Giveaway: Win a 2024 Day-to-Day Calendar, Gratitude Journal, and More!

Giveaway: Win a 2024 Day-to-Day Calendar, Gratitude Journal, and More!

Hi friends! To celebrate the holiday season, I’m running a special giveaway today. Two people (US only) will win a bundle including Tiny Buddha’s 2024 Day-to-Cay Calendar, Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal, and Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself.

Uplifting and healing, this calendar offers daily reflections from me, Tiny Buddha contributors, and other authors whose quotes have inspired and encouraged me.

Featuring colorful, patterned tear-off pages, the calendar is printed on FSC certified paper with soy-based ink. Topics include happiness, love, relationships, change, meaning, mindfulness, self-care, letting go, and more.

Here’s what Amazon reviewers had to say about this year’s calendar:

“I discovered the Tiny Buddha site a couple years ago and loved it, so I decided to get the calendar and I’m so glad I did. The quotes/advice are short and sweet but so incredibly profound. I hang my favorites on the bulletin board above my desk.” ~Elizabeth

“Absolutely love these daily tidbits that always remind me of what’s really important in life and how to deal with stress and life’s difficult situations. I bought one for myself last year and two this year so I can share with my sister.” ~LV 

Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal includes thought-provoking questions and prompts to help you recognize and celebrate all the good things in your life, as well as fifteen coloring pages depicting awesome things we often take for granted.

Here’s what some Amazon reviewers had to say:

“This is the best little gratitude journal. The prompts are easy and thoughtful. I absolutely love the little coloring pages as well. Highly recommend.” ~Trisha Coonce

“I use the Tiny Buddha Gratitude Journal on a bi-daily basis to perk up my spirits. When I am stressed or irritated, this is my go-to for a spot of happiness. I really appreciate purchasing the book.” ~Unnamed reviewer

Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself is a collection of stories, tips, and insights to help you silence your inner critic, stop judging yourself, and start treating yourself with kindness and care.

If you focus on your flaws, fixate on fixing yourself, or have a hard time believing in your worth, Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself can help you learn to value, honor, and care for yourself.

Here’s what Amazon reviewers had to say about this one:

“I love this little book. It is an incredible read and helped me have so much more compassion for myself and a broader perspective for my life. I’ve read it multiple times and each time I glean something new. I’ve bought this book for a lot of friends and family as well. Highly recommend!” ~CM

“Hands down the best self help book I have ever read. Bought this as a gift for my honey, who has been struggling lately. Turns out its the book that I didn’t even know I needed. This book is helping me understand a lot about myself and why I act the way that I do. If you’re struggling with yourself, do yourself a favor and buy this book.” ~Samantha

How to Enter the Giveaway

Join the Tiny Buddha list, if you’re not already a subscriber. You can subscribe for daily emails (Monday – Friday), a weekly digest of blog posts on Fridays, or just occasional emails about freebies and special offers.

Leave a comment on this post sharing one thing you’re grateful or one thing you love about yourself (or both!).

You can enter until midnight PST on Sunday, December 3rd. I will update this post with the winners’ names sometime on Monday. Please check back on Tuesday to see if you’ve won so you can email me your mailing address.

If you’d like to grab any of these resources for yourself or for a holiday gift now, you can find the calendar here, the Gratitude Journal here, and the Guide to Loving Yourself here.

Happy Thursday, friends!

About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She’s also the author of Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal, Tiny Buddha's Worry Journal, and Tiny Buddha's Inner Strength Journal and co-founder of Recreate Your Life Story, an online course that helps you let go of the past and live a life you love. For daily wisdom, join the Tiny Buddha list here. You can also follow Tiny Buddha on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/IND6Aq5

How Your Worst Days Can Shape Your Best Self

How Your Worst Days Can Shape Your Best Self

“It is often those moments you feel least connected that you are actually making your greatest progress. The chaos around you is an invitation to pause, reflect, and grow. You are more than equipped to deal with this. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.” ~Benjamin P Hardy

It’s 1 a.m., and the silence is broken by a cough that can only be described as sounding like someone who has smoked two packs daily for the last thirty years. There’s no way to predict when I’ll be woken again, but if the past week is any indication, this won’t be the last.

Unbeknownst to me, I’ve been dropped into the notoriously rigorous training program known as “Hell Week” that Navy SEAL candidates must endure. It’s a gruelling, continuous training exercise lasting several days with little to no sleep, intense physical challenges, and mental stress. Hell Week aims to test candidates’ physical and mental resilience and their ability to work effectively as a team under extreme conditions.

Here’s the problem: My hell is a twenty-month-old with a nasty cough that she can’t shake. She’s obviously not torturing us on purpose, but it doesn’t make the experience any less exhausting.

When I finally fall back asleep and am once again awakened by a foghorn for the sixth night in a row, the tears start welling up in my eyes, as I have no idea how the hell I’m going to make it through another day of calls and projects that are relying on me.

Bipolar and sleep deprivation go together as well as a clown juggling chainsaws in a hurricane—a disaster waiting to happen, with a side of chaos and potential accidental amputations.

So, if I’m going to be perfectly honest, and to borrow another military term, the team is experiencing a clusterf*ckunder these extreme conditions.

How else would you describe the frustration and disorder that arises when things do not go according to plan?

Our team is hanging on by a thread. The fights between my wife and I are wearing us down, the outbursts of anger are cringe-worthy, and the feeling that this will never end is causing enough friction to leave our skin raw.

These are the moments when I catch myself being a victim of my life.

Then I realize my expectations are out of whack. Things won’t always go smoothly, and sometimes I need to accept that I can’t do everything I’d like to accomplish, or do anything as well as I can when I’m at my best.

These are not the moments to thrive.

These are the moments to survive.

It’s a reminder that life rarely goes according to plan.

And that’s the whole point of Hell Week.

Anyone can crush it on a good day, but how do you handle the inevitable hell you will face as a parent, someone who gets crippled by their mental health, or experiencing any number of painful challenges we all face?

That question has improved my mental health, business success, and life quality more than anything else I’ve encountered in the last six years.

Why?

Because it changed my approach.

Your choices on your toughest days shape your path more than those made on your brightest.

When I struggled, I found that having an all-or-nothing approach rarely allowed me to progress on the essential things. Instead, it often felt like I was starting from scratch again. I would go off the deep end and find myself drowning in a negative thinking pattern, saying, “Of course I’m back here! Shit like this always happens when I’m making progress.”

But as author James Clear said, “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.”

