Tiny Buddha Published One of My Articles!

I am delighted to share that Tiny Buddha (www.tinybuddha.com) published one of my articles yesterday. What a thrill! If you aren't familiar with Tiny Buddha, I highly, highly recommend it -- add it to your bookmarks, RSS feed, etc. It's chock full of excellent writing and invaluable insight. I'm honored and humbled to have had one of my articles published in that space.

I hope you enjoy it! Click the title below to check it out:

"How We Can Reduce Our Suffering by Feeling Uncomfortable Feelings"

Inspiration from the Pope

Pope Francis recently made the news with a very public act of compassion. In the course of reading about it, I encountered a series of Papal Tweets, one of which was particularly moving to me:

True power is service. The Pope must serve all people, especially the poor, the weak, the vulnerable.
— Pope Francis (@Pontifex) March 19, 2013

I was stunned by that Tweet. I still am. It's so profound in its simplicity and truth; and yet, in view of the rather lofty, almost royal nature of the Papacy itself, it is nearly incomprehensible. Put another way, the Pope is one of the most powerful people on Earth, and powerful people usually do not associate with "the poor, the weak, the vulnerable."

And yet, Pope Francis up and declared that association to be a mandate of his Office. Indeed, he declared the nature of that association to be one of servitude -- whereby he is the servant.

Wow.

I meditated on these thoughts as I took my doggie for a stroll around the neighborhood. I wondered, "What does it mean to serve? What does it mean to do for others? What does it mean to help, and to demonstrate compassion? Is it necessary for us to perform our deeds of service on a grand scale? Must our deeds of service have widespread, notorious impact, on par with a Pope's, in order to be of real value?"

To those last couple of questions, I thought, "Well, no."

The Pope literally embraced a man from whom most would shrink away in disgust or astonishment. He embraced that man as an equal and shared a moment of compassionate supplication with him.

In so doing those things, Pope Francis lifted the spirits of a person who suffers an obvious burden -- and who is likely shunned in a variety of ways because of his burden. And in so doing that, Pope Francis reminded everyone who bore witness that we are all worthy of respect, compassion, and love. 

Francis' simple embrace has resonated with so many people because of the basic fact that we all suffer. Many of our burdens are hidden, or largely invisible to others, but they are there. Each of us, I would argue, longs for unconditional acceptance, compassion, and love, even in view of our flaws; and Francis' embrace reminded us that we are very capable of giving (and receiving) such acceptance, compassion, and love.

On the most basic level, I recall that this all begins with my approach to myself: it begins with my compassion for myself in view of my own suffering. The more I treat myself with compassion, love, and self-respect, the more I emulate those qualities to others.

Be a beacon.

Thanks for reading.

Link: Dealing with Dark Days: Help for When You Don’t Feel Your Best

Dealing with Dark Days: Help for When You Don’t Feel Your Best

This is an excellent article, in my opinion. I recommend reading it!

Affirmation: Discovery

Attributes and Compassion

Loss and Grieving

Coping with the loss of someone or something important is one of the most difficult tasks a person can face. It is in our nature, after all, to get attached to things; and, to put it clinically, when the object of our attachment is gone, we suffer. Its absence leaves what feels like a gaping void in our hearts, and the grief can be overwhelming, all-encompassing.

We get attached to people, places, and things. We get attached to our routines, our opinions, our beliefs, our goals, our homes, our lifestyles, our expectations.

It's almost as if we're lined with an adhesive, we get so attached to things.

And that's okay.

Attachments really only become an evident issue for us when we experience suffering. Fortunately, the consideration of suffering is a road well-traveled by our forebears, and we can all lean on their wisdom and guidance for assistance. The Buddha, for example, addressed the matter of human suffering in great detail. Regardless of your religious or spiritual identity / orientation, and even regardless of whether you believe in a higher power, are agnostic, or are atheist, The Four Noble Truths are useful guides in view of suffering. I recommend taking a look at them.

