Joseph Campbell, as my faithful readers know, is my favorite teacher. I return to his books again and again for insight, guidance, a warm voice that reminds me where to look when I lose my way. There are many great writers, teachers, but so few are so human and so relevant.
The past year has been hard. It was a year of many small and some very large losses. It's why I've been practicing daily gratitudes, looking toward regular sources of comfort and wisdom and practical advice. It's why I've returned to seeing my therapist on a more regular basis, as a means of releasing pressure safely and constructively.
Losing the little sprout back in June of 2011 affected me and my husband and our marriage more than I could have ever predicted. That's not to say that we lost our love, or our warmth, or even daily joy or enthusiasm. But what we lost was something like certainty or peace or open-handedness.
For both of us, but to a larger extent for me, clutching entered our lives. In many senses. Clutching at what we had. Clutching of our breath. Clutching for what we wanted, what we couldn't have. And in that desperation, or tight-breath, or closed hands, we dwelt more in the past and in the future -- and thus not in the present -- than we may ever have before.
For nine months, all I could think was: I should be pregnant. Then, when what would have been the due date rolled around at the end of February, the only thought I had was: I should be having a baby today. And while my son was asleep, while I chopped vegetables for dinner, I listened to some beautiful music and I cried. For an hour.
I cried as I imagined how the birth might have gone, how my arms might have felt holding a new baby, all of it. I felt the loss as an experience, instead of as a thought or even just as an emotion. I may have healed to functioning shortly after the miscarriage, but I realize only now that I had not been able to experience my grief -- to live the grief-- enough to let go.
For nearly a year I was full of sadness. Full of fear. Full of regret. Full of anger.
A very wise woman and teacher I know shared this: What you appreciate, appreciates. And "appreciate" here is used in the sense of "looking on" or "emphasizing."
And so, my life filled more with sadness, fear, regret and anger. It's, after all, what I was appreciating, trapped as I was in my clutching mindset.
My biggest question surrounding Buddhism (which I have yet to ask anyone who is expert enough to know the answer) is if all this talk of attachment and the source of suffering is meant to guide humans to a place where we are not to suffer at all. Because I think one has to be incredibly spiritually advanced not to fall into the trap of confusing the intellectual idea of detachment with the actual experience of detachment.
I knew I could not know the baby we lost. I knew I could not know why we lost it. I knew, intellectually, that what had passed had passed and the present was where I should be. But.
But knowing those things did not create the experience of being detached, or of living in peace or in the present moment. Indeed, I believe I may have made my suffering more prolonged, more intense by thinking I had done those things, and then pretending I had dealt with what needed to be dealt with. Not so much repression as inattention. An unconscious ignoring.
I recently saw a very wise midwife for some massage. We talked a bit about the miscarriage, and she said this: "Children are these amazing things, and they change your life in a miraculous and profound way. And once you're on that path, it's not as if you can just say, "Oh, well, that didn't work out."
Those words, combined with my experience of the release of my grief (as well as all the other work I've been doing), made my heart felt heard in a way it hadn't been before.
It's so simple. I am a mother and I am in this experience of life.
And so back to Joseph Campbell. He says, in his interview with Bill Moyers in "The Power of Myth:"
[The definition of myth is] the experience of life. The mind has to do with meaning. What's the meaning of a flower? There's a Zen story about a sermon of the Buddha in which he simply lifted a flower. There was only one man who gave him a sign with his eyes that he understood what was said. Now, the Buddha himself is called "the one thus come." There's no meaning. What's the meaning of the universe? What's the meaning of a flea? It's just there. That's it. And your own meaning is that you're there. We're so engaged in doing things to achieve purposes of outer value that we forget that the inner value, the rapture that is associated with being alive, is what it's all about.
I don't think I'm spiritually advanced enough to experience detachment in such a way as to not suffer. Maybe I don't want to. I don't know.
But I know that I want to practice the opposite of what I've been doing over the past year. So, openness, love, joy, peace -- the absence of clutching. I want to experience these things. And so I am practicing the gratitudes. Taking deep breaths. Appreciating what I want to appreciate. I am practicing life so that I might be able to dip into actually experiencing it the way Campbell describes, pain and all.
Every morning, my husband and I, via email, exchange 5 things for which we are grateful. We've been doing this for a little over a month, and I am pleased to report it is a practice that is already paying great dividends.
In accordance with the Shawn Achor talk I posted recently, I have learned that happiness takes some work, some practice. Or, rather, happiness is already there, waiting to be found, if only you are willing to look for it. Then, once it is uncovered, the radiance of the happiness already present in your life surrounds you and infuses you with more joy, more gratitude, more happiness.
