by Elly van Laar | Sep 18, 2017 | Compassion, Empathy, Marshall Rosenberg
I am redesigning my website. I want it to look professional, authentic, and inspiring. A colleague asks me what authentic means to me. Me at my most vulnerable, me at my best, me at my worst?
Haha…! Funny question!
Is it? … Maybe not so much. Authentic is not just me at my most cutest, vulnerable, my most delightful.
Authentic is also me in the middle of a fight with my husband, having judgmental thoughts about others, or seeing my poochy belly hanging out of my t-shirt.
I am pretty sure I don’t want any of that on my website. I want the me at my most lovable best. Me worthy of love, acceptance, and belonging.
Certainly not the me that might trigger criticism. Not the me that might prompt people to turn away, or turn against. Certainly not any part of me that might trigger being alone, all by myself.
When I consider the parts of me I want to keep private, I start thinking of the times when fear of rejection stopped me from living my truest dreams: my longing to go to theater school, to tell the first love of my life I had a crush on him, or to pursue publication of my first children’s story.
When I sit with this fear of rejection, I wonder if courage means taking a social risk and still doing what I believe is true? Maybe courage doesn’t mean risking my life to help war victims in Syria, or offering myself to replace the inmate on death row just before his execution.
Maybe my courage lies in holding on to my vegan diet, even if others find it weird. Or calling upon my co-mediators in the lunch meetup to recycle their plastic plates, instead of throwing them away. Or repelling from a cliff with a terrifying fear of heights, with guys I’d never met before.
What if authenticity means living your deepest aspirations, even if you might face negative consequences? Would my answer to my colleague be that authenticity means being true to my values, living them in everyday life?
Courage and authenticity seem interrelated, especially if we’re not sure we’ll face an empathetic, accepting response. So my questions to you are:
- What means authenticity to you?
- How is courage connected to authenticity?
- What comes up for you?
Let me know, I would love to read your response.
by Elly van Laar | Jun 15, 2017 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication
I’m at my friends’ house. They have two kids, Maya and Kiran, and two dogs, Luna and Sol. I wrote about the family earlier in “Stepping Into Poop”.
The dogs are playing in the living room, the kids and I are working on math and essays, the parents are at work.
Everything is peaceful, everything is quiet.
Till we hear one of the dogs whine. Like real whining. The kids and I jump up to find out what’s going on. I feel dismayed by what I see. At least, by what I think I see.
From my vantage point, it looks like Luna is biting the jugular vein of Sol, ready for the kill. I feel terrified, and start slamming Luna on the head… Poor dog, if only I had looked better…
It doesn’t help. The whining gets worse, and one of the dogs bites my left arm, even if only a scratch. I start pulling on Luna’s collar, believing that will force her to let go of the jugular vein, and preventing Sol from being killed…
My goodness, if only I had looked better: the whining gets even worse, and one of the dogs now really bites my arm.
But they do get loose.
However, not by any of my actions.
Maya was the one who saw that Luna’s jaw got stuck under Sol’s collar, and couldn’t get loose. The more Luna (or me) pulled, the more in pain Sol and Luna were. So Maya jerked off Sol’s collar, and resolved the whole tangle.
If we define compassion as the desire to relieve suffering, and empathy as a respectful understanding of what others are experiencing, Maya and I both acted with compassion, only Maya had more empathy.
It made me think of all the other times I have acted with lots of compassion and insufficient understanding. Instead of relieving pain, like I intended, I ended up making things worse.
When we don’t understand what’s going on, we don’t see the causes, the correlations, or the consequences of the suffering. It helps to have empathy skills, when we want to relieve suffering. Without empathy, compassion leads to unskillful actions: well-intended and not effective.
Have you ever acted with compassion and insufficient empathy? Would empathy have helped you to relieve the suffering more effectively? Let me know! I would love to learn from your experience.
by Elly van Laar | May 31, 2017 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication, NVC, Personal Growth
I’m in a shame storm. I’m in our NVC group, practicing empathy with a buddy. My husband walks by. He says “I hope my eating won’t disturb you too much, honey.”
I feel the urge to explain to my buddy what my husband is talking about. “Well, uh,… you know,… I have this issue…”
My goodness, why did my husband say that? So innocently expressing his care for me. And triggering so much shame? As if I am exposed in my nakedness, covered in poop?
I look at my empathy buddy. He doesn’t seem too concerned by my stuttering. He just listens with a calm smile. I trust him to listen with empathy. I feel safe expressing honestly. “Well, you know… I hope you will not judge what I’m saying… I fear judgment… I get super triggered by eating sounds.”