It taught me the importance of establishing a solid foundation and that sticking to a routine can provide stability and a sense of control (regardless of what’s happening around me).

I am nothing without hydration, elevation, meditation, and contemplation.

This can feel high-level when you’re starting out. Don’t overthink the “perfect” way to implement these power-ups.

  • I’ll crush another coffee đŸ‘‰ I’ll drink a liter of water.
  • I’ll catch up on emails đŸ‘‰ I’m taking the dog out for a walk and getting some sun.
  • I’ll get ahead on a few of my projects đŸ‘‰ I’ll sit down and throw on a twenty-minute guided meditation.
  • I’ll watch a few lessons for a marketing course đŸ‘‰ I’ll sit on the front porch and read something light and fun.

These small trades can make a big difference to your physical and mental health when you’re struggling.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in the world of self-growth and personal development. Especially when you’re shamed for not having a clear answer to questions like, “Wait, you don’t have a three-hour morning routine carved out to put yourself in a peak state of abundance?”

I’m going to categorize that as a “nice to have.”

It’s similar to my intention of cooking gourmet meals for my daughter every night, yet I often resort to buttered noodles and broccoli because they’re a crowd-pleaser.

There’s substance, and I’m not adding to an already stressed-out day.

Meaning she gets a better dad who is enjoyable to be around.

Winning the day comes back to being far more intentional about what you can stick to on your day from hell than what you can accomplish on your dream day of sunshine, lollipops, and prepping Michelin star meals.

In the midst of our personal Hell Weeks, it’s the small, intentional actions that become our lifeline. It’s not about mastering every challenge but about grounding ourselves in the routines and habits that offer solace and stability.

So, when the nights seem endless and the challenges insurmountable, remember: your power lies in your tiny, consistent choices. Harness them and watch as they transform your toughest days into stepping stones toward a brighter tomorrow.

About Chris Wilson

Join Chris Wilson in 'Simplify Sundays,' a newsletter journey blending productivity insights, minimalism, and personal growth. Overcoming depression and bipolar disorder, Chris shares profound lessons for a balanced, fulfilling life. Discover the power of simplicity and mindfulness to transform challenges into growth opportunities. Embrace a life of less stress, more joy, and meaningful living. [Click here to access Chris's Free Course] on mindful simplicity, and start your journey toward a happier, more productive life.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/21VUAgw

How I’ve Learned to Love My Inner Weirdo

How I’ve Learned to Love My Inner Weirdo

“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable, beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.” ~Mary Oliver

 I was a beautiful, wild, and exhilarating kid. I marched to the beat of my unicorn drum and, to the confusion of adults, I did not fit into the typical boxes they had been anticipating.

This little kid was ready to thrive!

The freedom did not last long. My zest for life and unicorn drum beat quickly symbolized my weirdness. Adults tilted their heads in perplexity as they pointed out my offbeat thinking. I frequently found myself in “time out” or enforced “alone time” for being disruptive, lost in my inner world, and not listening.

I did not understand. I was thrilled to be me!

Without my consent, my self-expression was labeled as problematic.

Looking back, I know what I needed. This kid needed to run around in the forest, study wildlife in the river, and have a science teacher like Ms. Frizzle in the Magic School Bus.

At six years old, my mom died. This loss added a new layer of complexity, amplifying my “issues.” I was weirder and wilder and, suddenly, these qualities didn’t feel fun anymore.

I felt alone.

In first grade, my teacher gave us a test: how to read an analog clock with hour and minute hands tucked inside the belly of a teddy bear. I was shocked. WHEN HAD WE LEARNED THIS? Everyone filled in their test knowingly, and I just colored the bears in neon marker.

ADHD was in its infancy as a diagnosis. Nobody had heard of it. My parents found a doctor researching the nascent disorder, and he believed I was outside of a (subjective) range of ‘normal behavior.’

Before I understood what was happening, I was on medication.

Learning to Mask

As I hit high school, I started taping my meds to the inside of my journal to hide them. I had officially learned to mask. Masking is an act where an individual attempts to hide, suppress, or overcompensate for symptoms to appear neurotypical.

The good news is that I learned the necessary skills to navigate a conventional lifestyle.

But deep down, my inner fire was brewing. And the pressure to be normal was soul-crushing.

The Lesson of the Platypus

At this juncture, I want to introduce you to the gloriousness of Ornithorhynchus anatinus, also known as the platypus. #egglayingbreastfeedingduckbeaverotter,

This semi-aquatic mammal, native to Australia and Tasmania, is a biological enigma, boasting a suite of features that defy categorization. They lay eggs like a reptile and nurse their young with milk like a mammal.

They sport a bill and webbed feet like a duck and come equipped with venomous spurs on their hind limbs. And let’s not forget their ability to sense electric fields through the bill, a skill typically associated with certain fish species.

Scientists continue to argue over which (imperfect) scientific category we need to stuff this little soul into. Does it occur to us that the categories are restrictive if everyone doesn’t fit into them? I mean, without a label, how will we know how to make sense of the world?!

I love the platypus.

The Strange World of Adulting

Adulting is confusing. I watched my friends achieve career status, navigate the dating world, and generally appear to function in society. Go to work, hang out with friends, and do it again.

But I was sinking. I was an alien on a foreign planet. My spacecraft had landed here, and I was in culture shock. Keeping up the pretense was now the leading cause of my turmoil.

I wanted to run wild and free and live without expectations or restricting rules. I was terrified to follow the rigid path before me.

My inner fire was turning into a massive flame.

I felt deep shame for not just doing the obvious: college, job, don’t rock the boat, wear these outfits, something about a house with a fence. What if being the real me meant I would fail at all of life?

Even simple acts of wearing office-approved outfits felt like extreme acts of self-betrayal. Why was I having a dramatic reaction to simple requests from society? I felt shame and guilt.

Most of all, being different was going to disappoint my family. I was embarrassed that I was different.

The harder I tried to squish the inner flame, the more I stoked the fire.

The masking was not working. It was causing crushing anxiety and self-destructive behavior.

Fire. It cannot be ignored.

Thus began my journey toward radical self-love. To embrace my inner platypus.

I found myself at my first underground party involving a sidewalk corner drop-off point, a second bus ride, and an abandoned warehouse. I was sitting on a handcrafted platform that looked directly down at the DJ controls.

My eyes were wide, and I was quiet. Soaking in the people, the art, the music.

As I looked down, with my feet dangling over the edge, a magical woman was turning dozens of knobs; with her elbows tucked in, her hands were moving at the speed of light, and from my intimate view, she was in her creative zone.  She was wild and free, effortlessly and manically matching beats. She was in the flow.

