If I Asked You To Name All the Things You Love...

Cory looks up, to the camera, hand on heart. The words “If I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” are in the top right of the image. Photo credit: Natosha Via

Happy Valentine's Day!

I've been thinking about the words in the image above for a few days now:

If I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself? *

If you're like me, the answer is... I don't know how long it would take...depends on the day, hour, minute. I am practicing the art of self-love and self-compassion. It is, like so many things I write, talk, and teach about, a creative practice, an ongoing experiment.

A week ago I was in the third Zoom session of a class to learn a sequence of yoga moves. Before the class, I had had another Zoom meeting, then rushed out to run an errand, and rushed back home for the class. I was wearing jeans that were a little too tight, not ideal for a yoga class, but didn't have time to change if I wanted to arrive on time.

As we started the class with meditation, my mind was still rushing. I noticed my too tight pants. I was a little hungry. I hoped that my cats would come near me for a pet as I saw a few other people's cats do on the screen. I felt the cold air around me in my old and breezy house, as well as the heat of my nearby space heater that I couldn't get positioned quite right. You can probably guess that this was not my most focused meditation.

We finished the meditation and were invited to ask questions about the practice. This was when my bad student tape kicked in. I hadn't watched the previous week's recording and though I had practiced the sequence, I hadn't done so daily as we were encouraged to do. There was no way in hell I was going to admit these grave transgressions. If I didn't ask questions, no one would know just how bad of a student I was.

After a few people asked questions, there was new content teaching and then it was time to practice. I had made it through the first part without anyone finding me out!

Except that this week before doing the sequence we were going to start with the optional prostrations.

Oh, s**t. I had never done the prostrations. I could only guess that they'd been taught in the second class, so since I hadn't watched the recording yet, I hadn't learned them. Maybe I could figure them out by trying to watch while we were moving through them.

Other people's cameras were not positioned in a way that I could see the whole flow of the prostration. I was caught, fully visible on camera, being recorded in my fumbling! I tried to fake my way through and was relieved when we finished and were moving to the safe territory of the familiar sequence.

Then twice as we were going through each part of the sequence, someone helping the primary teacher offered a couple of posture corrections. The person made general statements, not directed at any one person, but I was certain she was talking to me. Caught again!

We finished the sequence and went into a closing meditation. Finally, in those last minutes of class I calmed down, sank into my body, and felt relieved that I had made it through my epic failure.

I write this story now with a smile on my face. On Wednesday I talked to my friend who teaches the class. She said that though she was trying to keep an eye on everyone (I think there are 12 of us), she hadn't noticed that I was struggling. I laughed as I told her that that meant I had done my fake-out well, because I hadn't wanted anyone to see I didn't know what I was doing!

Though that class experience wasn't my favorite, I am incredibly grateful to have had that hour of discomfort. It reminded me of the vulnerability of being a student, of learning something new, and opened my heart wider to the people I work with and how they (some of you) might feel sometimes because an old tape starts playing about the kind of student or person they (you?) are. It reminded me that the best place to start, the only place we can start, is right where we are. It reminded me that the best way to learn is not by pretending that we know something we don't, but by asking questions.

My friend's care when we spoke a couple of days after the class reminded me that I don't have to be the perfect student (whatever that even means) for someone to love me. I don't have to be the perfect anything for someone to love me or for me to love myself. I also know that I want to keep learning, keeping one foot on the ground of humility and placing the other in the sea of self-compassion.

With these things in mind I choose today to name myself, to put myself high on the list of what I love, who I love. My wish for you on this Valentine's Day is that you, too, name yourself as a beloved, placing yourself high on your love list.

