"I don't try to be right, I choose to be happy."

This man is Ric Elias, and the title of this TEDtalk is "Three things I learned while my plane crashed."

He sums up, in just five minutes, what he took away from surviving the "Miracle on the Hudson" plane crash.

Please watch this talk. It is simple and short, and powerful in its truth. In my next post I will offer some additional thoughts on what he has to say here.

Peace,
Tiffany

Updated to add the transcript below. I know some people have an aversion to watching video, or simply can't, for whatever reason. So here's the transcript. Read it or watch it. I think it's that important.

Imagine a big explosion as you climb through 3,000 ft. Imagine a plane full of smoke. Imagine an engine going clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. It sounds scary. Well I had a unique seat that day. I was sitting in 1D. I was the only one who could talk to the flight attendants. So I looked at them right away, and they said, "No problem. We probably hit some birds." The pilot had already turned the plane around, and we weren't that far. You could see Manhattan. Two minutes later, three things happened at the same time. The pilot lines up the plane with the Hudson River. That's usually not the route. (Laughter) He turns off the engines. Now imagine being in a plane with no sound. And then he says three words -- the most unemotional three words I've ever heard. He says, "Brace for impact." I didn't have to talk to the flight attendant anymore. (Laughter) I could see in her eyes, it was terror. Life was over.

Now I want to share with you three things I learned about myself that day. I learned that it all changes in an instant. We have this bucket list, we have these things we want to do in life, and I thought about all the people I wanted to reach out to that I didn't, all the fences I wanted to mend, all the experiences I wanted to have and I never did. As I thought about that later on, I came up with a saying, which is, "I collect bad wines." Because if the wine is ready and the person is there, I'm opening it. I no longer want to postpone anything in life. And that urgency, that purpose, has really changed my life.

The second thing I learned that day -- and this is as we clear the George Washington Bridge, which was by not a lot -- I thought about, wow, I really feel one real regret. I've lived a good life. In my own humanity and mistakes, I've tried to get better at everything I tried. But in my humanity, I also allow my ego to get in. And I regretted the time I wasted on things that did not matter with people that matter. And I thought about my relationship with my wife, with my friends, with people. And after, as I reflected on that, I decided to eliminate negative energy from my life. It's not perfect, but it's a lot better. I've not had a fight with my wife in two years. It feels great. I no longer try to be right; I choose to be happy.

The third thing I learned -- and this is as your mental clock starts going, "15, 14, 13." You can see the water coming. I'm saying, "Please blow up." I don't want this thing to break in 20 pieces like you've seen in those documentaries. And as we're coming down, I had a sense of, wow, dying is not scary. It's almost like we've been preparing for it our whole lives. But it was very sad. I didn't want to go; I love my life. And that sadness really framed in one thought, which is, I only wish for one thing. I only wish I could see my kids grow up. About a month later, I was at a performance by my daughter -- first-grader, not much artistic talent ... ... yet. (Laughter) And I'm bawling, I'm crying, like a little kid. And it made all the sense in the world to me. I realized at that point, by connecting those two dots, that the only thing that matters in my life is being a great dad. Above all, above all, the only goal I have in life is to be a good dad.

I was given the gift of a miracle, of not dying that day. I was given another gift, which was to be able to see into the future and come back and live differently. I challenge you guys that are flying today, imagine the same thing happens on your plane -- and please don't -- but imagine, and how would you change? What would you get done that you're waiting to get done because you think you'll be here forever? How would you change your relationships and the negative energy in them? And more than anything, are you being the best parent you can?

Thank you.

Remove the Arrow: A Reminder

In my last few posts I've been exploring the idea of practicing patience, no matter what life throws at you.

I want to follow up and say that while I think the six points of the Mahamudra and Practice of Patience are all very useful and very good, some are better suited to certain kinds of suffering than others.

For instance, a reader pointed out that my kidney stone pain was a sort of pain that was hard to reimagine as pleasant to someone else. While I maintain that all points can be utilized, the "This too shall pass" item was maybe best suited to maintaining calm and patience in that scenario. (At least once I knew what it was--for a time I had no idea.) Think of the six points as options, and use whichever is best suited to allowing you to cultivate patience when you really need to.

