by Elly van Laar | Sep 11, 2015 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Fear, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
She hears a soft crying. She can hardly hear it with Anger yelling in her ears. He is trashing the place down. She probably should pay attention to him, but something is drawing her to this crying. She can’t quite determine where it’s coming from, somewhere in the corner over there.
As she walks over, she sees there is a door she has never noticed before. She feels her heart pounding as she turns the knob. The crying gets louder. Not that much, just a bit. It is dark inside, pitch dark. Coming from the brightly lit room, her eyes need to adjust. As she gets used to the dark, she sees a child. Maybe eight years old. Exhausted. Almost starved to death. She probably hasn’t been bathed for years. She can smell the urine and feces she has been drenched in.
The child turns her face to her. Startled, she recognizes this is her child. This is Fear whom she locked away years ago, hoping she would never see her again, hoping she would never feel afraid again.
As she looks at her child, a wave of compassion, love and care well up in her. A kindness for the child, a grief for the harm she contributed to. She strokes Fear’s hair. She sits with her for a long time. Finally she gets up to bring her some food, some water. As she walks to the fountain, she notices Anger sits in the corner, reading a book on compassionate communication. He looks quite satisfied and content.
She understands how Anger tried to cover up Fear, so she would not feel the anguish of being afraid. She has some appreciation for his efforts to empower her to overcome her fear and stand up for herself, even though they were somewhat unskillful. And she is grateful for having found Fear. For getting a second chance to connect with her child, and understand her. Collaborating to find ways to support her. Listening to how Anger can trust that she works on getting her needs for respect, safety, inclusion, and kindness met.
You want to learn to connect to your own anger and fear? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Sep 4, 2015 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
My jealousy is really ugly. Not a bit ugly, like unpleasant to look at, but really disgustingly ugly. It is dangerous too. It is covered in a contagious chemical that you can’t smell, taste, feel, see nor touch. It contaminates anyone that comes close to it by making small, insidious remarks about anyone it is jealous of. And sure enough, those around it start to look a little less positive on that person.
I need to protect others from it. I need to hide it and make sure it doesn’t see the light of day. It is too dangerous to even talk about.
True, I have more unpleasant feelings. Like anger, rage, sadness, loneliness, shame. But they all try to support a beautiful, precious, human need. Not always so skillful, and still: a beautiful, precious need. My anger and rage help me to take a stand for myself, to make sure I get respect. My sadness helps me to grief and to make positive changes in my life. Loneliness wants me to find connection, community, closeness. Shame, my dear friend shame, longs for acceptance, love, belonging. And Jealousy? Jealousy just wants to destroy, slash out, get rid of those people who get the resources I want, who get the care and appreciation I long for. The people who matter to my loved ones.
Wait a minute?
My jealousy actually tries to support a precious need? My need for care? For appreciation? To matter?
OMG
I could actually work with my jealousy, instead of against it? I could listen to it? I could try to understand the pain behind the jealousy? Maybe, baby, I could even ask it to help me formulate a request to relieve some of my suffering and meet my needs?
“Those with a coaching philosophy accept the expression of all feelings – including anger, sadness, and fear. In emotional situations, these family members often help one another solve problems and cope with difficult feelings.” (Gottman, J, The Relationship Cure, 2001, p. 145)
What if I take an emotion-coaching strategy with my Jealousy and empathize with it? Wouldn’t that change the whole situation?
You want to learn to coach your own unpleasant feelings? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Aug 7, 2015 | Compassion, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
I am absolutely sure. It is idiotic to sit on a meditation cushion, bring my awareness to my breath, while I should do something to stop IS from abducting Yezidi women and selling them as sex slaves or using them as cannon flesh. Or at least spend my meditation time to increase my income. Or if not that, to clean the house.
Sitting on a cushion doesn’t help anyway. I still have moments of overwhelming doubt, fear, loneliness, jealousy, anger, even rage. I yell and lose my temper maybe even more than before.
How mindful is that?
I pause.
I breathe in. All the self-doubt and self-criticism. I breathe out. Love, light, and relief. “May I be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.”
I think of all the other men and women who doubt whether their path makes sense. If they’re making a difference. I breathe in all their self-doubt and self-criticism. I breathe out to them love, light, and relief.
I feel calmer now.
Mindfulness is not about achieving a goal. Mindfulness is not about changing what you feel, what you think. Mindfulness is about being present with all that arises within you. Mindfulness is strengthening the compassion muscle, and accepting your experience with a little bit more acceptance each time you breathe in. Mindfulness is the willingness to engage all aspects of yourself, even those you don’t like. Mindfulness is the practice to open up to yourself more fully, and by doing so to embrace life more fully.
And as any practice, there are setbacks, plateaus, disillusions, frustrations. That’s fine. Because, as with any practice, the practice itself is the goal and the goal is to practice. No achieving, no changing. Just practicing. And no one can fail at that.
Maybe mindfulness isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Do you want help to practice mindfulness? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see if and how I can help you.
by Elly van Laar | Jun 23, 2015 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication, Self-compassion
We celebrated Father’s Day at our Sangha last Sunday. We received a heart upon entrance. A red one if our father had passed away. A white one if he was still alive. I got a white one. When we started our mindful walking, we were asked to pause at the altar, wait for the mindfulness bell to ring, and put our heart on the altar, while saying the name of our father aloud.
Papa Four Days Marches, 2011
I felt so touched, that my tears needed almost a minute, before I felt calm enough to pronounce my dad’s name loud and clear.
It was a sudden awakening to the deep appreciation, gratitude, and love I feel for my father.
I am well aware how lucky I am with my dad. He is 81, in vibrant health, he has a keen interest in people, he easily walks long distances, sometimes 25 miles a day, he loves to learn new things and skills, he offers compassion and support to those in less fortunate circumstances, he laughs, listens, and shares his insights.
