by Elly van Laar | May 28, 2016 | Acceptance, Mindfulness, Personal Growth
When is the last time you saw someone talk to the chair on their porch and say, “You shouldn’t be here”? Or, “What’s wrong with you?” Or, “You should be ashamed being here”?
I’ve never seen it. And if I had, I probably would have thought them a bit crazy.
Most people see and accept the fact that there is a chair on the porch wherever it is. They don’t argue with reality.
And if they like where it is, they leave it. If they they don’t, they do something about it. Like give it to someone else, put it at the curb, or bring it to Goodwill.
We can probably agree that that makes sense.
When it comes to our thoughts, though, we act like a crazy lady: “This thought shouldn’t be here!” “This thought should feel ashamed being here!”
We argue with reality. We challenge what we are thinking, even though it is right there in front of us being a thought.
If we fight reality, we can’t spend our energy doing something that might actually be more productive.
I think our lives are easier when we start from the beginning. Accept what is here, whether a chair or a thought. It is. Just that: there is a thought. Then choose what to do about it. Maybe work around it. Maybe change it. Maybe accept it.
One of my favorite clients told me that when her thoughts are too distracting, she writes them on a piece of paper. I think this is brilliant. By writing it down, we manifest in the external world what we experience internally. In writing our thoughts on paper, we create distance between ourselves and our thoughts: here’s what I am thinking, there is the thought.
We can become an observer of our thoughts. Literally: “There is a thought.”
Now we can soften our identification with our thought. And in that softening, we can stop arguing with reality and get on with what we want to do about it.
What do you do when your thoughts come up?
Safe travels David. Thanks for editing!
by Elly van Laar | May 14, 2016 | Nonviolent Communication
“Happy Mother’s Day! Thank you for all you do to help me as a mother, guide and support Maya and Kiran through life.”
I feel touched. Even a bit teary. I’m grateful for her appreciation of my role in her children’s life and of my dedication to help them grow into happy, healthy, self-connected adults.
I never gave birth to a child. I carry sadness and a sense of loss around that. I once thought I would have at least five kids. I imagined us sitting at the dinner table, laughing, talking, playing around. A bit chaotic and noisy, and super fun. An adult household version of Pippi Longstocking.
After I realized this would not happen (and even before that) I decided to direct all my motherly energy and love to the children in my life that I do have: my nieces and nephew, kids of friends, my Dutch foster child, my step daughter. If I can’t be a mom, I can be an aunt, a foster-mom, a nurturing adult in the lives of the children around me. I can reinforce their self-worth, remind them that they matter, and coach their autonomy.
This Mother’s Day I thought of my aunt, tante Ria. She had such love for children. She didn’t give birth to her own children either.
She is my inspiration for how I want to show up for the children around me: respectful, accepting, tolerant, lots of fun, supportive, interested, and engaged in the relationship.
There are many children who don’t get the love, support and acceptance they need. A social worker once told me how difficult it is to address these issues with the parents. The best you can do is to offer the children an alternative relationship. A relationship that conveys that you care about them, respect their experience, and value their needs. Your actions and respect acknowledge them as autonomous human beings, who are entitled to their own dreams and goals.
I know from experience how valuable such an aunt can be. I grew up struggling to find support for my sense of emotional safety, acceptance, understanding, support, and belonging.
So this is my ode to my tante Ria.
Thank you for supporting me on my path to self-worth and mattering. You did this over and over again — from the day I was born to today, and even beyond the bounds of your death.
Safe travels David. Thanks for editing!
by Elly van Laar | May 6, 2016 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication, NVC
“Stop running around. Stay here.”
An irritated look. Something like frustration, exasperation, helplessness.
“Don’t touch that! No, we’re not getting candy.”
The mom in front of me in line gets more and more agitated. I see a frown on her face, her lips tighten. I hear her voice rise and speed up. She clenches to her cart as if to prevent herself from strangling her 5-year old son. I can almost feel her suffering.
