#and now gentle parenting myself and sitting with my emotions and opposite action have become habits

[insert-cool-themesong-here]

I can confirm this is exactly how it happened for me. You look back one day and you see you’ve spiraled up further than you ever thought you could.

And some seasons you spiral downwards again, you don’t play with your dog, you let dishes pile up, you don’t touch your hobbies anymore.

But then one day you notice your dog sitting on the floor and realize you can play with him, a couple weeks later you realize the dishes are days old and not weeks old. You start noticing your camera roll has photos of things you’d like to start crafting again.

And spiraling up starts to become a habit and a go to, just like spiraling down once was

And after a while you just stop. You stop watering your plants. You stop watching netflix. You stop reading. You stop replying to your friends as fast as you used to. You stop buying yourself nice things. You stop putting an effort into how you look. You stop taking care of yourself like you used to. You stop sleeping. You stop eating healthy foods. You stop petting your dog. You stop socializing.

You stop with everything. You find yourself sitting in your room for hours on end, without doing a single thing. Days feel like years. And you think you can’t do it for much longer.

[my-bated-breath]

Rage, Compassion, and the Bridge in Between

An essay on Katara’s emotions

On the spectrum of human emotion, rage and compassion exist on opposite ends. After all, rage is harsh and violent while compassion is soothing and nurturing; rage is unforgiving while compassion is all-forgiving. As such, they run a parallel course to each other, one canceling out the other whenever they do meet.

At least, that’s what we expect. We expect anger and kindness to be separate entities, and our media reflects this - a character is either severe or gentle, and in the rare case that they’re both, the contrast between their ability to hurt and their ability to heal is treated as a dichotomy. Except the human condition is not that simple, and sometimes, there is a not-so-simple story that remembers that.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Katara embodies the human condition - or more specifically, she embodies the duality within it. Throughout the show, her tenderness and her wrath are balanced in a way that renders her one of the most well-written female characters in children’s animation, perhaps even in all of television. Because Katara’s anger and compassion do not simply split themselves into two identities. Instead, they coexist and coalesce into one. They drive each other; they feed into each other; they are two sides of the same coin.

But how can that be true when opposite traits are supposed to clash and counter each other’s effects?

There’s no denying that at times, Katara’s anger and compassion serve to show two different sides of her. We even see this within the very first episode:

(on left) Katara: No that's it! I'm done helping you! From now on, you're on your own!

(on right) Katara: He's alive! We have to help!

At first, Katara’s irritation towards Sokka is what causes her to accidentally waterbend the iceberg open, in which the transcript describes her movements as “agitated.” However, as soon as she sees Aang, this irritation is replaced by concern for “the boy in the iceberg.” Hence, within a few minutes, we see how Katara can be motivated by compassion and rage separately.

Still, just because her kindness and anger are shown to be separate in many scenes that this separation applies to every scenario. Although Katara’s two opposite traits are opposite, that does not mean they are always opposing. Instead, they can fuel each other - her rage can fuel her compassion, and her compassion can fuel her rage.

Let’s see how.

Part 1 - Katara’s Rage Fuels Her Compassion

Throughout the series, Katara shares her grief over her mother’s death as a way to sympathize with others. In ���The Southern Air Temple,” “Imprisoned,” and “Jet,” Katara tells Aang, Haru, and Jet about the effect the Fire Nation raids had on her, which establishes some of the most emotionally-charged scenes in these episodes. She is at her most vulnerable during these moments, laying bare a deep-rooted trauma in order to reach out and connect with someone else.

Dialogue from The Southern Air Temple

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Dialogue from Imprisoned

Haru: Yeah. Problem is... the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It's beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It's not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

Dialogue from Jet

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I'm so sorry, Katara.

However, these moments seem to distinctly lack any hint of anger from Katara’s end, so it may seem irrelevant to mention them here - that is, until we remember Katara had mentioned her mother one more time. Trapped in the Crystal Catacombs with a former enemy, she once again says that the Fire Nation took her mother away from her - but this time not with sympathy. No, this time she is filled with rage.

Dialogue from The Crossroads of Destiny

Zuko: You don't know what you're talking about!

Katara: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

As Katara sits down, tears forming in her eyes, it becomes clear that her grief has festered into bitterness and anger towards the Fire Nation. By now, her grief is her anger, and so it’s not just shared pain Katara is empathizing within all four of these scenarios - it’s also shared rage.

She is gentle with Aang because she knows the effects of loss (inducing the Avatar State); she is sympathetic with Haru because she knows what she would be driven to do to have her mother back (inciting a prison break by stirring the prisoners’ righteous anger); and she is moved by Jet’s dedication to the Freedom Fighters because she would fight for the Southern Water Tribe too (against the Fire Nation, although Jet’s rage blinds him in a way that Katara’s doesn’t).

Then, in the Crystal Catacombs, it’s Katara’s anger towards the Fire Nation that uncovers her hidden pain. Her vulnerability is what causes Zuko’s words (“That’s what we have in common”) to resonate with her so much, enough for her to offer to heal his scar.

Therefore, Katara’s relationship with anger and grief (whether it’s emotionally-driven similar to how Aang enters the Avatar state or self-righteous similar to her calling the earthbender prisoners to action) is the foundation for some of her most compassionate moments in the series.

Part 2 - Katara’s Compassion Fuels Her Rage

Just as some of her most sympathetic moments are rooted in understanding someone else’s rage, many of Katara’s harshest moments see her acting on the behalf of others’ pain and needs.

As the designated “mother” of the Gaang, the Gaang’s more silly and immature antics often aggravate her and cause her to reprimand them severely, a clash that features prominently in Katara and Toph’s relationship.

In “The Chase” and “The Runaway,”  Katara shouts at Toph for lacking a sense of responsibility. However, her indignation does not simply stem from taking personal defense, but from wanting to safeguard the family she has found in the Gaang. Then, both these times, Toph learns the true motives behind Katara’s overbearing actions through a conversation with Iroh and Sokka, respectively.

Dialogue from The Chase

Toph: People see me and think I'm weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself, by myself.

Iroh: You sound like my nephew, always thinking you need to do things on your own, without anyone's support. There is nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you.

When Toph talks with Iroh in “The Chase,” Iroh imparts some wisdom on finding mutual support in friendship, implying that Katara pushing responsibilities onto Toph is her way of solidifying and upholding the loving and supportive dynamic within the Gaang.