My inner flame sparked. My unicorn drum was ready to come out of the closet.

Who was this magical being who used her music to express her inner light?

The tonic to isolation was going to be a community that valued expression.

I needed to find my fellow Platypuses. My divergent community.

Turns out, this community is everywhere!

They were at the bookstore, in yoga class, at my job, and they were my friends. The very ones that I thought had it all together.

The wall I had built that made me feel separate from others was an illusion. Everyone is weird! Of course I created my wall for protection. I had been informed for most of my life that being me was a not-so-good idea. Tone it down. Way down. Well, no more.

Once I found an expressive community, I felt safe to explore my wild. I danced in the desert in my underwear, spinning fire toys. I spent a year on a farm in Costa Rica planting pineapples and chocolate, and I ignored my fancy college degree, favoring a career at a dog hotel where being yourself is 100% encouraged by said dogs.

I created awkward moments, voiced my imperfect opinions proudly, let my career swerve, and followed my serotonin to dead ends, risky decisions, and messy lessons.

Insights and Lessons from the Wild

The qualities I was embarrassed by—too impulsive, unproductive, out of control, unfocused, too much energy—are a beautiful part of me. They deserve to be nourished, explored, and encouraged to grow.

My value as a human is inherent.

In the case of our platypus friends, scientists created an entirely new scientific class just so our beloved platypus didn’t collapse the labeling system for evolutionary theory.

The platypus inspires me to be authentic and allow myself the freedom to create my own labels and my own rules. Like a platypus, we are all originals, one of a kind, who deserve even brief moments of wild expression.

I now explore in the forest and protect wildlife in the river. I am that science teacher I always needed.

If you are curious to embrace your inner platypus and embrace your weirdness, I encourage you to test a few undisciplined and unproductive practices.

Exploration One: Dance in the Dark (with Mood Lighting)

Dance out loud in the darkness and solitude of your own space. Play your favorite songs. Be you with you. As Bessel van der Kolk states in his book, The Body Keeps the Score, “Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies.” I encourage you to fall in love with yourself in your safe space.

Exploration Two: Blow Your Own Mind

Dare to be unproductive and revel in being distracted.

Go outside, find a favorite leaf, and save it for an art project you never intended to complete. Head out to a workout class and go to lunch instead. Read the last page of a new book.  Brush your teeth with your other hand.

By stepping outside of our routine, we invite our brains to forge new pathways, and in these unscripted moments of beingness, we might find ourselves deeply connected to a part of us that enjoys just being alive.

Exploration Three: Live and Let Live

Wild authenticity starts with coexisting with each other. Our planet is exploding with diversity, with extremes, with the unusual, the weird, and the specialized. Commit to being so honest with yourself that you can appreciate all the other weird around you. Let’s celebrate each other!

As Mary Oliver asks, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

About Wave Melén

Wave Melén is a badass financial coach who has been tossing glitter bombs into the gray world of finance for over seven years. Sign up for your free financial adventure checklist here! With an authentic and heart-centered approach, Wave helps individuals embrace their financial adventure, crush financial isolation, and awaken their inner platypus, that glowing state of passion, purpose, and vision.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/RQ2pWgT

Always Exhausted? Native Wisdom to Restore Your Energy

Always Exhausted? Native Wisdom to Restore Your Energy

TRIGGER WARNING: This post references sexual assault and may be triggering to some people.

“Spirit carved by Nature
Here I am.
Slowly ascending
toward my own profundity.”
~Elicura Chihuailaf

That exhaustion you feel when your body is fighting something, the feeling of being completely drained to the point where you can barely move your body…. that’s how I felt when I was living with trauma.

Over the years it had piled up inside of me—the sexual assault I survived one night after I’d just turned twenty, the physical and emotional abuse that went on almost daily when I lived with my ex-husband… all of it was still living inside of me. And every day it was making me feel more and more tired.

The difference is, when we come down with, let’s say, a cold, once we fight it and heal, our energy returns, and we feel like ourselves again. But trauma… again, it’s different. At least in this culture; more on that in a little bit.

That’s why I never “got over” it. I never got my energy back; I never woke up feeling rested or like I was back to being myself. Not until eight years later.

Too Tired to Listen

From a very young age, our people are taught the importance of listening… especially to energy. We recognize that energy is in everything that’s alive, from the forest to a rock, the water, sun, all animals, and, of course, ourselves. And energy will always “speak” to let us know when something is out of balance.

It’s hard to listen in this culture, though, even as an Indigenous person who comes from these teachings, and even though I’m only the first generation in my family to live in Western society. It’s hard because here we are distracted, and so tired, of just trying to survive.

Whatever energy we have has to go to work so that we can pay our bills, rent, food, and what else is needed. We don’t have the support of our communities, where everyone helps each other out, growing food, caring for those who are sick or injured, and even raising children. At least that’s how it was in my community, on our reservation, before so many of us were forced to leave.

It takes a lot of energy to do everything alone, as most of us do in this culture. That’s why so many of us don’t see any other option but to push through and, as a result, we forget to listen.

Back then, if I’d listened instead of feeling guilt and shame for not doing enough, I would’ve understood myself better. I would’ve shown myself more compassion and known that my energy was telling me something was off.

The fact that I could barely get out of bed and jumped at any chance to doze off: in parking lots in my car, at work behind some boxes in the stock room, in bed while watching Friends. It wasn’t laziness or a lack of motivation. It was me, still trying to survive what I’d been through.

Not Living, Busy Surviving

While we don’t always think of the stress we go through or even the trauma that happened in our past as something that would be considered surviving—and if we do think of it as surviving, it’s usually past tense—it is how our energy and body respond.

And what’s important to remember about energy, and ourselves as nature, is that we don’t have an endless amount of it. We’re not like our laptops or phones, with a charger that you can just plug in and recharge. That means when your energy is focused on surviving, it doesn’t have enough left to take care of you.

Going back to the comparison of having a cold. When you go to sleep, your body doesn’t just stop fighting the virus, right? It continues while you sleep, which is why you wake up feeling exhausted.

Stress and trauma work the same way. Just because you’re lying down, resting on your couch, or going to sleep, that doesn’t mean your body (and energy) stops protecting you.

Think of a deer trying to escape a hunter. At that moment, their energy can only focus on survival, right? It’s not until they get away and find safety that their energy changes back to its natural state, balance, because then they don’t need to try to survive anymore.

