regardless, how often do you meet someone about to live on your same street?!?
Leaving the coffee shop, I checked my transit options and instead of waiting 10 minutes or so for the bus, I had to wait 30 because the next scheduled bus was canceled. To kill time, I wandered along the street and drifted into a flower shop. On a whim, I asked if they had flower-arranging classes because I’ve never done that before and would like to. When the cute florist said no, the interaction could have ended there, but it didn’t.
He made a joke that the store is terrible about promoting itself and suggested I write down my name and email address. We had a friendly/flirty conversation for the next 30 minutes, and he gave me two allium flowers for free.
The flowers in question.
That definitely wasn’t on my bingo card for the day! But it was a sweet reminder of exactly that: Life can be surprising and delightful. I often think I know what’s coming, that there’s a script for how each day will play out, but there isn’t. Every day is filled with the possibility of something unexpected, something delightful, something that reminds us there is good and beauty and joy in the world.
I perpetually want to know the future so I can feel safe in the present but that’s not how life works. Safety comes from being here, now. Here, now. As Ram Dass, author of Be Here Now wrote, “What are you doing? Planning for the future? Well it’s all right now but later? Forget it baby, that’s later. Now is now. Are you going to be here or not? It’s as simple as that!”
Being here, now is also what allows me to be surprised and delighted. If I’m too focused on what’s happening next, I don’t create space to be in the moment and it turns out sometimes the present moment is pretty wonderful.
I dream of a world where we come back to here and now. A world where instead of predicting the future and imagining it will be terrible, we remember that life can amaze us, in a good way. A world where we remember life can be surprising and delightful.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I keep thinking about fantasy, delusion, and reality. A spiritual teacher I like was convinced Kamala Harris would become the next president. When Trump won on election night, she said, “Kamala won’t concede! She’ll ask that the election be investigated!” When that didn’t happen, this teacher said, “The election won’t be certified!” And then when that didn’t happen, she said, “Just wait until late April or early May. This election isn’t over! It’s all about to end!”
What interests me is not the content – people believe wacky things all the time – it’s that she kept saying her intuition told her all of this was true. And not only her intuition, but intuitive tools like tarot cards and signs. All of her tarot cards said more would be revealed. And she received sign after sign, things like walking around town and seeing t-shirts and bumper stickers that said, “The End,” which she interpreted to mean Trump’s reign was about to come to an end.
Yet here we are in mid-May and Donald Trump is still president. So what gives? How could her intuition be so wrong? Especially when she received external signs? It’s not like you can make that sort of thing up. Here’s the thing: An incredibly painful lesson I’ve had to learn over and over again is that signs are literal. People read into them, adding in their own layers, but usually, the universe will answer the question you ask.
Let yourself ground in reality, not fantasy. Photo by Stas Ostrikov on Unsplash
Here’s a perfect example from my own life: When I was in my early-20s, I was completely enamored with an avoidant man. I didn’t know he was avoidant because I didn’t learn that term until later, but what I did know is we had a strong connection, yet he ran away from it. He was hot and cold, giving me mixed signals, and it made my head spin. Was this something worth pursuing or not? So I asked the universe. I said, “Who is my soulmate?” and literally in that moment, a truck drove by with just this man’s initials spray-painted across the side in giant letters. It seemed pretty clear to me. He was my soulmate! We would get married and live happily ever after!
Spoiler alert: We didn’t. I thought “soulmate” meant romantic partner but it doesn’t. A soulmate is someone who you have a deep connection with and often impacts your life in a profound way. This could be a friend, a boss, or even a pet. And this man? He absolutely changed the trajectory of my life. It was because of him that I pursued healing and immersed myself in the world of mental health, so much so that I’m a ghostwriter for therapists. I became a different person as a result of our connection. Was he my soulmate? Yes. Was he my “sitting in rocking chairs growing old together partner?” No.
That’s the thing about signs and intuition – we receive information but the interpretation is likely skewed based on our desires, biases, and more. This is also why using our brains is so important. My spiritual teacher says, “The highest treasure of human beings, distinct from other creatures, is their intellectual superiority. Had there been no intelligence in humans, they would hardly be different from other animals.”
He encourages everyone to practice discernment. To use their brains as well as their intuition. Like if your intuition says Elon Musk used his internet provider Starlink to steal the 2024 election for President-elect Donald Trump, to check whether voting equipment is even connected to the internet (it isn’t). Or if your intuition says to buy a car and then you take it to two mechanics and they say the car is a lemon, trust them.