I'm not here to promote Buddhism, though. I'm here to talk about what it feels like to lose something, to grieve, and to heal.

Loss can make one feel utterly empty. It can feel shocking, unreal, and overwhelming. Loss can incite feelings of incredible sadness and longing. It can feel as if one's entire world has ended, and has been swallowed up, furthermore, by some deep and terrible void. It can feel like it's never going to end, and that there's no hope. Chances are good, actually, that a major loss will incite any combination of those experiences in a person. 

Grieving -- something which follows and emerges from loss -- is a process. And as with any emotional process, it's a safe bet to expect some tumult; that is, a person who is grieving will probably experience a wide spectrum of feelings, and will very possibly be on the proverbial emotional roller coaster. What's more, each person's grieving process will "look" different, and will span any number of days, weeks, months, or years, even.

Are you familiar with the concept of the Five Stages of Grief (as articulated by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)? They can be a useful guide for better-understanding the grieving process. One thing I learned, though, is that the stages do not necessarily occur in order. Oftentimes, a person who is grieving will, for example, experience several stages simultaneously, or will revisit stages as time goes on. That fluidity between the stages is important to keep in mind, because it can otherwise be very confusing and disappointing if one finds themselves "regressing."

Another important consideration is that different cultures have different perspectives on loss and grieving. ("Culture," in this case, can refer to groups big and small, from entire populations on down to families.) There is extraordinary diversity among attitudes toward death, for example. There are rules and guidelines among different cultures, both written and unwritten, which inform the processes of grieving and letting go.

At any rate, that brings us to the question, what does it mean to heal in the wake of a loss? The thing that keeps returning to my mind around this question is a metaphor I learned as an intern mental health counselor:

Imagine your heart (not the organ; rather, your center of feeling) is a glass. When you suffer a major loss, it's as if a large, foreign object is uncomfortably wedged into the glass. What many people hope for is that, over time, the foreign object -- the burden of the loss, the pain and suffering -- will shrink. While that may be so, there's a better way to think about it: imagine that the glass, your heart, expands over time, thereby more comfortably accommodating the sense of loss.

I love that metaphor, because it's true: Loss doesn't entirely go away, but our abilities to accommodate it and integrate it into our daily lives do expand.

We cannot help but be indelibly changed when we experience loss. But we aren't forever diminished by loss, either. No. Instead, we are transformed by loss. If we attend to our suffering in a compassionate manner, we are transformed into beings with greater capacities for love, peace, self-knowledge, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, and compassion. We are transformed into more complete versions of ourselves -- as if a layer of steam has been wiped off a window.

Thanks for reading.

Today's Affirmation

Snapshot: "Releasing the Grip of Anxiety"

Releasing the Grip of Anxiety: Acceptance & Compassion

I want to write about anxiety. First of all, everyone feels anxious periodically. It's part of caring about things, and it's part of being human. Like other emotional experiences, anxiety provides us with important feedback in a given situation. It's adaptive, it's necessary to our well-being, it's valuable, and it's good. There's nothing wrong with anxiety in and of itself.

Some of us, though, experience anxiety to a disruptive, invasive, and even debilitating extent. And of course, this can be an occasional experience, or a persistent one, or one that waxes and wanes, or one that eventually disappears altogether, etc. There's a lot of variation with it.

Anyway, how do we differentiate between normal/healthy anxiety and problematic anxiety? My view, in general terms, is that anxiety (or any experience, really) is an issue when it persistently, invasively interferes with one's ability to function in a personally satisfying way.

(Incidentally, my view is pretty common among mental health professionals, and it more or less jives with how the various mental health "disorders" are defined by the DSM-IV-TR, which is the clinical reference guide used by mental health professionals in the USA [and some other parts of the world].)

There are many so-called Anxiety Disorders in the DSM, and for brevity's sake, I will not discuss them all here. And besides, that's enough about the problem of anxiety -- let's move into a discussion of ideas and solutions.