But let’s say this deer is living in a place that is not their natural environment. Instead of open meadows and deep forests, there’s a high chain-link fence trapping the deer with the hunter. The deer runs and desperately tries to find a way out, a place to be safe, but can’t find it.

Eventually, the deer will become tired and lay down because, like us, the deer can’t fight for survival forever.

My life back then was not focused on living. It was almost exclusively focused on sleep and coming up with excuses so that I wouldn’t have to leave my bed. And to no surprise, my friends eventually got fed up with me always turning them down, so they stopped calling. While I was relieved to not have to come up with excuses anymore, I felt lonelier than ever.

That’s the strange thing about survival, or it’s not strange; it makes a lot of sense. When we’re in this state we don’t want to be alone, but at the same time, we’re also too tired to be around people. Or to pick up the phone or answer calls or texts from loved ones. We want to, but there’s not enough inside of us to make us do it.

So we hide behind the walls we build to protect ourselves, while at the same time, wishing for a way out.

It was only meant to be temporary.

It was never meant to be this way. Survival is meant to be temporary, to protect you, to help you through something, to keep you alive. That’s why you were born with responses to finish it. That’s why you were born with the ability to heal, just as you heal from any other wound, or when you’re sick.

It’s the laws of nature, or else life could never continue.

And like the deer, when your nge, your energy, knows you’re safe, it changes the message it sends to your body: from doing everything to protect you to taking care of you.

What keeps us stuck in survival, too drained and exhausted to live our lives, is living in a culture that keeps trying to convince us that we’re not nature and that these responses we have had to be controlled, even stopped.

Think about the responses you have that would make you embarrassed if they happened around other people, or would make you think of yourself as “weak,” but are completely natural. Crying, trembling, shaking.

Here we learn to look at ourselves as humans without human responses, and it has consequences.

Too many people are now living too exhausted to engage with life because they can’t finish survival. They don’t know about the gifts nature gave them to heal from trauma and release stress from their bodies. That what comes in must come out, and what starts must finish.

The arrogance of this dominant culture is thinking they can do better, and even replace, nature. And the danger of a homogeneous societal culture is that it makes us believe it too.

Conclusion

Remember that no matter how strong and resilient you are, your energy can only do so much at a time.

When you go to sleep, that’s when nothing else is going on and your body can focus on taking care of you. But if it still has to survive what you went through in your past, it can’t do that. No amount of bubble baths, journaling, Tempur-Pedic pillows, medications, or talking it over with logic will change the fact that survival has to end.

It wasn’t until I healed from trauma (a reality that unfortunately causes a lot of suspicion in this culture) that I finally started feeling rested.

And that’s the bottom line—no matter how much you sleep, your body can’t truly rest until it feels you’re safe.

Just like the land we walk on and the water that gives us life, our bodies come with powerful abilities that, today, only ancestral Indigenous wisdom can help us remember and return to. Not just for a good night’s sleep but for all the things we miss when we’re too tired to live our lives.

We just need to listen.

About Mandy Martini

Mandy Martini—Kvyen Chihuailaf (Moon, Mist-Spreading-Over-A-Lake)—is a Mapuche writer and teacher of kuyfi kimĂ¼n, Indigenous knowledge that has been passed down from generation to generation. She's the creator of SLG, an online school where she's taught people in over thirty-five countries how to heal from the effects of stress and trauma. Want to learn more? She offers free classes and resources on her website, www.return2life.co.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/p4KEek3

10 Unique Lessons from Across the Globe for a Meaningful Life

10 Unique Lessons from Across the Globe for a Meaningful Life

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ~W.B. Yeats

For a few years of my life, I was lucky enough to have a semi-nomadic lifestyle. A lot of my stuff fit in a backpack, and it was a great joy to move around different regions of the world and have rich conversations with people. One of the most enchanting aspects of my years spent backpacking was the discovery of these magical practices that resonate deeply across cultures.

I started a precious collection of these soul-deep lessons from the various landscapes I passed by. From the bustling streets of India to the serene fjords of Norway, each destination offers unique lessons about the organic intelligence that resides in us humans and leads us to find ways of nourishing our bodies, minds, and souls.

Here is a brief guided tour and a sample taste of some of my favorite insights across the globe.

1. Jijivisha – The Joy for Life

In the heart of India, amidst the chaos and colors of its vibrant cities, I encountered the concept of jijivisha—the sheer joy for life. Rooted in ancient Indian scriptures, jijivisha embodies an innate will to live, to embrace every moment with exuberance.

As I wandered through the crowded streets, the laughter of children and the smiles of strangers became a testament to this enduring spirit. India, with its myriad hues, has an uncanny ability to infuse life with the essence of jijivisha, teaching the world the art of embracing existence with open arms.

One of the places that I explored most is India. With 1.5 billion people, twenty-two official languages, and a few hundred unofficial ones, I didn’t even manage to scratch the surface of exploring that beautiful country. I also will not cover here how difficult life can be over there. But this country has a way of infusing some jijivisha in me every time I visit, and I love it very much for this.

2. Niksen: The Art of Doing Nothing

Amidst the picturesque windmills and quiet canals of the Netherlands, I discovered niksen, a comfortable way of doing nothing—allowing oneself to be idle, to daydream, and to simply breathe. Niksen is a humorous and purposeful idleness, where the mind finds space to breathe, unfettered by the demands of productivity.

Here is how it goes: find some quiet time and intend to not do much. That’s it.

Don’t try to meditate, or relax, and definitely don’t check your social media. Perhaps just doodle a little bit, or watch people passing by, or daydream guiltlessly.

The idea is to come out of the “high-efficiency” mentality and embrace some moments of “wasting time.” The moment we try to make it into a “thing to do,” a way to relax or meditate, its effect dwindles with the idea that there is a goal to attain. It’s more like watching tulips in one of those wide landscapes of the country where niksen comes from.

This has become one of my favorite activities ever. So much so that I now teach it to my clients as a way to restore their minds and souls. My Dutch friends laugh at me. They say it is like teaching them a technique called “chilling out.” And I say: that’s it! That’s what some of us need the most.

3. Friluftsliv: The Love of the Outdoors

Amidst Norway’s majestic fjords one can learn all about friluftsliv, the love for the outdoors—a practice that celebrates the restorative power of nature, even under the whims of weather.

In the heart of nature, amidst whispering leaves and birdsong, the Norwegians tap regularly into the healing power of the wilderness. Friluftsliv is an invitation to step outside, to breathe in the crisp air, and to revel in the symphony of nature. It’s a reminder that, even in the face of life’s storms, there exists a sanctuary in the embrace of the natural world.