I imagine her kid is bored: He never signed up for shopping. If it was up to him he would just have fun and run around with his friends.
“Stop it!!!”
I turn to her, trying to keep a sense of acceptance and understanding of her frustration, her longing for efficiency and cooperation from her son. With a smile I say, “He is really excited about everything in the store. I guess it is a challenge to keep him in line when he has this much energy?”
She looks at me with surprise. Then at her son. I am not sure if she ever thought of interpreting his behavior as anything other than annoying. “Yes, he is…” Her furrow disappears. Her mouth relaxes. Her grip softens.
I turn to the boy who got curious what we are talking about. “I bet you see many, many things you’d like to take home, with all that candy around?” He seems surprised, maybe grateful. As if he didn’t expect his behavior to elicit an adult’s curiosity, let alone understanding and acceptance. Perhaps it usually triggers frustration or admonishment. “Yeah!!! I love that chocolate, it’s really good!”
His mom and I look at each other with a smile. Almost at the same time, we say, “We love that chocolate too!” We chuckle at our timing. He gets back in line. His mom is ready to check out. They seem more relaxed and open towards each other – I supported reconnection.
I leave the store happy and satisfied.
I could have gotten irritated over the mom’s impatience.
I easily get triggered when I don’t think children get the respect and understanding I think they deserve. I have a big “Children SHOULD BE UNDERSTOOD NOT BULLIED!” in my head. This time I transformed my habitual trigger into a change of perspective of both the mom’s and the boy’s behavior. He tried to meet a universal, human need for play or autonomy. She wanted support. Because I was not entangled in their relationship, and I was able to self-connect and transform my own trigger, I could create a new perspective.
My simple offering allowed the mom to see her son in a different way.
A small gift of empathy. It served all of us.
So happy to connect with you David. Thanks for editing!
by Elly van Laar | Apr 29, 2016 | Nonviolent Communication
Ten years ago I quit smoking.
It is quite a feat. I was a heavy smoker. Like really heavy. Two packets a day. One in my hand, one in the ash tray.
And yet it was super simple to give up.
It started with my shit list.
I was in an intensive personal transformation program. We had to write down the 100 things in our lives that were shitty. Smoking ranked no. 17. After five days of inner transformation work, we had to write down our gratitude list. 100 Things we felt appreciative of. Smoking came somewhere no. 29.
I walked away from the training, feeling happy I was a smoker, delighted with every puff I took.
A week later I went to a Living Values Training at the Brahma Kumaris Global Retreat Center near Oxford. A sort heaven on earth. My room was called “Benevolence”. Vegan food. No alcohol. No coffee. No cigarettes.
No cigarettes.
Well, since I had just joyfully embraced my smoking habit and I wanted to be transparent about this habit, I asked if I could smoke outside.
I could.
In the breaks I go outside and smoke. Pretty soon I feel uncomfortable leaving the stumps on the pristinely kept porches and lawn. I want to leave the stumps in a place where they won’t disrupt the precious harmony of the estate. I see a monk sweep the front porch and I ask him if there is a container to throw them in. He looks at me with a loving smile, gently points at the ground in front of him and says: “Here”. Feeling awkward and embarrassed, I do as he tells me. He sweeps it up with that same warm, joyous smile.
When I return to the Netherlands something dawns on me. Smoking seems weird. I have been working on my spiritual, emotional and mental well-being, and gladly smoke my lungs to cancer. That doesn’t feel right. Three days later I stop.
I don’t know. I always thought it was the unconditional acceptance from the monk that helped me make the transition. He didn’t shame me, judge me, instruct me. I didn’t need to defend myself or resist his rules. And in his acceptance of my choice to smoke, he revealed his own basic goodness. His basic goodness was not elevated or diminished by my actions. His basic goodness was available to him in every connection. And in showing his basic goodness, he showed me mine. I could now make a choice that was grounded in my basic goodness, and from that place I only wanted to take care of me and nourish my health.
Dear Monk, I never caught your name. In this health-anniversary I thank you out of the bottom of my heart.
May all beings be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.