I think anxiety's roots are in avoidance. That is NOT to say I think it is a person's "fault" for having a problem with anxiety -- not at all!! Here's the thing: I think we all want to feel good. So when something really bad happens to a person, they do the best they can to move on with their life. And sometimes that entails developing new sets of beliefs about themselves, and about life in general; and sometimes it also entails compartmentalizing or otherwise pushing aside one's thoughts and feelings.

That all makes sense, especially in view of our intuitive desire to feel good. "Avoidance," then, in this case, is about avoiding that which causes suffering. The problem, though, is that it doesn't really work -- at least, not when it comes to the often messy reality of our inner lives. That's what I meant when I posted this image a few weeks ago:

What disruptive anxiety "says" to me, then, is that the sufferer probably has some inner "stuff" they need to approach and consider in order to truly move on. In other words, one's past must be accepted and released before one can truly occupy the present in happiness and health.

I'll be straight-up with you: The process of approaching one's "stuff" is usually pretty scary and uncomfortable; and that can seem a little counter-intuitive, of course, seeing as how the ultimate goal is achieving a greater measure of peace. 

The thing is, that's okay. Sometimes, that which seems paradoxical conceals a deeper truth. 

Take it slow. Whether you choose to undertake the process on your own, or with another person's assistance (i.e., a counselor), make sure you're in a safe, secure place in which you feel as free as possible to express anything that comes up. Also, set an expectation for yourself that it won't necessarily be a linear, quick-fix process -- and setting that expectation is important, by the way, because it invokes the keys to release: Acceptance and Compassion.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that self-directed Acceptance and Compassion are ALWAYS harbingers of positive things to come in terms of peace, happiness, well-being, clarity, balance, and achievement. 

Here's the beautiful thing: we don't necessarily have to like something in order to accept it; and we don't necessarily have to agree with someone's actions in order to show them compassion. 

In other words, it's okay to say, "Wow, that thing that happened was really unpleasant. It was really painful. I really wish it hadn't happened." You can retain that basic attitude and still, at the end of the day, augment it with acceptance: "But it did happen. It happened. I survived it, and I'm sitting here right now."

We all have aspects of ourselves which we don't like. We've all done things we regret. We've all done things which, even today, make us feel sad and guilty to ponder. We've all done things in violation of our senses of right and wrong. And we've all had bad things done to us.

While that stuff isn't great, it doesn't mean we deserve to forever languish under the burden of displaced torment.

I firmly believe that we are all worthy of happiness and peace -- which means that we are worthy of acceptance, worthy of compassion, and worthy of forgiveness. 

After all, none of us is perfect. Let me repeat that (in all caps): NONE OF US IS PERFECT. (You might not like it, but you have to accept it.) What that means, in part, is that we periodically make big mistakes. Sometimes we screw up and hurt other people; sometimes other people screw up and hurt us.

The only thing to do is practice acceptance and compassion.

And it starts with us. It starts with each of us giving those things to ourselves, first and foremost. It starts with each of us being the kindest, most loving friend to ourselves that we can imagine. 

You, Dear Reader, are worth it. I know it in my bones. 

Thank you for reading this post. I hope you have an awesome day. 

CRISIS

Today, I'm going to write about CRISIS.

I don't think it's a stretch to say most of us have experienced crises of some sort. They occur when the proverbial straw breaks the camel's back, or when an unexpected, major event occurs. Either way, when a crisis happens, it changes things -- maybe everything, or close to it -- and it cannot be ignored.

I don't have a ton of insight to share on managing crises; after all, they're each their own unique little bundle of joy (haha). Crises also tend to induce varying degrees of "survival mode" in people, and that, pretty much, is what it is. Crises can be pretty unpleasant, and all those involved do the best they can with them. 

That all being said, when a crisis occurs, the people who have to take action seem to dissociate a little bit, generally speaking, and interestingly enough. In other words, they detach a bit from the emotional impact of the event in order to preserve their decision-making abilities and get things done; and that's a good thing, in my opinion, because after all, in times of crisis, things have to get done.

