“It does not do to leave a dragon out of your calculations if you live near him,” author J.R.R. Tolkien advises. Many of life’s uncertain situations can provoke our “dragons." Insecurities cause us to feel anxious and doubt ourselves. When they emerge we may experience fear, lack of belonging or connection with others, and low self-worth. Getting to know your dragons can be powerful leverage as we navigate the challenges of life and relationships.
In this 3-part article, we explore:
Where our insecurities come from and how, where, and when they show up
The benefits and limitations of our relationships to help us heal and restore a sense of security
How to deepen our sense of safety, trust and understanding from within ourselves to create a more sustaining and resilient self-identity.
’Tis the season when we tend to spend an increasing amount of time with our immediate and extended family members. Pop psychology has ushered in a heightened awareness of the role family plays in our own personal development and emotional wellbeing. Research on intergenerational trauma indicates that we are significantly influenced by our parents’ experiences, our grandparents’ experiences, and so on. Essentially, we absorb, adapt, adjust, and accommodate to life based on what was modeled for us and how generations before us responded to their own respective life challenges. If we can inherit fear, insecurity, and trauma from our ancestors, we can also be directly impacted by their courage, fortitude, creativity, and endurance. We don’t hear as much about intergenerational resilience, but we are here in this moment in time because our ancestors persevered and survived. Don’t squander what’s been passed down to you— take ownership of it, reshape it, mold it, improve upon it, and make it your own.
It can be incredibly empowering to use words to give voice to our internal landscape. What does your frustration look like? Does it have a color or shape or size? How does your joy sound? If you could touch your anxiety, how would it feel? Before we were able to speak or comprehend our native language, we instinctively depended on our sensory perception to give us information about safety or threat, contentment or distress, connection or separation. Using language to name or label what we feel can help us make sense of it in a general way. However, our emotional experience is complex and dynamic like a kaleidoscope of unique combinations of texture, contour, melody, and gradations of hue. Where emotion is infinite, language is limited. To deepen our understanding and add further dimension, we might expand not only our vocabulary, but also the way we identify our experience.
“Forgiveness makes me feel weak and vulnerable.” We can be hurt in a plethora of ways, from overt abuse and injustice, to social infractions and insensitive oversights. The latin word for forgive is “perdonare,” which means “to give completely, without reservation.” This literal and limited definition seems to disregard context. Sometimes it is not possible to offer forgiveness to another person, either because they are no longer alive or accessible, or because it doesn’t feel safe or appropriate for us to do so. If we disqualified the term “forgiveness” from any given transgression, what would be our goal for resolving it? In prioritizing resolution instead of reconciliation, healing rather than pardoning, we may discover more clarity of our own experience.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she repeated over and over from the edge of her hospice bed. It still echoes in my ears, along with a residual compulsion to make it better somehow. The powerlessness was palpable. My mind said, “do something!” but my heart knew there was nothing to be done. It’s unbearable to witness the suffering of someone you love. The grasping and sense of urgency is instinctive, but I felt overcome with a haunting paralysis. Then, something shifted. Throughout life we are taught in various ways how to master a sense of control. We think of it as the capacity to determine, restrain, or manage any given situation. But ultimately, control is fleeting and elusive. It’s like trying to chase the ocean waves or catch a bubble in your hands. Just when we think we have it, it eludes us. Are we ever really in control?
Overlapping work demands, social schedules, and family obligations can take a toll on our relationship with our partner. We may feel like we’ve lost connection. We may feel taken for granted. We may crave time alone or separate from our partner. How can we ask for what we need without potentially upsetting our partner? What if one person wants more time together and the other needs time apart? It can be painful when the needs of our partner conflict with our own needs. Yet the tension of conflicting needs and the process (“dance”) of discovering resolution can help us to recalibrate, reconnect, and ultimately establish a deeper level of intimacy.