I know it can be excruciatingly painful when your intuition doesn’t match reality. I don’t want to minimize that because these experiences of learning I misinterpreted my intuition have been the most heart-wrenching of my life. And at the same time, reality is reality. I’d much rather be grounded in reality than live in some fantasy land that never comes true. I’ve been in fantasy plenty of times and it only ever ends in disappointment and heartbreak, which is much worse than seeing things as they really are.
I dream of a world where we understand that interpreting our intuition is an art, not a science. A world where we recognize that the universe is very literal and oftentimes we’re the ones that add in layers and meaning to the signs and messages we receive. A world where instead of relying solely on intuition, we also use logic and reason. A world where we ground ourselves in reality because reality is where life happens.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
We are every age we’ve ever been. That means there’s still a 22-year-old, a 12-year-old, a 2-year-old, an infant inside us. Just because we physically age doesn’t mean those younger parts disappear. They live within and they need the same things now that they needed then. My inner infant still needs to be held. My 5-year-old still wants to play. And all of my parts still need to be mothered.
I’m lucky that my mother is still alive and we have a good relationship. It’s something I cherish, being able to call her up in my time of need, whether that’s to hear her perspective or ask how to do something. And at the same time, I’ve had to learn how to mother myself. As Donna Ashworth says, not all mothers are mothers. She goes on to write the following:
“Some mothers are aunts by blood, or by royal appointment. Some are sisters, best friends, with safe spaces for laps and listening ears so large they can hear silent cries. Some are teachers who will be remembered lifelong for all the right reasons. Not all mothers are mothers. And if you have one in your life, you are blessed. They have much love to give. And they are walking around this earth with nurture flowing out of their pores. Not all mothers are mothers, but oh how they mother. And this world should throw petals at their mothering feet, as they teach us all, how unconditional love is done.”
And while it’s true that not all mothers are mothers, and sometimes mothering comes from a friend or a teacher, it also comes from ourselves. It’s the self that lets you cry so hard you start to hiccup. It’s the self that allows the full, authentic expression of who you are without needing to change one thing. It’s the self that says, “I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.” It’s the self that feeds you nourishing food. It’s also the one that sets boundaries and says, “It’s time for bed.”
We could all use some of this. Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash
Mothering is a constant process because as long as you’re alive, you’ll always need mothering. There’s also the Great Mother, and by that I mean a loving higher power. In my spiritual tradition, we say that divine bliss and grace are always being showered upon each and every being but we don’t feel it because we’re holding the umbrella of vanity or ego over our heads. If we want to be drenched by that divine shower, we have to remove the umbrella.
Removing the umbrella means admitting we need care, nurturing, and support. But it’s also being brave enough to feel it, whether that’s from ourselves, another, or a higher power. It’s being willing to receive that love. But it’s also remembering that even if we aren’t ready, the mother is still there loving us, nurturing us, holding us, whispering, “I’m here when you need me.”
I dream of a world where we recognize we’ll always need to be mothered. A world where we offer ourselves the nurturing, love, care, and support we need. A world where we recognize there’s also a Great Mother that is showering us with divine bliss and grace. A world where we understand even if we don’t feel it, that love is always there and the choice is up to us whether we let ourselves be mothered.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately, I’m noticing how the universe is conspiring on our behalf. The right people are showing up at the right time to help my friends. The things that seemed impossible are suddenly possible. And in my own life, this happened in a big way with my novel.
I’ve been working on a heroine’s journey novel for 3.5 years. It’s about belonging, community, and recovery from an eating disorder. Writing the book hasn’t been easy at all. Shortly after I started, I realized I didn’t actually know how to write a novel and enrolled in a course at UC Berkeley. I joined writing groups and took more courses. I cried and wrung my hands, and wasn’t sure I could write a full-length novel, which, for my category (women’s fiction), needs to be at least 75,000 words. That’s 230 pages double-spaced in a Word document.
Sometimes the writing flowed, but most of the time it did not. And yet, through it all, I felt like the universe was supporting me, and I received confirmation of that over and over again. When I wasn’t sure if my story mattered, I met someone struggling with an eating disorder at 32, and my book is about a woman who struggles with an eating disorder at 32 and finds recovery.
Once I got on board with my book mattering, I still wasn’t sure I could write 75,000 words but I did. A day or two after I hit that goal, I got a call from a client who was circling back to me after a year of not working together. He lives in Dallas but for some reason that day he called me from his cellphone so “McKinney, Texas” popped up on my screen. Do you know where the bulk of my book takes place? McKinney, Texas.