Happy is a verb. I choose to happy my life. One of the ways I do so is by doing this quick, daily practice of five gratitudes.
Go ahead. Try it.
Today, I'm grateful for:
If you're so inclined, leave your gratitudes in the comments. They don't all have to be deep and profound, either. Just the other day, I gave thanks for automatic dishwashers. Or really good dark chocolate. The point is to look at your world and see what you feel gratitude for.
I challenge you to do this for 21 days. If I were selling something, I'd make a money-back guarantee that you will see a positive shift in your life by the end of those 21 days. Fortunately, doing this is free. Nothing to hold you back. So...what are you grateful for today?
Wanted to share this with you. A funny, fast, inspiring talk. It's really worth watching just for his delivery and for the slides, but for those who'd rather read what he has to say, the transcript is below the video.
When I was seven years old and my sister was just five years old, we were playing on top of a bunk bed. I was two years older than my sister at the time -- I mean, I'm two years older than her now -- but at the time it meant she had to do everything that I wanted to do, and I wanted to play war. So we were up on top of our bunk beds. And on one side of the bunk bed, I had put out all of my G.I. Joe soldiers and weaponry. And on the other side were all my sister's My Little Ponies ready for a cavalry charge.
There are differing accounts of what actually happened that afternoon, but since my sister is not here with us today, let me tell you the true story -- (Laughter) -- which is my sister's a little bit on the clumsy side. Somehow, without any help or push from her older brother at all, suddenly Amy disappeared off of the top of the bunk bed and landed with this crash on the floor. Now I nervously peered over the side of the bed to see what had befallen my fallen sister and saw that she had landed painfully on her hands and knees on all fours on the ground.
I was nervous because my parents had charged me with making sure that my sister and I played as safely and as quietly as possible. And seeing as how I had accidentally broken Amy's arm just one week before ... (Laughter) ... heroically pushing her out of the way of an oncoming imaginary sniper bullet, (Laughter) for which I have yet to be thanked, I was trying as hard as I could -- she didn't even see it coming -- I was trying as hard as I could to be on my best behavior.
And I saw my sister's face, this wail of pain and suffering and surprise threatening to erupt from her mouth and threatening to wake my parents from the long winter's nap for which they had settled. So I did the only thing my little frantic seven year-old brain could think to do to avert this tragedy. And if you have children, you've seen this hundreds of times before. I said, "Amy, Amy, wait. Don't cry. Don't cry. Did you see how you landed? No human lands on all fours like that. Amy, I think this means you're a unicorn."
(Laughter)
Now that was cheating, because there was nothing in the world my sister would want more than not to be Amy the hurt five year-old little sister, but Amy the special unicorn. Of course, this was an option that was open to her brain at no point in the past. And you could see how my poor, manipulated sister faced conflict, as her little brain attempted to devote resources to feeling the pain and suffering and surprise she just experienced, or contemplating her new-found identity as a unicorn. And the latter won out. Instead of crying, instead of ceasing our play, instead of waking my parents, with all the negative consequences that would have ensued for me, instead a smile spread across her face and she scrambled right back up onto the bunk bed with all the grace of a baby unicorn ... (Laughter) ... with one broken leg.
What we stumbled across at this tender age of just five and seven -- we had no idea at the time -- was something that was going be at the vanguard of a scientific revolution occurring two decades later in the way that we look at the human brain. What we had stumbled across is something called positive psychology, which is the reason that I'm here today and the reason that I wake up every morning.
When I first started talking about this research outside of academia, out with companies and schools, the very first thing they said to never do is to start your talk with a graph. The very first thing I want to do is start my talk with a graph. This graph looks boring, but this graph is the reason I get excited and wake up every morning. And this graph doesn't even mean anything; it's fake data. What we found is --
(Laughter)
If I got this data back studying you here in the room, I would be thrilled, because there's very clearly a trend that's going on there, and that means that I can get published, which is all that really matters. The fact that there's one weird red dot that's up above the curve, there's one weirdo in the room -- I know who you are, I saw you earlier -- that's no problem. That's no problem, as most of you know, because I can just delete that dot. I can delete that dot because that's clearly a measurement error. And we know that's a measurement error because it's messing up my data.
So one of the very first things we teach people in economics and statistics and business and psychology courses is how, in a statistically valid way, do we eliminate the weirdos. How do we eliminate the outliers so we can find the line of best fit? Which is fantastic if I'm trying to find out how many Advil the average person should be taking -- two. But if I'm interested in potential, if I'm interested in your potential, or for happiness or productivity or energy or creativity, what we're doing is we're creating the cult of the average with science.
