Hear, Say, Believe?

I’m having coffee with someone (let’s call her Person A) when she informs me that someone else (the imaginatively named Person B) said certain things that Person A took to be jabs at her and at me. I feel hurt and angry. Person A must sense this because she tries to change the subject and make small talk. I find it difficult to talk about trivial things at times like these. After a few moments, she asks if I’m okay. I tell her how I feel and say that I just need a bit of time and space and that I’ll probably be fine in an hour.

Afterwards I get into the car, put on the new Daft Punk album and take myself off for a drive. I am fuming and tears threaten an onslaught. I park in a quiet spot and sit with what has just happened. The only thing that would make me feel better would be to understand why Person B said those things and also why Person A decided to tell me. I take out a pen and paper.

I make three lists. The first list has the title: “Why Person B said what they said.” The second is called: “Why Person A told me.” I am fully aware that I am engaging in guesswork and mind-reading but understanding where these people may have been coming from helps me realise why they said what they said, which, in turn, makes me feel better. Some of the reasons include jealousy, worry, resentment, hurt, control, and even speaking openly without thinking of the consequences. Already, I feel better about the whole thing.

The third list I make is: “The benefits of this happening.” I manage to come up with eight of them. But what is most revealing of all is when I question what has actually been said. All I heard was what Person A had heard and internalised and then repackaged in her own fears and projections. Not only that, but then I had internalised all of that and sifted it alongside my own insecurities and sensitivities.

Fact looks very different from imagination. What had Person B actually said? Who knows if this person meant to cause any pain? And even if they did, that’s saying a lot about how they’re feeling. If it is important enough to me to find out, I can go straight to the proverbial horse and poke around in its mouth but, for now, this exercise has been sufficient.

This whole process has highlighted to me that I still have a bit of work to do on myself, especially when it comes to caring what my nearest and dearest think of me. I recognise that this area is usually quite challenging for most people. I give myself permission to have human emotions and reactions. I also understand myself more now and I realise that having a time-out is essential for me to process how I’m feeling, thus enabling me to learn and grow and have healthier relationships.

I close the notepad and, without even trying, I remember something that Person B did for me recently that was extremely thoughtful. Oftentimes, we’re so blindsided by something somebody just did that we obliterate his or her positive attributes. Or we fail to understand that sometimes people do things out of fear or insecurity or because they’re feeling so bad that they want someone else to hurt too. Other times, they are unaware that what they say or do can have a huge impact on another person.

I’m not suggesting that you should accept abusive behaviour but, in many cases, understanding where the other person is coming from and distinguishing fact from emotional hearsay can help make you feel better. Because they only thing you need to do is look after how you’re feeling. And everything else will come right in time.

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Leaning into Life

Listening to the Hay House World Summit at the weekend, I heard one of the speakers say: “Successful people do what they want to do, not what they feel like doing.” At the time, I didn’t really get it. The following day, it hit me.

For quite some time, I’ve been teaching myself to get quiet and listen to my body. I’ve learned how to say “No” and how to know what’s right for me at any given moment. I thought the best motto for life was to “go with the flow”.

Then, I came across an article by Noor Shawwa, who wrote about the three ways we approach life. He suggested that we can go with the flow (lean back), walk away (quit) or make the most of it (lean in). A couple of days later, I read another article, this one by Jack Canfield, telling us to “Build Momentum by Leaning into It.”

Going with the flow is a welcome relief after a lifetime of resistance and control. But upon reading these articles, I realise that there is something empowering about leaning into life. If I always sit back and do what I feel like doing, I’d skip the workout and eat lots of cake. Alternatively, if I were to do what I want to do, I’d do things that make me fit and healthy and full of energy. Yes, I might feel like watching the latest Ryan Gosling flick (and that’s okay too) but I might want to prepare an inspiring Positive Living class more.

So today, even though I don’t feel like it, I take myself out for a cycle. And boy am I tested on that, as yet, uncertain balance between going with the flow, leaning in and downright quitting!