Dear Jen Collins, thank you for helping me connect the concept of basic goodness to my process of quitting smoking.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 22, 2016 | Empathy, Personal Growth
I want to enter a ICF-coach certification program. To support my sense of integrity, trust, community, growth and learning. I look into all kinds of coaching certification programs:
- “Openness to feedback, capacity for self-examination, willingness to challenge one’s own beliefs.” That’s it, that’s exactly me!
- “The only program that fully integrates positive psychology and neuroscience with advanced coaching skills.” Wow, that’s awesome!
- “Sponsorship with the Institute of Coaching, at McLean Hospital, Harvard Medical School.” Oh, my god, associated with Harvard!
- “NLP is a cutting-edge modality in the coaching field, backed by research on neuroscience and cognitive therapy.” NLP, I must have that.
And those are just some of the things on the websites of the first four ICF-approved coaching certification programs I’m looking at. I am looking at six more.
I feel overwhelmed. How am I gonna choose between all those fantastic websites, the one snazzier than the other? They all look the same, although they have a different appeal to me, based on academic rigor, methodology, faculty and areas of focus.
I decide to simplify my choices by using Richard Bolles prioritizing grid. (His student Beverly Ryle made an online version that you can personalize based on how many items you want to choose from). I start by numbering the different schools 1-10. Then I chose between two at a time and circle the number of my preference in the box. When I am done choosing, I count how many times I circled each number. I then put the schools in the order of their final ranking. The one that is highest is apparently my preference.
I feel super relieved. It is not much work. I am done in 15 minutes. I guess that I have a subconscious preference for academics, inclusion of different modalities, peer coaching, self-reflection and -transformation.
Now that I am clear about my first two choices I can go interview staff and alumni, to see if it is indeed a good fit. If not, I go for number 3 and do interviews, till I found a program of my liking.
For now I am choosing between The Executive and Professional Certificate Program at the Naveen Jindal School of Management, UT Dallas and the School of Coaching Mastery to be a Certified Positive Psychology Coach. You have experience with these schools? I would love to hear from you! (512-589-0482)
by Elly van Laar | Apr 15, 2016 | Compassion, Empathy, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
Have you ever met your inner child?
I have.
At the Mindfulness Retreat I attended with my Thich Nhat Hanh Sangha last weekend.
I was enthralled by the workshop Gale and Curt organized for us. I valued the support for deep self-connection, the safety of our group, the sharing in our circle, the individual and pair work it offered.
I cried a lot.
And yet, I was not suffering. I was not even sad. I was just touched to spend time with my inner child.
My inner child has a sense of innocence, happiness and excitement about life. She is curious and eager to learn and contribute. She is satisfied with where she’s at and doesn’t need much.
She certainly doesn’t need the forcefulness of a protector — a protector who lives in the fear and responses she created when I was around eight years old. A protector who still thinks it is 1973 – who believes she has to scramble to get a pancake before they are eaten by her siblings. A protector who still carries the fear that her siblings will start to talk over her as soon as she starts to tell about her day and stutters.
My inner child knows better.
She knows that was then and now is now. She doesn’t fear that there isn’t enough, or afraid that she doesn’t matter. She simply trusts that we share our basic goodness and that the world is a fantastic place – waiting to be explored and enjoyed. My inner child engages people and life with openness, authenticity and vulnerability.
I am so moved to meet her.
As I look at her, I understand Thich Nhat Hanh’s Second Mindfulness Training in a whole new way:
True Happiness: “…I can live happily in the present moment, simply by remembering that I already have more than enough conditions to be happy…”
I always thought that those conditions referred to my material well-being, my physical health, my marriage and friendships. This weekend I learned they do not. The conditions of my happiness are the unconditional acceptance and love I receive from my inner child. With her I can relax. With her I can manifest my true self and realize my dreams.
Contact me 512-589-0482 to understand and nourish the conditions of your happiness.
Thank you, David Nayer, for editing this blog at such a late notice. My life is richer by your support.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 8, 2016 | Empathy, Personal Growth
Do you see my seedlings?