Now, it a good idea to remember that some things that cause suffering we have no control over. Kidney stone pain is one of them. (Assuming there's nothing you know about yourself regarding diet or other ways to avoid the stones, you kind of just have to suck it up and allow the body to deal with it.) Many illnesses and the loss of others in our lives fall into this category.

However, there are plenty of kinds of pain and suffering that you do have control over. Namely work situations and relationships, and bad health--physical, emotional, or financial--that's self-inflicted.

There is a relevant Buddhist parable that I'll sum up here: A man is shot with a poisoned arrow. It is causing him great pain. But before he'll have it removed, he wants to know who shot him, why they shot him, where his assailant was from, what the arrow is made of, what sort of string the bow was strung with, etc...

The point is that knowing the answers to those questions do not alleviate the suffering. Indeed, in this scenario, the man might die and still not get the answers to all his questions. The only rational, clear-headed way forward is to remove that which is causing the suffering.

So, when considering your problem, pain or suffering, ask yourself if it is something you have control over. If not, practice patience.

If, on the other hand, it is something you can change--then there is no need to martyr yourself. You have both the power and the responsibility to love yourself enough to end the suffering.

Remove the arrow. You might still have questions, but the first order of business is to draw out the poisoned dart. Then, and only then, can an inquiry into why you've been shot or how it happened begin.

Good luck, and may all beings everywhere, including ourselves, be happy and free from suffering.

Love,
Tiffany

Feel your Feelings

I’ve been thinking a lot about the last two posts and my advice to take the Mahamudra and Practice of Patience in its entirety, and apply it to whatever problem you might be having.

I’m going to hold to that, but add one final thought: Even in recognizing that pain or suffering is temporary, that someone would find it as pleasant, that you can use your problem as a path, etc., you are still allowed to feel your feelings.

So, what I mean by this is that if you are suffering from physical pain, and you are scared, you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t scared and put on a happy face. Indeed, the chance of you moving through fear to a place where you can practice equanimity and patience is much higher if you say to yourself, “Yes, I’m scared.”

Or, if you are working through feelings of anger toward someone who wronged you, it’s OK to acknowledge your anger, and feel angry.

The difference between feeling your feelings and wallowing in them, I think, has to do with your willingness to be honest with yourself and first identify what emotion you are experiencing, and then being able to let the emotion be felt and then dissipate—being able to let go. It is in this second step that we cease to identify ourselves with the feeling, and realize that our feelings do not make us who we are.

And of course, this goes for good feelings, too. Many of us (especially women) think we must be happy and upbeat at all times, or else we are somehow broken or high-maintenance. If you feel happy, good, but it is an emotion like any other, and does not define you. Indeed, trying to hold on to the good feelings can be as damaging as holding on to the negative ones.

I know that for a very long time, I was afraid to feel anger toward those who had betrayed me, because I thought that meant I was failing somehow. I prided myself on being able to bounce back from almost any obstacle, always the one who could hold it together.

How did that work out for me? Fine, for a while, as a coping mechanism. But feelings have a funny way of trying to leak out of even the most tightly sealed vessel. I was suffering. I was causing those I loved to suffer. I sought therapy, and as I began to explore my feelings and my past, I found a well of anger that I had never been allowed (as a child) to express. As an adult, I had never allowed myself to express that anger.

One night, I began writing about these angry feelings. What started out as a simple journal entry became a fury that I scratched into paper. The more I wrote, the more anger I felt. I started to cry. I was feeling my feelings, finally.

After I finished writing, I felt lighter than I had in many, many years. I could not believe how much anger was within me, waiting to get out. Because I realized where this emotion was coming from and who I was mad at, I felt no confusion or a need to take the anger out on someone else. It was clearly identified, and very obviously needed to be let out and then let go. My body relaxed, my mind cleared out, my spirit began to heal. (Incidentally, if you suspect you have feelings you need to feel, seek professional help. You need a therapist like a novice white-water rafter needs a guide. The force of these pent-up emotions can be scary and dangerous, and you don’t want to go it alone.)

So, your spiritual practice will help you center yourself in awareness and a peace-filled consciousness, but that doesn’t mean you should alienate or renounce or ignore your human self. You are a human and you feel feelings. That is as it should be. That is perfect.