The wind is strong. No matter which direction I go, it blows against me. I huff and puff in annoyance. I want it to stop. A plump bumblebee dives onto my head and bounces off my eyelid. As I pedal along, a dog chases me, barking incessantly. I reason with it in a sing-song voice, trying to appeal to its gentler nature. Eventually, it gives up. Just before I cycle right into a giant pothole. I am totally jarred but I remain upright. Minutes later, two tiny flies simultaneously suicide-bomb into one eye each. I pull over and rub my eyes vigorously, only burying them further into their watery graves.

I sit back on the saddle and laugh. Up until this point, I thought everything was against me. Now it feels more like nature is working with me in order to wake me up. There is nothing I can do about the weather. I have two legs that are working hard to bring me into the beautiful countryside. The wind is warm (and it’s not often you can say that in Ireland!) and it’s forcing me to get more out of my workout.

Just as I relax into it, it begins to drizzle, thus breaking the weeklong spell of glorious sunshine. I can’t change the weather, I mutter. But I can change my attitude. I understand that leaning into life still requires going with the flow. It’s just about adding momentum. So I lean into the rain and keep going. I’m like a human hearse carrying two tiny insects who have sacrificed themselves for the cause – my awareness.

Tuesdays with Morrie

I pick up a little book called Tuesdays with Morrie while on holidays in Spain. I saw it years ago but avoided it because the blurb on the back made me worry that it’d be a depressing read. It is about a dying professor (Morrie Schwartz) and his younger student (Mitch Albom). This time, I am ready. I devour it in two sittings. And I cry and cry and cry.

It isn’t that it’s unbearably sad. It’s just so touching, it moves me like nothing else has for a long time. I can feel Morrie’s energy with me as I finish the memoir. I love him. I can honestly say that he (and the endearingly honest Mitch) has changed my life. The gradual shift in Mitch’s attitude inspires me almost as much as Morrie’s wisdom.

Morrie allowed himself to let go, to be vulnerable, and to ask for help. He observed that, when you’re an infant, you need help from others and, when you grow old, you require their assistance also. However, what we fail to acknowledge is that we need other people in between times too.

Morrie told the tale of the little wave that witnessed other waves crashing against the shore. The wave wailed, fearfully: “Oh no, look! This is the fate that awaits us. How horrible!” Another wave reassured him: “Don’t fret, little one, for you are not a wave, you are part of the ocean.” As Rumi wrote: “You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop.”

Morrie’s message has made me realise how closed off I’d become. I’d tell myself that “I like my own space”. I’d go home while co-workers would sit and have tea, a chat and a laugh. I’d stay alone in the flat watching episode after episode of The Good Wife. I’d spend weekends preparing classes instead of exploring the countryside with loved ones. I’d retire early rather than spend time with friends.

I still believe that there should be a balance between rest, work and play and between stillness, silence and moments of noise and interaction. But Morrie’s story has shown me that the most important thing in life is to love. To share what you have with others. To give another human being the gift of your time. Morrie said that he was always 100 per cent present with whomever he was speaking. When he was talking with Mitch, he thought only of Mitch. This resonates with me as I am often in the company of others when I’m not really there. I’m thinking of what needs to be done, or how I shouldn’t have eaten that or I might even be putting a photo through Instagram while somebody attempts to converse with me.

Morrie’s big, brave, generous heart has made me resolve to really live life, to connect with people, to appreciate nature, to question the values we’ve been brainwashed into adopting, to understand that love and peace are what’s true and priceless compared with ever-changing, unreliable material and physical possessions. One of my new goals is to do something that makes me feel alive every single day. I also promise to be present with people, as if each encounter were our last, and to ask, in the words of Robert Holden in his book Loveability: “How can I love you more?”

I have a couple of hours before I have to head for the airport. I could go for a last swim at what the locals call the “healing beach”. But it’s a bit of a walk, I mentally argue. And it’d mean packing a wet bikini. Then, I remember that I’m living life. So I set off in my flip-flops, carrying a pink towel. A line of ants and a yellow butterfly cross my path. A lone purple wildflower on this dry dirt track reduces me to tears. I offer an Hola and a smile to an old man sitting alone. He returns my smile, its corners clipped with surprise. An elderly couple stroll ahead, hand-in-hand. Yet again, my eyes mist. I beam as I spot a set of keys a stranger has carefully balanced atop a bollard.