If the Scandinavians can love the outdoors in spite of their weather conditions, I guess so can we!

4. Hygge: Cozy Comfort, Deep Connection

Hygge refers to a sense of coziness and warmth that comes from spending time with loved ones in a comfy environment. Imagine a Scandinavian Christmas evening, candles flickering, the warmth of the fire stove, and the comfort of being surrounded by loved ones, a warm teacup in hand.

In the heart of Denmark, hygge reminds us that in the midst of life’s complexities, finding solace in the simplicity of a cozy ambiance and cherished companionship can nourish our souls and ease the burdens of the day. It’s about savoring the moment, finding joy in the ordinary, and embracing the warmth of human connection.

I also think of hygge on those Sundays when I am going to spend the day at home; getting my coziest house socks, making a tea in my favorite cup, and lighting some candles can make the difference between a day that feels wasted and a day that feels cozy and restorative.

5. Wu Wei: Effortless Flow, Harmonious Living

From the heart of Taoism, wu wei teaches us the art of effortless action. It’s about flowing with the currents of life, embracing the path of least resistance. In the serene gardens of Suzhou, we learn that by aligning ourselves with the natural flow of the universe, stress dissipates, and harmony prevails. Wu Wei invites us to trust in the wisdom of the unfolding moment and find peace in the midst of chaos.

This is my go-to when things are not going quite my way, and I find myself trying to force a solution. Wu Wei reminds me to go with the flow and adjust to what life presents.

6. Meraki: Infusing Passion into Life’s Tapestry

From the sun-drenched landscapes of Greece emerges meraki, the practice of infusing passion into every pursuit.

Whether it’s preparing a meal, crafting a piece of art, or engaging in a conversation, meraki invites us to pour our soul into every endeavor. It’s a reminder that life is not merely a series of tasks but a canvas waiting for our creative touch. Meraki teaches us that in passionate engagement, stress transforms into purpose, and every moment becomes a masterpiece.

Meraki is my favorite mindset when I am cooking. Experience has really proven this to me time and again: food tastes so much better when baked in relaxed meraki.

7. Gökotta: Awakening with the Dawn’s Tranquility

One more Scandinavian concept that I love: gökotta in Swedish. Gökotta invites us to wake up with the first light of dawn. It’s about embracing the stillness of the early hours, listening to the world awakening around us, especially the birds.

Gökotta teaches us the art of starting the day in tranquility, setting a harmonious tone for what lies ahead. In the hush of the morning, we find clarity in the quietude of the dawn, reminding us of the beauty in beginnings.

I would be lying if I said that I manage this practice often, but on those days when I do manage to wake up before most of the world and can step outside and listen to the birds, I know the swedes got some things very right.

8. Dolce Far Niente: Embracing Sweet Idleness

This list of cultural practices would be woefully incomplete without the inclusion of il dolce far niente. Amidst the rolling vineyards of Tuscany and the historic streets of Rome, Italy gifts us with this poetic concept, one that invites us to revel in the exquisite pleasure of leisure, reminding us that life’s most profound moments often arise in the unhurried corners of existence.

The luxury of time unfilled, and the sheer bliss found in the simplicity of existence, is a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful moments occur when we allow ourselves to simply be, unburdened by the demands of the world.

I find this works best sitting with friends by the beach or on a picnic—any chance to sit around enjoying slacking around without a trace of guilt.

9. Sobremesa: Cultivating Connection, One Conversation at a Time

In the bustle of Spain, la sobremesa teaches us the art of lingering at the table after finishing a meal and cherishing the warmth of meaningful conversations. Sobremesa reminds us that in the unhurried moments after a meal, bonds are deepened, laughter is shared, and stress fades away. It’s a practice that celebrates the richness of human connections, reminding us that in genuine conversations, we find solace and understanding.

Next time a waiter tries to rush you out of a restaurant, remind them that you are still having your sobremesa…and that your meal is not worth a cent without it.

10. Acurrucarse: The Coziness of Cuddling

I cannot think of a time when I have not cherished this word. In my country, Puerto Rico, as well as in many places in Latin America, acurrucarse refers to cuddling with loved ones. It often describes cuddling with one’s children or pets, or watching a film on a sleepover with cozy blankets. It is a term laden with subtle nuances, encapsulating the essence of togetherness.

For me, it is my daily ritual of cuddling with my dog after work or taking a reading afternoon with my teenage daughter surrounded by lots of cushions.

Each of these practices has a different flavor to it. Each is influenced by the geography, the history, and the landscape of each place, but each speaks to me of self-care, of a life filled with connection and purpose.

If it is true that we humans share a lot of common troubles and concerns, for me it is worth noticing that we also share an organic intelligence that leads us in all parts of the world to cherish the quietness of rest, of connection and of tapping mindfully into the present moment.

About Cristina Bonnet Acosta

Cristina works as an integral coach offering effective trauma-informed sessions that combine inquiry, deep rest, and attuned support. She graduated has master's degrees in Buddhist studies and literature and is currently finalizing her studies in psychotherapy. Cristina lives between Vienna, Austria, and San Juan, Puerto Rico. You will find her writing, working with clients, spending time with loved ones, hiking in nature. or kitesurfing in the Caribbean. To learn more about her work, visit www.cristinabonnet.com.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/fNzWAVd

The Simple, Old-School Acts of Kindness Our World Badly Needs

The Simple, Old-School Acts of Kindness Our World Badly Needs

“Whatever is in memory is also in soul.” ~Saint Augustine, Confessions

Memories of my father are etched deeply in me—not for what he accomplished as a surgeon, a pilot, and an outdoorsman, but for what he was about, a truly gentle and generous man. Ironically, one of the most important lessons I learned from and about him came from a stranger.

I was alone in my family’s large Victorian-style house in the heart of the Midwest on a muggy Saturday afternoon. My mother had taken my siblings to a summer reading program at the public library, and my dad had been called to the emergency room of the local hospital. But I was not alone for long.

While watching The Game of the Week with Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese, I heard a thunderous noise at the front door. The power and volume of repeated pounding frightened me. I scampered to the front entry way but was too afraid to show my face from behind the beveled glass panels of the door.

But I managed to peek outside and saw a giant of a man, dressed in mud-stained overalls, a sweaty blue long-sleeved work shirt, and a beat-up old hat—the kind that train engineers once wore. He was now wiping his hands and neck with a wadded-up red bandana, as though taking a time out before assaulting the front door again.