Aren’t they adorable, little plants growing up?
I am so happy with them. Every morning, as soon as I get up, I take a look at them. Very carefully. Did they sprout? Did they grow? Are they getting second leaves? I water them, measure them, write down their growth, and carry them around into the sun and back into the house. One night I wake up by an enormous thunderclap. I realize with a shock my seedlings are still outside. I run outside to rescue them, barefoot, no cover against the rain. Nothing seemed more important than to protect my seedlings from the gushes of wind and the pouring rain. The next morning, I felt relieved to see them as perky as before.
My husband calls them my babies, as he listens to my excitement about taking care of them.
I never compared them with each other. When all the other plants were peeking out through the dirt, I didn’t tell the sunflower seeds to look at their neighbors, hoping the comparison would sprout their seeds faster. I accepted their own pace. I didn’t label the nasturtium seeds as “lazy”, when they came out last. I knew they would come out in their own time. I didn’t pull on the leaves of the cosmos, so they would develop a second set of leaves. I did none of that.
I nurtured and protected, and carefully observed them to understand the conditions of their happiness. Because I trust their self-actualizing energy.
I don’t need to tell them to grow up, because they want to. Every seed is born with an innate, natural drive to grow into the next step of their full potential. Their potential, their true self. Not into what they or others think they should be (at least, I hope so). The bachelor’s button doesn’t try to be a zinnias. They want to be themselves.
For me, this gardening project is a magnificent lesson in how I want to treat myself.
I want to show myself as much acceptance and respect as I show my little plants. I want to offer myself as much nurturance and protection as I offer them. And I want to nourish self-empathy and self-compassion, so I can understand and nourish the conditions of my happiness.
I hope you do the same for yourself.
Contact me 512-589-0482 to understand and nourish the conditions of your happiness.
Thank you, David Nayer, for giving me feedback on the previous version of this blog. I enjoy your support.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 3, 2016 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication
“Which three words do you want to be known for?”
“Empathic. Compassionate. Committed.”
“Tell me about committed. What does that mean to you?”
“That I care about relationships. That I try to understand the needs in people’s behavior. That I never give up on relationships. That I search for ways to make it work. That I listen to feedback to learn how I can show up better next time.”
“Why is that important to you?”
I feel startled. I thought I had to avoid the ‘why’ question. I have no clue why that is important to me. For me, it has always seemed a given, a natural tendency to care about relationships.
Kelley Russell-DuVarney is patiently waiting. She looks around the room filled with 30 women at the Austin Women’s Network meeting. “Tell me, why is that important to you?”
“I don’t know. I just care about my family and friends. My clients. I want to contribute to their happiness. I don’t like to see them suffer.”
Then I stop. I feel tears well up.
“You know, I am born and raised in the Netherlands. My father lived through the second World War as a young child. I still see him suffering from the trauma he endured during the war. I don’t want anyone to suffer like that. I want to help prevent something like that from ever happening again. I want to support people to listen to each other, understand each other — to care for each other.”
That’s all I can manage to say without breaking into tears. The room is quiet. Kelley is quiet. She gives me space to connect to my deepest motivation, the drive behind my work.
I want to ensure that we resolve our differences peacefully. I want to protect people by helping them with nonviolent, compassionate ways to resolve conflict. That is my mission in life.
It was empowering to connect to the power of my true motivation. The tears were not an expression of sadness, they were a sign of profound self-connection.
You want help to connect to your true motivation? Contact me, 512-589-0482 for a free, discovery session.
Thank you, David Nayer, for editing this post during your travels. I am inspired by your shaping of words, the clarity of meaning and focus you bring to my writing, and your dedication to contribute!
by Elly van Laar | Mar 25, 2016 | Compassionate Communication, Nonviolent Communication
“What did you do for your birthday?”
“I sat as silent witness.”
“What??”
“I sat as silent witness at the steps of Texas State Capitol, as Adam Ward was executed at Huntsville Death House for killing a city inspector.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun.”
