by Elly van Laar | Jun 7, 2014 | Acceptance, Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Personal Growth
Thank God for friends. Thank God for friends who empathize. Thank God for friends who participate in the Mediate Your Life Program. And my goodness, thank God for Leah Wolftal.
I am overwhelmed with fear about my poison ivy rash, our house, my income. I don’t know how to respond, and I need help. I ask Leah to mediate between different parts of me: my grandfather-part and my father-part.
I start with my grandfather.
“Hans, I love you… I love you so much. I see how worried you are about Elly. That she is not taking good care of herself, and doesn’t understand how important and urgent it is to make a living, to build up pension, to have health insurance. I see how hard you try to help her realize that she needs to put her own needs first…”
Quiet…
“Hans… you’ve done enough.. It’s time to rest and relax and enjoy the remaining days of your life…”
A sudden sadness rises in me-as-my-grandfather. I start to cry.
“I love you so much, Hans, so much… It’s time for you to rest. You have worked your ass off for 70 years. You took care of everyone after my death, as young as you were…”
Silence.
Sobbing.
“You worked so hard, Hans, so hard. Under such horrendous circumstances…”
He continues to cry.
“Oh, my God, and I wasn’t there for you to face the horrors of war and the desolate aftermath… I wasn’t there… I wished I had been there for you… To guide you, to support you, to reassure you… I care so deeply for you…I wish you would rest, let go, and trust that Elly is walking her Elly-path… I wished you would just enjoy your connection with her. Her laughter, her playfulness, her optimism… She has such a big heart… full of compassion and care. Standing up for those who are vulnerable, seeing the beauty in even the tiniest creature.”
“You know, I too, sometimes wonder if her magical trust in the power of her subconscious mind is helpful. Of course I do! I was different that way. And yet, that is exactly what makes Elly Elly. Childlike. Trusting. Innocent. Seeing goodness where others despair. It’s a special quality and I’ve come to appreciate it. I hope you will too. I hope you will honor her for whom she is, without worry. She has survived so far, and will do so in the future. Just like you. Differently. And the same. A relentless worker… Trust that she’ll get there, so you can rest and relax. You’ve done enough.”
He falls quiet. Leah reflects him back. He feels relieved, he’s been heard and mediated between my father and me. I feel touched by his deep love for both of us. (to be continued on Monday)
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by Elly van Laar | Jun 4, 2014 | Compassion, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
My grandfather and I are standing on the porch, ready for our daily 30 minutes of connection.
He stops and listens to the birds. “It is so beautiful here, so peaceful. I feel so happy to just stand here with you and listen. To feel the breeze on my skin, the sun on my face, to hear the songs of the birds. Just quiet. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go… I loved that back home. Sitting in the yard with my wife, your grandmother, watching our children run around. I loved working in my office and seeing your dad play with his cars on the carpet. I loved being with my family… It’s all I ever wanted…”
Tears drop down his eyes.
“You live in the world I dreamed of… Peaceful, safe, welcoming… I never wanted to be a hero. I much rather had lived a quiet life, full of love, laughter, togetherness. Much like the hobbits in Lord of the Rings… But we don’t chose the times we live in, we only chose how to respond to them…”
Tears roll down his cheeks.
“It is like you clearing up the poison ivy. Of course, you much rather read a book, or go for a hike, or relax in the sun. But that’s not your choice. Your choice is to eradicate it now or let it grow till it covers your grounds and blocks your path. I knew that if we didn’t stand up against the Nazi’s now, the consequences would be far worse, for far more people, than any risk I took individually. I didn’t chose my time, I only chose how to respond. I wished I had never had to make that decision.”
He starts sobbing.
“I wished I had seen your dad graduate, marry your mom, have her kids, be promoted at work… I wished I could have held you in my arms, your siblings, your cousins… I wished I had lived to be old enough to witness your dad grow into the source of support he is, for your mom, for you and your brothers and sisters, for his siblings, for his family-in-law… Gosh, he is a rock… An incredible son… An amazing man…”
Silence.
“I never chose the time I lived in, only my response… You honor me most by enjoying and appreciating the world I tried to contribute to.”
We sit together, quietly. Then his sobbing calms down.
“Your times are different. And it is your choice how to respond to them. I hope you bring your delight and gratitude into your response.”
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You want help to respond to the time you live in? Contact me 512-589-0482 to schedule a complimentary, discovery session.
by Elly van Laar | May 22, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Personal Growth
I’m in the woods with my grandfather. I’ve never met him. He died when my dad was not even eleven. He was a member of a resistance movement in the Netherlands during WWII, betrayed, arrested by the Nazi’s, and dead after ten days in prison.
He stood up for his principles and was willing to risk his life for his values: compassion, inclusion, care for those who are vulnerable.
As a child, every May 3, the night before our national commemoration day, I would sneak downstairs and take out a book with his name, picture and short bio. It contained the names everyone in Limburg who had given their lives standing up for love, peace, and justice. I never told anyone I did. My grandfather was a secret hero in my life, one that I looked up to with awe and reverence.
I admired him and aspired to be like him: courageous, fearless, and truthful.
I always fell short of my hero image of him. I never went to a war zone and rescued people. I never offered myself to take the death penalty so the convict could live, I hardly ever showed up as a silent witness when someone was executed. I have a client scheduled, I have to clean, I am too tired.
Gosh, all those things that I hold dear and don’t act upon.
During the Mediate Your Life retreat, I realize I need his help. I need his help to find balance between my aspirations and my fear of scarcity. I decide to spend half an hour in the woods each day for the next two weeks.
I invite myself to bring a bag with my meditation bell, my journal, and my pen. I carry it on my left shoulder and look to the right when I speak as Elly, and swap it to my right shoulder and look to the left when I speak as him.
