The message behind the message

The other day my daughter decided to re-position the bumpersticker on my car, not realizing that doing so would create all sorts of creases and airbubbles, making it sloppy-looking and hard to read. When I caught her having just done it, I made a big show out of being upset and offended -- at the very least she should have asked me before doing something like that! -- and I peeled the sticker off and threw it in the trash.

But the truth is, I am really glad to have it gone.

This is strange, because I really like what it said: "GOD BLESS EVERYONE - NO EXCEPTIONS". The message is an important reminder to me that there is no one on this planet -- and no part of ME -- that is unworthy of love and forgiveness, or doesn't deserve to be here. I believe in that message so strongly, and yet for the few months that I drove around with it on my bumper, it made me increasingly uncomfortable.

Especially when I did something in traffic that could have annoyed another driver, I was hyper-aware of the other unintended messages my bumpersticker might be sending. I am better than you are, I could hear it taunting. My message of universal blessing is better than whatever parochial message is on your bumper. And if your beliefs are so limited that you think there is anyone unworthy of being blessed, or if you are so unenlightened as to struggle putting this ideal into practice, then you should change to be more like me. "Sure, God bless everyone," I imagined the people behind me thinking, "but you, smug SUV driver, are a jerk."

And having the bumpersticker made me feel like a jerk. Not exactly the impact I was going for.

By contrast, my husband has a bumpersticker on his car that simply says, "You are loved." (Coincidentially, it was also put on his car by our daughter, without his permission.) But now he says he likes it because every time he goes to his car, it makes him smile, like he's being greeted by a friend. And I expect it's a nicer message for the people following him, as well. "That jerk didn't let me in," they might think, "but he probably didn't mean me any harm." The message invites forgiveness without commanding it, and I like it very much. 

My friend Alex Cook is the one who created the You are loved bumpersticker, and also paints beautiful murals with the same message.  I think I am going to get me one.

May we all be forgiven

To the well-meaning dad who yelled at me for touching his child while I was staffing the entrance to the bouncy house this afternoon, I already said I was sorry. But I also feel like there is more to say. 

I want you to know that you hurt my feelings. I was not trying to hurt your child, or do anything inappropriate; I was just trying to keep her from going inside, because the maximum capacity of kids had been reached and she was still trying to crawl in despite my telling her so. I want you to know that this was my first time working a bouncy house, and I was doing the best that I could. Bouncy houses involve risk, especially for little ones like yours, and I didn't want her or anyone else to get injured. 

Your words hurt me, because behind them I heard accusations that were unfair and untrue: that I was doing something blatantly wrong, and that I either had malicious intent, or simply should have known better. You made me feel like a little kid being unfairly accused, with no hearing and no recourse, and then you left.

I wish I knew what was happening for you this morning. Maybe you were feeling nervous or embarrassed yourself because you'd let your little one get away from you. Maybe I triggered memories of someone unpleasant from your past. Maybe improper touching of kids is an especially sensitive thing for you.  Or maybe the incident didn't even register for you at all.  I just don't know. I can't know what was going on for you this morning any more than you could have known what was going on for me.

I know you could probably take issue with my saying you "yelled" at me, when -- tone of voice aside -- really you just asked why I was touching your kid, and said you would like to be the one to do that. You could also easily accuse me of being oversensitive, and argue that this is a stupid thing to be hurt by. To be honest, I would agree! I wish it hadn't fazed me, that I could have just let it wash over me and gotten back to the task at hand. But for whatever reason, I didn't.  And emotions are persistent; once they're there, they don't go away just because we don't like them.

I know that you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, that you were just trying to be a good dad and protect your child. And I was trying to be a good bouncy house attendant and keep everyone as safe as possible.  Sometimes, even doing the best that we can, we step on each other's toes. May we all be forgiven.

The gift of being real

I  am sorry to be only getting this message out now, less than 24 hours away from the next Gift of Happiness event. I started thinking about what I might write days ago, and was up past midnight the last two nights trying to get into that writing zone where words just flow. It didn't work, though. The harder I tried and the more I worried about finishing, the more painful it was and the less I liked what I wrote.

I actually had some pretty cool insights this week. I've finally started coming to terms with how much help -- and money -- I'm going to have to ask for if Gift of Happiness to become an official nonprofit. There is so much shame there for me (Shouldn't I be able to do this on my own?), and fear (What if people think what I'm doing is stupid, or feel like they "should" help me even if they don't really want to?) -- but how will I get anything I want if I'm not willing to ask for it?