Dialogue from The Runaway

Sokka: I'm gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly? I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture.

Toph: The truth is sometimes Katara does act motherly, but that's not always a bad thing. She's compassionate and kind, and she actually cares about me. You know, the real me. That's more than my own mom.

As the dialogue states, “Katara’s been the one looking out for [them].” Hence, her mothering tendencies towards Toph in “The Runaway” are evoked by her wanting to avoid the danger that Toph’s high-profile scamming is beginning to place them in. In other words, she simply wants to protect her makeshift family because “she actually cares about [Toph and the rest of the Gaang]. You know, the real [them].”

Katara’s ability to empathize with others, to see past facades and prejudices, is one of her defining traits. Earlier, in the episode “The Painted Lady,” Katara manages to see beyond the people of Jang Hui’s Fire Nation background and recognize that above all else, they are suffering from war and poverty. Consequently, they are people who need her.

As such, even the notion of abandoning the people of Jang Hui (as suggested by Sokka) enrages her because Katara is someone who “will never, ever turn my back on people who need [her]!”

Still, Katara’s desire to fight for a village of strangers cannot compare to the lengths she would take to protect Aang.

Dialogue from The Western Air Temple

Katara: You might have everyone else here buying your… transformation, but you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past. So let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends ... right then and there. Permanently.

While Zuko was a bystander as Azula shot lightning at Aang, he was an active participant in his fight against Katara, whom, just moments ago, he shared an incredibly intimate moment with. But despite how Zuko betrayed Katara personally, it is the impact his betrayal had on Aang’s life (and death) that she focuses on. So even at her most threatening, Katara acts to protect someone else, Aang, the boy who is her friend and her family.

Together, all these instances reveal that Katara’s compassion is what grants her a protective instinct, and her protective instinct is what moves her to anger and violence.

Conclusion

Katara’s character provides invaluable insight into the relationship between compassion and rage, revealing how it is not simply black contrasting white, but a spread of grays and contradictions. After all, that is who Katara is. She is two sides of the same coin and the bridge in between.

Even more, that is the human condition - full of grays and contradictions, simultaneously negating and reciprocating, balancing and tipping the scales all at once. And perhaps human emotion, in all its breadth, cannot be contained to a two-dimensional spectrum where emotions can either be placed close together or on opposite ends - because humanity is of infinite dimensions, constructed from science, dictated by art. And yet, somehow it is a two-dimensional animated character who captures human complexity with such ease.

[ajokeformur-ray]

So! Question about your parental F/Os...what kind of advice do they give you for various situations? I know you said they are supportive of you; how do they show it? What do they tell you whenever you need an extra bit of advice (for any scenario you feel like discussing) ☺️💗 I love you!

Rosieeee ~ 🥺💗 omg darling asdfghj 😭🥺 after the vivid daydreams I had the other night, I’m really feeling the love from my parents and I’m🥺🥺🥺

Thank you thank you thank you for sending this in! My parents are my longest standing F/Os ever and it means so much that I get to talk about them, especially with you!🥺💙 I love you too, darling, so so much!!!💜💜💜💜

You know what’s under the cut🥺😭😭💕💕💕💕

Word count: 3, 553 (😱🥺💗💗💗)

what kind of advice do they give you for various situations?

Mary’s not really the type to give advice. Mama’s absolutely favourite thing to do with me is to sit with me at the kitchen table with a pot of tea between us (I don’t like tea but I drink it because otherwise Mama would get up and make me a separate pot of coffee and she already works far too hard as it is and I don’t want her to do anything other than to relax when she’s with me). We usually sit opposite each other. Mary’s very intuitive and if she feels that I need some extra comfort, she will lay a hand, palm up, on the table. If I take it, it means that I have something to talk about. Mama will listen to me and she will respond to what I don’t say. If I’m struggling to motivate myself to study or to get out of bed or if there’s something I’m putting off, she will say something like, “it’s best to get it done now, Erika.” and there’s... gentleness on her face but there’s a spark of determination in her dark eyes which makes me want to do whatever it is that I’m delaying. Whatever the issue is, Mama makes me feel better with just a cup of tea, her hand in mine and one or two sentences which tell me that she understands. When we’re done with our talk, I get pulled up from my seat with a hug, and she kisses my forehead and tells me that she loves me. Most times, she’ll bring me to tears because I just love her so much that it hurts - I’m tearing up even typing this. 

Henry is always the one I go to for advice. With my Father, I try (try being the operative word) to deal with things myself, but there’s only so long he will be patient in waiting for me to approach him. After maybe a few days of me obviously keeping something to myself (I can’t lie to my parents, they know me too well), Henry will find a way to get me alone. I like to do odd jobs around the house to help everyone out while I also do my studies and such (my Father is a man of science so my spare time is usually spent in his study so I can use his tomes and such to help me out), but at some point Father will step out of his study and say, “Erika, will you step in here a moment? I want to speak to you.” He is firm and usually I get a hot head and immediately feel like I need to run (I can’t deal with confrontation, it stresses me out) and his firmness will soften. His eyes will show tenderness and understanding and he’ll drop his voice into something soothing, “Let me help you, my child. Come, sit down.” He’ll lead the way (he’s in control of the situation, if only because he’s my Father and the head of the house so it comes very naturally to him) and we’ll sit in front of the fireplace together. He sits on his green leather armchair and... if I’m not crying already by this point, then I’ll sit opposite him on the part of the bookshelf which juts out and acts as a sturdy seat, but if I am already upset then I’ll sit on my Father’s lap. And... he’ll listen to me.  I’ll talk until I can’t anymore and then there’s a few moments of silence while he reflects and thinks and then he’ll tell me a story about how he’s had an experience with this himself and that’s when I need to listen - my solution is in his story and if I’m not paying attention, I’ll miss it. Father doesn’t spoon feed me advice but he gives me the tools with which to find my own advice and I know if I get it right when I get a proud smile several days later! 