Survivor of abuse? Feel your feelings. Cancer patient? Feel your feelings. Injured athlete? Feel your feelings. Grieving widow? Feel your feelings. Just got pulled over by a cop? Feel those feelings too.

But don’t dwell on them. They are not you. Feel them and then make space for new feelings. Feel them, and be a fragile, fallible, mortal human, and then let them go, and inhabit your beautiful, perfect, endless spirit.

You Must Save Your Life

And sometimes, a poem just sums it all up.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver. Online Source

Who Do You Think You Are?

In my last post, I discussed the idea of someone finding your problem, your suffering, as pleasant. It’s a challenging notion to most of us, but, if you are going to accept it for one problem, I think you have to accept it for all of them.

Recently, I talked to a friend who seemed to be asking for help with her problems. She usually comes to me to get the hippy-dippy take on things. According to her, that’s my specialty, where she privileges reason and logic above all else. For the record, I actually am quite fond of logic and reason, when properly balanced with intuition and emotion.

Anyway, in discussing this idea with her, I brought up some examples of my own experiences of pain and suffering, like I discussed in my previous post. She embraced this reframing of problems—until she mentioned a problem of her own.

I gently suggested that she try to find a way to think of someone who would find her problem pleasant. At that point, she became defensive and certain that this problem and the suffering it has caused was something only someone who hated themselves could find pleasant. In other words, she missed the point, and interpreted that finding her suffering “pleasant” meant a kind of masochism born out of self-loathing.

Though I admit that it is a challenge to think of things that are the worst pain in the world (a loved one dying, fighting addiction, surviving terrible abuse, etc.) I don’t think that there can be exceptions if you are going to adopt these ideas as part of your spiritual/psychological practice. Kind of the whole point is that it challenges you to break out of what you think you know about your life and your capabilities and the roles you play.

And anyway, why would she get a magic exemption from having to do the tough, but healing, spiritual work that leads us to greater peace, love and equanimity? And further, why would you want that exemption, even if it existed, unless, of course, you were afraid to let the suffering go? A question to ask might be: Who do you think you are?

More and more, I think the goal of any spiritual journey (note I don’t say “religious journey”) is really the burning away of the trappings that keep you from revealing yourself as a luminous being that radiates love. The ego, the knee-jerk reactions, the devotion to material things over life, the compulsive/impulsive behavior that is born out of fear or anger. These things have to be stripped away.

So. Everyone suffers. You are not unique in this respect. It is true that everyone suffers differently, from different causes. And yet, you are not unique in what is asked of you, even in knowing that your suffering is excruciating to you.

So, on the spiritual journey, if you mean to take one: Yes, even your problem, no matter what it is, is something someone would find pleasant.

Someone Would Find Your Suffering Pleasant

In my yoga class last week, we got a handout on "Mahamudra & the Practice of Patience."

Here are the six points of the practice as listed:

• This too will pass.
• I cannot control this in the present moment.
• I have put this and myself here.
• There is somebody who would find this pleasant.
• I can use this problem as a path.
• We must be as gardeners.

All are worthy of contemplation, but the one that spoke to me particularly was the fourth, about finding something uncomfortable or upsetting as pleasant.

What a wonderful way to reframe pain or suffering, whether it be emotional, mental or physical!

I thought of the most physically painful experience I've ever had, which was childbirth.

No surprise there, except for I purposefully went into it refusing any drugs of any kind. Not because I enjoy pain or am some kind of martyr, but primarily because I wanted to be fully aware, fully functioning and, of course, because I didn't want my baby to be influenced by anything unnecessary. Millions have given birth without medication, and I knew it was possible.

It's a personal choice, of course, but in knowing this—knowing I didn't want pain relief—I had to do some serious work to prepare mentally for something all-consuming, painful and completely involuntary. There is no way to run away from childbirth. In classes and through reading and self-study, I worked with my breath and with pain-coping techniques. But above all, I had my mindset.

After that experience, I had no doubts about the whole "mind over matter" thing. Indeed, though each contraction was intense, overwhelming and painful, I never once countenanced the notion of getting drugs, because my mind was made up. (And a good thing I was prepared, too: my labor was so fast I would not have been able to have an epidural if I'd wanted one. Imagine if I had wanted one, and how great my pain would have seemed to me when compounded by dashed expectations!)