My breasts bob and sway as my feet flap upon the sand. I feel like an ancient elephant striding across the desert. I inhale the scent of my sweat that has collected in cracks and creases. A homeless man sits on a wall behind the beach. I abandon my beach bag and strip. I don’t suck in my stomach. Not today. I duck my head into the ocean even though my hair was freshly washed this morning. I am alive.

Mitch and Morrie used to say, “We’re Tuesday people” because they usually met on Tuesdays. And I am writing this piece on a Tuesday, watching the waves surge and retreat, with tears in my eyes and a heart that’s breaking… wide open.

Image: Author's own

Image: Author’s own

Heeding Your Own Advice

I was telling someone close to me what that woman had said to me last weekend. In a nutshell, it was about finding it hard to practice what I preach. How I know it all in theory but do I really feel it in my heart? That I should lead by example. And other inspiring yet hard-to-hear clichés.

My friend commented that, about a year ago, when I used to approach her with things I was struggling with, she was incredulous. “But you’ve got all the answers in your most recent blog post,” she’d exclaim. She observed that I have since put all of those things into practice and that I now have new challenges to contend with.

I remember someone informing me that, often, the problems your clients will present you with are the issues you need to look at most yourself. The Positive Living group I taught last night included many tips that would help me immensely. One activity I gave the class was to write a letter to your 15-year-old self. I got the idea from this blog post. Afterwards, one of my students remarked: “I just read over my letter and it’s all advice that would help me now.” I quickly scanned my own letter. She was right. Another class member mused: “I found it sort of sad. I wish I’d had someone to tell me this stuff when I actually was a teen.” “But you have someone now,” I replied. “Do I?” she wondered, confused. “Who wrote your letter?” I asked. “Oh yeah,” she smiled.

This morning, I contacted a friend in need. “Thanks Sharon, that’s the best advice I’ve heard in a while,” the person responded. I reread my text. Yet again, the message of my message could be directed right at me.

If you followed your own advice, you’d be doing well. Because you have all the answers within you. You don’t need to look outside yourself in order to know what to do. Only you can decide what’s best for you. Because you are you.

The classes I teach, the blogs I write and the advice I give helps me first and foremost. Luckily, it also benefits others. I teach what I need to learn. That’s probably why I’m drawn to the subject matter in the first place. At least I am learning. Sometimes slowly, usually surely. One life lesson at a time.

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Cha-ching!

“You find it hard to practice what you teach, don’t you?” This came from a woman I was chatting to the other day. She continued: “What people say still affects you. And so long as you’re worrying about them, you’re not living your own life. You’re not being you.” The directness of her words cut through me. I felt like a fraud. Who am I to be giving Positive Living classes, I thought. And with a flash of insight, I realised that I had just proved her point.

I decided, rather than let this get to me I could allow it to get through to me. The lady went on: “Life is gently tapping at your door, trying to give you a message. If you don’t listen, if you refuse to change, the knocking will get much louder.”

About a month ago, I was feeling tired and unenthusiastic about life. I was pushing myself a little too hard, which was sucking the enjoyment from my activities. Then, I put my back out at the gym. I was forced to stop. I felt frustrated. I wanted to continue my routine the way I had planned.

As a result of this injury, I decided not to renew my gym membership and I have taken up Pilates, yoga and getting out in nature instead. I also worked on my time management so that my class preparation isn’t eating too much into my evenings and weekends. My back is all better now, thankfully, and so is my life.

The other challenging aspect of my life of late has been my dealings with the opposite sex. I set up an online dating profile and met a number of men. I experienced a few disappointments and a few okay-but-nothing-to-write-home-abouts. And then four first dates cancelled on me in as many days. At this stage, I’m no longer bothered. I’m even seeing the hilarity of it all. Plus, these cancellations freed me up to do something else or to simply relax.

Having said that, I have been speaking an awful lot about men. I realise that I was giving a lot of energy to the negativity of the situation instead of surrendering to the whatever’s meant to be will be mentality. Also, I now feel that I’m being spared becoming emotionally invested in men who wouldn’t be good for me.

