Sunday, December 18, 2011

Quit Yer Bitchin

We all have complaints.  

We all want to be heard when we have complaints.  Often when we complain, it's because we have a need that is not being met.  We want things to be other than what they are.  We may simply want our husband to pick up his socks. Yet, somehow most of us go through life never learning how to ask for what we need in a way that doesn't create frustration for ourselves and others.  Think back to the last time you bitched at someone and ask yourself if your words and actions created the effect you were hoping for.  Did you get what you wanted or needed, or did you end up with yet a longer list of complaints?

Here's what I wish I had learned when I was in Kindergarten:

Every complaint is a request in disguise.
 
Sit with this for a moment and see if it rings true for you.  If it does, then when you next hear yourself complaining (even better if the complaint has not yet left your lips), ask yourself how it can be transformed into a request.  Here are the important ground rules:
  1. Before you make a request, you must be calm.  If you are upset and your request is tinged with frustration, you have already lost the person on the other end of the conversation. They are already in defensive mode and less willing to be accepting of your request.  Remember your mood is contagious. You may need to do some deep breathing, go for a walk, or have a moment to yourself before you are ready to make your request calmly.  
  2. Ask for their listening.  Don't assume someone will give it to you just because you start talking.  Their listening is a gift.  By asking for it, you are reminding them of such. 
  3. Know what it is that you want and speak it clearly.  This may seem like a given, but you must be ruthlessly clear about conditions of satisfaction when making a request or you will most likely end up being disappointed and frustrated.  For example, your request should address who, what, where, and when....as in, "Would you be willing to bring a me a cold glass of water right now?"
  4. Be sure your request is not a command or a demand.  This is a big one.  A request begins with, "I have a request, would you be willing to....?"
  5. Be prepared for the other person to accept or decline your request, or make a counter offer.  Again, remaining calm no matter what the outcome will help you to move forward with greater ease.  See last month's post, "Internal Fix" for a great exercise to help you stay calm.
Taking on this practice has profoundly changed the way I communicate with family, friends, and complete strangers.  I complain less often, more of my needs are met, and my husband doesn't think he is married to the nag of the century.  Usually.  Seriously, this way of communicating sidesteps frustration and allows for communication that promotes partnership and peace rather than opposition, resentment, and frustration.

Imagine that every time you complain, or nag, or bitch at your loved one, it's like pooping in the fish bowl of your life together.  Before you know it, your loved one feels he has the need to do the same.  The poop piles up and the water becomes toxic.  Then, you are both suffocating and feeling desperate to leave the bowl.   

Making requests is like having someone place a spacious bowl of clean, clear water in front of you.  By practicing, you will be giving yourself and your loved ones an effective way to step out of old patterns and stagnant conversations that breed negativity.


As the old saying goes... what you put out into the world is what will come back to you.  If you don't like being slapped with a list of complaints then begin turning yours into loving requests.  As always, I say this as a reminder for myself as much as I say it as a reminder for you, my dear readers.  We have so much more to gain in making a request than allowing ourselves to be stuck in the suffering that is created when we complain. 

Now, upon further examination, I would change the title of this post to "Would You Please Be Willing to Quit Yer Bitchin?" :)

With Encouragement,
Dawn

Dedicated with enormous gratitude to Bob Duggan and Dianne Connelly.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Do You Hear What I Hear?

As the old saying goes, sometimes it is best to ride the horse in the direction it is going. 

This morning, my body was wanting to move slowly.  My "horse" was leading me to sit myself down on the couch and be still.  I didn't listen...

I got 30 seconds into my morning jog and doubled over in pain.

Lesson learned. Again.

Let the body lead. 

So simple. Yet, most of us push through the warning signs our bodies offer us all day...everyday.  From the tension in our chest that we experience when we are upset, to the headaches that we get when we work too many hours, we are ignoring the wisdom of our bodies.  Every symptom (and if you think you don't have any, then you aren't paying attention) gives us the opportunity to learn how to live well.  Maybe your back pain is asking you to slow down, or maybe it's asking you to move your body in a certain way.  The body is asking for our attention.  If we ignore it long enough, it will stop us in our tracks...no longer asking for our attention, rather screaming for it.

If you are at beginner at paying attention to your symptoms and understanding them, begin by asking yourself these questions:

-When did it start? What was going on in my life at that time?
-Where do I feel this in my body? What is the sensation like?
-What makes it better or worse?
-What is this symptom teaching me about how I am living?

Getting to know the ins and outs of your symptoms empowers you.  It allows you to understand which direction the horse is riding and whether you are fighting it.  As I was reminded on my morning jog, the body always wins. 

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Internal Fix

Racing heart, shaking knees, trembling hands, shortness of breath, swirling thoughts....these are some of the symptoms that I used to experience on a regular basis.  Like many performers, I experienced so much fear and anxiety as a musician that I almost didn't know what to do with myself.  Wishing for a way out of the discomfort, I found myself reaching for prescription drugs before a concert to take the edge off.  Along the way, I somehow figured out that if I held my breath for several seconds and exhaled slowly several times before I walked on stage, I could actually reduce and sometimes reverse my symptoms.