Edward... omg😭😭😭 Edward doesn’t so much as give me advice as he gives me an outlet. If I want advice and guidance, I have Henry and Mary. If I want to rage or scream or cry, then I have my Papa. He doesn’t care what I do or when  I do it or how I do it. And I mean, he literally... does not care. He’s as apathetic as someone can get but if there’s one person he’s protective of... it’s me. Within his apathy is my safety. When I want to rage, scream, cry... he’ll let me. He’ll stand there and let me give myself that outlet which I need, and he’ll wear a proud smirk the entire time. There are, not gonna lie, times I get so frustrated and existentially bored that I just wanna smash plates or do something destructive and during these times, Edward will find some plates (Henry sent out for them earlier that day and put them in a place only Edward (himself) would find) and he’ll let me do that... smash plates. We do this in the laboratory so the other staff members don’t find out and obviously either Mama or myself will clean it all up later. When I’m done raging, Edward will say, “are you quite finished?” or “How do you feel?”... sometimes my anger, once vented, turns into tears and Papa will just sigh (in genuine annoyance but also in relief because he managed to get through to me) and say, “come here” and I get a hug. My Papa’s hugs hit me in a way Mama’s and Father’s don’t; I love them all dearly, but Edward is the parent I’m closest to. I don’t know why but it’s probably because he was the side who conceived me; I’ve never asked and he’s never told but it’s clear even so. Sometimes Papa wakes me up at three or four AM (if I’m not already awake; I’m a night owl) and we’ll go lay outside on the flagstones and look up at the stars and we’ll talk about anything and everything. I can say whatever I want and none of it will be repeated; my anger makes him laugh because it amuses him how free within myself I am (and he’s so proud, too!). I give my Papa that space to do and be as he wants to, as well. Papa and I give each other freedom and we’re the only two in the household who can do that for each other. We have a strange relationship but the love is so strong.

I know you said they are supportive of you; how do they show it?

Mary is the most outwardly supportive parent. She’s extremely in touch with me and she shows me support through her actions. Mama’s only ever known the roles of housemaid and mother, and she can switch back and forth between the two flawlessly, though I’m sure it costs her more energy than any of us are aware; including her, I suspect. I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m studying but Mama takes it upon herself to, in her spare moments, bring me a fresh cup of coffee or maybe some food if she knows I haven’t eaten for a while. She never asks me when the last time I ate was because she knows I won’t give her an honest answer, so she does it of her own accord. Her instincts are very sharp. She doesn’t do it all the time because she’s extremely busy, but the fact that she does it at all means the world. Father and I usually forget to eat and such when we’re working so Mama’s usually gently lecturing one or both of us at least once a day. Mama shows her support in small ways but she does them often enough that she may as well say the words aloud, for I can hear those sentences in everything she does: I support you. I’m proud of you. I’m here for you. I love you. She says these things as often as she shows them.🥺 I try to show Mama that I support her too and as often as she does things for me, I do things for her. Many a time I’ve done a small job around the house just because it’s quick and easy and I make the time away from studying to help. She never asks me to help, she never tells me how hard she works, but I know, and that’s exactly why I do it. Her shy smile when she goes to do something and realises someone’s already done it (she always knows it’s me; mothering instinct, I suppose, though perhaps someone saw me and told her) is reward enough.

Henry shows his support by holding me accountable. When I say I’m going to do something, he expects me to do it. It could be anything - washing my hair, studying for an hour more or less, going to bed early, getting up early... If I end up not doing it, then he’ll make his disapproval known. He won’t say it out loud, but the frown on his face makes me feel so guilty and it pushes me to do and be more in the following days to make up for it. The only time he won’t disapprove if I don’t do whatever I said I was going to is if something happened which was outside of my control. I’m harsh on myself, anyone who knows me knows this, and Father understands what that’s like so he tries to help me to do things the first time I mention it. If it’s a serious thing, like studying more or less, then he’ll “happen” to walk into the room and check my progress. He takes an interest in my studies, having studied much of it himself when he was younger, and if I get stuck on something then he’ll take on a lecturer tone until I understand it. He has a way of putting things which turns even something convoluted into something which I can understand; I’m not stupid but sometimes I get so inside myself that I can’t see the forest for the trees and Father’s good at fixing my perspective and exposing me to new ideas. As I explain my progress, his pride becomes more and more obvious and the older I get, the more I realise that in the end... Father will always be proud of me, even if he doesn’t approve of my actions or how I approach a situation. His approval is expressed just like his disapproval and sometimes I have to really look to see which of the two it is; he suppresses so much of himself that it can be hard to read him sometimes. A quick conversation with Mama always helps in these instances!

Edward shows his support by picking up the pieces. He’s my biggest emotional support and I may be an adult but that doesn’t ever stop me from climbing into my Papa’s bed if I can’t sleep because I’m so stressed I can barely think for myself. It doesn’t stop me from braiding my hair so that it curls like his does; I’m his daughter whether I do this or not and he frequently and gently tugs on my braids with a pleased smirk on his face to remind me of this fact, but I do it because it makes me feel closer to him. It’s something I’ve done since I was sixteen and realised that I could do what I wanted with my hair because it’s mine. It’s a tradition, a way for me to say that I love my Papa in a way only the intended hears (though of course everyone in the house knows about it and many a time Mama will help me to braid my hair). I climb into his bed only sometimes, on the truly rough nights when I need someone to cut my soul in two, to carve out the bits too damaged to heal and replace them with something I can work with. Edward truly doesn’t care at all about anyone or anything outside of him but he loves me (and Mama) fiercely. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for either of us and that means that when the day’s out and I’m tired and yet somehow unable to sleep because there’s so much to do and so little time, I can safely crawl into his bed. I somehow always know when it’s Papa and not Father, it’s like a tugging within me, a puzzle piece in my stomach that fits only when Papa’s awake, and even at 3 AM I can simply walk into his room, slip into bed... and he’ll roll onto his back and reach out for me at the same time. “Sleep, child.” The fact that only I and Mama can do this makes it all the more special. There’s nothing to be romanticised about falling apart but Papa picks up my pieces and helps me to fit myself back together. When at last I’m asleep, he’ll go and cause havoc in the late night streets and woe betide anyone he comes across - adult, child... no one’s safe from Mr. Hyde. Except me and Mama. When I wake, he’ll be gone, but those moments with him, I treasure. 

What do they tell you whenever you need an extra bit of advice (for any scenario you feel like discussing)

Scenario: I’m unable to see the forest for the trees due to overthinking and I can’t sleep because of it.