If I asked a question like, "How fast can a child learn how to read in a classroom?" scientists change the answer to "How fast does the average child learn how to read in that classroom?" and then we tailor the class right towards the average. Now if you fall below the average on this curve, then psychologists get thrilled, because that means you're either depressed or you have a disorder, or hopefully both. We're hoping for both because our business model is, if you come into a therapy session with one problem, we want to make sure you leave knowing you have 10, so you keep coming back over and over again. We'll go back into your childhood if necessary, but eventually what we want to do is make you normal again. But normal is merely average.
And what I posit and what positive psychology posits is that if we study what is merely average, we will remain merely average. Then instead of deleting those positive outliers, what I intentionally do is come into a population like this one and say, why? Why is it that some of you are so high above the curve in terms of your intellectual ability, athletic ability, musical ability, creativity, energy levels, your resiliency in the face of challenge, your sense of humor? Whatever it is, instead of deleting you, what I want to do is study you. Because maybe we can glean information -- not just how to move people up to the average, but how we can move the entire average up in our companies and schools worldwide.
The reason this graph is important to me is, when I turn on the news, it seems like the majority of the information is not positive, in fact it's negative. Most of it's about murder, corruption, diseases, natural disasters. And very quickly, my brain starts to think that's the accurate ratio of negative to positive in the world. What that's doing is creating something called the medical school syndrome -- which, if you know people who've been to medical school, during the first year of medical training, as you read through a list of all the symptoms and diseases that could happen, suddenly you realize you have all of them.
I have a brother in-law named Bobo -- which is a whole other story. Bobo married Amy the unicorn. Bobo called me on the phone from Yale Medical School, and Bobo said, "Shawn, I have leprosy." (Laughter) Which, even at Yale, is extraordinarily rare. But I had no idea how to console poor Bobo because he had just gotten over an entire week of menopause.
See what we're finding is it's not necessarily the reality that shapes us, but the lens through which your brain views the world that shapes your reality. And if we can change the lens, not only can we change your happiness, we can change every single educational and business outcome at the same time.
When I applied to Harvard, I applied on a dare. I didn't expect to get in, and my family had no money for college. When I got a military scholarship two weeks later, they allowed me to go. Suddenly, something that wasn't even a possibility became a reality. When I went there, I assumed everyone else would see it as a privilege as well, that they'd be excited to be there. Even if you're in a classroom full of people smarter than you, you'd be happy just to be in that classroom, which is what I felt. But what I found there is, while some people experience that, when I graduated after my four years and then spent the next eight years living in the dorms with the students -- Harvard asked me to; I wasn't that guy. (Laughter) I was an officer of Harvard to counsel students through the difficult four years. And what I found in my research and my teaching is that these students, no matter how happy they were with their original success of getting into the school, two weeks later their brains were focused, not on the privilege of being there, nor on their philosophy or their physics. Their brain was focused on the competition, the workload, the hassles, the stresses, the complaints.
When I first went in there, I walked into the freshmen dining hall, which is where my friends from Waco, Texas, which is where I grew up -- I know some of you have heard of it. When they'd come to visit me, they'd look around, they'd say, "This freshman dining hall looks like something out of Hogwart's from the movie "Harry Potter," which it does. This is Hogwart's from the movie "Harry Potter" and that's Harvard. And when they see this, they say, "Shawn, why do you waste your time studying happiness at Harvard? Seriously, what does a Harvard student possibly have to be unhappy about?"
Embedded within that question is the key to understanding the science of happiness. Because what that question assumes is that our external world is predictive of our happiness levels, when in reality, if I know everything about your external world, I can only predict 10 percent of your long-term happiness. 90 percent of your long-term happiness is predicted not by the external world, but by the way your brain processes the world. And if we change it, if we change our formula for happiness and success, what we can do is change the way that we can then affect reality. What we found is that only 25 percent of job successes are predicted by I.Q. 75 percent of job successes are predicted by your optimism levels, your social support and your ability to see stress as a challenge instead of as a threat.
I talked to a boarding school up in New England, probably the most prestigious boarding school, and they said, "We already know that. So every year, instead of just teaching our students, we also have a wellness week. And we're so excited. Monday night we have the world's leading expert coming in to speak about adolescent depression. Tuesday night it's school violence and bullying. Wednesday night is eating disorders. Thursday night is illicit drug use. And Friday night we're trying to decide between risky sex or happiness."