After a friend read my novel, it became clear to me I needed to hire a professional to read it but I didn’t have the funds for that. I prayed and said, “God, if you want me to hire an editor for this novel, you need to find the money for it.” Literally the next day, I received an assignment from a magazine I write for sometimes, that after taxes, would be enough to hire an editor.
Last Monday, I turned in that manuscript to the editor and told my chiropractor it felt like this book wants to be in the world. I went into her waiting room and pulled the oracle card below.
You can’t make this stuff up.
In case you can’t read it, it says, “The word wants to be written.” I burst out laughing when I saw the message because it couldn’t be any clearer: yes, this book does want to be in the world, and yes, the universe is helping to make that happen. It reminds me of a quote/concept I’ve written about before.
My spiritual teacher says that “whatever happens in this universe of ours is nothing but an expression of Cosmic desire or Cosmic will … when a human desire and His desire coincide, then only does the human desire become fruitful, otherwise it is a sure failure.”
In other words, if something is meant to be, the universe will help you. It may not always be easy, because again, I would never say writing a novel is easy, but there will likely be something within you that whispers, “Don’t give up! Keep going!” Or you might get external validation like I did in the form of signs. Regardless, instead of being cold and unfeeling, the universe, or more accurately, Cosmic Consciousness, is loving, supportive, and conspiring on our behalf. And when so much in the world seems to be going wrong, it’s important for me to remember that.
I dream of a world where we realize there is a force in the world that’s loving us, guiding us, and supporting us. A world where we understand that when human desire and Cosmic desire coincide, that’s when our dreams come true. A world where we recognize the universe is conspiring on our behalf.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m recycling this post from five years ago so no, I didn’t interview for a job recently – I still have my own business – but the message about some things not making sense is still valid.
I interviewed for a job recently that sounded perfect for me. When I told my friends about the position, they all laughed because it seemed like such a great fit. It turns out it wasn’t because the company decided not to proceed with my application. It stings and also doesn’t make much sense to me.
I started puzzling why they didn’t hire me, trying to comprehend their reasoning. My therapist told me, “Some things don’t make sense, and sometimes suffering happens.” Ouch. Can that not be true? Thanks. It’s interesting to notice how much I don’t accept this perspective. I want a reason for everything. I want to know why. Why did a man try to run over pedestrians because he thought they were Muslims? Why did someone open fire on a synagogue during a Passover service? Why did a man shoot elementary school students?
Some things you can’t figure out. Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash
There are lots of possible answers – people are sick, they’re hurting, etc. – but there are many sick and hurting people who don’t kill others. Can I allow myself to instead grieve over the fact I don’t understand why people act this way? My adult self can rationalize ad nauseam, but the young part of me doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why a job that seemed so perfect slid away, doesn’t understand why people disappear, and certainly doesn’t understand why people are cruel.
I think part of this is because I prefer to live in denial, or an idealistic fantasy. I mean, I know bad things happen, but I like to rush by them as quickly as I can, like walking past foul-smelling garbage. It’s hard for me to accept the harshness of life.
In my spiritual tradition, we say the word “God” is an acronym. It stands for Generator, Operator, and Destroyer. I can totally get behind the generator and operator part. I’m all about creation and maintenance. The destroyer, though? Surely that’s not God, is it? It is. Black holes are God and death is God and decay is God. It’s painful for me to admit that, I don’t want it to be true, but it’s true nonetheless. This is the cycle of life, a never-ending rhythm of creation, operation, and destruction.
My spiritual teacher says, “An indivisible cosmic rhythm which started from beginningless time marches ahead to infinity. No creature can remain away from this internal divine flow.” He also says that which is beyond the scope of causality is liilá. What we don’t understand, what we can’t explain, is called liilá. I could spend my life trying to figure out things I’ll never have an answer for, or I can accept that some things just don’t make sense.
I dream of a world where we realize we won’t understand everything. A world where we allow ourselves the time and space to grieve the senseless and the tragic. A world where we understand that, too, is God, and that, too, is a part of life. A world where we recognize we are all a part of a universal rhythm.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had a poignant experience on Wednesday. First, some context. I’m a Network Spinal Analysis practice member. It’s a technique that relieves tension from the spinal cord with the gentlest of touches. According to Network Spinal Analysis Founder Dr. Donny Epstein, there are 12 stages of healing. These aren’t linear or hierarchical, they’re more like seasons.
Stage one is suffering. It’s an awareness that something is wrong and it’s time to connect with the reality of what is. It’s being with the body to bring ease and compassion to the self. Stage 12 is about community. It’s recognizing that our wholeness comes from bringing our gifts of individuality into the collective. It’s also about receiving gifts from others so there’s a loop of giving and receiving.