Although I'm no longer faced with the same anxiety I experienced as a performer, let's just say that I am never short on reasons or opportunities (such as my children fighting over a toy for 3rd time in the last hour) to foster inner calm.  I imagine that you might be in a similar boat because we all have button pushers in our lives to some degree.

Similar to how I used my breath to ease my fears, the following breathing technique called 4-7-8, by Dr. Andrew Weil, involves holding and releasing the breath to settle the nervous system.  It's incredibly powerful, and unlike anti-anxiety medications that can lose their effectiveness over time, this technique actually becomes more effective the more you do it.  I have even taught a modified version of this to my children hoping that someday they might remember that breathing and being calm is an option even while in the middle of a heated debate over who gets tucked in first.

Here is the link for 4-7-8 (listed under breathing exercise #2).  It is my version of a glass of wine, minus the calories and price tag.  I challenge you to give take this on the next time you find yourself reaching for your favorite external fix.  How is the comfort that you find in a cigarette, drink, or cookie different from what you are able to create internally with 4-7-8?



Curious,
Dawn

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Trust Your Chair

Funny how life throws me opportunities to practice what I preach...

Yesterday, while in the ER and holding my little boy "E" who had taken a nasty spill from a bike, I was reminded of a practice called "Trust Your Chair" taught by healer Thea Elijah.  So, there I sat doing my best to comfort E and realized my whole body was stiff.  Seriously, what child is going to feel comforted in the arms of a parent that is tense and stressed?  Certainly not mine.  Here's what I noticed: Only the tips of my toes were touching ground.  My leg muscles were wound up,  shoulders contorted, and my breathing was shallow.  I was in a total panic that my baby was in pain.  He was bleeding.  He was crying.  I was crying.  My heart was breaking that I couldn't seem to help him feel better.

And then I took a breath.

Somehow in becoming aware of the tension in my body, I also became aware that if I wasn't able to find comfort in my own body, I couldn't help E find comfort in his.  I softened.  I breathed again.  I placed my feet flat on the floor, shifted my tone of voice from "worried" to "you are going to be ok".  My shoulders dropped and I allowed my body to surrender to the chair.  Completely.  E snuggled into my arms, stopped crying, and settled.  We both stopped crying.  We found a way to reverse the upward spiral of anxiety that we had found ourselves in just moments earlier.


Whatever your body position right now, pause for a moment and observe how you are using your body while looking at this screen.  In this moment, are your shoulders up by your ears? Are your feet tightly tucked under your chair, with your upper body craned toward the screen as if you are about to spring into action? Are you slumped over, chest caved? Which of your muscles are tight and which are loose?  The way in which we hold our physical body has everything to do with how we hold our emotions and thoughts.  Create ease in your body and observe what happens to the rest of you.

Experiment now with softening your belly, your shoulders, your lower back, your jaw.  Give yourself permission to trust the furniture that you are sitting on.  Give it the weight of your entire body and allow yourself to be supported.  From this place of physical softness and surrender, you may find your thoughts flowing more easily, or your breath deepen.  In letting go of muscle tension, you can find yourself deeply grounded and rooted. 


The more you practice this relaxed body, the easier it will be to find it when you are tightly wound in the opposite direction.  You can practice "trusting your chair" while holding your child, listening to a friend, sitting in traffic, or if you are having difficulty falling asleep.  Here's the guarantee: when you soften and create ease in your physical body, the rest of the world will go easier with you.

Ease is contagious.  Spread it generously.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Where's the Cheese?


As humans, we can easily find ourselves blaming others for creating upset in our lives.  We look at our family members, co-workers, and even complete strangers as the cause of our suffering.  When we believe we have been wronged, our capacity for feeling offended, hurt, violated, and disrespected is seemingly endless. Our feelings may indeed be justified, and by all means we are entitled to feel them, however, there is no cheese at the end of the maze. 

There is no cheese because in the process of pointing the finger, we give away our power to shift a situation.  If we could unclench our jaws, fists, and hearts for even a few moments, maybe we could move beyond the maze of thoughts that keep us in victimhood...stuck in the conversation that we have been wronged.  Maybe we could begin to see that what we detest in others is what we ultimately detest in ourselves.  We can open our hearts to our perceived enemy and know that whether we want to admit it, or believe it, or like it, we are all doing the best we can.  From this place of understanding, suddenly a small opening appears, and there it is...the cheese that we have been looking for.  

Take a moment to digest this quote by Zen master, Thich Nhat Hanh.  He offers a brilliant alternative to finger pointing and inspires me to think a larger thought when I find myself blaming.