I said, "That's most people's Friday nights." (Laughter) (Applause) Which I'm glad you liked, but they did not like that at all. Silence on the phone. And into the silence, I said, "I'd be happy to speak at your school, but just so you know, that's not a wellness week, that's a sickness week. What you've done is you've outlined all the negative things that can happen, but not talked about the positive."
The absence of disease is not health. Here's how we get to health: We need to reverse the formula for happiness and success. In the last three years, I've traveled to 45 different countries, working with schools and companies in the midst of an economic downturn. And what I found is that most companies and schools follow a formula for success, which is this: If I work harder, I'll be more successful. And if I'm more successful, then I'll be happier. That undergirds most of our parenting styles, our managing styles, the way that we motivate our behavior.
And the problem is it's scientifically broken and backwards for two reasons. First, every time your brain has a success, you just changed the goalpost of what success looked like. You got good grades, now you have to get better grades, you got into a good school and after you get into a better school, you got a good job, now you have to get a better job, you hit your sales target, we're going to change your sales target. And if happiness is on the opposite side of success, your brain never gets there. What we've done is we've pushed happiness over the cognitive horizon as a society. And that's because we think we have to be successful, then we'll be happier.
But the real problem is our brains work in the opposite order. If you can raise somebody's level of positivity in the present, then their brain experiences what we now call a happiness advantage, which is your brain at positive performs significantly better than it does at negative, neutral or stressed. Your intelligence rises, your creativity rises, your energy levels rise. In fact, what we've found is that every single business outcome improves. Your brain at positive is 31 percent more productive than your brain at negative, neutral or stressed. You're 37 percent better at sales. Doctors are 19 percent faster, more accurate at coming up with the correct diagnosis when positive instead of negative, neutral or stressed. Which means we can reverse the formula. If we can find a way of becoming positive in the present, then our brains work even more successfully as we're able to work harder, faster and more intelligently.
What we need to be able to do is to reverse this formula so we can start to see what our brains are actually capable of. Because dopamine, which floods into your system when you're positive, has two functions. Not only does it make you happier, it turns on all of the learning centers in your brain allowing you to adapt to the world in a different way.
We've found that there are ways that you can train your brain to be able to become more positive. In just a two-minute span of time done for 21 days in a row, we can actually rewire your brain, allowing your brain to actually work more optimistically and more successfully. We've done these things in research now in every single company that I've worked with, getting them to write down three new things that they're grateful for for 21 days in a row, three new things each day. And at the end of that, their brain starts to retain a pattern of scanning the world, not for the negative, but for the positive first.
Journaling about one positive experience you've had over the past 24 hours allows your brain to relive it. Exercise teaches your brain that your behavior matters. We find that meditation allows your brain to get over the cultural ADHD that we've been creating by trying to do multiple tasks at once and allows our brains to focus on the task at hand. And finally, random acts of kindness are conscious acts of kindness. We get people, when they open up their inbox, to write one positive email praising or thanking somebody in their social support network.
And by doing these activities and by training your brain just like we train our bodies, what we've found is we can reverse the formula for happiness and success, and in doing so, not only create ripples of positivity, but create a real revolution.
Because I don't know what I should do half the time.
It feels disingenuous of me to come here today and give you advice on how to live blissfully.
I don’t like giving the impression that things for me are smooth sailing, that I’ve got it all figured out, and I never have any struggles. Or that I know what’s best for you. That I’m, like, enlightened or something. (Ha!)
Because the last few months have been harder on me than I care to publicly admit. Yet, I think I’ll do just that, but in a careful way.
I’m suspicious of blogs that air all the dirty laundry, or just talk about how hard everything is, and it amounts to a big dose of voyeurism and spleen venting and not a whole lot of what’s edifying and inspiring and hopeful.
I read a lot of mommy blogs now that I’m a mama, and there are two main camps: the “oh I can’t take it anymore, this is so HARD!” blogs, and the “life is perfect, my children are perfect, here’s how to be like me!” blogs. I really don’t like the former (even if they’re funny, which they often are, but it seems to be cynical humor), and while I’m drawn to the latter (like I’m drawn to pretty magazine spreads in Martha Stewart Living or what have you), I feel a little bit deflated after I read them, I feel a little bit of confusion about why someone else’s life seems so much more polished or put together than mine does. I’m often left wondering what they have that I don’t.