On Wednesday, I had a call with other Network Spinal Analysis practice members, and we did breathing exercises relevant to our respective stages. While I did the stage one exercise, the rest did stage 12. Oof. That’s so hard because I take service seriously. It’s one of the core tenets of my spiritual tradition and I always feel pressure to do more and/or that I’m not doing enough.
Sometimes you need to be held by the collective. Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash
And in these times where I know we are the “magic wands,” that change happens because we make it happen, my desire to contribute is immense. It feels like if I’m not doing something, I’m letting the fascists win. But, well, my body needs a break. It’s made that very clear. The breathing call showed me viscerally that I don’t always have to be “on” or giving my gifts. I don’t have to always contribute to society because other people are giving their gifts. Other people are fighting the good fight and when I’m ready, I’ll re-enter the metaphorical arena and give someone else a break.
This is how the collective works. We hold one another as we cycle through our various rhythms.
My spiritual teacher says, “The movement of human beings in this universe is not movement for movementʼs sake, but is comparable to a joyous pilgrimage …. Suppose one among them is attacked by cholera, do the rest go on their way, leaving him behind? No, they cannot. Rather, they break their journey at the place for a day or two, relieve him from the disease, and help him to acquire strength in his legs. Or, they start out anew, carrying him on their shoulders. If anyone runs short of her subsistence, others give her their own. Together, they share everything with all. Together, they stream ahead, singing their leading chorus.”
Later, he says it’s when people “attain a deep psychic affinity while traveling together [this is what] helps them solve all the problems in their individual and social lives.” It’s humbling to admit that sometimes I’m the person who has cholera, metaphorically, but nonetheless, it’s true. And instead of beating myself up about it, I can relax and remember I’m a pilgrim on a pilgrimage and there’s a collective that’s holding me and holding all of us.
I dream of a world where we realize we all cycle through periods of rest and contribution. A world where we give when we can and let ourselves receive when we need. A world where we trust that we don’t have to do everything all the time because there’s a greater collective that’s holding us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week, I was reminded of a post I wrote 16 years ago so I’m going waaaaay back into the archives. I hope it’s helpful for you.
A friend sent a PowerPoint presentation about a professor holding a cup. The story goes like this: A professor walked into class one day and held up a cup of water for all to see. The professor asked, “How much do you think this cup weighs?” The students answered, “50g! 100g! 125g!”
“I really don’t know unless I weigh it,” the professor said. “But my question is, what would happen if I held the cup like this for a few minutes?”
“Nothing.”
“What would happen if I held it up like this for an hour?” the professor asked.
“Your arm would begin to ache.”
“You’re right. Now, what would happen if I held it for a day?”
“Your arm would go numb, you would have muscle stress and paralysis and have to go the hospital for sure!” one of the students shouted amid laughter.
“Very good. But during all this did the weight of the cup change?”
“No.”
“Then what caused the arm to ache and the muscle stress?” the professor asked. The students were perplexed. “What should I do now to come out of pain?” asked the professor.
“Put the cup down!” said the students.
“Exactly,” the professor replied.
Sometimes we just need to put it down. Photo by Galya Chikunova on Unsplash
I love this metaphor. When life throws something my way, I tend to hold on. I obsess, I angst, I work myself up. But that’s the key point – I got myself worked up. I have a choice in how I feel, which means I can choose to feel differently. This is a tricky thing because toxic positivity is real. Spiritual bypassing is a thing. People will do almost anything to not feel their feelings. I’m not advocating that, but at the same time, what’s my part? Am I turning a windmill into a giant?
It can be hard to let go and a method I use is the emotional freedom technique (EFT), also called tapping. It helps me feel my feelings in the moment and not ruminate on them. It doesn’t always work, but usually, I feel a slight shift in how I feel and that’s always a victory. Sometimes, I combine tapping with Louise Hay’s method of saying, “I’m willing to release my need for ______.” Or even, “I’m willing to be willing to release my need for _____.”
Ultimately, I want to feel better. I want to know peace. As the serenity prayer states, some things I can change and some things I cannot. I can’t change everything but what I can change is how tightly I’m holding on to something. I can do something about my own suffering and finally put the ‘cup’ down and that’s what I want for everyone.
I dream of a world where we strike a balance between feeling our feelings and changing our moods. A world where we use the tools at our disposal like EFT or journaling to process how we feel. A world where we understand that sometimes we’re the cause of our own suffering. A world where we finally put the ‘cup’ down.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.