Mary knows this feeling well, especially towards the later half of the novel/film. Her journal entries become more cluttered, more disorganised and multiple times she doesn’t understand anything which is happening but she carries on because what else can she do? So Mama often tells me to write down what I’m feeling. Even after we’ve had a conversation in the kitchen, she will tell me to write down things which are in my mind, to “get it all down onto the page” and then if I want to, I can show her the pages afterwards, the next day when I’ve time to think and to reflect and to be for a time. She will read the pages and then while she’s sat there, she’ll ask questions as they occur to her and together we work through my problems. It’s not necessarily that she gives me advice, but she stays and she helps me to work things out logically and she doesn’t give up on me. Even when I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do, Mama’s there with kind eyes, a gentle smile and an outstretched hand. I always take it. Just having Mama there gives me strength... I want to make her proud, to live a life she’s proud of. We will sit at the kitchen table like we always do and we will talk and simply spend time together; sometimes that’s all I need. At some point, we’re both going to reach the point where we’re ready for bed and she will walk me to my bedroom. “For when would you like to be woken up?” - whatever time I tell her is the time she will wake me up so I have to think about it and if I can’t come up with a decision on the spot then the decision is handed over to Father. I could stay in bed all day if I got my way (and it’s happened often enough because my body likes sleep a bit too much) so Father makes sure I don’t wreck my sleeping schedule by waking me when he thinks he should (never less than seven hours from the time I go to bed and I’m always gently woken up). If it’s an especially rough night then Mama will come and sit down with me and I’ll rest my head in her lap. She’ll play with my hair and talk to me mindlessly, just like I’m her journal... except I can respond back. In this way, we advise and comfort each other and we stay together. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.

Henry is often up late. He and Papa don’t have much of a routine with who’s awake and when so he’s usually exhausted and he sleeps at all hours of the day and night. So if I can’t sleep, then I’m out of bed and in front of his study door before I have even fully registered that I’ve moved. When the house is quiet and the staff has gone to bed, Father leaves the study door open so that Mama and I know that we can go in and talk to him if we want to. With darkness comes the end to daily responsibilities and duties, and we are free to interact with each other in any way we want to. I hover most often in the doorway because I don’t want to disturb Father but after a few moments I’ll go in and sit with him. If he’s busy working then he may not respond to me right away but at some point I will be greeted. There are times I can’t sleep because I know Father isn’t okay and even if he waves off my concerns, I’ll stay with him while I do my own thing until I’m so tired I need to go to bed. In these instances, I’ll be sent to bed with a tender smile, “go on to bed, Erika. You’ve done all you can for me tonight.” and with much hesitance I’ll do as he says but not before I tell him that he is loved. During the nights I’m the one who needs the comfort though, Father will be the one to follow my lead. Whether I speak or not, he’ll hear me. If I get upset and cry, I’ll be pulled into his lap, “Oh, my brave child.” He doesn’t ask me to talk to him about my problems, but in this state, with Father holding me, I can’t not and everything comes pouring out. He’s silent the whole time and then in a logical order he’ll ask me questions and assess the situation, whatever it is, as he does so. That night brings no comfort except cuddles but in the morning, I’ll be called into his study and Father will make everything better to the best of his ability. Sometimes he gets upset because I’m upset so his cuddles are as much for me as they are for him. If I truly cannot sleep, then I can stay with him in his bed for the whole night, but that is only for emergencies or extreme circumstances - Papa’s freer with affection than Father is but even so, I cherish every moment.

Edward again, doesn’t say much... but he shows it. I said earlier that I can slip into his bed for cuddles if I know he’s the one awake, but sometimes he’s not awake when I go to bed and Father is the one I say good night to... if these two things coincide, then Papa is the one who comes into my bed in the middle of the night. I’ll wake up to the mattress dipping and the smell of whiskey will be enough for me to know that the dark mass beside me is my Papa. During these very rough emotional times for me, Papa won’t say anything... until I start talking. He asks all the right questions to keep me talking and he works everything out while I talk. He’s quick, sharp, and very ready to call me out on any bullshit. Too harsh on myself? He’ll snap at me to stop it. Not working hard enough? He’ll tell me. Where others may soothe and comfort me, Papa won’t if he knows it’s not what I need in that moment. Sometimes self-care is cuddles, but sometimes self-care is discipline and getting things done and Papa knows that line as well as I do; I walk it every day and no matter which side of the line my feet land on, Papa’s there to set me to rights and help me to find my balance again. To put it bluntly, Papa is harsh and to the point with me and though it feels bad in the moment (that’s why he cuddles me at the same time - it takes the bite out of his words and means I don’t get upset), by the morning, it turns out that his harshness was exactly what I needed. He says what he means and he means what he says and I lean on him so much even on my best days because of this. He won’t give up the fight until he believes he’s done a good enough job. If that means re-hashing the same conversation for hours on end, then so be it. He and I both know that one night with my Papa can soothe days of pain. It’s not unusual for us to be up all night speaking and then being woken in the early afternoon - and when I do get out of bed gone noon, everyone in the house knows what must have happened in the night. No one ever believes that Edward Hyde is the cause of my raised spirits (except Father and Mama), but that makes our bond even more special. 

I love them dearly. I always have and I know that I always will.

[castawxayaway]

haze

​thanks to the anon who requested fluff, you ask and I deliver. 

enjoy! 

oh and I posted yesterday that after sunday I won’t be writing til July due to exams coming up very soon and lots of deadlines. so if you have a request please ask now rather than wait etc :) 

Life often throws challenges at you, some come in the form of accidents, money, relationships etc. But for me, mine came in the form of my flatmate skipping out on me leaving just about enough rent for the next two months and a letter or to be more accurate a note- 'off with Jamie to New Zealand, hope this'll do, nice knowing ya x'

That was it. After just under two years of being room mates, sure we weren't that close but I thought we had a substantial room mate vibe going on. Jamie's not a bad guy, she could do a lot worse. On the plus side I won't have to listen to them going at it like wired rabbits at 1-3 nearly every morning.

Unsure what to do I collapse down on the sofa and ring the one person who knows what to do in any form of situation: my trusted mum. After half an hour of comments on how she never liked my ex roommate and how I could do better than her (which felt as if I had told her I’d gone through a breakup) I was well advised to put an advert up. The following afternoon having only been awake half an hour, since I had the luxury of not being disturbed all night I embraced the quiet, rather than moans I sat down in front of my laptop and began to write my advert.