That’s why when I found a blog called Momastery that shares just enough of what’s real and authentic about motherhood—the daily struggles, the big love, the confusion and the joy—and also what she hopes for, what she believes in and what motivates her to keep going when things are difficult, that I knew I’d found a better model for what I’d like to do here at Gimme Bliss.
It’s been so important for me to accentuate the positive, as the song goes, because I firmly believe that my purpose in life is to bring light and vitality to the world and honor my spirit and yours, for that matter. The only way I can do that here is to write in a way that offers hope and a pathway to peace. Where I’ve been perhaps falling down, though, is in unwittingly presenting to you that the hope and the path to peace come easily for me, or spontaneously.
I’m so reluctant to share the darker moments and the bigger struggles out of a fear that I’ll either reveal too much about myself to a judging, aggressive world, or that I’ll spend too much time in wallowing and depress everyone.
But I think I’ve got some useful models about how to move forward in a way that feels authentic and retains integrity.
My goal is that when you come to visit me here, you’ll find a peer with a very normal life who just happens to be very interested in pursuing the big questions of life in a way that guides me to greater peace, a greater awareness of the bliss out of which our world arises. I am interested in unveiling my awareness—removing the obstacles to greater peace—and by writing about it, my hope is to share a path that is not so much an example as it is an inspiration. After all, everyone’s path is personal, so mimicry will not help.
But, just as those mamas who write about what’s best about motherhood, and what keeps them hopeful during the hardest times, so I hope to demonstrate that a normal life, with its unique struggles and joys, can benefit immensely from a quest to live more blissfully, and with a greater experience of peace.
Thank you for joining me here. I deeply appreciate each of you.
Nearly five months into primal living, and I am happy to report that it is still going better than we could have hoped.
We eat more whole foods than ever. My son has decided he now (usually) likes spinach, cucumbers, and all the soups, stews and chili I've been making. Our pantry is less cluttered. (No boxes, really, once you get rid of grains.)
Grocery bill ends up being about the same. (More spent on good quality meats and organic purchases, but less on advertising, since most bulk foods like nuts and raisins and fresh produce doesn't come from Big Food.) Also, since we snack less, we actually eat less, too.
Cooking is easy when I want it to be: Some fish with some lemon-garlic butter and sauteed veggies. When I want a showstopper, I can do that, too: Chile rellenos with chicken, cheese, pecans, raisins and lime sour cream, with a side of calabacitas con crema. Yummmmm.
Our energy levels are still sky high, which is my favorite part. (Well, that and the ability to not be hungry for hours on end--and therefore not be motivated nor distracted by food. Life is too short to spend it eating *all* the time!)
Exercise is less stressful than it's ever been. I walk or jog with the dog for 20 minutes once a day, and spend my usual time on my feet chasing my son around. Once a week or so, on Saturday or Sunday, we go to the park and do our sprints, which take all of 10-15 minutes, including resting between sets and chasing the little one. Then we are free to head to the playground or walk around the lake or do whatever we'd like to do as a family. I go to yoga most Sunday mornings. (Not that that's exercise for me--even if it is. It's my church.) Every other night or so, we do push-ups or squats or some other kind of bodyweight exercise, all in about 20 minutes or less. No more worrying about "getting enough exercise." We can do more, if we want, but we don't have to to stay lean. It's awesome.
Additionally, the way we're eating gives us enough energy to do intense bursts and build muscle. Thanks to my awesome "100 Push-Up" iPhone app, I just completed 100 push-ups, which I don't think I ever thought was possible. (It's broken up into sets with a 1-2 minute rest between them, but still!) I'm also well on my way to 200 sit-ups and 200 squats.
As for weight, we have both lost quite a bit of body fat. I was a size 6-8, and now I'm in the 2-4-6 range. My husband, who had a bit more to lose, has lost enough (more than 24 pounds, and still losing) that he's had to buy new pants and his shirts are quite roomy! And he is continuing to lose body fat every day. His blood pressure, though, has gone way down, which makes me very happy. He's gone from the low end of "high" to the middle of totally normal!
My skin continues to improve. I think this is a sign of my hormones, which are still a bit wacky, balancing out. There's some possibility that losing body fat, which holds on to estrogen, could be responsible for things not being totally normal just yet. I'm going to be consulting with some health professionals soon on this, so we'll see what I find out there.