*I only noticed my typo (D missing in “would”) after publishing this. I decided to leave it, a choice to love myself even when I misspell a word.)
~~~

If you are a woman, one way you might put yourself high on your love list is by joining Reimagining ME:Mindful Explorations, which starts a week from tomorrow- Tuesday 2/22/22! At its core the program encourages us to practice connecting with ourselves, both with humility and the deepest of self-compassion, to re-member who we are - unique, beautiful, irreplaceable beings in a web of Interbeing with one another. This program brings together practices of Compassionate Communication, creativity, and body awareness. I was going to close the registration today, but am keeping it open. If you're not quite sure and want to try a session before committing, you can register for the first session a la carte.

Re-writing Those Darn Old Stories

I just wrapped up a 5-week Compassionate Communication class. The last session of the class always focuses on self-empathy. That theme runs throughout the entire class, but we take a whole session at the end to delve into topic and practice. We identify some of the mean messages we tell ourselves- the ones that judge, criticize, shame, and blame. One of my teachers calls it the Path to Self-Destruction, or if taken to its greatest extreme, the Path to Suicide.

Somewhere along the way most of us have internalized unkind messages so deeply that we now hear them in our own voice and we believe them. Even when we develop habits that may serve our well-being (eating healthy foods, getting enough sleep, exercising), we might do them with an undertone of shame, blame, or threat to ourselves.

In the class, after identifying the self-violent messages, we notice the feelings associated with the message and the needs beneath the message. Seeing the needs, we name some strategies, small steps we might take to meet the needs that we’ve uncovered. I’ve noticed that sometimes people identify strategies that are just as unkind as the initial messages they’re working with- those “should,” “have to”, “need to” messages, or straight out demands, “Do this!” The strategies are still coming from a place of self-judgment, rather than self-understanding and compassion. In those cases, we may dig a little deeper into the person’s feelings and needs and then work together to brainstorm other ways to meet the needs that incorporate self-kindness.

In The Artist’s Way, one of the weekly tasks is to work with this (slightly modified) mantra: Treating myself like a precious gift makes me strong. I love this mantra. I use it when I notice myself getting all self-judgy. Recently I found myself in a storm of self-judgment, questioning my value to other people, and deeper than that, my value, period. Then I remembered my mantra. I wrote it in my journal enough times to move me out of the story of unworthiness and stagnation and into one of worthiness, one with a new plot line. In the new story, I was my own hero. I was kind to myself. I remembered that my worth is not dependent on anyone else’s opinions or actions toward me. I took action to meet my needs. I re-wrote the story. It felt good!

The tricky part about these stories is that when we re-write them, we may think we’ve done so with permanent ink. We celebrate! Then we look at the paper to see the ink fading to invisibility, and the old story appearing again.

It may take us by surprise. It may make us weary. “That again?” And we so we do the work again, re-write the story again, perhaps with new plot twists, perhaps with the ones that have been successful before. 

We’re all works in progress. Re-writing the story is an ongoing process. It’s a practice. It’s an experiment. We can do it alone, but I think it’s best when we find the right people to write with, the ones who can support us in becoming our own heroes and to whom we can offer the same.

Shall we write together?

Pretty

“So pretty, what a waste,” he said with a smile on his face.  

An older gentleman approached me at a gathering recently and started a conversation with those words. I think he thought he was giving me a compliment.

Seriously?

I mean, SERIOUSLY?

While I have control over the way I care for myself, I do not have control over the face I was born with, or my hair, or the bones and cartilage that give shape to my skin. These parts of my being are nothing to take pride in because I did nothing to “earn” them.  

The man who made the comment knows me.

He knows I've been a teacher of Spanish and theology. 

He knows I’ve traveled the world and taught English in India and Palestine.

He knows I’ve been a human rights defender in Palestine.

He knows that I now speak and write about my experiences.

He knows I sing well. To be clear, I did not “earn” my voice either, but I have trained it and I make the choice to sing. My singing seems to bring joy or solace or peace to people. It would be a waste not to use that gift. All of us have been given talents that we may choose to develop; let us not squander them. 

I have made many life choices that I feel good about, choices that I know have benefited me and I believe have also, in a very small way, benefited the world.

The way I look has never entered into my decisions or ability to do any of those things.

I have also made choices that likely would not have even been options if I were married and/or had children. While there are times when I have longed for those things, it would be ungracious of me to deny the richness that my life has offered, and continues to offer, because I am single. It would be ungracious to deny the profound impact of the people who have entered, and sometimes also exited, my life. I believe I have also had an impact on the lives of others. 

But apparently, in the mind of this gentleman, because I am, by his standards, “pretty” and also not married, somehow my life is wasted. The other implication, that people who, by his standards, aren't pretty have little to offer a marriage, is equally insulting.  So... No.

No!

NO!

NO!

My looks are not the best I have to offer. I did not work for them. They don't make me any more capable of being in any relationship in a fruitful way.  And I will not always have them.  

Regardless of how I look, I am proud that I am trying to live according to my values (with varying degrees of success). I will always have the fact that I am trying to live a life of integrity.

I will always have the memories of my time in El Salvador and Guatemala and India and Palestine, at home, and in so many other places. If I had chosen not to take advantage of the opportunities that have presented themselves in my life, that would be a waste. All of us have been given opportunities that we may choose to take; let us not squander them. 

When I look at the people I know, I am astounded by the breadth and depth of their care for me, for others, for our world. These people have helped shape who I am and they continue to support me as I walk my path. I will always have those connections and relationships. 

To the best of my knowledge, none of those relationships are or were based on my looks: whether I am “pretty” or not, whether I wear make-up or tweeze my eyebrows or dye my graying hair or shave my legs. To the best of my knowledge, none of those things are the reason that I am single, either. If those are the primary factors someone wants to judge me by, then no thank you. And if marital status is the only relationship that someone thinks validates my worth, then no thank you.  I am valuable simply because I am. 

Dear women and girls, whether YOU choose to wear make-up or tweeze or dye or shave is completely up to you, but please know that doing – or not doing – any of those things does not make you any more worthy of care or respect. Anyone who can’t see your value beyond your natural looks or the way you choose to present yourself is not worth your time. Whether you choose single life or married life or some other kind of life is up to you. Anyone who judges your value based on only one particular relationship (or lack thereof) is not worth your time. 

Dear men and boys, whether the women and girls you know choose to wear make-up or tweeze or dye or shave is completely up to them and no one else. If you are a father, make sure your daughters know this. Their beauty, the beauty of all of us, goes much deeper than what you can see. Dear men and boys, take the time to discover the beauty that comes from deep within, not the “pretty” you can easily see. And if the women and girls you know are “pretty” and you want to compliment them, make sure they know that you value more than the way they look.

I am more than "pretty." Being so (by some person's standards) does not make my worth any greater than anyone else's. You, too, are more than what I can see; you are valuable simply because you are. Let us look beyond the surface, so that we can see all people as they truly are, as Thomas Merton described it, “shining like the sun.”