Scarcity is synonymous with inadequacy, deficiency, lack or dearth. Many of us experience scarcity when we operate from a place of not-enoughness. Concepts that characterize this not-enoughness (e.g. scarcity mindset, inferiority complex, imposter syndrome, etc.) have become common vernacular. Scarcity mindset implies a tightening, grasping, fearful and defensive stance. Just as we can get caught in a cycle of threat, shutting down, immobilization and fear, we can also embark on a self-perpetuating journey of choice, openness, flow and enoughness. Approaching our circumstances, decisions, and relationships from a mindset of abundance rather than scarcity, allows us to relax, open-up, and trust that whatever is, is enough.
The iconic Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is currently shrouded by metal scaffolding as it undergoes repairs from the fire damage it suffered in 2019. Scaffolding is a temporary, yet complex network of supports which make it possible to construct, erect, create, repair or restore the edifice residing within. As humans, we also require supports as we evolve. We can think of this as social scaffolding (eg external validation, reinforcement, etc). However, the internal structure, the authentic edifice of your inner self is the true architectural wonder and will be what remains. Cultivate deeper understanding of this interactive and interdependent process…
Spring is known as the season of rebirth and awakening which can also be associated with discomfort or “labor pains.” There is a stirring beneath the surface, a rumbling from within, the sense that things are shaking up. There is a distinct shift in the air, an expression of restlessness, a need to stretch and move, a longing for change. Similar to what happens in nature, when we begin to feel grumblings of restlessness, discontent or stuckness, this also indicates regeneration, emergence, and transformation. Whether that means stepping into the unknown, facing our doubts or fears, cultivating the seedlings of our creative aspirations, or nudging ourself out onto that green growing edge, we are called to take action.
It is often said that we can be our own worst enemy, harshly judging ourselves for our flaws or shortcomings. When we hear whispers of self-doubt, shouts of shame, or nagging insecurity, we are challenged to find ways to attend to that critical voice within. In honor of National Poetry Month (April) and upcoming World Meditation Day (May 20th), we explore five excerpts from both unconventional and traditional wisdom on how to bring more awareness, curiosity, understanding, and compassion toward self.
Have you ever promised yourself something, yet done the complete opposite? We typically have a rational understanding of what we want or what is “good” or “bad” for us, yet simultaneously we may feel pulled to act in ways that contradict our reasoning. When we experience internal conflict, it can be helpful to understand what is driving the disconnect. Are we acting in alignment with our true values or are we measuring ourselves by someone else’s standard or expectations? Do we feel free to make our own choices or are we overcompensating by asserting control in unhealthy or counterproductive ways? Does our innate need for safety and familiarity prevent us from taking the necessary risks toward positive change? Life is full of contrasts. We are able to mediate our internal conflicts through enhancing awareness and understanding of our inner contradictions.
The hum of the holiday season is past, and along with it, the social festivities and whirl of excitement and anticipation. Midwinter represents a season of contrasts—cold and cozy, dark and light, death and life. We might find ourselves more susceptible to physical illness, depression, fear, or anxiety during the winter. Yet, this season also offers us an opportunity to reflect, restore our energy and resources, and focus more on what nourishes us. Inside this article are six interesting ways to inspire your winter refections…
We typically associate the concept of trust in relation to other people—how credible, believable or reliable we find someone to be. However, we often struggle to develop that same trust, confidence, and belief in ourselves. We can grow self-trust by deepening the roots of understanding of who we are, strengthening our trunk (or core) by honestly accepting, forgiving and being present for ourselves, and extending branches of ourself that respond to life’s challenges with flexibility and perspective. It is a process. Yet, cultivating this kind of deep inner trust is enduring, irreplaceable, and self-perpetuating.