I feel uncomfortable at first. It seems too forced and unnatural. I much rather speak out loud as Elly and respond in silence as my grandfather, than this left-right stuff. And I’m willing to give it a try. I’ve heard it helps.
And it does. I tell him how much I admire him and how sad and scared I feel about the continuous failure to live up to my self-imposed standards of courage and commitment. I shift to the right position and look myself -as my grandfather- in the eyes. I hear him say “You have a unique quality ‘zachtmoedigheid’. That’s where your power is and your leadership lies: the balance between soft and tender (=zacht) and courage (=moedig). Don’t try to be Pat, Joe, Ike, or John. Be yourself. That’s more than enough, and that’s what this world needs most.”
Be myself. Acceptance, support, and appreciation. Never expected that from him.
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You want help to transform your hero image into self-acceptance? Contact me 512-589-0482 to schedule a complimentary, discovery session.
by Elly van Laar | May 5, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Mindfulness
May 4, 8 pm. The Netherlands. Two minutes of silence. A national commemoration of everyone who died in any war around the world since WW II.
Children, elderly, veterans, peace activists, blacks, whites: we stand side by side at our local war memorial and are silent. Just two minutes. Complete silence. To pay tribute to those who died, to honor being alive.
I always cry.
There is so much suffering in the world.
I think of a dear friend. He was a child during WWII. His father was a member of an organization that helped Jews find hiding places. The Nazi’s found out, invaded their home, searched every room, and finally found the dad. They took him and mistreated him so badly, that he died within a week. A few weeks later my friend’s house was destroyed during a bombardment, and he, his mom, and his siblings were evacuated to a part of the Netherlands, where the people hardly knew of the horrors they had lived through.
So much suffering.
My friend still wakes up from nightmares. I think he will do so the rest of his life.
So much suffering.
I want to help, to heal, to relieve his pain.
I realize that’s not up to me. It’s up to me to respect his autonomy, support his path, and trust his inner resources. My friend doesn’t need my help, he needs me to be me, and show up with love, care, and presence. My friend is doing pretty well, actually. His experiences helped him to be appreciative of all the love, friendship and belonging he receives. It deepened his gratitude for being alive, because he knows how fragile and precious it is.
There is so much suffering. And so much joy for being alive. Thank you, dear friend, for being my role model of celebrating life in each and every moment.
(I changed the details of my friend’s life to protect his privacy).
by Elly van Laar | Apr 29, 2014 | Acceptance, Compassion, Mindfulness, Personal Growth
The kids want someone else to babysit them tonight. Not forever, just this once. “She’s more fun, because she plays games with us.” Ouch. Well, honestly: ouch, ouch, ouch. I’ve been with them for so long. I try so hard to support everyone’s needs. I care about them. And I want acceptance and appreciation for all of that.
It hurts. It just hurts.
I think of my ex-husband. I told him five years ago that I wanted to leave him for someone else. We had been together for 14 years. He had supported me through some of the most difficult periods of my life. He was unconditional in his acceptance, always supportive, and deeply loving. I can only imagine how devastated he might have felt when I told him, “I’m leaving. I found someone more fun to be with.”
And yet, he has never stopped accepting me, supporting me and my choices, and, I think, loving me. I experience him as the epitome of unconditional, selfless love.
Image courtesy to windpacer04.deviantart.com
And now, as I feel this hurt, I feel some of that too. I do feel the pain of what I perceive as rejection, ànd I also feel a love that is way bigger than me. It is a love that is personal and non-personal at the same time. It is love for for the kids, love for myself. It is a quality of love with no object, no subject. It has nothing to do with what’s done, what’s said. It’s not even about who is. It is love for love’s sake. It is not my love, it is a love that is universal and timeless. It flows through me, it touches me, the only ‘I’ in this love is that I’m the vessel for it.
I feel relieved. Apparently I can feel unconditional love, at the same time that I feel pain, loneliness, sadness.
This must be my true nature. Some call it basic goodness. Some call it the Christ-essence. I call it Love.
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You want help to touch your own true nature? Contact me 512-589-0482 to schedule a complimentary, discovery session to see if and how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 22, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Nonviolent Communication
You struggle with your co-worker. You feel frustrated and upset and you want more collaboration, understanding and support. You’re looking forward to talk about it with your friend. Alas. As soon as you start talking about the situation, she responds with advice. “You should sit down with him and tell him what’s going on for you and what you want from him. If that doesn’t help, you should go to your boss and let him intervene.”
You’re noticing you’re getting triggered. Something doesn’t work for you. You don’t want advice, you want understanding for your struggles, acceptance of your experience, and trust that you have the inner wisdom to navigate the situation with care and compassion. Maybe even some encouragement ‘You can do it!’. Or hope that the situation can and will be resolved.
You’re about to tell her that her advice didn’t work, when you remember ‘Empathy first’. You have heard yourself say that só often, and now -when it would be really helpful- you almost forgot. ‘Empathy helps. It always does.’
So instead of expressing your frustration, you start guessing her feelings and needs. “Are you sad, because you want me to do well at work?” “YES!” “Are you hoping that your suggestion will help me to move through this situation with grace and resolution?” “YES!” “You just want to support me and see me happy?” “YES!” A sigh of relief… A pause… Then she starts talking. How hard it is for her to see her friends being stuck. How this reminds her of her childhood, when she was expected to resolve situations she was unable to resolve. How scared and powerless she felt.
And you listen… Just listen… You give her space to share her pain when other people are struggling. And your frustration dissipates. Instead of judging your friend of doing something wrong, you now see a human being who wants support and understanding. Just like you. And in this space of compassion, all you want is connection. From one human heart to another.
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You want help to empathize with advice? Contact me 512-589-0482 to schedule a complimentary, discovery session to see if and how I can help.
I start with my grandfather.