Still, it was painful. But thinking "Somebody would find this pleasant" casts the pain in a whole new light.

Who might find it pleasant? Someone who wants nothing more than to be a mother, but who is struggling with infertility or who has miscarried. Someone who has been paralyzed from the neck down. Someone whose body has been injured or is deformed such that a desired pregnancy is impossible.

Even in the moment, I knew the pain was for something good. But, what about pain nearly as bad, but that has no seeming benefit? A few months ago, I had kidney stones. (Misdiagnosed, so at the time I didn't know why I was writhing in pain.) It was excruciating--just horrible. I was so scared, because the doctors didn't know what was wrong with me. At the time, I had nothing positive going on in my head. But imagine if I could have at least tried to mitigate the clenching in my body and breath. Maybe I could have seen the pain as something positive: A body trying to let me know something was wrong--and therefore the chance to heal. If we didn't experience pain, how would we know to address whatever was causing such an insult?

At the furthest point, you can always look at suffering this way: Because of this suffering, I know I am alive. This requires that we look at life as a gift, no matter how tough. (I imagine that can be very difficult in very extreme situations, but that's a topic for another post. For now, it's worth thinking on as a thought experiment. How might even the worst situation be something we can be grateful for?)

Or from an emotional perspective: Remember the couple I discussed a few posts back? The pain of an impending divorce must have been overwhelming, depressing. But who might have seen it as pleasant? Perhaps a woman in Afghanistan, whose rights are so curtailed that divorce (no matter how terrible the husband) is not an option?

I think you can see the direction of these thought experiments.

So, I invite you: Look at your pain, your suffering, your problems, whatever they are, however transitory or permanent.

Now ask yourself, who would find your problem pleasant?

Please Do Touch

If you’re an American (or know one), you may already know how little affectionate touch we receive or give on an average day. Somewhere along the line, we decided, as a culture, that touch is meant to be romantic or sexual, and that was that. Touch became taboo.

I’m here to say fie on all that, and to encourage you to do the same.

When my son was nine weeks old, I took an infant massage class. With a small bottle of sweet almond oil and some basic instructions, I began figuring out how to give this tiny, wiggly human gentle, caring touch.

Now, a year later, not only does he ask for massage—carrying the little bottle of oil to me and signing “massage”—but I gladly give it. It is one of the most calming, sweet and peace-filled moments in my day.

I relax. He relaxes. He breathes more slowly, more deeply, and so do I. I feel boundless love and warmth for him, and he smiles the serene smile of a baby Buddha. It is divine and beautiful.

Of course, I feel good around my baby most of the time, but I know that this daily, affectionate touch is good for anyone, even (and maybe especially) those you are having difficulty with. (No, I’m not suggesting you offer your boss a massage, though if touch weren’t so proscribed in our society, we’d all probably get along better!)

What I am suggesting is that you begin with people you feel safest and closest with, and explain why. (So, don’t start hugging or massaging someone without letting them know your intent behind this new behavior.)

I think touch builds trust, strong bonds, and understanding, not to mention kindness and empathy and love. It is a form of nuanced communication that we hardly ever use, which is a damn shame.

This is a big button pusher for some people, because we’re so uncomfortable with it. But why should we be? I think exploring this is very worthwhile precisely because we’re so uncomfortable with it. My yoga class often does partner work, and it is always awkward at first. To help get around this, my teacher recommends touching someone with the idea that they can read your thoughts. So, if you’re thinking something lewd, or just being distracted or careless, that will come across. Good touch is open and honest and selfless and kind. It is given freely without expectation. By the end of partner work, usually everyone is much happier and relaxed and just grateful.

My son loves to give hugs. He just runs up to people, the dog (to her eternal annoyance), his stuffed animals, and hugs. It is innate. It is only through social conditioning that we squelch that need for human contact.

So, if you have a friend or partner you trust, start with more hugs. Play with the person’s hair. Massage tired hands and arms, or simply sit closely, head on the other’s shoulder.

Touch more. Be not afraid to utilize this great sensory gift. You will benefit. Your close relationships will benefit. You will be happier and more at peace when you meet this intrinsic human need.

The Consequences of Delaying a Big Decision

Mostly, you have time to figure things out. But not too much time. Too much time is really just not making up your mind, dragging out the inevitable, and, in fact, just wasting time.