This morning, I received an email from TUT… A Note from the Universe. It read: “Talking a lot about something that bothers you, Sharon, is a pretty good sign that you’ve got something huge and profoundly liberating to learn.” I laughed out loud. I then did some Zhan Zhuang along with a YouTube video and the voice-over said these words from the Tao te Ching“To bend like a reed in the wind – that is real strength.”

This afternoon, while I should have been having lunch with one of my no-shows, I went to close a dormant credit union account in my home town and discovered that I still had money in it. Last weekend, I had impulsively decided to give a fair amount of money to someone. We embraced excitedly and she promised to repay me. I told her that I meant it as a gift. It just felt right. And today, I got back almost all of that money. So I filled my car with petrol and took myself to a nearby village for lunch. When I went to purchase a parking ticket, a man handed me his as he left the car park.

You really do get what you give out. So rather than resisting the changes to my carefully laid-out plans, cursing any perceived lack in my life, caring what others are saying, doing or not doing, I’m being present, listening to life and feeling the abundance. And even though it sometimes feels that the wind will break me, I know that I could just let go and become part of this beautiful dance.

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Soul Sketches

I showed one of my Positive Living groups the following videos. For those who’ve already seen (or couldn’t be bothered watching) them, the first one is about how we perceive ourselves, how we hone in our flaws and imperfections, and how we don’t see the beauty that other people see in us.

The second is a spoof on the first and I cried actual tears, it was so funny.

Afterwards, we drew pictures of how our souls might look like. I instructed the class not to think too much, to just go with the feeling. Below is a picture of my soul, drawn my me.

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Then, I told the class to draw a picture of how they feel the soul of the person sitting beside them might appear. I reminded them not to worry about it being a work of art, to simply allow it to flow. Because I was teaching, I was sitting at the top of the room so there was no way my partner could have seen the picture I had just drawn of my own soul. Five minutes later, I was presented with this.

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We squealed in disbelief and hugged. We had drawn almost the same image of my soul, except she had made it bigger, more vibrant and even more beautiful. And it’s not unlike the Sacred Heart, which is regularly depicted in Christian art as a flaming heart shining with divine light. Maybe it’s not so unusual to imagine a glowing heart when connecting with one’s soul but nobody else in the class drew a heart for themselves or for anybody else.

This was a great exercise and I thoroughly enjoyed drawing like a little kid, totally absorbed in colour, connection and creation. Why don’t you try it with your children, partners or friends? You’ll be amazed at what manifests.

Love is the Drug

In recent times, my friends and I have uttered the same phrases over and over. Men are from a different planet! I don’t get men. What’s with men these days? I give up on men. Men, men, men.

We’ve met men on nights out or online, at work or in our art classes. Men in their twenties and thirties. Men from Ireland and abroad. It doesn’t matter where, when or how but the same pattern keeps repeating itself. Man pursues woman. They go on a date (or a number of dates). Woman enjoys herself, relaxes into it, even chances thinking of a possible future for the two of them together. Man disappears, never to Viber again. What is the story?

I’ve pondered this on many occasions. Is it that men have too much choice nowadays? They have any amount of dating website profiles to choose from, with women striking their best poses and even flaunting gym-toned bodies in their underwear, captured by the infamous iPhone-in-bathroom-mirror shot.

http://www.damncoolpictures.com/

Beware, smartphone selfies make some people very angry

Another possible explanation (and I don’t mean to blame women for this) is that men seem to be able to get what they’re after much easier than ever before. More and more women are having casual sex, either after a few too many Merlots or because they simply want to and why shouldn’t they be allowed slut around just like the menfolk? If Sex and the City and, more recently, Girls is anything to go by, everybody is having sex all of the time. So once the man discerns that the woman they’re dating isn’t going to put out too easily, they decide that they couldn’t be bothered putting in the work and they move on to their next, hopefully more willing, conquest. Often, with no regard for the woman’s feelings. And isn’t that the way men are programmed? To spread their seed and sow their wild oats and any other planting analogy that makes our battered egos feel better.

