My biggest take away from this experience is that, as the title of this blog says, healing is possible. It may not look how we expect it to. It may be on the physical, emotional or spiritual level. We might not be aware of it as it is happening, but some day, down the line, we may look back and realize how far we have come.
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Yesterday I was out in the woods in the snow. I was hiking with a small group of people and we paused on the side of a hill to catch our breath. As we stood there, we heard the knock-knocking of a woodpecker on a tree. It was as if there was a hush over the forest and we could hear everything. We stayed and listened for while. It was quiet and still.
The coming of winter in New England seems to invite stillness. The days become darker and colder. The snow comes, perhaps forcing us to slow down even if we are in a hurry to get somewhere. December can be a time of pausing, reflecting and waiting. Waiting for the winter solstice when the days begin to lengthen once again. Waiting for the holidays, the new year.
December can also be a time of busy schedules, family obligations and holiday get-togethers. Depending on your traditions, it can feel like too much, too much stuff and too many things happening. How do we find stillness in the busyness? How do we nourish our souls in the midst of the dark and cold?
For me, finding stillness comes from pausing, noticing what I am feeling, and practicing bringing kindness to each experience. In those moments, my body relaxes, something shifts and I slow down. Stillness also comes from setting aside time to simply be. How often do you allow yourself to be still with no agenda? How often can you give yourself permission to not have to do anything? All of this feels nourishing to my soul and connects me to a place of deeper quiet within.
Here is the thing about stillness and quiet: it is not always easy. Sometimes it feels unattainable. Even in those moments, we can practice meeting ourselves with kindness. We can say to ourselves something like, "Here I am. I feel rushed and busy. My head is spinning and I feel restless. I can be gentle with myself here, too." As counter-intuitive as it may seem, it is this kind of gentle attention that brings about subtle, beautiful shifts and opens us to the possibility of stillness and quiet.
In the words of Jack Kornfield and Christina Feldman in their book, Soul Food: Stories to Nourish the Spirit & the Heart, "Our growth as conscious human beings is marked not so much by grand gestures as by extending loving attention to the minutest particulars of our lives. Every relationship, every thought, every gesture is blessed with meaning through the wholehearted attention we bring to it."
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We cannot force ourselves into stillness. We can gently invite stillness to come and wait for it to arrive. When stillness comes, we can gently welcome it to stay awhile.
In these dark, cold days, we can pause. We can pour ourselves a cup of tea, light a candle and sit quietly in the dark. We can embrace the stillness of winter, with its invitation to slow down. We can notice when we are rushing around and set aside time to breathe and be, even if it is only for moments at a time. We can practice returning to ourselves, listening and waiting.
Do you ever have a grumpy day? A day when you feel bleh and you don't want to do anything? Maybe you got some bad news or woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe it's one of those days when nothing seems to go right and the whole world looks grey.
What do you do on a day like that? Do you stay in bed and pull the covers over your head? Do you push through, waiting for the day to end, hoping for something better tomorrow?
Though it may not feel like it, we have options when we are having a hard time. There are things we can do to care for ourselves and treat ourselves with kindness. As Stuart Alpert, Co-Founder of the Hartford Family Institute's Center for Psychotherapy and Healing Arts says, in any given moment, we are either supporting our experience or not supporting it. There is no neutral.
Supporting our experience is something we can practice. If you want, try it right now. Pause and take a breath. Notice what you are feeling. How connected or disconnected do you feel? What do you notice in your body, in your thoughts and feelings? Are you distracted, agitated, calm, judging, open or something else? Take another breath and see if you can let whatever you are experiencing be here without trying to change it. Can you imagine greeting whatever is present for you with compassion, as if your experience is an old friend coming to see you? For example, you might say inwardly, "Hello, Grumpy. Thank you for coming today. I trust you are here for a good reason. I am here."
If you tried this experiment, what did you notice? Perhaps there was a softening or an opening as you sat with what was present. Perhaps your feelings intensified or felt uncomfortable. Perhaps you did not try this experiment because it seemed silly or you did not want to. Whatever you did or did not do, whatever your experience was, what would it be like to not give yourself a hard time about it? This is how we cultivate self-compassion and acceptance.
The above is an example of one option we have when we are having a hard time, simply greeting our experience with kindness. As I wrote, I could feel something shift in me and now my heart feels softer. What was your experience?
Sometimes kindness may not feel accessible to us. We may feel stuck. We may need help. When we are in the midst of some inner turmoil, it may not occur to us that we could pause and be with our experience. Being with our experience may be the last thing we want to do.