Roughly four hours later I received multiple responses, most of which were men asking to film ‘entertainment’ videos online- to which I gladly declined. I continued to search through the responses for a while until I finally found one who actually filled the form out in full, giving serious answers. Smiling at the sight of the description I immediately typed out a reply, asking to meet them tomorrow. Once I had sent it I relaxed into the sofa, only to glance around and see how much of a pigsty the place had become.

The next day the flat was spotless, I had sprayed far too much febreze to maintain consciousness but it didn’t matter, first impressions were what mattered the most. A light knock motioned that he was here, the time to put the face to the description and name. Opening the door I had a prepared smile, but as I saw him it faltered. How can a man have all of these qualities, and handsome? Somehow he managed it, effortlessly.

Tortoise rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose, distorting those bright blue eyes, the colour I’d think back to as summer growing up with a touch of the unknown. He lowered his head as he pulled out a scrap of paper, muttering my name in a question. We both remained quiet as I welcomed him in, his eyes observing the open space through the doorway separating two ways to the bedrooms and bathroom. 

We sat down, opposite each other separated by my glass table, neatly organised piles of books and marble coasters. The continuous silence between us was unnerving and being the one in charge I spoke up, asking a series of questions to which he answered honestly and with a good sense of humour. It was going well, until I could hear my Mum’s most requested question blurt out of my mouth, “So are you in a relationship?” The confused blind look he wore in his eyes at my question, he didn’t respond, instead just remained flustered. “I like knowing in advance so I can purchase noise cancelling headphones.” 

His response was what sold it, the reason he now lives in the room opposite mine approximately 56 steps away. He leant forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, “If I ever do, I’ll buy you them myself.” 

* 

“Dan?!” Yelling from my room I sit upside down, a pair of heavy feet approach me and I hear an exasperated sigh. 

In front of me he knelt down, raising an eyebrow. “Why am I not even surprised.” He joked and joined me, the two of us sitting upside down in silence. “Everything alright?” Turning my head to look at him I chuckled at the sight of his hair hanging down, just brushing the floor like a mop. 

“I’m not sure what to do about tonight.” Groaning I sit back up, letting the blood rush away from my head. Within a second Dan sits opposite me, clearly comfortable amongst my assortment of cushions. 

Closing his eyes he stayed quiet as the dizziness passed him by. “Well for starters you’re coming out with me and the guys.” He nudged me with a goofy grin, his eyes reflecting joy. 

“But I’m so tired, I didn’t get in until 4 last night.” I exclaim and collapse down into my soft pillows. 

Lying there staring at the artex I feel a change in weight, Dan lies next to me and pokes my nose. “It’ll be a few hours, some drinks.” He tries to convince me. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen.” 

If I knew what would go down, I’m not entirely sure if I’d thank him for convincing me or punch him or making me join him. Probably both.

“Fine I’ll go.” He punches the air in success and rolls off of the bed, nearing the door. “But just a few drinks, okay?” I yell as he hovers in the doorway, waving me off and leaving me to get ready. 

Walking down to the bar the faint sound of music brought back fond memories. The first time all of our friends met, all of us bonding and getting drunk together. I remember vaguely stroking Kyles beard and wanting to plait it, unfortunately that never happened. “Like old times, isn’t it?” I speak up as I wrap my arms around his, resting my head on his shoulder as we walk. 

“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” He glances down to me and smiles, the same smile he wore when I first met him. The same smile he gives me whenever I wake up and wander into the main space, stagger towards the kitchen.

As the two of us walk inside immediately we hear cheers, turning to our left Kyle stands on a table in a half empty bar clearly pissed before we had a chance to join. “If it isn’t the love birds.” He slurs his words as Woody tries to force him down with little luck. 

Will walks over to us, offering to buy a round which we gladly accept, I mean it’s just one drink right? Wrong, it was several. 

Unable to stand without support me and Kyle continued to laugh at the most stupid things, Dan was in a different booth as he was in a marginally better state than I was. “So you know, like you two.” He raised his eyebrows to me to which I just stared at. 

Taking a swig of my drink I shook it off, “You know we’re just friends, always have been.” I flap my hands about in front of his face. “He is not my lobster.” Doing the same action as best as I can that Phoebe did he just chuckles, lowering my hands on my behalf. 

“But you two are like a couple without admitting or having sex. You’re the emotional stuff without the active stuff.” I shook my head as he tried to convince me otherwise. Looking over to Dan he was facing me, that smile on his face amongst the two day stubble which I secretly prefered. 

As he turned away and his attention went back to a friend the smile disappeared, “Ah.” Kyle muttered in my ear. “Now you see the smile?” Chuckling I began to gather my senses, “And the penny drops?” 

“Has he always done that?” I exclaim louder than intended and he nods in response. “Right then.” Flipping my hair out of my face I go to stand up and walk over, but as I go to stand a sudden realisation hits me as I’m land on my ass. I haven’t stood up in an hour and drank too much. 

As I sat staring up Kyle remained in full laughter whilst I saw a pair of beaten up converse in front of me. “Come on you.” He muttered helping me up. 

Resting my hands on his shoulders his relaxed at my waist. As I stared at him I could see how blue his eyes were under the off lights, how they quickly moved analysing mine. “Are we going home now?” I yawn loudly. 

“I think that’s wise.” He laughs lightly and helps me out. Waving back to Kyle he just points at us, then does the lobster making me smile. 

Walking home the bitter air bites at my exposed skin, shivering I can feel the effects of the booze wear off slightly. The two of us walk in silence as Dan keeps his arm around my waist, hugging me close even though it isn’t necessary. 

Reaching our front door he fiddles with the keys and the door creaks, swinging open. As I stumble in after him I silently dance around, kicking my shoes off and releasing the few clips holding my hair up. Dan watches with a smile on his face as I dance along to the echos of my giggles, holding a hand out I nod whilst he shakes his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer tonight, Smith.” Reaching out I grab his hand but he pulls me close to him. 

The mood instantly changes. I can hear a soft piano playing as I bore into his eyes, the rippling innocence amongst the care. “I’d be lost without you.” He mutters as I blink, then rest my head in the crook of his neck. The faint smell of the aftershave I got him as a Christmas present as his stubble scratches my jawline. 

“I’d be homeless. Or worse, living with my parents again.” I joke resulting in a light laugh to sound, his shoulders rising and falling gently. 