Should the now-jaded, cynical woman do as the men are doing and keep her options open? Should she make like the Yanks and date around? After all, why buy the first dress you try on? There might be one in a nicer colour. One with a more flattering fit. One for every night of the week. With the mainstreaming of online dating, people could potentially go on seven dates in seven days. Even more if they’re really efficient. Maybe we should all just log off and stop this interview-style of dating. Find some hobbies that we enjoy and meet like-minded people instead of scanning cyberspace-suitable stats.

One woman surmised that the only available men our age are damaged goods, and that all the “catches” are already gone. “Gone” being “in relationships”, which doesn’t actually sound too appealing. Another lady said that men see women in their thirties as desperate, that we must be dying to settle down, and that terrifies them. She also suggested that men our age are going for younger, hotter women. Somebody else wondered if there’s something wrong with men who use dating websites. “Why is he still single,” she queried. “Thanks a lot,” I replied. She didn’t get it.

Today, I’ve reached this conclusion: I give up. Not in a depressed, self-pitying, raging-against-romance kind of way. But an I-give-up-trying-so-hard-to-meet-someone sort of way. In the Western world, we grow up believing that our lives are only really complete when we find the perfect partner, snag him and live blissfully-happily-ever-after. Not only that, but the type of relationship we strive for is like something from a Shakespearean tragedy. An all-consuming, passionate affair. This is the only love we’ll settle for. Anything less and it mustn’t be love.

I confess that I held this belief for quite a while too. It’s intoxicating, the kind of love that’s breathtakingly beautiful and exciting. When you lose your appetite and can’t sleep. When music sounds better, colours are brighter and everything emanates a rosy glow. Who wouldn’t want this experience? But it’s a lot like taking drugs and drugs are bad, mm-kay? There are some serious side-effects to this sort of love. The comedown’s a nightmare. And when it’s all over and you find yourself going cold-turkey, you convince yourself that you’re dying. You want more. You need it. So you hunt high and low for another taste of that addictive, mind-altering drug. Online, in nightclubs, from friends of friends, down seedy alleyways. Just kidding about that last one. Ahem.

The root of all this searching is a desire for happiness. And because we believe that we won’t be truly happy until we’ve found love, we keep seeking and trying and being disappointed. We project our ideal partner, our idea of happiness, onto the man we’re dating. But when we’re in-love, we don’t see the man, we see what we want to see: the godlike qualities that we’ve invented for the man. Then one day, we wake up and realise that he’s not our projections. He’s just a man. And so we feel miserable.

Of course, the same scenario occurs for men. So we all attempt to keep up the pretence. We try to live up to the projections. We say ridiculous things like: We’ve got to keep the romance alive and I have to make sure my partner stays in love with me. This isn’t real love. As soon as the veil drops and you fall out of love, the resentment seeps in. Because they’re not what you thought they were. They fooled you. No, you fooled yourself. You don’t love this person. Now that you’re experiencing unhappiness, you want your partner to be unhappy too. If you really loved him, you’d want good things for him, not the misery in which you’re now both residing.

Robert A. Johnson writes:

“It does not occur to modern Western people that a relationship could be made between two ordinary, mortal human beings, that they could love each other as ordinary, imperfect people and could simply allow the projections to evaporate. Yet this is what is required. Ultimately, the only enduring relationships will be between couples who consent to love each other without illusion and without inflated expectations.”

I realise that I’ve done a lot of generalising here and that not all Westerners are so deluded or shallow. Unfortunately though, a lot of us are (and I include myself in this group). I now understand that I’ve been looking at love and relationships in an unhealthy and unsustainable manner. Rather than focusing on the relationships that haven’t “gone anywhere” and cursing all men alike, I need to meditate on what love is and feel the love that exists inside me. I now understand that love doesn’t have to look a certain way and it certainly shouldn’t resemble a Hollywood rom-com. I now believe that love endures even when you’re not looking or feeling or projecting your best.

One wise friend told me, when questioned on her relationship: “It’s good. We’ve gotten past all the lovey-dovey, gooey stuff, thank God. Now, it feels authentic.” I never thought I’d have quoted such a statement as an example of true love. Shit just got real.

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Top image: http://www.damncoolpictures.com/2013/01/funny-self-mirror-shots.html