As we enter into the holidays, we may find ourselves challenged to be around people with whom we disagree. We seem to increasingly judge those who don’t think, believe, or vote like us, and lash out against one another based on vaccination status, political affiliation, and personal priorities. Life is not binary. It’s not as simple as good vs. bad, right vs. wrong, black vs. white, blue vs. red, you vs. me. Life is a continuum of experiences and perspectives. How can we challenge ourselves to imagine what it’s like to see through another person’s eyes? Empathy is the art of figuratively stepping into another person’s shoes, and imagine what it’s like to be them. The ability to imagine an experience outside of our own helps to connect us with compassion. Compassion is the bridge to our shared experiences and our common humanity. In this article, consider four questions to inspire an expanded perspective, an abundant mindset, and curious compassion…
As different as our modern life may be in comparison to the primitive threats to survival our ancient ancestors faced, we still encounter a plethora of real and perceived attacks—natural disasters, social and economic injustices, political rivalries, bullying in schools and social media, viruses run amok, and perhaps above all, vastly conflicting views on how to address those threats. When we feel threatened, we contract—physically, emotionally, and mentally. In this defensive position, we tend to operate from a place of fear, judgment toward others (or ourselves), and a need to protect or preserve what we have. What causes us to feel closed, cautious, and uncertain?
For many years I dreaded the changing of the seasons from summer to fall. Days felt desperately short, nights were dark and threatening, and trees shed any sign of life leaving behind their tree skeletons. This began, for me, with a life crisis that took place during the autumn months several decades ago. For years afterward, I had a painful association the moment I felt the sharp shift in the air and the changing colors of leaves before they would drop from their branches. Whether we love or loathe the fall, this transitional season offers us an opportunity to heal from our past life experiences. Here are five key autumn themes to support our natural healing process…
“Just take a deep breath." It’s the most commonly distributed advice when we are stressed or anxious, angry or uncertain, unable to concentrate, or unable to sleep. It seems too simple and too mundane to actually work. Yet the art of mindful breathing boasts many physical, psychological, and cognitive benefits. In Chinese medicine, the lungs are associated with the season of autumn which makes this the perfect time to create your own breath practice. Take a look at my video for a guided practice as we explore seven different breathwork strategies and how they help to calm, restore and enhance our overall sense of wellness.
Most of us have experienced rejection in countless ways over our lifespan. The feeling of being rejected activates our brain in much the same way as physical pain. We subconsciously experience rejection as a direct threat to our survival and wellbeing. We begin to believe that if we are not good, successful, attractive, rich, or powerful enough, we will be rejected. This way of thinking keeps us stuck in a trap where we desperately fear rejection, feel forced to compete or prove ourselves by compensating for what we perceive as shortcomings, and ultimately contributes to a society that is rooted in deception and disconnection. Alternatively, we can consciously choose to cultivate skills which allow us to be true to who we are, provide a sense of freedom, and help us to advance both individually and collectively. Our more evolved survival strategies must incorporate collaboration, creativity, compromise, compassion, and connection.
Navigating relationships should be its own Olympic sport! It requires endurance, practice, perseverance and commitment, not to mention to ability to skillfully overcome hurdles. We bring our own values, beliefs, aspirations and expectations, and we speak our own respective “love languages.” Finding ways to interconnect and interact with one another is not always smooth, easy or straight forward. Exploring five basic categories of romantic partnerships (independence, mutuality, interdependence, dependence, and co-dependence), we are reminded that relationship dynamics fluctuate. Sometimes we need more closeness. Sometimes we need more space. Experiment and discover what feels right for you in your relationship... it's an ever-evolving process.
Being from the southwest, where long roads stretch across the O’Keefe-esque landscape, I learned early on about the phenomenon of mirages. Off in the distance, it appears. A big puddle of water, right in the middle of the road. But as you drive closer, it vanishes. How much of our lives are spent in search of illusions and perceptions of ideals that are elusive and unattainable? Perfection, balance, and control are psychological mirages. In our striving for perfection, our longing for balance, and our grasping for control, we paradoxically lose it. What is it we are we truly seeking and how might we discover more of ourselves through the process?