I froze in place, for surely this monster-man was a stranger to me. His rough features and seeming impatience made me wonder if I should answer the door at all. But soon, garnering what courage I could as a shy ten-year-old boy, I slowly pulled the heavy walnut door open just a crack, and nearly whispered, “Yes, can I help you?”

Without pause, the man bellowed with an unmistakable country drawl, “Hey, boy! Is the Docta home? I got somethin’ for him.”

Still wondering who he was or what he wanted, I meagerly replied, “No, and my mom isn’t here either.” I realized in a flash that I had violated my parents’ warning to never let anyone in the house when no one else was home. Now it was just me, a man that might be some kind of deranged mental case, and an open door between us.

“Well, son. I bet your dad is out fishin’ or somethin’. It’s a Saturday and hope he’s not workin’ cause he does too much as it is. Two months ago, my missus had to drive me to the ‘horspital’ on a Sunday because my appendix was killing me. Oh, Lord did it hurt!

“Your dad come down there in his work clothes. Before I know’d it, I was wakin’ up in a horspital room. And there was your dad standin’ at the foot of my bed tellin’ me I was gonna be fine.

“I come to his office a couple of weeks later to get a checkup. I told him I wanted to pay my bill, but things were a little thin, as the flood had ruined the corn crop that spring.

“Well, sir. He just told me not to worry about the bill at all—that he knew all about floods and droughts, and what it was like to grow up on a farm, especially in bad times. I’m tellin’ you son, that dad of yours is somethin’ special. I’ll never forget it.

“Well … now I got somethin’ here—you give it to your mom, but you tell your dad that Ole Jim from Wever dropped by. My place is down by Highway 61 near the Skunk River. He’ll know—he likes to duck hunt there in the fall.”

Before I could say a word, he bent over and slid a huge bushel basket through the front door to my feet. It was brimming with ears of Iowa sweet corn, clusters of ripe tomatoes, bunches of carrots and beets with their green tops, several large cantaloupe melons, a head of cabbage, and a large bag of green beans. And a small sunflower was tucked in the middle of this cornucopia—a perfect touch that no doubt came from Ole Jim’s wife.

Without another word, he swiveled and quickly made it to his rusted GM pickup truck and backed it down the driveway and set course out of our private lane. With the grinding of gears and belches of exhaust from the tailpipe of his pickup, he was gone. But he waved goodbye to me, as only farmers can do, with the subtle lift of his right index finger in my direction, his eyes staring straight ahead.

I was relieved he was gone and felt embarrassed by how out of place I felt with him, as our home was expensive and sat across the lane from the country club. I could tell he didn’t have much money and from the location of his farm, I knew it was “bottomland,” which was sandy soil in a flood plain—not worth all that much. But I could tell he was a proud man and had enormous respect for my dad.

Over the years I have replayed this moment with Ole Jim many times, and I’ve come to realize how much the generosity of my dad and the old farmer down by the Skunk River have affected me.

Bartering goods for services was an accepted way of doing business in an era gone by. But in today’s world of corporate medicine and mandatory co-pays, it is difficult to imagine how millions in our country get medical treatment without cash or a credit card, let alone have a costly treatment given as a gift, simply because it was the right thing to do.

I was blessed to live on my grandparents’ farm during summers, and many times I watched simple acts of kindness and home-grown goods exchanged with neighbors and townspeople. This struck me then simply as their way of life; but now I see more clearly these exchanges were also transactions of the heart. But you would never know it, as generosity was given without fanfare or notice—simply bestowed as subtly as a single index figure raised to say hello or goodbye.

My dad was like that. He never lectured me about the responsibility to treat others equally, and with respect and dignity. Nor did he draw attention to his many gestures of charity or a quiet helping hand to friends, patients, and complete strangers. But I caught him in the act many times, and often heard stories about his generosity and gentle way in dealing with others.

He simply acted with kindness and good faith to everyone he met. I am sure he was that way because it was how he was raised, not formally taught how to be his best self, but modeled in that way by my grandparents: humble, charitable, and understated—old school.

Maybe that’s the only way we can learn about what is most important in life—by example, not by books or lectures. The ineffable qualities of goodness and kindness may stream to us from our ancestors if we are lucky to have had such men and women come before us. We are doubly lucky when those qualities quietly stream through us to our children.

I am a psychotherapist and I have a set fee policy on my website. But when I can tell that a prospective client cannot pay $150/hour, I make it clear I am not in the therapy business just to make a buck. I often let the client set the fee they can afford, even if they cannot pay a dime, and then quickly move on to the work. No fuss.

In those moments, I can feel their gratitude, as well as their surprise. I often flash back to Ole Jim’s best way to express his gratitude and pay what he could afford. As for my dad, he never talked of such things, even though every now and then, a string of fish would be sitting in an old ice-chest on the back porch, or a gift certificate to the downtown rod and gun store would arrive in the mail without a name.

Such memories and lessons speak to my soul. I see more clearly today that these simple acts of kindness and generosity—so badly needed in today’s world—were indeed acts of grace. Pure, simple, and subtle, like the farmer’s wave. Old school.

About Stephen Rowley

Stephen Rowley, PhD, is a psychotherapist practicing on Bainbridge Island, Washington. He has been a schoolteacher, principal, and a school district superintendent in Washington State and California. He holds a PhD in Administration and Policy Analysis from Stanford University’s Graduate School of Education and an MA in Counseling Psychology from Pacifica Graduate Institute. He is the author of The Lost Coin: A Memoir of Adoption and Destiny(2023). Visit https://stephenrowley108.com/ for more about his psychotherapy practice and new book.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/IpTU37G

Slow Living: A Simple but Powerful Form of Healing

Slow Living: A Simple but Powerful Form of Healing

“In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow. In an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention.” ~Pico Iyer

On a college orientation trip, at the age of eighteen, I hiked the 100-mile wilderness of the Appalachian Mountain Trail, and my trail name was “caboose.” Slow and steady from behind was where you’d find me. That was my way. I was typically the last to camp, but I could go all night when necessary.

That wasn’t my first experience being the slow one in a group. When I was thirteen years old biking with a group in Nova Scotia, I was the last one to climb the hill to the campsite above the Bay of Fundy. I do mean climb, as I was not able to pedal my bike. My group, many long at camp ahead of me, graciously walked down to accompany me. I was grateful for their energy cheering me on.

Even now, my husband tells me it sometimes seems physically impossible for me to go at any pace other than my own. Which is true; my pace is slow. I walk slow, run slow, ski slow, clean slow, work slow, read slow, fold laundry slow, wrap presents slow… you get the picture.