Not all of us are that lucky. Some of us had dads who drank too much. Some of us had dads who lost interest in connection and life. Some of us had dads who needed more support than they could give.
If your dad was like that, it might be hard to celebrate Father’s Day. You might have sadness, grief, sorrow, anger that your dad didn’t show up in a way that worked for you.
It might help you if you see all behavior as an attempt to meet beautiful, universal, human needs and painful behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs. To see the little boy in the adult. A child who needed as much acceptance, love, belonging, understanding, and support as you do and who might have received as little as you did. Your dad probably just tried to support his needs, and maybe even yours, in circumstances that were not his choosing. That doesn’t make him a shitty person, it makes him a human being with painful behavior.
When you see behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs, you might be able to hold your own unmet needs with care, and his behavior with more compassion. And if you receive enough empathy and compassion for your pain, you might even open up to some appreciation for something he did for you, however small.
You want help to practice seeing painful behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs? CONTACT ME 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see if I can help you.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 30, 2015 | Acceptance, Compassion, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
“The path of the spiritual warrior is to have the courage to face life.” Geshe Lama Phuntsho talks to a visitor at the Sand Mandala Dissolution Ceremony at City Hall Austin, April 17.
“We have six consciousness: ear, eye, nose, tongue, touch, and mind. Our suffering comes from our desire to see beautiful views, hear beautiful sounds, feel something pleasant, taste something yummy, and have enjoyable thoughts and feelings. We crave what we like, and resist what we don’t. That is the source of suffering. The spiritual warrior accepts all that is, and learns to see reality for what it truly is, without distortion and illusion.”
Did you ever sit on your meditation cushion, yearning for a sense of peace and quiet of mind? Did you ever get frustrated, self-critical, or hopeless, because your mind was racing with thoughts you didn’t want, you had the urge to get up, you got antsy, felt uncomfortable? “This is not what meditation is about! Meditation is about calming yourself, having these alpha and theta waves get stronger, being still! This meditation stuff is not for me. Meditation just doesn’t work!!!” And there you go, ready to give up on sitting on your cushion.
Wake-up, beloved friend! Meditation and mindfulness are not about trying to be this smiley, peaceful Buddha. Mindfulness is about having the guts to acknowledge all the places where we are stuck, all the places we feel hurt, and all the places where we want revenge, slash out, hide, disappear, disconnect, possess, hold on to, and be reassured that everything will be okay. Mindfulness is about opening up to what is true for you in each moment, engage with your very own, personal experience, accept that that’s your reality, and embrace it with care and compassion. That is what it means to be alive, to be a full human being, and to walk around on our precious Earth in your one wild and precious life. Your feelings, thoughts, sensations might not change on your meditation cushion, AND your compassionate and courageous heart can grow in the experience!
Isn’t that what we all want?
You want help to embrace your experience on your cushion with compassion? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see if and how I can help you.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 14, 2015 | Acceptance, Compassion, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
She is quiet. Her eyes are closed. “I want to talk about my jealousy…. I feel shame around my jealousy…. As if there is something wrong with me…. It is hard to talk about it…. I am so afraid I will be rejected when people know about my jealousy….”
She looks down, her head slightly turned away.
“I feel jealous of you…. As soon as I saw you walk in, I felt this surge of jealousy overwhelm me…. Out of the blue…. It has nothing to do with you, I like you….”, she says with some sadness, “You just have something I want…. It is always about wanting something I don’t have….. I’m gonna be quiet now, I don’t want to get into stories, I’m gonna self-connect….”
After 50 seconds, “The way the group listened to you, with so much empathy, care, compassion. Ferociously protecting space for you to express yourself, to share your pain…..”
She looks at me. “It has nothing to do with you. I can be jealous of anyone who seems more successful, lovable, attractive than me.”
“My jealousy is harmful. I want other women to fail, to be less popular, less loved.”
She starts crying. “My jealousy is like a child with bloodshot eyes and a hot, iron rod in her hand, chasing other children to poke out their eyes.”
Tears roll down her cheek. “She is not the kind of child you would put up on stage. She is not the adorable five-year old in a tutu, doing a pirouette, who keeps twirling, till she finally loses balance and falls down, and when she gets back up, looks at her teacher with wide-open, blue eyes full of wonder about the next step…. My child wants to cripple that girl, harm her.”
She is quiet. “I understand that everyone is afraid of her and wants to get rid of her.”
She sobs. “Don’t take her away from me…. Don’t put her in an asylum.” She looks at me, “Please, form a circle around me, …. and let me learn how to be a good mother to my child. How to take care of her, surround her with love and compassion, hold her closely, and prevent her from harming others.”
Her breath is deeper and slower. I see a shimmer of peace on her face, her muscles relaxed. “Let me just practice the first Buddhist principle ‘Do no harm’. And then, maybe, I will learn to connect with her, understand her, support her, so that my jealousy can calm down.”
There is something amazing when you create a safe container of radical, unconditional acceptance of someone’s experience. People learn to accept themselves, look at their pain with compassion, and find their own solution from a place of empowerment.
You want help to hold your jealousy with care and compassion? Contact me for a free, discovery session. I would be delighted to help, 512-589-0482.
As she walks over, she sees there is a door she has never noticed before. She feels her heart pounding as she turns the knob. The crying gets louder. Not that much, just a bit. It is dark inside, pitch dark. Coming from the brightly lit room, her eyes need to adjust. As she gets used to the dark, she sees a child. Maybe eight years old. Exhausted. Almost starved to death. She probably hasn’t been bathed for years. She can smell the urine and feces she has been drenched in.