I was having a day like that on Friday. I was all worked up and not sure what to do. I called a friend, which helped me know I was not alone and get some clarity, at least for a little while. I went about my day as best I could, but my thoughts were still going around and around in my head, chasing each other, trying to find a way out of the "badness" I was feeling.
Later, I went for a walk in the woods. The movement and the fresh air helped, but I still had an underlying feeling of agitation. If I am honest, all I really wanted to do was to get rid of the agitation. I was not meeting the agitation like an old friend. In those moments, I was treating my agitation as an enemy, something to fix, and something I did not want.
Naming my experience helps me bring more kindness to myself. I can appreciate how much I did not want to feel what I was feeling. This brings me to another option we can try. Journaling or drawing about our experience. When we put our feelings down on paper, we can see them more clearly and, at the same time, get some space from them. They are one part of our experience and not the whole of who we are.
The last thing I did on my grumpy day was to get out of my experience for a while so I could feel something different. One of my favorite local artists, Canyon, was playing at a nearby church. I went. I brought my grumpy self and sat down in the back and let the music pour over me. With little to no effort on my part, my spirits were lifted. The lyrics and the melodies moved me. When I left at the end of the night, I was struck by how different I felt. I savored those moments of feeling joy, feeling touched and alive.
There is no one magic thing that will make us feel better when we are having a bad day. We all want to feel good and we all want to avoid discomfort. We are all doing our best at living our lives the way we know how. What I notice is the more I practice being with the nuances of my experience when I am feeling okay, the easier it is for me to be with my experience when it is intense, distressful or "icky" in some way. It is also important to me to know I have options. I can call a friend, go for a walk, journal, dance or listen to music. I can curl up in a blanket and treat myself with kindness. How do you take care of yourself when you are in a hard place? Can you imagine taking in a drop of love to the center of your experience?
This weekend I had the opportunity to hike and camp in northwestern Connecticut. I spent 2 days in the woods, cooking over a fire, chopping wood and sleeping under the stars. As I drove back to the city on Sunday afternoon, I noticed how different my body felt. Yes, I was tired and sore from the physical activity and the lack of sleep. I was also calmer. I could feel myself moving at a slower pace. I could feel a sense of relaxation in my nervous system.
While I was in the woods, I felt like my body belonged there. It wanted to feel the ground beneath me. It wanted to lay on the rock and listen to the sound of the water cascading downhill. In the morning, the bird song felt like a hymn. In the afternoon, the sun warmed me, body and soul. At night, I felt the cool breeze, I saw the moon make its way across the sky and I felt like I was home. There is something about the rhythm of a day that resonates deeply in my body. I was working while I was there and still I left feeling more relaxed than when I arrived.
When we are in a place that feels nurturing and comforting, it can be easy to fret that it won't last or to believe we can't really have it. We can take ourselves right out of the experience. We can move away from the very thing that we may be seeking. I noticed myself doing that this weekend. My mind would wander and I would think about coming back to the city. I would drift into fears about money and the future. I would worry my food might run out by the end of the trip and I'd be hungry.
One of my practices is to let myself deeply absorb things that feel good. Rick Hanson calls this "Taking in the Good" in his book "Buddha's Brain: the practical neuroscience of happiness, love & wisdom." He describes savoring our positive experiences, staying with them for seconds at a time, maybe even half a minute or more, and imagining them entering into our mind and body. Because we are hard-wired to focus on the negative, we need practice focusing on the positive. Hanson calls this the negativity bias of the brain. In terms of survival of our species, it was more essential for us to take note of danger and things that didn't feel good, than it was to highlight the good stuff.
Most of the time this weekend, I forgot to practice taking in the beauty and peace of the nature around me. As I prepared to leave, though, I set an intention to bring part of my experience with me. I wrote myself a note to take with me the things I had felt connected to, such as the moon, the wind and the bird song. Now that I am home, I can recall my time in the woods and continue to savor the experience.
This is something each of us can do. The next time you notice feeling a moment of joy, love or something else that feels good, see if you can pause for a moment. Let yourself savor it. Imagine it becoming a part of you. Let it take up space in your body and in your awareness. Notice how long you can stay with it before your mind wanders. Know that you are planting seeds of goodness and well-being.
For me, I will also bookmark the way I felt while I was camping as a reminder of how much I enjoy being outside and how good that feels in my body. It is important not only to pause and savor our positive experiences, but also to note under which circumstances they occur. Knowing what we like provides direction and leads to satisfaction.
May you be well.