As for temptations and cheats, it does happen. Mark Sisson, author of The Primal Blueprint, advocates an 80-20 approach, so that eating doesn't feel too restrictive, controlled or obsessive. I'd say we're doing 90-10. Corn is our biggest cheat, as we love Tex-Mex, so once in a while we'll have a corn tortilla enchilada, and maybe a taste of rice and beans. We've had pieces of cake--my son's birthday was recently--and while I really wanted to enjoy it, I just couldn't. I felt the buzzing of too-high blood sugar almost instantly, and it just made us feel poorly. It also was interesting how addicting it was; I wanted to eat more cake, despite knowing that it would make me feel junky. So we threw it out. We've found that wheat, combined with sugar, seems to be the very worst at making us feel bad.
My friend recently asked these questions in her comment to the post "Primal Bliss":
What I can't reconcile though, is what I know anecdotally about Atkins, which I know is not the same (the quality of this food sounds much higher) but seems fairly similar. I know lots of people who had success losing weight with Atkins, but no one who continued with it in the long-term (say two years or more) which of course led to regaining any weight lost. Of course, the same can be said of any style of eating for weight loss-- I can't think of anyone I know who has lost a large amount of weight on any plan, sensible or otherwise, and kept it off permanently. This my long-winded way of asking, is there something about this style of eating that can help one stick with it long-term? There's something unique about eating habits-- they die really, really hard.
She's right about eating habits, and her questions are good ones. My first thought is that there's something about coupling an eating plan to the science of ancestral health. Basically, if I understand intellectually why these things are good for my body or not, and I can look up the evidence myself, I'm more likely to be internally motivated to eat well. I think internal motivation is key. Someone telling you what you can and can't eat smacks of authority, against which nearly everyone eventually rebels. Further, without the strong cravings for the blood-sugar highs, the temptation to cheat plummets, making success much easier.
And I think another reason why this is working so well is that without the elevated levels of insulin numbing us to the effects of poor choices, we can get immediate feedback about how food affects our bodies. I know I feel better when I'm eating primally, and when I stray, it's like instant negative reinforcement. My body is more finely calibrated, and I'm more mindful, too.
While I'm happy I've lost weight, and thrilled that my husband has, I wasn't really in this 100 percent for weight loss. Mostly, I wanted to feel better, avoid blood sugar issues, and be in optimum health for a long time to come. I was motivated for higher reasons than vanity, which doesn't motivate people for very long, since being heavy or thin is not the source of real unhappiness or happiness. I just want health for myself and my family.
I don't know enough about Atkins to know why it (or any other eating plan) might fail, but I think one explanation of why "low-carb" and other diets don't work for some in the long term is that they allow wheat and grains, and demonize saturated and/or animal fat. Wheat is a powerful appetite stimulant, and where the carbs come from is just as, if not more, important as how many you have per day. Carbs from green veggies behave differently in your body than carbs from grains and sugars. I just read Gary Taubes' "Why We Get Fat, and What to Do About It." In it, he explains the biochemical mechanisms for fat storage, along with the history of obesity research and cures. I recommend reading it for the history alone, but knowing how insulin affects fat storage and metabolism is really important, too. (I've just started reading Dr. William Davis' "Wheat Belly" and that is full of great info, too, on the science of all this.)
Obviously, we've only been doing this about five months, so I can't know if we'll do this for the rest of our lives or not. But given everything we've experienced, we have no desire to change a thing, so we'll be eating this way for the foreseeable future. Only time will tell, of course, but I'll periodically share how we're all doing. I'll also mention that our success has motivated my husband's two brothers and his niece to go Primal, too, and so far the benefits they've experienced reflect our own experience.
So, to sum up: This decision we've made is working out well, and I'm so glad we challenged conventional wisdom and struck out on this path a little over four months ago.
And here I am again, patient readers. As the post title says, I have had little time or, truthfully, energy to devote to the blog. It is the way of my life, with a 2 year old and a freelance career and then the personal life I try to have beyond those two things! :-)
As always, I appreciate your patience and your presence. At a different season in my life, this blog may become more predictable, but though I get a lot out of writing it--and so, so, much from your comments and gratitude--I have to at times put it on the back burner. Still, expect some new posts very soon.
More to chew on from the discussion between Moyers and Campbell:
Moyers: This sacred place does for you what the plains did for the hunter.
Campbell: For them the whole world was a sacred place. But our life has become so economic and practical in its orientation, that, as you get older, the claims of the moment upon you are so great, you hardly know where the hell you are, or what it is you intended. You are always doing something that is required of you. Where is your bliss station? You have to try to find it. Get a phonograph and put on the music that you really love, even if it's corny music that nobody else respects. Or get the book you like to read. In your sacred place you get the "thou" feeling of life that these people had for the whole world in which they lived.