As an English teacher, my husband tells me to say slowly, but honestly, I’m just slow. I do everything slowly when I can. I like going slow. I feel joyful when I have the time and space to do a single task at my own pace.  

There was a period in my life when I multi-tasked like a champ. It felt as though being a working mom demanded me to multitask. Multitasking never felt good save the physical adrenaline rush I felt in response to checking a lot of things off my to-do list.

A few years ago, I started working with a trainer to work on hill sprints. I was curious to see if I could train myself to be faster. I think it is possible based on my preliminary effort, but I didn’t follow through on the full experiment. I’m still strength training, and every now and again on my (slow) run I’ll sprint for a count of ten just because. I’m not exactly sure why. Shame may actually be the motivator. I often feel ashamed of being slow.

Lately I’ve been wondering if my slowness is a physical response to trauma. The day after a recent powerful bodywork session that released A LOT of grief, I noticed myself zipping around the clinic doing things I typically put off. I wonder if the release of grief changed something in me such that I moved more quickly. I’m going to continue observing my pace after bodywork sessions and see if there is a correlation between emotional release and my speed.

When I really get quiet with myself, and I lay down what feel like societal expectations, I like going slowly. I like paying time and attention to the task at hand—whether it’s a patient, yoga, gardening, folding laundry, vacuuming, going through email, running errands, writing, or cooking. Going slowly may be a luxury given the world we live in, but I don’t think it should be.

Just last night, I was sitting at the dining room table taking lavender blossoms off their stems. My husband said to me, “When you go to the monastery, is your job going to be harvesting the lavender?” I responded, “Yes, please. How soon can I go?” Because to me, going slowly, stillness, silence, and solitude are the things I covet most.

My son spent last winter learning chi gong. On a slow hike in the North Cascades this summer, we talked about attention as a salve for the hard parts of life. It sounds like chi gong is teaching him to pay close attention.

We notice the majesty of the natural world when we are able to pay attention to it, either through stillness or slowness. A common human response to natural beauty is awe.

In Awe:  The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, author Dacher Keltner defines awe as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world.” Attention paid through slowness leads to awe, which leads to humility, which leads to perspective, healing, and an open heart.

No experience in my life slowed me down, if not stopped me in my tracks, as profoundly as the tragic death of my fifteen-year-old daughter in 2018.

There was nothing willful about the physical paralysis I felt, sitting on the couch for hours, watching the tops of trees move in the wind, wondering if she was there.

Each morning I would wake, if I’d slept, angry that the sun rose. Each seasonal transition was brutal. It felt unbearable to me that the world kept on spinning when I was frozen. Thank goodness I was practiced at slowness when she passed—I’d trained to be still. Not that I had a choice at that time, but at least being still wasn’t uncomfortable; it’s just that everything else was.

Endless hours of grief and stillness gave way to attentiveness. Attentiveness connected me to the natural world outside my sunroom door. The beauty of the natural world inspired awe in me. Beauty felt excruciating after my daughter’s passing. and yet I sought it and still do.

To this day, the awe I feel in response to the beauty of the natural world, be it snowfall, big snow-capped mountains, or the sea, tethers me to life. My pursuit of awe through the beauty of the natural world has qualities of a thirsty person looking for water in the desert.

The pursuit is more like a desperate, flailing, last resort because it feels as if my life depends on finding—or creating—beauty. I move slowly in my pursuit—in part because I have no choice, in part because I don’t want to miss anything, in part because I find small things healing.

As a healthcare professional, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that there are actually some health benefits to doing things slowly. Some of the most powerful healing I’ve observed has been the result of women taking a leave from work, creating space for them to move through life more slowly with one less thing to do, allowing time and attention to be paid to rest, food, and movement.

Moving slowly speaks to our nervous systems of safety, to our adrenals of rest and recovery, and to our minds of simplicity. It’s not possible to encapsulate the health benefits of moving slowly.

I’m going to continue to work on accepting my slowness in a society that values speed. Maybe going slow is my small, quiet act of revolution. Maybe it’s my political statement.

I’m going to continue to support my patients in finding moments of slowness because I see how healing it is.

I’m going to continue to go outside and seek beauty. I’m going to continue paying attention to the shifting light, the changing colors of the leaves, the flowers that are blooming, the lifecycle of the monarch, the smell in the air. See you out there.

About Carry Levine

Carrie is a certified nurse midwife, an Institute of Functional Medicine Certified Practitioner, the founder of the Whole Woman Health Clinic, and the author of Whole Woman Health: A Guide To Creating Wellness For Any Age and Stage. She helps women find wholeness in imperfection, teaching that they can restore their health at any age or stage. Sign up for her free weekly women's health newsletters (featuring recipes, podcasts, articles, and more).

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/8WOcQh0

3 New Shirts and Free Book Offer, This Week Only!

3 New Shirts and Free Book Offer, This Week Only!

Hi friends! As you may recall, when I posted a while back about relaunching the Tiny Buddha shirts, I mentioned I would soon have three new shirts available for purchase. I’m excited to share them with you today, along with a special offer for THIS WEEK ONLY!

The New Shirts

These new shirts are particularly meaningful for me, and I hope for you too, because they all highlight common phrases we may have used or heard that can (unintentionally) invalidate our feelings and negatively impact our mental health. For each, I shared what I believe are healthier responses to struggle.

If you’ve ever used these phrases before, no judgment here! I’ve told myself these things many times in the past, and I know that when I’ve heard them from other people, they’ve generally had good intentions.

But these days we’re far more aware of the difference between healthy and toxic positivity. And more and more people are recognizing that it’s not sustainable to do it all alone, it’s not negative to be down, and it’s not overreacting to feel upset when things go wrong or we’re emotionally triggered.

I hope these shirts serve as a powerful reminder for you and the people around you that all emotions are valid, and that there’s nothing wrong with us for struggling and needing help at times.

If you decide to give a shirt or two this holiday season, I hope they remind your loved ones that their feelings matter to you and you’re there for them.

And I hope these comforting thoughts can help us all adopt a more validating inner monologue.

There are plenty of people out there who will minimize our feelings. We don’t have to be one of them.

The Special Offer

From today until midnight PST on Friday, November 24th, I’m including a FREE eBook on overcoming hard times with every transaction and giving away free books to anyone who spends $75 or more (US only).

In addition to these three shirts, you can choose from six other designs, all available in T-shirt, sweatshirt, and hoodie, in multiple sizes and colors—and also choose from three different 12 x 12 quote posters.