I envisioned this post tying in perfectly with tomorrow's Give & Receive event, which is all about offering and asking for help of different kinds. But like I said, it didn't flow. I kept starting and re-starting, frustrated with myself. My words felt forced and fake, trying to make those perfect connections, trying to impress you all with my deep and meaningful insights. Blech! I hate feeling like I have to impress people. I want to be real with you, I want you to know me -- and I want to know you, too.

That's one thing I love about the Give & Receive process, that it's an opportunity for us all to offer a little piece of ourselves through the things we choose to offer and ask for. These can be tiny things -- food, objects, services, advice, words of affirmation -- anything! It really doesn't matter, because the specific gift isn't really what matters. The real gift is your willingness to show up as yourself -- no more and no less -- and trust that that is good enough. 

If you're free tomorrow morning for our Natick Community Give & Receive, I hope you will come give it a try.

Letting Go without Losing Your Self

I was dreading writing this post.

I dreaded it because this week's "Befriending Emotions" topic is sadness, and I didn't feel particularly sad. More accurately, perhaps, I didn't want to feel sad. I didn't want to lose anything. I didn't want there to be anything "wrong" with me or my life that I would have to let go of and be sad about.

At the same time, I was afraid of not being connected to sadness, because how else could I possibly be effective leading a workshop on it? So I started digging in.

It turns out that I had plenty of sadness to work with. Sadness that after so many months of working on this Gift of Happiness project, I still find it hard to explain to people what I'm doing and why. Sadness that progress is so slow. Sadness that there are things I knew I wanted to do six months ago that I still haven't done, and that I feel like I've wasted precious time. "I wish life were easier," said Sadness. "I wish I felt more successful, more courageous, more impressive. And I wish it was all just automatic, no hard work or growing pains required."

Shame tells me those are childish, petty things to be sad about, that it is fantasy to expect myself to be perfect, or for life to line up exactly the way I want it to. "Don't say those things!" says Shame. "Look at your amazing, blessed life. People will think you're just a naive, whiny little girl." Shame has a point, of course, but emotions aren't easily bossed around. They have messages to deliver, and they want to be heard. So what to do with all that sadness?

The answer became clear to me in my Thursday morning yoga class. Malu walked us through a whole series of exercises to let go and be held by the earth -- and they were hard! Instead of feeling grounded and steady, I felt unbalanced, inflexible, and inadequate, not able to do anything as well as I wanted to. But then it dawned on me, that that's what there was to let go of, not just in yoga but in my life: the belief that things should somehow be different, easier, and that I should somehow be able to control it all. It is an impossible expectation! When I finally stopped fighting and just allowed myself to be supported and cared for, I cried for the first time in a long time, tears of relief and gratitude.

What I realized was that "letting go" does not have to be about losing anything, or giving anything away. It doesn't mean there is anything wrong with what you had before. Sometimes it can be as simple -- and as difficult! -- as acknowledging that a situation is bigger than you are, and that you could use some love.

I hope you will come to my Befriending Sadness workshop this Sunday. We will not be doing any yoga, but we will be talking about sadness: how it works, what it's for, and how it can help you move through situations that feel "stuck." I look forward to seeing you there!

Practicing Happiness

At 6:00 this morning I took my 10-year-old daughter to a Before Work Dance Party at Roots & Wings. It was a blast!

Beforehand, I wasn't so sure it would be. I'd been feeling tired and stiff and angsty, and was afraid I wasn't going to enjoy it. Specifically, I didn't want to show up at an event that should be fun and not actually have fun. And even more than that, I didn't want to feel like I had to pretend to have fun because I thought I was "supposed" to. (As the Gift of Happiness person, I'm supposed to be happy all the time... right?)

At another time in my life, I would have tried psyching myself up for this event byignoring my reservations and motivating myself with a pep talk: "This will be fun! You will enjoy it!" Then on the way there I would try to picture whatever I thought "fun" was supposed to look like. And once there, I would try to make myself look that way, to convince myself -- and everyone else -- that I was happy the way I "should" be. And it wouldn't have worked at all.