So, if you have a big decision to make, or even just a small decision that feels important, get to it.

To tell you why this is on my mind, I have to tell you a story.

An acquaintance I know professionally recently announced her intention to seek a therapist. In her fifties, with a preteen son, she was unhappy, especially with her marriage. She did not know if she loved him anymore, and was uncertain whether to split up and make a new life for herself.

This was about two weeks ago.

Two days ago, I got word that her husband, also in his fifties, went into the hospital after complaining of an odd pain in his back. The next morning, while in a CT scan, the as-yet-to-be-discovered aneurysm ruptured, killing him almost instantly.

Though I scarcely knew this woman, I am haunted by this. Of course, it is simply sad, as the unexpected end of a relatively young life always is.

But what lingers for me is the thought of how neither of them will ever have a chance to say a proper goodbye to each other, and most importantly, how he will never get the chance to find a new path, full of happiness and love.

I can’t speculate on how much happiness he might have had in his life. I didn’t know him. But he was in what sounds like a broken, unhappy marriage, regardless of whether there was fault or blame to be had.

One of my favorite mantras from my yoga practice translates as this: May all beings everywhere, including ourselves, be happy and free of suffering.

I don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, what flaws you may have. All human beings—all of them—begin life as beautiful souls. All deserve happiness and peace. And unfortunately, some have a harder road to hoe than others, for a variety of reasons, both internal and external.

This is not to say that you are entitled to happiness and peace; in most cases, you have to earn it. But regardless of how you get there, as a human being, you do deserve peace.

So, back to this couple. Who the “good” partner or the “better” spouse was is immaterial. If the marriage was unhappy, each had a responsibility to end the suffering, either through authentic acceptance of reality (rather than a wishing it to be otherwise), a fundamental change of self (self-improvement to end a problem), or to end the marriage if it was irretrievable (letting go).

I am speculating, but my guess is that years of unhappiness went by in this couple’s life. Procrastinating. Searching after the cause of the problems, after faults and blame. And now fate has intervened. Some might say, “Well, the marriage is over now. Won’t the suffering be over, too?”

But the problem is that they left it up to fate (though unintentionally). The problem has been resolved in a sense, but without direct action. Without conscious decision. A passive, unsatisfying (and in this case, sad and irrevocable) solution.

This is kind of the worst-case scenario for not acting out of an honest, authentic sense of self.

So, what are the consequences to delaying decision-making? In a word, loss.

Loss of time. Loss of happiness. Loss of truth. Loss of self. Loss of authenticity and self-knowledge. Loss of agency. Loss of peace. Loss of a life.

Whatever decision you’re wrangling with, make your best effort to apply yourself to its completion. I know from personal experience that these things can take some time. But you don’t have forever. You have a little time, probably. But maybe not. You just don’t know.

But what you do know is that you can act while you are alive. If you are wrestling with a big decision, again, I say, do all you can to get to it. Don’t lose more time--and possibly your chance at peace--by putting off something you know you must do.

You deserve peace. You do. But you are also responsible for earning your peace.

Whoever you are, human, act! You are perfect in your ability to do so.

Love,

Tiffany

You Don't Have to Do Anything

I talk to my baby a lot. I tell him what I’m doing and why, essentially narrating the day and its activities.

The other day we were in the kitchen and I told him why I was at the sink. “I have to wash the dishes,” I said.

And then I considered that statement for a moment, and corrected myself. “I am washing the dishes,” I told him.

Does this distinction make sense? Does it seem important to you? I have decided that it is, and here’s why.

You can go through life thinking of things as “have-tos,” or you can do things out of a place of consciousness, where you know that you are the one deciding to do something, and that it is intrinsically worth doing.

I do not pretend to know much about Buddhism, but I imagine this is how a Buddhist would approach the dishes. It is a way of right-living and right-thinking, to do things that some might think of as chores or burdens as simply part of living a right, responsible life.

Do you have to wash the dishes? No, I don’t suppose you do. After all, you could leave them to putrefy in the sink, developing a nice crust of mold. Now, most of us don’t want to have that in our kitchens, and of course we like to have clean plates to eat off of, so we wash the dishes. But we do not have to. We could make a different choice. (I think I might have made this choice in college. But I digress.)