(Image from Google Image search "git er done"...I couldn't help myself)

I experienced a bit of a family crisis over the weekend. (I'll refrain from sharing details, but thankfully, everyone involved is alive and relatively well.) When the crisis was at its peak, I found myself in an Action Mode state very similar to what I described above. And it was necessary and good, believe me.

What I took note of, though, and what I'd like to underscore here, was the stuff that happened after the crisis -- that is, once the situation had stabilized. 

Generally speaking, the immediate aftermath was, for me, almost equally as dicey as the crisis itself, but in a different sense. My dissociation had faded; but while there was still plenty of business to attend to, I no longer had the luxury of operating with that nice little buffer zone between myself and my emotions. Instead, I suddenly found myself having to manage my tumultuous, intense, and crisis-induced emotional responses along with my need to take care of business. 

Everyone experiences and expresses their emotions differently, especially in times of stress. I did notice, though, that it was tempting to indulge catastrophic thinking. After all, I was worried; my system was flooded with adrenaline; and my brain was teeming with unusual levels of neurotransmitters. In other words, everything in me was ready to FREAK OUT. Hell, everything in me WANTED to freak out. So whenever there was a new development, I felt myself escalating. Minor annoyances became Big Deals; passing, innocuous thoughts were Urgent Matters. 

It was exhausting, and it was unpleasant. After all, I was aware of what was happening with me, and I initially tried to do exactly what I recently warned against: forcefully change my thoughts and feelings. Oy. Mercifully, I soon realized that all I could really do was to breathe, let myself experience whatever came up, and be my own best friend. That helped -- a lot.

So. In the aftermath of a crisis, be extra compassionate and forgiving with yourself. Let yourself experience whatever it is you’re experiencing. Know that you're probably going to think and feel a lot of contradictory things, or things that surprise you, or things you wish you wouldn't. You might even feel yourself regressing, or being pulled into old, unwanted habits of communication and behavior. Whatever the case may be, have patience with yourself, give yourself “space” to exist, and know that “this, too, shall pass.” 

A few closing thoughts. If other people are involved with you in a crisis, know that they’re going through their own versions of the experience, and that they, too, are probably thinking, feeling, saying, and doing things that are unusual, unwelcome, or unfamiliar. Or maybe not. Either way, extend to them the same senses of compassion and forgiveness I described above.

Boxing Jello

When I was younger and having a really hard time, I would try to change the way I felt through sheer, willful force. I would perform mental gymnastics that would make a Russian Olympian jealous in my futile attempts at retooling my savage emotional life. Initially, I didn't realize my efforts were just that -- futile. And now that I've learned the lesson, I've come to think of that process as being akin to punching a giant cube of jello: it might yield at first, but it just coagulates around your fist and reforms after you pull back; and all you, the puncher-in-earnest, are left with is your frustration: the jello remains.

The first step for me was to realize that hey, maybe I should just let myself feel however I happen to feel at any given moment. That, in turn, opened the door to the important realization that negative feelings, even powerful ones such as anger, are not intrinsically bad. I had affixed a lot of meaning to anger in particular; I believed -- very strongly -- it was just that: bad. When you believe something to be bad, you generally try to avoid it; and I had practiced a lifetime of avoiding anger and other negative feelings -- to deleterious effects, as it turned out.

The problem with attempts to outright reject, change, or avoid thoughts and feelings is that it doesn't really work. The harder you push, the harder they push back; your efforts just amplify their force. Avoidance seems to do the trick, because you sort of don't have to experience the feeling for awhile. But instead of going away, the feeling gathers strength, becomes toxic, and forces its way out, one way or the other -- maybe as explosive, uncontrolled rage, or passive-aggressiveness, or drug abuse, or overeating, or under eating, or self-harm, etc.

And that's the tragic thing, folks: when you try to avoid, reject, or otherwise forcefully control your feelings, they gather strength and seize control of you.