That's it, but wanted to share this with you. I'm reading fiction almost every night (right now, it's "Master and Commander" by Patrick O'Brian) and I'm loving the feeling of just disappearing into the story. Music, books, art, silence, whatever it is... Campbell is onto something, so find your bliss station, and spend some time there!
I've been toying a lot lately with the idea of committing to a consistent meditation practice. I know I need one: a place of stillness and peace where I practice awareness and breath and just sitting and *being* for a few minutes every day. I do have a regular yoga practice, but while complementary and integrated, they are not one in the same.
I've been returning to Joseph Campbell again lately, as he is the one voice who, for me, can cut through all the clutter and noise and remind me how to return to what is highest, truest and timeless. I found this exchange in "The Power of Myth" the other day, and it has given me new motivation to find my sacred spot in the day where I can meditate and fill my cup.
Bill Moyers: You write in The Mythic Image about the center of transformation, the idea of a sacred place where the temporal walls may dissolve to reveal a wonder. What does it mean to have a sacred place?
Joseph Campbell: This is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don't know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don't know who your friends are, you don't know what you owe anybody, you don't know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something will eventually happen.
Doesn't that sound exciting?
Here's to each of us finding our sacred place, and experiencing "what you are and what you might be."
Peace,
Tiffany
p.s. What ideas do you have for where or when your sacred place might be? How will you commit to being there each day?Since I'm serious about finding this, I'll post an update on how I've made this happen in my life.
One of the most powerful practices you can enact is to simply ask “Why?” instead of giving into your most automatic impulses, thoughts and actions.
When someone says something hurtful to you, ask yourself why they feel the need to hurt.
When someone cuts you off in traffic, ask why they aren’t paying attention or why they are full of urgency or anger.
When someone dresses in a way you find goofy or scandalous or slovenly, ask why.
Then, ask why you are reacting as you are, or why you feel the need to examine others so closely. Know thyself first, right?
The thing is, we know so little, but we assume so, so much. We fill in the spaces of all we don’t know with our opinions, our emotions, our thoughts and our beliefs. We fill in the spaces with our family histories, our socioeconomic background, our race, our education, our religion. We fill in the spaces with our culture, our parents, our stories and our philosophies. We fill in the spaces with our egos.
Your curiosity is perhaps your greatest teacher, your best guide.
Your curiosity opens you up, accesses your observant awareness, closes down your impulsive, judging thoughts. Your curiosity is a path to your heart and your highest self.
My son hasn’t started asking “Why?” about the whole world yet (though he’s begun with “What’s that?” about many, many things!), but we all know the story about the child who drives his parents bonkers with asking “Why?”
When does that end? When do we stop asking why? Why do we stop asking why?
I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because we get frustrated once we realize that there are so many things we don’t know the answers to. Maybe we like living in a world of certainty more than we like having our minds and hearts challenged. To be sure, it’s exhausting to spend a lot of time in uncertainty. We don’t have answers, and we like answers, so we invent them, even if we must do so unconsciously.
I like answers. They are so satisfying. But they are not what the world and the people in it are here for. The world and people do not exist to give you answers.
We have so many answers in this world. Science and our faculties of reason and intellect have given us the path to almost as many answers as we want. Somehow, we have to reacquaint ourselves with mystery, and subsequent to that reacquaintance, we must find comfort in, or at least acceptance of, mystery.
This is one reason I love reading mythology or reading about it. Mythology is not, as is commonly explained, a way to explain a world before there was science. Mythology points directly at Mystery. Does its level best to deliver you into its midst, inasmuch as words and stories and art can deliver the ineffable.
Hmmm. How’d we get from judging less to talking about the Mystery? Are they related?
I think so. Because if we keep asking “Why?”, beginning with the most basic things – our bodies, our relationships, our world, our universe – we stay open enough to eventually arrive at the doorstep of Mystery. And there, knocking on Mystery’s door, but not really expecting an answer, content to gaze at the intricate carving of the door, the way the moon bathes the door in a bright and silver light, content to experience the profound peace that comes with accepting that the door has no key, no lock, no handle, we achieve a union with ourselves, with others, with Source, and that is the very definition of bliss as we can know it in this human lifetime.
One of the things I know now as a parent that I didn’t know before is that a newborn baby is an expression of the Mystery. Totally otherworldly, completely spellbinding. Open and beautiful and as close a window to the Mystery as we’ll ever get here on earth. Little by little, humanity overtakes them, and that is not to be mourned. But for a few brief weeks, these little sleeping, gurgling creatures are more like sprites or fairies or some other mysterious, magical being. Their peace (when not crying, of course!) is enough to move anyone curious enough to watch them to tears.