When you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you don't blame the lettuce. You look into the reasons it is not doing well. It may need fertilizer, or more water, or less sun. You never blame the lettuce. Yet if we have problems with our friends or our family, we blame the other person. But if we know how to take care of them, they will grow well, like lettuce. Blaming has no positive effect at all, nor does trying to persuade using reason and arguments. That is my experience. No blame, no reasoning, no argument, just understanding. If you understand, and you show that you understand, you can love, and the situation will change. - 
Thích Nhat Hanh
Today, choose one person that will be on the receiving end of your ability and willingness to understand.  This may be a gift that you offer to yourself first and then extend to someone you love, or a stranger who cuts you off in traffic.  Observe what your body feels like when you are blaming vs. understanding.  Larger thoughts bring physical ease and expansion.  Allow your body lead you through the maze.  It always knows how to get to the cheese.

Peace to you,
Dawn

Monday, September 12, 2011

First day jitters

photo by Leo Reynolds
What might we create for ourselves, our children, and our planet if we remembered to breathe? What if we stopped running our old stories about ourselves long enough to take just one deep breath?

As humans, our negative commentaries (I'm not good enough, no one will like me, I'm a bad parent, I'm a better parent, etc.) take us away from noticing what is real, true, and tangible.  They keep us flailing helplessly in a sea of I can'ts, I'm nots, and I shoulds that are hardly ever based in reality.  A few deep breaths - I'm talking so deep that you feel them in your pelvis - can bring you from the land of make believe right to this very moment.  While the breath may not get rid of your fears, worries, frustrations, or your neighbor's barking dog, it will bring you to this moment where you can create another possibility for yourself - a new commentary.

For example, my daughter and I both have the first day jitters.  I am feeling terrified of what you all will think of my first blog entry...the what-ifs that are coursing through my brain and body have kept me from starting this project for months.  Similarly, my daughter is so nervous to meet her new teacher and see old classmates that she is visibly pale and expressionless.

Pause. Breathe.

photo by Marco Bellucci


What changes after I breathe is that I become aware that really, I am a human being sitting at a computer and typing some words.  Really, I am none of the things I fear, and none of you have thrown virtual rotten tomatoes at me.  It's all made up.

For me, the breath in this moment reminds me that I have courage.  For my daughter, her breath brought pink back into her cheeks and allowed her to put one foot in front of the other.

Fear + breath = courage. What gift will your breath bring you?

With Courage,
Dawn

Saturday, September 10, 2011

My Why


Choosing to become a blogger wasn't necessarily what I ever imagined for myself.  However, when it was suggested to me, I found myself getting excited about sharing what I have learned over the last several years while studying acupuncture and what I continue to learn while living life.

Many teachers at Tai Sophia Institute, including founders Bob Duggan and Dianne Connelly, have helped me to open my heart and mind and take on practices that have immensely shifted my way of being in the world.  They encourage all students to take the wisdom that is taught and "give it away", creating as large of a ripple effect as possible.  My purpose in blogging is to share those practices with you, reinforce them for myself, as well as offer other thoughts on how to live well physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Similar to my intention when I offer acupuncture needles to my patients, my hope is that the words you read in this blog will bring peace and ease into your life wherever there may be suffering.  I welcome you, as you are.

Peace to you,
Dawn

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Acknowledgement

Have you paid attention to what your response is when someone offers you a compliment? What does your body do?  Where do your thoughts take you?

Maybe you openly disagree with the person offering the acknowledgement - your eyes cast downward, chest sunken.  Maybe you politely say thank you and act as if you are taking it in, however, your mind takes you running in the opposite direction.  Do you feel compelled to tell the person something negative about yourself in order to sabotage the moment?

These ways of reacting are not good or bad.  And you don't have to give them up.  You may have more practice with bashing yourself and that's ok.  However, violence against yourself is always optional and there are other possibilities.  First....

Allow yourself to be a beginner.

What might shift if you were to begin to allow yourself to receive acknowledgement without attaching a negative label to it or the person offering it? If you are going to label it, you might as well give it a label that serves you.  For example, you can imagine the kind words of others as nourishment.  Much like the food we take in, the water we drink, the rest we give our bodies, the air we breathe, we need to receive kindness to be well.  When we close our hearts to this nourishment, we are missing an opportunity to quench the need that we all have as humans to feel recognized and loved.

The next time you hear genuine acknowledgement come your way, have courage to pause, and experiment with the following steps:
  1. Feel your feet on the ground.
  2. Imagine the words, just like your breath, filling your chest.
  3. Allow yourself to be moved.
You can reinforce this new way of being by asking the person to repeat their words until you have fully taken them in. This may seem uncomfortable and strange, however, when you are a beginner at anything, repetition is necessary.  Another option is to apply these steps while imagining a time when someone offered you acknowledgement and you didn't take the time to receive it fully.

Remember that kindness is a gift, pure and simple.  Taking it in may inspire you to more readily give it away.

    With a deep bow of acknowledgement,
    Dawn