So what's a person to do? To be sure, it's an uphill battle, for a couple reasons. The first is that the behavior pattern I described above is complicated, and can be difficult to change; it can take time, effort, and patience. The other reason is that our society reinforces and encourages those behaviors. For example, men are supposed to square their jaw and "lock it up." Traditionally, in many cultures, men aren't supposed to talk about their feelings. They're supposed to be dominant, stoic. And if they fly into the occasional rage, punch a wall, scream at their partner, get into a fight, etc., well, then, boys will be boys, right? Drink a six pack on a Tuesday, and all is right with the world. Women, on the other hand, are supposed to be emotional. As a result of their "emotional dispositions," tradition holds, women are supposed to be irrational, manipulative, passive-aggressive, and have hidden agendas. As long as they're deferential, obsessed with their appearance, modest, into gossip, and really interested in shopping, what's the problem?

My view is that there's a big problem there. These roles, these "supposed to's," destroy people. These roles and rules render behaviors taboo which might otherwise promote clarity, calm, and health. God forbid, right? Not everyone fits into those tidy little buckets. I'd venture to say that, given the problems those roles create, no one actually fits into those tidy little buckets.

Our thoughts and feelings are part of us, but they are not our entire person, any more than our hands, feet, eyes, or nose are our entire person. When we get a head cold, our body lets us know what's happening; we get achy, we get a sore throat, we get tired. These "symptoms" are messages from our body, saying, "Hey! I need you to rest, drink lots of water, and dial it back a notch or two!" Our thoughts and feelings are messengers, too, and they operate in a similar manner. Instead of seeking to change or reject them, it's helpful, in my experience, to get curious about them: "Hey, I'm really sad, and I don't know why. What's that sadness trying to 'tell' me?"

That's it: acceptance, curiosity, and compassion. Have a good day, folks!

Love

Implausibly, crazily, I find that I'm writing this post from a coffee shop in Boulder, Colorado. It's mid-February, and chilly, but the sun is blazing away in the sky, as it does most days here. Those things aren't necessarily remarkable in and of themselves, but for a kid from upstate New York who has spent basically all his life living in the Northeast, the change of venue -- exemplified by the blissed-out scene I just described -- has been amazing. (The Northeast is awesome, by the way; but it's good for me to be doing something different.) And so, unsurprisingly, perhaps, I find myself thinking about love.

Many people have expressed brilliant things about love in literature and the arts, but for now, I'm thinking of a few things said by one person in particular: Khalil Gibran. Are you familiar with his book, The Prophet? If not, go to a book store, buy it, and read it. I'm not kidding. It contains within it so many pearls of wisdom, and so much guidance for the intrepid life traveler; it's an invaluable resource for anyone willing to consider its content. Anyway, The Prophet has chapters, as do many books, and his section entitled, "Love," is a source of inspiration right now. (I found an excerpt of it online, here, for your reference.)

The passage should be read in its entirety to be fully appreciated, but here's a choice excerpt nevertheless:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden. 

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Naturally, those words will evoke different impressions and interpretations in each of us. The messages, however, are clear. And I want to be clear, too: as I sit here thinking about Love, I'm not only thinking about romantic love. I'm also thinking of the love we infuse into our deeds; our dreams, hopes, and goals; the words we utter; and the thoughts we think. I'm also thinking of the love we experience from the sights we see; the sounds we hear; the textures we feel; and even the very air we breathe.

Love is everywhere, both within our hearts and minds, and in the world and universe which surround us. "But wait," you might say, "I'm heartbroken and angry; I'm tired of myself, and of the pain which others inflict upon me. I'm tired of being disappointed and hurt. How can you say that love is everywhere? I don't see it. How do I find it?" 

Good question. Think on this quote by Rumi: "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

Think about the meaning of those incredible words for a moment. It may be one of the most powerful things you ever realize -- it certainly has been for me. Namely, the onus is on each of us to open our hearts to the love within and without. It is no one else's responsibility. The power, and the responsibility, are yours, and only you hold the keys to it.