Sigh… Relief… The truth is out… I never shared this with anyone, other than with my husband.
“It’s any eating sound: smacking, slurping, licking, screeching your fork with your teeth, or banging your spoon against a glass bowl.”
Another sigh of relief. My empathy buddy doesn’t seem too disturbed by my confession. He’s still listening. “You can fart as often as you want and I won’t mind. But making eating sounds drives me through the roof! I’ll get so triggered that I’ll either find an excuse to leave the table or I’ll turn it against you with something like: ‘There is something wrong with you for eating like that!’”
My empathy buddy still listens with care, nodding understanding and acceptance. No judgment whatsoever. I continue “And the truth is, I think there is something fundamentally wrong with me for having this sensitivity. I have the thought: ‘I am defective, beyond repair.’”
I feel a sadness come up. It is the first time I speak about this issue I feel so ashamed about. And it is just as Brené Brown describes: my shame disappears. Shame only survives in hiding. If it is brought into the light and received with compassion and acceptance, it loses it’s power. In the connection, acceptance and understanding, we experience the opposite of what shame wants us to believe. We experience that we are worthy of acceptance, love and belonging. We realize there is nothing wrong with us for having an issue. We notice we are not an issue.
I’m still not proud of my issue. It’s a handicap I didn’t chose. My eating sound sensitivity might never change. And now that I talked about it honestly with an empathy buddy, I can make different choices around it. I can ask for help without blaming or criticizing the other person. I can expand my compassion for everyone else who struggles with their own issue. I can choose mindful walking when my trigger overwhelms me. And most of all, I can work on self-acceptance and my longing to connect, even while eating.
With empathy and honesty, we can explore creative solutions that work better.
Let me know how you deal with issues you feel shame around.
by Elly van Laar | May 7, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, NVC
We’re at Sangha, my Thich Nhat Hanh mindfulness community and we’re starting our mindful walking. One step in front of the other, taking a breath with every step, solidly feeling the ground underneath our feet.
I always love this practice, it slows me down and solidifies me in the support I have from our Earth.
For the last couple of months I practice synchronizing my steps and speed with the person in front of me. A sort of bodily empathy.
“Can I let myself enter fully into the world of his feelings and personal meanings and see these as he does? Can I step into his private world so completely that I lose all desire to evaluate or judge it? Can I enter it so sensitively that I can move about in it freely, without trampling on meanings which are precious to him?” Carl Rogers, “On Becoming a Person”.
This time I walk right behind my husband. It’s enlightening to see where I’m stuck in my dedication to physically understand what it means to walk this Earth as someone else. I notice all kinds of judgments and evaluations come up: “That’s so unique: he drags his feet in a 45° to his other feet, as if he’s waltzing.” “That’s weird: he turns the corner in a 90° angle, as if he is in a military marching band.” “His steps are way too big!”
It reminds me of all the other times when I lose my empathic presence. Where I’m being triggered and focus my attention on my reaction to what someone’s sharing, instead of on their experience.
It usually doesn’t help with the connection, and certainly not with the understanding.
So now what?
- The first step it to acknowledge that I often hear two things at the same time: what they’re saying, and what I’m saying as a reaction to it.
- Then: honor that both voices are worthy of respect and being heard.
- And finally: make a choice what I want to do: pause the interaction and listen to the thoughts in my head first, or pause my inner voices and tell them I will listen to them after my connection to this other person.
When I am in that mindful state of knowing what’s going on within and around me, I can create the greater sense of connection and understanding I want: with myself and with them.
And you, what do you to maintain empathic presence? Let me know: I would love to learn from your experiences.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 25, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, NVC, Personal Growth
I’m up early. Before the crack of dawn. I love it. I feel energized and excited about a new day, about being alive and having the opportunity to contribute, learn, and receive.
I get dressed and make my tea. Green tea. Yum.
Then I hear the alarm on my phone go off. First softly, then loudly. I rush toward the sound, I don’t want my husband to wake up. It gets louder, the closer I get to the bathroom.
As soon as I think I am getting close, the sound fades. Shoot! So where is it? I don’t want it to go off next to his ear. I feel relieved to hear it again, in the kitchen. That makes sense, it must be on the counter, where I made my tea.
And again, as soon as I think I am close, the sound subsides. No! My husband worked late last night and needs his sleep. Where is my phone?!
The sound increases, in the dining room. I look around, more frantic now. Nothing to be found nowhere.