If you spend $75 or more, you’ll receive a free copy of Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself.

If you spend over $150, you’ll receive free copies of Tiny Buddha’s Guide Loving Yourself and Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal.

If you spend over $200, you’ll receive free copies of Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself, Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal, and Tiny Buddha’s Inner Strength Journal.

If you’d like me to send your eBook to a different email address than the one associated with your order, or you’d like me to send your print book(s) to a different mailing address, please contact me at ​email@tinybuddha.com​ after ​placing your order here​.

Please note it could take up t0 twenty-four hours for me to send you the eBook and that the shirts and print books will arrive separately. The shirts will come from the print-on-demand company I work with (which can make the shipping a little on the slower side). The books will be coming directly from me, though I likely won’t mail them until after the Thanksgiving holiday.

About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She’s also the author of Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal, Tiny Buddha's Worry Journal, and Tiny Buddha's Inner Strength Journal and co-founder of Recreate Your Life Story, an online course that helps you let go of the past and live a life you love. For daily wisdom, join the Tiny Buddha list here. You can also follow Tiny Buddha on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/LZwo9iG

Trapped in Shame: How I Found Mental Freedom After Prison

Trapped in Shame: How I Found Mental Freedom After Prison

“If you put shame in a petri dish, it needs three ingredients to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, and judgment. If you put the same amount of shame in the petri dish and douse it with empathy, it can’t survive.” ~BrenĂ© Brown

I was in two prisons.

One physical. One mental.

The physical version was Otisville Federal Prison.

I was living so out of alignment with who I was and who I wanted to become and self-sabotaged in a colossal way, defrauding one of the largest tech companies in the world.

My mental prison, my personal hell, was the all-consuming power of shame. Hurting the one I love, disappointing my family, and letting myself down. Ignoring the voice inside that told me not to commit the fraud.

I believed with all my soul that I destroyed the most extraordinary gift life has to offer us: love.

I was trapped in my head and couldn’t see a way out or even a reason to try.

With every ounce of my being, I believed, “I am undeserving of love, happiness, forgiveness, and peace. I destroyed love and will never be worthy of it again. I deserve a lifetime of punishment.”

This was my prison. This is where I lived, falling further into darkness every day with no end in sight.

Shame is an insidious disease that lives, breathes, and grows in the darkness. Shame thrives in isolation, separation, and disconnection.

Shame wants to be alone.

Unless we do something about it, it will eat us alive from the inside out.

What do we do with something that lives in the dark? Something that craves isolation, separation, and disconnection?

We shine a light on it. We shine a light on it by speaking about it. By being open, by having the conversations we’re afraid to have.

Shame withers and dies in the face of vulnerability.

When we are vulnerable, not only do we shine a light on our shame, but we also give others permission to do the same.

When we shine a light on shame, when we are vulnerable and open up, we take the first step out of the darkness.

And we realize that we are not alone.

I couldn’t jump headfirst into vulnerability; I was too afraid. But I knew that if I allowed shame to consume me, it would never release its grip on my life.

How did I get to where I could be vulnerable, open, and share?

Here are the first three steps I took.

Accepting Reality

I spent my days in prison wishing I wasn’t in prison.

I spent my days wishing I hadn’t made the choices I made that landed me in prison.

I wished and dreamed for life to be anything other than it was. I was fighting against a past and circumstance that couldn’t be changed.

I would never have freedom from shame if I continued to fight for what couldn’t be changed. I had to do what I was so afraid to do.

I had to accept reality.

I didn’t want to. It felt like giving up; it felt passive. Fighting equals progress. But does it? What was I fighting against? As much as I wish there were, there is no such thing as a time machine Delorean.

Accepting reality isn’t giving up; it isn’t passive. It was an act of courage for me to say, “I accept that I betrayed myself and chose to commit a crime. I hit the ‘enter’ button, the single keystroke that started it all. I accept I made the choice to continue in the face of the universe screaming at me to stop. I accept that I am in prison. I accept that I hurt the woman I love, my family, my friends….”

A weight lifted off of me when I wrote that. I wasn’t trapped in the past. I felt something I thought was impossible in prison: freedom.

Self-Trust

I lost trust in myself. How could I possibly trust myself when I am the one who did this to himself?

There is an emptiness that is all-consuming when you don’t trust yourself.

It’s a horrible feeling.

One day, scrolling through Twitter, my friend posted, “Surest path to self-confidence I know: making and keeping commitments to ourselves.”

That struck a chord. My friend walks the walk; this wasn’t just lip service.

From that one tweet, I committed to facing my biggest fear: public speaking. It took five years, but I eventually delivered a TEDx.

The TEDx was incredible, no doubt, but there was so much more than that. It created a way of life for me.

When you make and keep commitments, you change your inner narrative to one that’s empowering.

You change your story to being a person who TAKES ACTION.

You build trust because you kept your word to yourself. When we trust ourselves, we have confidence in ourselves.

When we have confidence in ourselves, we believe in ourselves. We trust ourselves.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is hard. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve done as I’ve rebuilt and reinvented my life.

I had to forgive myself for the choices that resulted in my arrest by the FBI and my sentence to two years in federal prison and cost me everything: my marriage, my homes, my cars, my sense of self-worth, and my identity.

I had to forgive myself for planning on killing myself.

I didn’t think I was worthy of forgiveness. Who was I to let myself off the hook with all the damage I had caused?

I had to take the first two steps of acccepting reality and cultivating self-trust.

When I took those first two steps, I understood that forgiving ourselves is one of the biggest acts of love and compassion we can do for ourselves.

When we forgive ourselves, we demonstrate that we are worthy of love and compassion.

Forgiveness cultivates our self-trust as well.

Forgiveness liberates you from a past that cannot be changed. You learn to let go of that baggage weighing you down.

There’s great freedom when we let go.

From these three steps, I reached a place where I could be vulnerable and, in turn, walk out of the prison of shame.

When we own our story, we own our life. When our story owns us, it owns our life.

Huge difference.

About Craig Stanland

Forgiveness is freedom, and freedom to me is everything. Craig Stanland is a Reinvention Architect, TEDx & Keynote Speaker, and Author of "Blank Canvas, How I Reinvented My Life After Prison." He specializes in working with clients who've chased success, money, and status in their 1st half, only to find a success-sized hole in their lives. He helps them tap into their full potential and connect with their calling to create their extraordinary 2nd half with purpose, meaning, and fulfillment. Connect with him here.

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.



from Tiny Buddha https://ift.tt/Se7cvZB