by Elly van Laar | Nov 27, 2013 | Mindfulness, Personal Growth
Our heater doesn’t work. It is 33°F outside, it storms and rains, and our heater decided to quit. Fortunately, we can go up the attic, and repair it. You can do that with heaters. It made me think. You can do that with people too. But you can only force compliance, never collaboration out of the joy of their heart.
Inspiration, admiration, sleep, empty mind are all examples of “states that are essentially by-products”. Jon Elster writes about them in Sour Grapes. These states arise as a result of something else. They cannot be created intentionally. The sheer attempt to fall asleep is counterproductive, as the effort itself will keep you awake. Sitting in meditation only brings calmness if you accept the busy, repetitive thoughts. If you strive for empty mind, your focus conflicts with the state you’re trying to attain. The effort to inspire someone is self-defeating, as it prohibits the spontaneity crucial for inspiration.
Ah! You cannot intentionally inspire someone…?! That explains why none of my efforts to inspire people have ever been fruitful. Not that I didn’t try. I died to be inspirational. Being inspirational seemed to give meaning to my life. But the more I strove for it, the less I got it. I only got it at moments that I couldn’t care less. A friend told me once how appreciative she was that I helped her surrender to the idea of staying home. All I had done was sit at the porch, enjoy the sunshine and listen to the birds. And giggle at her efforts to try to find something interesting and important to do. Just sitting there, doing nothing. That was inspiring to her. Being me and doing my me-thing apparently inspires, trying to be inspirational not.
Maybe that’s why I am tired of trying to figure out my ideal client, my ideal reader and how I can uniquely serve their needs. The truth is: I have no bloody clue. I don’t know what they need, and how I differ from all the other fantastic writers, trainers and coaches out there. I lost all interest coming up with yet another enrolling, inspirational elevator pitch to match my services with my ideal client.
The best advice I ever received was “When you don’t know what to do, do nothing. Wait. Breathe. And let the life within you show you your next step.” I don’t know what my ideal client wants. I don’t know my grand purpose in life. All I know is what I love to do, where my passion and my heart is. And maybe that’s enough. To do what I am most jazzed about. Not to achieve anything, but to enjoy the brief moment that I walk this earth.
“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Harold Whitman
by Elly van Laar | Nov 26, 2013 | Fear, Mindfulness, Personal Growth
I am not making enough money. I struggle paying the bills. I panic. What if I never create enough income? What if I end up on the street and die?
I try to reassure myself. “Well, well, calm down. It’s not that bad. You’ll earn enough to survive. You have friends and family who are willing to help.” My mind doesn’t listen AT ALL. “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to live in ever increasing poverty. I don’t want to end up homeless!” “Hush, hush. This is just temporarily. You have SO MANY skills. Of course, you’ll make enough money.” “Yes, but that’s not the point, that’s…”
Then, I remember Pema Chödron. Something I read today. About tonglen. Breathing in the dark, heavy, hot stuff. Breathing out the white, light, cool stuff. Just that. Breathing in all the pain and suffering. Of myself. Of everyone who is in the same boat as I. Everyone who panics, who feels shame, who is overwhelmed by fear. Everyone who wants support, hope, safety. Breathing out lightness, relief, reassurance and hope. She writes about removing the object. Bringing down your experience to the visceral feeling, without thinking about the object. Breathing in the panic, fear, shame. Allowing this pain to penetrate me, to open me up to the suffering of us humans. Breathing out lightness, support, understanding. Nothing else.
It doesn’t work. I breathe in hot, dark, heavy. I don’t breathe out white, light, cool. I am stuck. I am not relaxing in this panic. I am consumed by it. I am crushed by it’s impact. I feel how strong it is. How blinding. I don’t see any ray of hope. I don’t trust there is a way out, there is just fear. I can’t enjoy the warmth of my house, the protection from the pouring rain. I only see myself out on the street, in the same cold, pouring rain, begging disinterested car drivers for money. There is nothing but my panic, and these horrible images.
And yet. There is some shifting, some movement within me. An opening of compassion. Some empathy. Some softening. I understand how scared I am. How terrified that I won’t make it. How horrified that I won’t have support. How overwhelmed by shame to even ask for support. How lonely to face my struggles and demons alone. I totally get how terrifying this situation is for me. I calm down. Nothing has changed. And something did. A splinter of compassion is growing next to my panic. Underneath the fear, the panic, I touch a seed of solidity. A solidity without words. Like a willow in the wind. It’s top sways wildly in the storm, it’s trunk moves flexibly with the storm. The roots are solidly grounded in the earth. I am solidly grounded in the earth.
by Elly van Laar | Nov 21, 2013 | Acceptance, Mindfulness, Personal Growth
What if this fear of rejection never goes away? What if I’ll always be afraid that I don’t add value, that I have nothing interesting to say? What if I’ll always have the thought that whatever if do, it’s never good enough, that I am not good enough?