Lifting my head up my eyes lock with his, the two of us pause. The piano begins to fade, the faint melody rising. Glancing between his eyes and lips neither of us stop, my lips meet his as if it were meant to be. 

*

Groaning I struggle to open my eyes or move, as I try to lift my arm I can feel something stopping it, preventing me from moving. That’s it, game over I thought to myself as I try and recall the events of last night. Everything is too hazy, I remember falling on my arse and sitting with Kyle; besides that, nothing. 

Taking my time I allow my eyes to adjust to the early morning light and gentle breeze scoping through the window. Looking down I can feel my eyes going wide, an arm. An arm which I see everyday, bare. My heart begins to beat faster as I try and remain calm, failing to do so. Turning as gently as I can spooning me is Dan. 

Unsure how to comprehend I lift the covers up, we are clothed thank god. Sighing in relief I can feel how tight he is hugging me, even when he is fast asleep. I take the time to focus on his sleepy face, how everything relaxes including his smile. A slight frown developing. His forehead remains hidden due to his hair hanging down in strands, unable to stop myself I lift them up, brushing them back.  

His eyes flutter open and I freeze. In seconds I fathom every outcome possible, ranging from him storming out to regretting whatever happened. He wraps his arms around me, a sleepy grin evident. “Mornin’” He mutters as a yawn escapes his lips. 

“Dan, what happened last night.” I quietly ask as I relax in his arms, inches away from his face. 

Eyes scanning mine his face drops, “You don’t remember do you?” His arms retract, leaving me feeling cold. 

“Did I make a fool of myself or something?” Concern laces my words yet he shakes his head. “We, did we do anything.” Stumbling over my thoughts and processing them his eyes flash at mine before returning to focus on the grey fabric. 

“We kissed. Then I helped you get into bed. About half an hour later you kept calling me, demanding I keep you company til you fall asleep.” He stated with little emotion and continued to avoid my gaze. 

Blinking I could hear myself, feel myself stumble in here. I vaguely recall dancing to nothing, his gentle lips on mine and then it becoming more heated, the passion rising. “We kissed.” I stated, a smile forming.

“Do, do you, regret it?” He murmurs, fiddling with the sheets to distract himself. 

Moving closer into his arms I lift his chin up, “Not a single bit.” Kissing him lightly warmth radiates through me. Pulling away he half smiles, too tired to put too much effort into it. “Well maybe getting drunk, I feel like crap.” I mutter and curl back up into his arms, wondering if I’ll ever wake up from this dream. 

[izayasworld-blog]

The shame

In my last post I promised to tell how to build yourself a category of yourself and develop your own confidence. However we can not start that without first knowing some basics about human’s ability to feel shame. I will talk about different types of shame’s. There is shame that is considered good by majority of therapists and then there is shame that is considered as bad one by this same majority of therapists. 

What is good shame? Good shame and feeling of guilt walk with hand in hand. When a child does something bad he normally feels guilt of it, also possibly a bit shame which can be considered as embarrasment. However sometimes these children feel the bad shame. It is shame about existing. Feeling of wainting to get accepted by their parents because they need their parents and they are afraid that their parents will abandon them. Why do these children feel that way? What in parents’ behaviour causes it? 

Well, usually these humans are referred as ‘shame humans’. They got scared already when they were born or incest, raping, abuse... Such things cause this shame. It is deep shame and it affects the whole person’s personality. The way he thinks and feels. Usually children who were separated from their mother right after their birth into world don’t get the needed connection with their mother. The first days and hours of the baby’s life outside of the womb are extremely important. Even though the baby was separated by taking him to some emergency room or such because he was too small for breast feeding, it still caused the baby a damage to his personality. He got the emotion of ‘not being wanted’ that he was broken or damaged and just not good enough to be accepted. Necessary connection with baby and mother wasn’t there then. On those first hours the mother draws the baby’s lines and basically the baby becomes a whole but if the mother is not there, then the baby won’t have these lines and he might never become completely independent from his parents as an adult. This is a very difficult issue to explain. But this is just one of the cases. 

Other cases are such as raping, abuse or incest. They all cause different types of shame but basically this shame in its purest model is the need of being loved and accepted. Parents can easily damage their children’s minds by just using certain type of sentences. For example when the children wants to dress up somehow the mother might say ‘ No, you certainly won’t do that, what will the neighbours think of it too? ‘. Here the mother is expressing that the child is somehow damaged and causes shame for the whole family. It’s the worst kind of sentence to say to a child. For a child the parents are like gods because they need them for surviving. Their words are universal truths for the children. So if the parents judge and criticize their children for how they look like or punish them from showing themselves. The children’s minds become shamehumans’ minds. They try to be good children because they fear that if they don’t they will get abandoned. A big part of the children’s own personality is thrown away. For a good girl her bad sides do not exist anymore. Which leads into stress, anxiety even depression as an adult. The good girl won’t say her own opinions. dress up the way she truly wants to or such because she is afraid of being abandoned by other humans and she is constantly looking for acceptance. With some others it might be opposite. They become rebellious. They isolate themselves from other humans because they don’t want to face any criticism and this leads into more shame. The humans think that they are not supposed to even exist because it’s way too shameful. The shame leads into chronical loneliness, emotional loneliness and social loneliness. Which again causes depression, anxiety, panic disorders and other mental diseases and disorders. Narcissm is also caused by huge shame that the narcisst got to experience during his childhood. 

There are different types of shamehumans. 

Successfull one - Tries his everything to success but doesn’t feel any satisfaction of things he succeed in. 

Victim - victimizes himself and blames others for his suffering and himself for not being accepted. 

Leader - Thinks that others cant survive without his organizing skills.

Clown - the one who is always talking and amusing others. Looking for acceptance and attention by this. Can’t stand quiet house or peace, always needs some noise around him. Usually they steal the show alone. 

Intelligent one - Looks down on emotional people, only interested in science, very lonely usually because cant find company that matches his intelligence level, doesnt like chitchatting, isnt really interested in other humans. 