Then it dawns on me. My cell phone has been in my pocket the whole time.
My alarm sounds like ocean waves rolling on the beach: softer and louder with each wave coming in and fading away. The precious thing I was looking for, was right there in my jeans all the time.
It made me think of a story Pema Chodron tells in “When Things Fall Apart”. It’s about a woman who’s sent out into the world with only a coat. She ends up destitute, with no means to support even her basic needs for survival. She complains about her poverty. Her coat goes to shreds, and in the hem she finds diamonds. Plenty enough to sell and support her.
That woman is me, running around, looking for my Buddha nature, my Christ essence, my basic goodness. All the while, I’m stuck in my anger, fear, jealousy, and judge myself for having these feelings.
I hope there comes a moment where I realize that I had Buddha nature all along, buried in my hardened heart. The place where I stop, connect, and celebrate my innate compassionate nature. Where I acknowledge my love, care and gratitude as “enough conditions to be happy”. Where I see my happiness and suffering as expressions of our shared humanity.
Our shared humanity with people I like, and people I don’t like. People who think and vote like me, and people who do the opposite. People whose words and actions are in alignment with my values, and people who speak and act in ways that conflict with my dreams for our world.
I imagine that when I am grounded in my own goodness, I can offer my insight to help others see theirs. To help them pause, take a breath, and smile at life.
I think that thàt is the best gift I can give to others.
by Elly van Laar | Feb 7, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication
After the elections, one thing that stands out to me is the need to create circles of listening. With myself, with family and friends, and especially with those who have different points of view. I want to understand the beautiful needs behind all choices. I want to collaborate to find solutions that work for everyone.
I love and have adapted the Peace Agreement that Thich Nhat Hanh offers for such conversations in “Creating True Peace, ending violence in yourself, your family, your community, and the world“, 2003.
I invite you to read it and edit it to adjust to your truth. Find others to agree to it, so that you can have the support of a community.
And if we can’t find anyone to collaborate with us, we can hold this mindset as a vow to ourselves when listening to people whose choices scare, upset, or anger us.
Without listening we are stuck in our segregated circles. With listening we can build bridges of understanding, love, and connection. One step at a time.
I, the one who is angry, scared, or upset, agree to:
- Refrain from saying or doing anything that might create more damage or escalate anger, fear, or upset.
- Practice mindful breathing to take care of my anger, fear, or upset.
- Calmly, within 24 hours, find the empathy I need to understand which needs triggered my feelings so that I can speak responsibly about my experience, using loving speech.
- Verbally or in writing ask for an appointment to talk about the matter more deeply, preferably with a community of mindful supporters.
- Practice self-connection. I will not deny or suppress my feelings, and not say: “I’m not angry, scared, or upset, it’s fine. I’m not suffering. There’s nothing to be angry, scared, or upset about.”
- Practice self-acceptance. I will look deeply into my daily life -while I’m sitting, standing, walking, or lying down- in order to see:
- *How I myself have been unskillful at times.
- *How my own unmindful habits have contributed to hurt in the other person.
- *How my thoughts, needs, and the energy of my feelings are the primary cause of my anger, fear, and upset. How the other person is the stimulus of my feelings, not the cause.
- Reflect that I cannot be truly happy, as long as the other person suffers.
- Express my mourning for my unskillfulness and lack of mindfulness, without shaming or blaming myself, as soon as I have that insight.
- Postpone any meeting, until I am openhearted enough to meet the other person with the love and respect I choose to bring into the world.
I, the one who contributed to the other person’s feelings of anger, fear, and upset, agree to:
- Respect the other person’s feelings, not judge or deny them, and allow them enough time to self-connect and restore balance.
- Not press for an immediate discussion.
- Confirm their request for a meeting, either verbally or by note, and assure them that I will be there, and that my intention is to respect everyone’s needs for acceptance, understanding, and love.
- Practice mindful breathing and looking deeply to see how:
- *I have mistakenly thought that making others suffer might relieve my own suffering.
- *I am suffering when I contribute to their suffering
- Express my mourning for my unskillfulness and lack of mindfulness, without shaming or blaming myself or others. I will be aware that efforts to defend, explain, or justify myself indicate that need more support to act with the love and respect I cherish.
We vow with all our heart and in the mindful presence of our community to practice wholeheartedly. We ask that our community helps to protect us and grant us wisdom.
What have you committed to to bring more peace in yourself, your communities, and this world? Let me know. I’d love to be inspired.