I had decided to call my former clients and ask if they wanted to work with me again. To increase my income. I dreaded the whole thing. I hated the idea of selling myself. No matter how hard I tried to perceive the interaction as mutually beneficial, I didn’t. I saw it as begging, and I was sure they wouldn’t need me. I postponed. For two weeks. Completely and joyfully unconscious. I was very busy with other things. Important things. Cleaning the bathroom. Folding the sheets. Watching videos about enrolling conversations with clients. I knew I had to get started. I didn’t. First this email. Now I am hungry. Thank God, my husband wants to play music with me. Anything was a perfect reason not to call.
Then I caught myself in the act. I saw what I was doing and how I was rationalizing my behavior. I realized I would never generate any income, if I would not get up on stage and take action. Just start somewhere, anywhere. Now.
So I picked up the phone. Called one client. Left message. Then took a break. Then another client. Left message. A break. And another. And another. After six clients I started to enjoy it. Reaching out had nothing to do with fear of rejection. It had everything to do with connection. It had everything to do with getting started. Marshall Rosenberg writes something like “anything that’s worth doing, is worth doing poorly“.
You don’t have to overcome your fear of rejection. You don’t have to try to integrate it and heal it. It’s there. And it might always be there. Like a big hump on your back. Do you want to spend the rest of your life trying to get rid of your hump? Do you want to spend all your efforts and energy trying to make it less visible, more integrated? Or do you want to spend your time and resources on creating the life you want?
What if it’s war, and no one goes?
by Elly van Laar | May 24, 2013 | Mindfulness, Personal Growth
“Vulnerability is being open to the goodness within us and others.” Sakyong Mipham, The Shambala principle.
There is a woman on the street, who I have never seen looking up, who always sits huddled, and often has a frown on her face, I am not scared of her, just not inclined to engage with her, or give her money.
Today I remembered the quote. And as she looked up, I opened my window and gave her a dollar. She started talking to me in a language I didn’t understand, with what I received as an angry look and tone. And then it dawned on me: there is basic goodness in her, and all I need to do is accept her for who she is, embrace whatever comes up and with my smile affirm how beautiful and precious she is, how lucky we are to have her in our world.
And as she walked back to her spot, I felt such gratitude for the wisdom of Sakyong Mipham, and such trust in our basic human goodness.
by Elly van Laar | May 22, 2013 | Mindfulness, Personal Growth
My sister and I go way back. Well, of course: she’s 43, and I’m 48. We have always been close, sometimes struggled for connection, and again and again found the place where we enjoy our friendship. I have supported her to trust that her authenticity and vulnerability are strengths, and that when she honors her true self she can create the life she wants. She does. She is creating amazing results at work, beyond what I imagined possible.
Today I decided to offer something else than empathic listening for feelings and needs, and do a ‘just listening’ exercise. I invited her to bring her open heart and clear mind to the table, while I shared my feelings and physical sensations. If I would tell a story or share a thought, she could say “That’s a thought, not a feeling. What are you feeling?” After seven minutes we would shift roles.
She is open and adventurous and was up for the experiment. So we started. First me, then her. Seven minutes is a long time. Seven minutes sheer attention is quite something. It feels uncomfortable. I want to explain, I want to reassure. Without the stories, I feel naked. Nope. That’s a thought, not a feeling. What am I feeling? I don’t know. I am stuck in thoughts.
My whole life I wanted to be heard, I wanted to be seen, and now that I get full attention, I am scared. What will she think of me? Will she think I am a nut case? Will she think I am a nervous wreck? Will she laugh that the only feelings I have are fear in all it’s variations? Why is only fear coming up? Why don’t peace and calm come along? Fuck! Why don’t I have sweet and happy feelings? Why can’t I prove how mindful I am?
Then I calm down. It is like being on a boat on the river. We see this, we see that, we get stuck, we get unstuck, we go in loops, we float by. And there is just the being in the boat. Just watching, just observing. Just being. That’s it. It is not a listening exercise, it is a being exercise. Just being in the moment. Right here, right now, and enjoying whatever comes up. Or not. And accepting all of that.