These stereotypes are just few of many shamehuman stereotypes and I can find many of them in myself as well. When I was a baby, I was separated from my mother right after the birth which lead into me becoming a shamehuman. I was constantly criticized and judged by my mother, grandmother and so on trough my childhood and even still nowadays am. I was the first child in our family. Obviously I got to experience the hardest since my parents were.. well new parents obviously. My parents probably never knew how their actions affected my mind when I was a child. Top of that I got to experience bullying at school during my first years and this is how I became very insecure and almost invicible. I was afraid to open my mouth in the class during my primary school life. It also led me to practice karate which helped me trough junior high school. I had developed myself a role in junior high and that’s why most of other pupils didn’t dare to pick on me. However I was also kind of lonely wolf. I didn’t feel comfortable in groups of people at all. I was rebel and dressed the way I wanted because I was mostly pissed off at my mother from judging me from dressing however I wanted. I did a lot, I had many hobbies and I was very active, constantly looking for my parents acceptance but it was never enough. Even nowadays it feels like I have not gotten it and actually I’m bad at taking criticism from other humans as well. Here I’ve got to tell one case that happened during my high school life. I was assigned to create application lists for our school’s wintersports day and I didn’t know how to do it. Still, I tried to do it and did my best with it. Those weren’t good enough lists so our teacher took me to laptop so that we would do them again together. She was criticizing or more like judging me for doing them wrongly. Basically saying that I hadn’t tried or such. I tried to explain that I didn’t know how to do them expressing that I knew that they weren’t good enough. Then she said to another teacher who was sitting beside us ‘ she can’t take criticism at all and becomes all defensive’ they laughed. Of course this felt really really bad to me and I was seriouslt about to cry. I didn’t understand why didn’t that fuckin’ teacher understand a goddamn word I had said? Was she that full of herself? That’s what I thought of during that moment and I was seriously on the edge of walking out from that room and going home without explaining a thing. I felt that ashamed. After that I started to hate this teacher til the day I graduated. I won’t tell her name here since I respect her privacy, but if she ever got to read this, I really hope that she wouldn’t EVER treat anyone of her students like that again. 

I finally got that said. Time to move on forward now then. 

How to fix yourself from this shame then? What do you need to understand? I tell here now, those have been raped, abused physically or mentally a lot etc. You guys really do need to meet up with psychologist because you need personal directing and therapy to get over those events. But maybe this will also help you guys understand something very important. 

Here’s the key:  You are not walking on this planet to please anyone or to be accepted by anyone else, but yourself. Your life is in your hands. Not anyone else’s. You must love yourself and be brave. Be yourself, do what you want. You’ve got only this life here and now. If there is something you want to do but have planned to do it later on during your life, think. The life is here now. Nobody knows what happens tomorrow. Life is unpredictable since everything affects everything. This is the reason for just start doing the things you want to do right now instead of leaving it for ‘better time’. The moment is now. 

Also, other people will be there and always judge and criticize you, but the thing is that you mustn’s listen them. Their words are just opinions. Your own opinions are your opinions. You are not perfect human-being. No one will ever be perfect human. We are evolving every day. We are always in ‘the process’. We’ll never be complete. After you can accept this, that you are not perfect, you are not going to be ‘ good human’ or such since like I told in my older post, goodness is not in us. It’s just a substance that we deliver. Still even though we are incomplete, we are all important. We have born into this world for one reason. We are here because of evolution, we are here because of the beauty of life, we are here because we are lucky, we are here to ENJOY of our lives. Enjoy the challenges of our lives, enjoy the happiness in our life, enjoy all the different experiences in this life and the best part is that we will never need to be complete. We can still be satisfied in ourselves just the way we are. The key in developing your confidence is to NOT CARE other people’s opinions. Their opinions do NOT define us. Only WE define ourselves. We are the royals on this planet.  Remember this people! 

Then here is few practices you can do in order to develop yourself. Go to shower. Let the water fall down on you for 10-15 minutes straight and make sure that it touches every part of your skin. At same time think about how it feels, enjoy its gentle touch. Imagine seeing the waves of the ocean that hit the seashore or small waterfalls somewhere in the forests. Try hear their sound and let it calm you down. Imagine how the fresh wind of these places that you can hear hissing in trees’ leaves, blows new air into you and gives you energy for the near future ahead of you. If you want you can also take some relaxation music like this to the shower room, the key is to not let the shower be too loud so that you can focus on listening. After this, dry yourself and go lay into your bed naked. Cover your body with your blanket and lie on your side the way you would in your mother’s womb. Close your eyes. Focus on how the sheets feel against your skin. If you fall asleep or become comfortable, change position. Lay on your back. Wait til you are comfortable and eventually remove the blanket and just lay there. Focus on how the air feels on your skin. After this go stand front of a mirror and look at yourself. That’s you. Only you in this world. You are a human. Just a human. Nothing more, nothing less. You can do whatever you want with your life. No one else can ever tell who you are or what you want to be or do. They can not tell what is good or what is bad as universal truths. Only as their own opinions that reflect their own life. You must focus on your own life. Look at the parts of your body from mirror that you like and smile. You are incomplete but you can always develop yourself to the direction you want to. Even though you’ll never be complete totally.. You can still be the way you want to be or at least close to it. It’s not good, It’s not bad. It’s just you. 

In my next post, I will probably talk about how to use non-verbal communication for evolving your mental confidence in social situations. 

[sarahburness]

How Feeling Shame Freed Me from Suffering

“Be gentle first with yourself if you wish to be gentle with others.” ~Lama Yeshe

It was October, 2012. The U.S. Presidential Election was around the corner. I was paying an unaccustomed amount of attention to political news on TV and to political discussion sites online. At one site in particular, I was eager to become part of the community, to make a good impression, to build a reputation.

To put it mildly, that didn’t work out well.

One evening I was watching an interview with a politician whose name I recognized, but I didn’t know much about him. I thought he was making some cogent points about the topic at hand. I went to the online discussion site to see whether anyone had mentioned this interview yet, and when I found no one had, I hastily composed a post praising the politician and suggesting that others should watch the interview.

The reaction was fast and fierce. How could I have anything nice to say about this nincompoop, who was renowned far and wide as a hypocrite? Where was my sense? Where were my ideals? Where was my head? What did I think I was doing there in the first place?

I was mortified. I, who had always prided myself on intellectual acumen, had totally failed to do my homework. I hadn’t done even the most cursory research to learn anything about the politician’s history.

I felt I’d made an ass of myself. I was so ashamed that I didn’t even visit the site for weeks. I was genuinely in pain.

Now I’m going to have to briefly flash back in time so the next part of the story will make sense.