And now think about the implication of Rumi's words in tandem with those of Khalil Gibran. Here's what I think: Love is the Driving Force of Life. Love is powerful and pure. Love utterly raises us up and utterly tears us down. It makes us feel as though we have everything, and it makes us feel as though we have nothing -- and that we are everything, are nothing. It's tempting, then, to build those barriers, those defense mechanisms, and those cynicisms against love. It's very tempting, because we don't want to get hurt. Sometimes, though, we must hurt in order that we may learn and grow. Sometimes we must hear the thing we don't want to hear, or experience the disappointment we don't want to experience, that we may learn and grow. If we follow love, and love hurts us, then it is our task to hurt, learn, and open ourselves right back up to love's re-entry into our hearts. It is only thus that we will proceed; moreover, if we follow those steps, we must trust that we will proceed intact, with ever-growing capacities for wisdom, understanding, compassion, acceptance, and forgiveness. It is thus that we will become ever more efficient conduits for Love.

Life, and everything that happens to us in it, is a gymnasium in which we train to become better conduits for Love. It's a process, replete with apparent highs, lows, setbacks, and progress. And it's all good, if we let it be as such.

Clearing the Air

I really enjoy working on this blog. I love writing and networking, and I'm even learning a little about managing a website. It's exciting to be creating something I find really interesting, and it's been incredibly gratifying to get readers' support and feedback. So, thanks.

I don't know exactly what this blog is evolving into, but I do know I owe it to myself, and to anyone who reads its content, for it to be as "top-notch" as possible. I need to always have an eye on progress. And if you're going to be reading my work, I think you ought to know as much as possible about my motives, and about my "chops," so to speak; therefore, there's something I want to share with you that might give you a better sense of why I'm doing this, and where, moreover, I'm coming from.

Here goes:

I've been interested in human psychology for a very long time, which is not in and of itself an especially notable thing. No, what's notable (to me, anyway) about my interest in psychology is that it's been driven in large part by a desire to, well, help myself. You see, I've gone through some really hard times from a mental health perspective. I'm sure I'll divulge more about that in future posts, but suffice to say I've experienced my own little slices of hell -- some of which were situational, some of which were part of normal stages of human development, and others which were, well, difficult to tidily explain.

The hell-slices which were difficult to explain were life-changing, and a lot of destruction arose from them; but, in retrospect, the destruction in each case was utterly necessary to my journey, or to my personal creation story, if you will. Each episode of destruction carried within it the seeds of growth and renewal, and so I'm grateful for them. (Incidentally, I tongue-in-cheek dub an aspect of myself "my inner Shiva the Destroyer" for these very reasons.)

It doesn't mean these episodes of destruction weren't truly hellish. Some of them left me so wretched, disconnected, and confused that I nearly lost my life.

I want you, my readers, to know these things about me, because I think they're relevant to this blog. I also am finding a certain catharsis in discussing them so publicly. You see, my desire to stand up on a soapbox and spread the word about mental health springs out of my own, very personal experiences. I know what it's like to feel abject misery. I know what it's like to feel like I'm utterly out of control. I know what it's like to feel as if I'm going crazy. Shit, I have gone crazy, in my own little way. And you want to know what really sucks about it, and what ignites my passion to do this? Much of it could have been offset if my loved ones and I had known more about mental health -- and I'm not unique in that regard: much of the mental health-related suffering that others experience today could be mitigated with a little less ignorance, and a little dose of education.

You know what else? I'm really fortunate: I made it through. That brings me to my last points for now -- and don't mess with me on this, because I know what I'm talking about:

1) There is always hope: even if you feel hopeless, even if you can't entertain the thought of it, and even if you can't see it. Always. 2) There is always something we can learn from our experiences, however horrible they may be. Stay curious about your life; and if you aren't curious, get curious. 3) If you're going through hell, always find a way to let the hurt out which you feel in your heart and mind, whether it's via talking to a friend, writing in a journal, singing in a band, taking a walk, playing with a puppy, or meditating alone in a room. Better out than in: release it.