Many wiser than me have said that our spiritual journey here on earth is a process of reclaiming what we already know and have experienced – that we are one with Source, that our natural state is to be completely open and at peace and infinitely loving.
I agree, and advise that one tool we need on this journey is our curiosity. Of course, asking why can be a dangerous proposition: It can lead us to answers, and if we stop seeking, we get stuck, thinking we’ve found all we need to know. We stagnate there. We may be alive, but vitality stops. That’s why we must never stop asking why, why we must always make room for curiosity.
Peace,
Tiffany
In what areas of your life have you stopped asking why? How could you engage your curiosity to revitalize those areas? Please share any thoughts in the comments.
Today I’m going to argue for a life of less judgment, especially of others. It’s a really strange trait, and we all do it to some extent, but I’m asserting that the less you judge others, the happier and more productive you’ll be.
It’s curious when this begins in our lives--this need to have an opinion on the goings-on of other people. In my 22-month old, I don’t yet discern any judgment of other people. He does judge food, or books or music – “Mama, turn it off” or simply “No” to an offer of a food he doesn’t want.
But somewhere along the line, we begin to watch what other people do and decide to have an opinion about it. What people are wearing. What they are reading or how they are dancing. What political party they subscribe to, or what sexual orientation they possess. How they raise their children, how they decorate their living rooms. Whatever it is other people do, we decide to pass judgment.
To some extent, I think part of this impulse is rooted in the ability of discernment—in other words, being able to differentiate objects or ideas or people for qualities. After all, at some point we must decide which of something to purchase, whom we should partner with, or what ideas or faiths or philosophies will help guide us through life. I’d argue that there is such a thing as quality, too. Some items, foods or people or ideas are better for us; are higher quality or superior to others.
What happens along the way is that we begin to care whether other people choose the same things or ideas that we do. It’s a funny thing, and I can’t say I fully understand the “why” behind this impulse. My best guess is that we are insecure about our own choice, and so we need to feel that others have chosen poorly. Another reason, I think, comes from economic impact. The argument, for example, that people who smoke cost us all money. (Of course, that’s more a problem of a socialized system. I’d argue that it’s a trade-off: If you want the “system” to pay for people’s expenses, you have to accept that people will be people and do things that are expensive, especially if they are aware that they will not bear the full cost. But that’s another topic entirely.)
In any case, I will say that I think that for whatever reason we do it, it would be in our best interest to minimize it as much as possible. Even, if in the above example, you can find a direct link to another person’s actions “costing” you somehow, or otherwise affecting you directly.
The less you judge others’ choices or actions—and most especially people you don’t even know!—the more peace you’ll find for yourself.
Lately, whenever I find myself judging someone for any reason—for hairstyle, diet, different parenting style, whatever—I just say, “No skin off my nose.”
In other words, it doesn’t hurt me that they have chosen differently. Even the most charged of decisions can be handled this way: faith, politics, child-rearing. Because you should be concerned with yourself and your family, and make decisions for yourselves.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with observing someone else and wondering if they have something to offer you. Often you can benefit from learning more about what others are up to. Say your neighbors xeriscape their yard. Watch how the plants do. See if the maintenance would lower your water bills. If so, adopt what you admire, and leave the rest. If you decide it’s not for you and you think your front yard is just fine, no big deal.
The thing is, judgment is loaded with emotion. Namely fear, I think. Discernment, which is what the above process is closer to, is far less reactive and emotional, and more based in a calm and rational action. When you judge someone’s choices or behaviors, you become more distant from that person. Less kind, less forgiving, less helpful, less human. Less loving and peaceful.
Besides repeating “No skin off my nose,” something else that helps me when I’m tempted to judge is to remind myself that every single person was once a tiny, helpless baby. This is probably more powerful for parents than non-parents, but it opens my heart every single time. I remember to breathe, and I feel compassion and space for that person.
With this simple practice, I’m a far happier, more secure person. Almost no road rage. Less confusion. Greater focus. Better relationships. More patience and tolerance. After all, I think about how to take care of my own needs and wants first, and as I don’t waste as much time worrying about what everyone else is doing, I’m far more productive.
No skin off my nose. It’s such a silly saying for such a profound idea. But with practice, it begins to take hold, and once it does, you’re that much closer to bliss.
Love,
Tiffany
I’m curious what you do when you find yourself judging someone else, especially when you realize you’re being quite harsh. What is your internal dialogue with yourself like when you notice you’re judging?