Anyway, once you remove the “have-to” from washing the dishes, the action seems a lot less burdensome. You want clean dishes to eat off of, so you wash them. It’s a decision, and it’s one that you do because you have decided to care for both the dish and yourself.

You are respecting the process of living, which in a nutshell is this: Order --> Entropy --> Chaos --> Action --> Order. Repeat. This is our cycle, our system. It just is.

It is why our teeth get dirty, and we brush them. It is why our grass gets long, and we mow it. It is why our minds get cluttered and we go to church or yoga and we clear them. It is why there are toys all over the house and then we pick them up and put them away. And if there is a day where you would like to get to the dishes or to yoga but you can’t because life intervenes? No matter. If it is important, you will get to it another day.

We recently bought a new car to accommodate our growing family, and not two weeks after we brought it home from the dealership, there was a tiny chip in the bumper. This upset my husband. “What’s the point?” he said, exasperated.

And then I remembered this:

“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

- Mark Epstein
Thoughts Without a Thinker

And I told him: “The car is already in a salvage yard. It’s already rusted and smashed. But while it is ours, we do all we can to take care of it and enjoy it and be responsible for it. Because it is the right thing to do.”

I am no philosopher, haven’t studied it, but I think this is what is meant when morals are discussed. You wash the dishes. You take care of your car. You take responsibility for that which you own and those who are dependent on you and for your actions.

It’s clear many people don’t do what they have to. Or what they should. They don’t choose a right-thinking, right-living life. “Who cares?” they say. “Life is short, I’m out to get mine while the getting is good and I’m young and life feels good.” But there is a denial of something in this approach, a nihilism.

To be clear, I’m not advocating for taking on the burdens of the world. (See my post about why you shouldn’t even try here.) Rather, I’m advocating that you alter your attitude toward what you are already doing, such that you don’t feel burdened by what is the way of living. No more “have-tos.”

And, by so doing, you enjoy everything more. You feel more serenity. You appreciate the process. You slow down. You notice more. Look at the way the bubbles dance across the surface of the glass as you wash it. See the universe here in your sink full of dishes. You no more have to wash these dishes than the universe had to bring you into existence. But you are here, and so are the dishes, so why not make the most of it?

Things fall apart, things come together, things fall apart once more. Of course.

Welcome Your Inner Critic

You know that sneering voice I described in my last post? The inner critic who tries to keep me from reaching for big projects and exciting adventures and, basically, success?

While practicing yoga on Sunday, I had a realization.

Shunning that critic—trying to keep her out of my head through force--isn’t the way to lose the negativity she brings. In fact, I should welcome her into my head, invite her in for a cup of tea and a little sit.

Might she still be nasty? (“This tea is terrible, and I hate your couch. Oh, and look at all this dog hair! Tsk-tsk!”) Yes, she still might be. Do I have to listen to her? No, I don’t. But kicking her out and pulling the door shut as she bangs on it with her fist and tries to push her way in? What a lot of wasted energy that would be better spent elsewhere.

Instead of trying to deny her access, what if I was just nice to her? What if I had compassion for her obvious pain and suffering? What if she was just doing the best she could?

I don’t know that I’d change her, or win her over, but maybe, eventually, she’d settle back a little more comfortably on the sofa. Maybe she’d ignore the dog hair and even realize that the tea wasn’t that bad. Maybe she’d find a book on the coffee table and pick it up--busy herself with something she found interesting, that allowed her to take her mind off her troubles. Maybe, at the very least, she’d be quiet and at peace for a while.

My realization is this: That nasty inner voice is part of me. She’s like that because she’s scared, angry, defensive. She’s a little girl who didn’t know what to do when her world and the people in it were more than she could bear, and when she grew up, this was the best she could do. Her coping with all that early chaos doesn’t serve me or other people any more, but it’s a habit. What she really needs is a safe place where she can unpack everything, feel safe and have a cup of tea and someone who won’t yell at her.

So that’s what I’m going to do. The next time she walks into my head and tries to make me feel low and terrible and worthless, I’m not going to shoo her away. I’m going to ignore her ravings, wrap my arm around her shoulder and say, “Oh, you poor dear. You look cold and hungry. Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea?”