We must free ourselves from the shackles of ignorance and shame about mental health. We all think; we all feel. We all experience this life, so let's be curious about it, then. Let's acknowledge that pain and unbalance exist within us all! Let's give each other the space to reach out in times of need, understanding that we are all, periodically, in need; and, similarly, let's extend our hand to help another up in our own unique way. That's what I'm trying to do here.

Thanks for reading. 

Befriend Yourself

Be a friend to yourself. Actually, be your own best friend. Give yourself the patience, support, acknowledgment, attention, positive regard, and love that others may not always be able to give you.  Befriend the parts of yourself you wish didn't exist, or those you try to avoid, or to push away. Be a compassionate mentor to yourself, and seek information, support, peace, and imagination. Seek life, in other words. We all feel the fear of uncertainty at times -- maybe even much of the time. But we can move through it, if we can only trust ourselves to do so. And to do so, we must be our own staunchest friend and ally.

Speculation on a Saturday

Have you ever heard or read the assertion, "There is nothing wrong with you"? What if you really believed it to be true? Think on it.

Much of this life, for many of us, is spent looking forward to something or other. We consciously or unconsciously identify personal and/or professional goals based on what we value, and we become heavily invested in attaining those goals. Such is the nature of things, and it's good.

What if, however, we refrained from basing our concept of self-worth, or of success, on our perceived ability to identify and attain those goals? What if instead we believed we are, by nature -- by default -- fantastically wonderful, amazing creatures, worthy of total admiration, love, and respect? And what if, in realizing those things, we discovered we can give those gifts to ourselves: that we can give ourselves unconditional admiration, love, and respect?

And what if such realizations were not mutually exclusive with living an actual human life? In other words, what if none of that stuff meant we had to live our lives as cloistered, levitating monks? Or that we wouldn't be periodically disappointed, disgusted, angry, guilty, sad, frustrated, unbalanced, unstable, irrational, or hurtful?

What if, instead, the foundational self-worth I'm speculating about enabled us to discover a truer compassion, truer forgiveness, truer remorse, truer kindness, truer intelligence, truer intuition, truer serenity, and truer freedom to pursue the goals and loves of our lives?

Food for thought.

In and Of a System

Tonight, I'm going to bring you into the mind -- or an excerpt therefrom -- of Yours Truly, on or about June 27th, 2006. Let's dive in:

The bottom line is that many of us humans have done very well by the system as it currently stands, but many, on the other hand, have not. My hypothesis is that education and enlightenment are the primary tools at our disposal to help bring balance to the system. The short-term goal should be to eradicate poverty. The long-term goal should be to evolve humanity toward an unknown and higher moral purpose.

A couple of imprecisions aside, I'm inclined to high-five my younger self, for he was right. And it ties right back into the theme of this blog, of course. Many people with psychiatric-mental-psychological (whatever you want to call them) disorders tend to fall squarely into the latter category of my first (referenced) sentence up there. Rampant individualism, so sexy and influential in empowered American culture, has tipped the scales of our cultural rhetoric and policy from the compassionate to the draconian. We are quick to blame others for their station in life, for their financial difficulties, and for their impaired mental status; but we are loathe to consider the devastating impacts of intergenerational poverty, illiteracy, lack of education, lack of nutrition, abuse, neglect, trauma, biology, etc. Worse yet, while working ourselves up into a lather of righteous indignation -- "I worked my fingers to the bone to get where I am! I had to overcome so much!" -- we tend to completely ignore the many privileges of our birth that have directly or indirectly made manifest our happier station in life.

I'm grateful for my station in life, and I hope you are, too. I think it's incumbent on us all, though, to approach one another with compassion. And my dream is that our system ultimately reflects that.

"Think globally, act locally."
"Be the change you want to see in the world."