At that time, in 2012, it had been almost ten years since a beloved spiritual teacher had died. I had shut down my spiritual life to a great extent after his death. You might say it was a long freeze. Or maybe “fallow period” would be a better description. Later events would make that seem like a good way to look at it.

While I was ashamed and hurting in the aftermath of my online blunder, I recalled something I’d heard my teacher say more than once, something like this: “When you see a tack on your chair, sit on it.”

That may sound enigmatic, but I think the metaphor is straightforward. What it meant to me, anyway, was that we should not flee from fully allowing an experience that might impart an important point. We should sit on the point, not avoid it.

I made a vow then. I promised myself I wouldn’t avoid my intense sense of shame. I wouldn’t brush it under the rug. I wouldn’t cover it or deflect it with distractions, entertainments, excuses, or rationalizations. I would experience it fully, let it do its work, and see what happened.

I’m not pretending that I had any specific practice beyond that. I’ve since learned some that I’ll mention a little later. But at the time, I simply stuck to my vow. Whenever the feeling of shame came to visit, I didn’t shoo it away or distract myself. I allowed myself to experience it.

It’s not even that I was inclined to turn toward TV or eating or any other concrete distraction. What I mean by “distract myself” is subtler. It’s a small mental move of avoidance, of turning the attention away from something uncomfortable. Its opposite is mindful awareness, facing experience head-on come what may.

Everything began to change within a few weeks. There was no one moment when the painful sense of shame evaporated, leaving nothing but clarity and peace. No, it happened gradually over a period of weeks. Each time I welcomed shame as a visitor, it lost some of its sting.

What finally became of it? All I can say is it was transmuted. It dissolved, and in its place arose a sense of peace and a new, calm engagement with the truth of being.

I recognized that whatever arises in experience is always already present by the time we can react. Whether it’s comfort or discomfort, joy or distress, calm or chaos, it can be witnessed with equanimity.

I began to notice old friends posting on Facebook about spiritual teachers and teachings they liked. I looked into some of them and found I liked them too. The long freeze had given way to a thaw. The fallow period was coming to an end. I felt a sense of regeneration, of reawakening.

How does this work? If it seems counterintuitive to you that diving into pain is a good idea, that amplifying discomfort can be helpful, consider this simple question: What are we doing when we feel that we’re suffering? In other words, what mental activity are we engaging?

It seems to me that above all else, the answer is we’re actively refusing ourselves compassion. When faced with discomfort or pain, we try to resist it or deny it. We’re judging ourselves, chastising ourselves for the feelings that arise spontaneously. Most of us wouldn’t do it to another, certainly not to a loved one, yet we do it to ourselves. That’s the suffering right there.

In this instance, the active mechanism was a kind of a thought loop. It went something like this:

That was really stupid, what I did.

How could I be so dumb? I’m smart, not dumb!

I humiliated myself in public.

I can never show my face there again.

(Repeat forever.)

Each of those thoughts reinforces a sense of emotional pain, of suffering. They whirl around and seem to amplify each other. It feels as if there’s no way out. I kept beating myself up.

That’s exactly what it was. I was beating myself up. I was pummeling myself with those ideas. I was treating myself entirely without compassion and empathy, as if I hated myself, and I didn’t seem to know how to stop.

Notice that by this point the nature of the original mistake didn’t matter. It could have been as trivial as cursing out loud or as serious as committing a felony. The thought loop of suffering was running obsessively on its own momentum. It was no longer about the original offense. It was self-sustaining.

It reminds me of an experience years ago. When I was a teenager, I was admitted to the hospital for an appendectomy. In the recovery room, as I slowly emerged from the anesthetic fog, the room seemed filled with loud screams. I barely had time to wonder what they were about when I noticed that I was the one who was screaming! I stopped immediately. There was pain, yes, but no need to make it worse by screaming.

It’s an imperfect analogy, but I see a significant parallel: I had to notice the self-defeating action before I could stop it. In the instance of my shame it happened that by keeping my promise, by sitting on the tack, by diving into the pain, somehow I created a space where I had an opportunity to notice what I was doing and to stop it, gradually. I began to see an opportunity to embrace myself with kindness and compassion, and I took it.

Practices

As I mentioned, I’ve learned some specific practices to take advantage of the opportunity, to enhance and deepen the process.

Metta (lovingkindess) meditation

I find that this traditional meditation opens the heart and helps to cultivate compassion towards oneself and others. My version begins with visualizing the warmth and love I feel when seeing or meeting a loved one. It could be a spouse, child, parent, dear friend, or even a beloved pet. Then I say to myself:

May they be safe from harm.

May they be truly happy.

May they be free from suffering.

May they be loved.

Then I picture myself at my most open and vulnerable, when I’m hurting and in need of that same love and compassion. And I say to myself:

May I be safe from harm.

May I be truly happy.

May I be free from suffering.

May I be loved.

I can then extend that to my circle of friends, to the planet, and to all sentient beings everywhere. Practicing this regularly deeply affects the feeling nature.

Ho’oponopono

Based on a traditional Hawaiian practice for community healing, the modernized version I use resembles a variation I heard from Scott Kiloby. Here’s how I engage it:

When I notice a feeling that seems distressful, first I simply sit quietly with it, acknowledging it and allowing myself to feel it.

I ask for the stories surrounding the feeling to reveal themselves, and I allow hearing the stories to intensify the feeling. The thought loop I mentioned is a perfect example of those stories.

I dive into the feeling with naive curiosity, looking to sense all its aspects. I’m not trying to soften it or push it away, but at this stage it may begin to soften.

I say to the feeling: “I love you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” The important thing is that I have to mean it. I have to be prepared to live with it indefinitely, to welcome it indefinitely. After all, it’s part of me. It is me.

In retrospect, what I did by sitting on the tack of shame was closest to practicing Ho’oponopono.

For me, the whole experience emphasizes how important it is to include the heart in our practice, in our lives. When we find ourselves relying on mental analysis, it’s often judgmental and hurtful, especially to ourselves.

Both aspects can be useful, but the heart never judges, never condemns, never excludes. It knows how to heal us and make us whole.

About Steve Diamond

Founder of More Than Mindful, in Tucson, Arizona, Steve has meditated and studied nonduality for more than forty years. A former information technology executive, Steve now offers mindfulness classes in Tucson as well as individual coaching to clients worldwide. His inclusive, holistic, compassionate style is evident in the guided meditation audios that can be streamed and downloaded from his website.

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