by Elly van Laar | Feb 3, 2014 | Compassion, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
Celebrating life
My eight-year old nanny friend dances when everyone is watching. She loves that. Her eyes grow big, she catches your look, and she swings her hips, sways her hands, turns, tumbles, jumps, swings and flic flacs. She shows everything she has ever seen on YouTube, and adds a little Maya to it.
I love watching her.
There is pure beauty in watching this young girl enjoy being her, and enjoy other people seeing her. There is no shame, no hiding, just the full celebration of herself. She thinks the world is way more wonderful with Maya in it.
And I agree.
I wished we all would think about ourselves like that: What a wonderful world with me in it.
Can you?
Maybe not. Maybe you experienced ridicule, neglect, criticism when you danced. Maybe you always had to strive for more, when you showed your soccer tricks. Maybe you were corrected, when you read your first book. Maybe you interpreted all these responses as indications that whatever you do, it is never good enough. That you are never good enough.
We are good enough
We are exactly as we should be in this moment: ourselves. A unique manifestation of life. Whether we are angry, discouraged, sad, scared, happy. We are always this unique opportunity to be seen for what it means to be a human in this moment.
And that is wonderful
Let us all dance as if everyone is watching.
And let us all love watching.
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You want help to celebrate your life? Contact me, 512-589-0482. I would be honored and happy to help.
by Elly van Laar | Feb 2, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
Listening to your anger
My client suffers from road rage. Her rides turn into anger, yelling and frustration. She arrives upset and disturbed.
Anger impacts her relationships too.
She wants my help to deal with her anger more mindfully.
In a visualization exercise she asks her anger what it is about, and what it wants from her, so that it can relax and let her live her life grounded in her values. She asks her resistance against the anger the same questions.
She cries when she opens her eyes. “I need an outlet. I have so much anger in me. My childhood was drenched in anger and yelling. It was the only communication in my family.”
“Did anyone ever walk up to you, when you were angry? Did anyone ever stretch out their arms to you, when you were throwing a fit, and tell you ‘I’m here for you. I see how angry you are. I won’t go away. You matter to me.’ Did anyone ever just sit with you, creating a safe space where you could experience your anger and maintain connection?
She looks at me bewildered. “No! I was punished and sent to my room.”
Even now she thinks that that is the only reasonable response to anger. To express your anger with yelling and throwing a fit is childish.
“It is not childish. It is your child. It is the little child within you that cannot think of any other way to be heard. It is your inner child that desperately wants help for her suffering and longing.”
She looks at me bewildered, again. She had never even thought about her anger this way.
“When you think of yourself as this little child, maybe two years old, ‘throwing a fit to get her way’, what do you think she actually wanted?” “Attention.” “And if she would get attention, what precious need would be fulfilled?” “Belonging”, she says, with tears in her eyes.
We just want to belong
Just to know that you belong. That you matter. That someone cares about you, and wants to include you.
Such a beautiful, simple need.
How can we be angry with ourselves when we scream and yell in our despair, because we don’t know any other way to ask for help? How can we judge ourselves because we so desperately want to belong, to be seen, to matter?
We don’t need labels, judgments,punishment when we scream and yell. We need compassion. We need someone to stretch out their arms to us and tell us “I’m here to help. I’ll stay as long as you need. You matter. To me.”
That is the only way to heal. Ourselves. The world. Let us stretch out our arms to each other and say “I’m here for you. How can I help?”
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Contact me if you want my help to deal with your anger more mindfully 512-589-0482.
by Elly van Laar | Jan 30, 2014 | Compassion, Self-compassion
Once upon a time, in a country far, far away lived a king
He was lonely. He had no one to share his life, his love and his kingdom.
One day he decides to straddle his horse and find himself a queen. He searches through forest and beach, through mountains and plains, through deserts and snow, and finally finds her on the other side of the ocean. He is infatuated by her smile. She falls in love with his humor, his hands, his wisdom.
He takes her home as his happy bride
Then, one day, disaster strikes. A tornado hits the kingdom and destroys the barns, the crops, their livelihood. The kingdom weeps and the king desperately seeks money to help his people. To no avail.
Creditors bang on his door and threaten to take his stove away. They come back and threaten to take his furniture away. They come back and threaten to take his palace away.
As he gets more afraid, he starts to bark. He worked so hard, he gave it his all, and it turned into dust. His barks call on storms.
As she gets more sad, she starts to cry. She traveled the world, she gave him her best, and it was not enough. Her tears burn holes in the ground.
Friends
Then, one morning she wakes up and discovers flowers, where once there were holes. She sees the sun shine. She feels the warmth in her heart and the strength of her hands.
She is not alone in this. She has communities. She has friends and family. She can ask for help. She sits down and prays “Thank you for the prosperity I enjoy, the riches I can share. Thank you for everything I received and can give to others. Help me bring more prosperity and abundance into our lives.”
A kind soul from the East responds. “I am here to help. You are not alone. You have the answer in your heart. Your life energy will show you where to find the golden grain that will bring you wealth.”
And so the queen does. She helps a lady across the street and gets an apple. She plants the seed, and it bears fruit of silver and gold in the Fall. Enough to feed the kingdom.
Thanks to a little help from a friend.
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All you need is a little help from your friends. Just ask. Contact me at 512-589-0482 to see how I can help.
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P.S.: Someone calls me as I write this blog. I just listen, open to celebrate her successes with Nonviolent Communication. At the end of our conversation I ask if she wants to engage my help. She says ‘yes’. The universe takes care of us in miraculous ways, if we are willing to surrender to life.
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Grateful thanks to my beloved husband for his edits.
by Elly van Laar | Jan 21, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
A letter from my jealousy to me
“Dear Elly,
I am so sorry I exist. I wished I had never been born. I see how much pain I bring to your life, and I certainly see the havoc I create when I go berserk.