It wasn’t. I sobbed as the church bells rang at 6 pm, the moment when Adam was tied to a steel bed frame and forced to receive his lethal injection.
It is hard, every time I sit. It doesn’t get easier over time. I grieve the loss of every precious life. I mourn our inability to support our children growing up into adults who are able to include all needs. I suffer from our inability to use protective force, instead of punitive.
I lost my excitement to eat my birthday apple pie with friends afterwards.
Yet the awareness of our impermanence also seems fitting. What better way to appreciate the life I’ve been given, than by reflecting on the preciousness and vulnerability of it? What better way to value the love and support I receive from my family and friends, than to mourn those who grew up without love and support? To grieve for the children who are left to the violence of their caretakers? How better to celebrate my blessings, than to show up for those who have come to believe they have none at all?
For Adam Ward, sitting as silent witness is a completely ineffective action. We sit at the moment he is killed. Our sitting has no impact whatsoever on the proceedings of his execution or on his life. Hardly any driver at Congress and 11th takes notice of us, or reads our simple sign: “Stop Executions”. Of those who see the sign, one puts out the down-turned thumb. Another wildly gestures “no” in aversion of the idea that we would stop killing the killers. A third rolls down his window to yell “KILL THEM ALL”. I bow to them and their responses. They are my teachers of the human experience. In my aspiration to expand my compassionate heart, I wish to include everyone: those that agree with me, and those that don’t.
And some people honk in agreement or wave their hands. One woman walks up to us and says: “We don’t believe in that punishment either. We are Catholics. We care for life.”
I cry.
At my birthday party, I am not alone. Others care too. I have a small group with me who also grieve the loss of another precious life.
Yes. This is how I want to celebrate the precious life I’ve been given.
You want help to honor your life? Contact me, 512-589-0482 for a free, discovery session.
Thank you, David Nayer, for editing this post during your travels. I am inspired by your shaping of words, the clarity and focus you bring to my writing, and your dedication to contribute!
by Elly van Laar | Mar 18, 2016 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, NVC
Did I climb the ladder against the wrong wall? Did I get faster to a place I didn’t want to go? Am I being a manager instead of an effective leader?
“Management is doing things right; leadership is doing the right things.” (Peter Drucker in: Covey, S. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, 2013, p. 108)
As I wind down from all my excitement and focus on SXSW and reap the fruits of my investments, I wonder if I lost some of my mindfulness and compassion along the way. Was I so rushed to finish all my chores (print business cards, update website, register for Square, install online scheduling tool, post Tweets and FB messages), that I forgot it’s not about what we do? That it’s about who we are and the intention behind our action? About the values we are serving, more than about the actions we complete or not complete?
I realize that in the hassle to get things done, I neglected my spiritual nourishment. I haven’t been to my mindfulness Sangha in more than two months. I haven’t read Thich Nhat Hanh’s writings in more than four weeks, I hardly sat on my meditation cushion since I came back from the Netherlands in February.
Reviewing all I did and didn’t do, AND all I was and wasn’t, I realize that at the end of my life I probably won’t care about the success of my business, the money I made, the fame I built. At the end of my life I hope that others will appreciate me for how caring I was, how I focused on connection, how I walked towards conflict and misunderstanding to resolve it, and how dedicated I was towards empathy and compassion.
And I make a new pledge to myself: “I will practice looking deeply to see that the happiness and suffering of others are not separate from my own happiness and suffering; that true happiness is not possible without understanding and compassion, and that running after wealth, fame, power and sensual pleasures can bring much suffering and despair” (Second Mindfulness Training, transmitted to me by Thich Nhat Hanh in 2011 with my Dharma name “Joyful Harmony of the Heart”).
That’s all I am asking of myself: To master the art of friendship in the context of mindfulness.
You want help to be a leader in your own life? Contact me, 512-589-0482 for a free, discovery session.
Thank you, David Nayer, for editing this post during your travels. I am inspired by your dedication to contribute!