I often do.
I wished I didn’t.
I wished I could ask for help, when I feel hurt and scared your husband will leave you for a better version of you: bigger boobies, flatter belly, more compassionate. I wished I could ask for help, when I feel scared and upset because your colleagues in Nonviolent Communication get more ‘likes’, participants and acknowledgment.
I don’t.
I feel ashamed and desperate that I am ruining your life the way I do. On so many occasions. I do try to hide as much as I can, but sometimes something overwhelms me and I need to get out of the closet and smash everything to pieces. I don’t know why. Forgive me. I know how ugly and disgusting my face is.
Jealousy”
A letter from me to my jealousy
“Dear Jealousy,
I feel so touched and moved as I read your letter. I feel tears in my eyes and tender with love. There is nothing to ask forgiveness for, my sweet child. Nothing.
I didn’t take good care of you. I locked you away in the closet, because I was afraid that I would be rejected if someone saw you. I so desperately want acceptance, that I don’t want to jeopardize that, even a little bit. I have always been sure that you were a liability to that need.
I see I was wrong.
I am so sorry for all the pain I created. I am so sorry.
I won’t lock you behind bars anymore. I want you out in the sun. I want you here with me and see your pretty face.
Will you go for a walk with me this afternoon? Maybe we can talk about how we can support each others’ need for acceptance? I would love to.
Elly”
Shared humanity
Jealousy says ‘yes’. We spend the long walk talking about our needs for love, belonging, acceptance. For who we are, not for what we do or what we have. We hold hands, and come home happy. We see the shared humanity in each others’ behavior, and these all too understandable needs for love and acceptance.
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You want help to embrace your jealousy with compassion? Contact me for a complimentary, discovery session 512-589-0482
by Elly van Laar | Jan 17, 2014 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
I joined a virtual writers community
884 Members. Bloggers who encourage, inspire and help each other get their books published.
I read that you should join a writers community if you want to have your book published.
And I do!
I want hundreds of people standing in line, waiting to get my book autographed. I want the phone ringing like crazy with publishers dying to publish my book. I want to be the most wanted guest in any important talk show.
You get it? I want to be famous, meaningful and influential.
So I joined a community, as suggested.
I now have 884 co-authors who will applaud me, cherish me, and promote my work.
884 Authors who want the favors returned
Competitors who want to sell their stuff to the same audience. An audience who can only read so much. One book at a time. Their book.
Scarcity
I feel scared. There is not gonna be enough fish in this ocean. Someone is gonna starve. Me.
This whole writing ambition triggers my sense of scarcity. I have been repeating “I am enough. I do enough. I have enough”, over and over again. At least a couple of minutes a day. I loved singing it.
Now I feel how I don’t believe it is true. How my system reacts “No, you don’t. You can certainly pretend you are enough, but you most certainly don’t do enough. Let alone have enough. Don’t fool yourself! Go for a walk in the woods, and feel happy and contained. But remember: once you’re home, you’ll crash with two feet on the ground and face up to reality: there is not enough for everyone.”
My thoughts float like a leaf on the river
Steven Hayes and Spencer Smith write about having your thoughts, not being them (Get Out of Your Head & Into Your Life, 2005). Creating a little space between your thought and your identity. No attachment to having them, or not having them. Just seeing them as they pop up in your head.
I can do that. I can watch the thoughts of scarcity drift by, like leaves on a river. I don’t need to jump on the leaf, nor do I need to push it away.
I can just watch the thought. And see the beauty of it. It’s monstrous, consuming presence. How unique! Fascinating. I am a tornado chaser of thoughts. I am so excited to watch it, that I don’t even think of running away from it. Bring it on, baby!
Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to resist. Just a thought. Rising and floating on a river. It is a thought, not me.
Commitment to my dreams
In this non-fighting that arises, I experience space and freedom to pursue my dream and applaud others do the same.
I am happy I joined this group of fellow-travelers. I am ready to cherish, inspire and encourage them. May we all write magnificent stories. For magnificent readers.
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You want help observing your feelings and thoughts, not being them? Contact me for a complimentary, discovery session. 512-589-0482
by Elly van Laar | Jan 15, 2014 | Compassion
My friend left. For Ohio. 1600 Miles away. She packed her stuff, took her cats and drove off. I waved her goodbye this morning. I had to see her go away, to viscerally know that she left, that her house is empty, and that I can’t drop by for lunch.
I love her. She was my first and best friend here in Austin. She offered support, she inspired me, we juggled. But most of all, she was she. I realize that what I most appreciate about her, is not what she contributed, but whom she contributed: herself.
She lived a completely authentic life. She was independently herself. She made no compromises. Her first and foremost commitment was to be authentically herself. She pursued a musical career, when no one approved, she went to college in her forties, with two kids at home, she learned to fly a plane in her sixties, and now moves at 81.
She was upfront about her feelings, thoughts, needs, desires. I didn’t always like what she said, and I always respected it. There is something powerful when someone speaks their truth. You can take it, you can leave it, but you can’t change it.
She is my absolute role model for ferociously pursuing your dreams.
Wow. What a gift.
I miss her. I cried the full 30 minutes driving home. When I arrived, I sat in my car for a long time, lost, sad. I unpacked the loaf of bread, the avocado, the humus. Remnants of our last lunch together. I don’t have an appetite for it. Without her it can’t be yummy. I hardly even want to hug my husband. There is a void without her, a painful void.
Yet, I honor and celebrate her choice to follow her dream. I love her so much that I am willing to support any choice she makes, how painful it is for me.
Joan, thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.
To live is to love and to lose.
I am so happy that I love you, that I am willing to lose you.
This is for you, my beloved friend: Bach’s “Air” by Ton Koopman