This morning, however, I talked to myself differently. "So you don't want to go," I said. "You have no idea what it will be like, and and you might not enjoy it. That's okay. It's going to be fine. What's important is that you said you would go, and it will feel good to keep your commitment." I did what I knew to be the right thing, and pretty much let go of everything else. And happiness was the reward.

I can point to all sorts of specific things that ended up being great about the morning -- the people, the movement, the free granola bars, hula hooping with Kat -- but I don't think it was any of those specifics that made me happy. Rather, it was the underlying sense that anything that happened there was going to be okay. It's the same sense I get from the song Kinder, by Copper Wimmin, which I just heard for the first time this morning. Beautiful!

I'm finding that it's pretty easy to come up with "rules" for creating happiness -- be true to yourself, be present in the moment, be unattached to results, etc. Breaking it down after the fact, it seems so simple, but as with so many things in life it is easier said than done. Like any great game, it's minutes to learn and a lifetime to master. May all of us have many more opportunities to practice.

On Giving & Receiving Feedback

I deeply apologize to all the leaders and facilitators I have ever criticized. From here on out, if I'm not actually in the arena with you (thank you, Brene Brown!), I will be in the audience cheering you on.

This comes after having now offered my first three Befriending Emotions workshops and being hyper-aware of the impact of people's feedback and suggestions, particularly at these beginning stages where I am still trying to find my voice and clarify my message, in addition to getting the nuts and bolts of facilitation down.  It is such a vulnerable thing to be out sharing things that matter to me, knowing full well that while I am doing the very best I can, there are a million things I could be doing better.

Early on, a friend gave me some detailed recommendations for how I could improve, painting a vivid picture for me of how a really great workshop could look. It was intended to be helpful, but it actually made me kind of crazy as I was designing my Befriending Anger workshop, because I had his voice in my head, critiquing and advising me on whether my ideas were matching up with what he'd described. Finally, I just had to say to that voice: "Be quiet! This is my workshop, not yours. It may not meet your standards of perfection, but at least it is going to be an authentic expression of me, and I am willing to take the consequences." And I smiled inside at the opportunity to practice befriending my anger.

Feedback is tricky for me, though, because the fact is I do want it. I do want to get better. I care whether I'm effective or not. I just don't like being tempted to put more faith in other people's answers than my own. And for someone who grew up straight-A perfectionist teacher pleaser, that is a tough habit to break.

What I've realized through this is that there is a certain kind of feedback I want, whether it's related to my workshops or any other area of life: I want to know what impact I had. What did you learn?  How did you feel? What spoke to you, and what didn't? What did you find boring, exciting, depressing, inspiring? Two weeks later, what (if anything) stuck with you? Did you try anything new that you wouldn't otherwise have tried? Were you pleased with the outcome, or not? Am I making a difference?

I understand why people don't give this kind of feedback more often. It takes courage to step out from behind the shield of objectivity and share what something was actually like! But that honesty can be an incredible gift to everyone involved.

So if you are willing to take the risk and give me feedback, thank you! I promise that I will use it wisely, no matter how inartfully it might be phrased, or how "objective" you make it sound. I will remember that it is just one person's opinion, and I will take full responsibility for whatever I choose to do (or not do) with it.

And the next time I'm asked to give feedback, and catch myself getting all wise and insightful and smug, I will pause, and breathe. And remember what it's like to be in the arena.

Working with Anger

I used to think that anger was unimportant.

In my mind it was a weak, childish emotion that I could -- and should! -- talk myself out of with logic and reason. "That's not worth being angry about," I would tell myself, as if refusing to acknowledge anger would simply get rid of it. While I silently judged and criticized people who expressed anger, my own anger did not in fact magically vanish, but instead came out sideways as things like sarcasm, superiority, and aloofness. Needless to say, this approach didn't lead to happiness. In addition to living with a lot of internal judgment and criticism, I allowed other people to be mean to me, and had no idea how to stand up for myself.

Only in the past few years have I started to see anger less as something to be afraid or ashamed of, and more like a friendly messenger with valuable information that I could pay attention to. This has vastly improved the quality of my relationships with other people -- and with myself.

Each person's experience of anger is different, but if anger is something you struggle with, or simply want to learn more about, I hope you will come to my Befriending Anger workshop next week. These small group workshops provide a safe, intimate setting for you to learn more about where anger comes from, and practice simple tools for restoring your well-being without harming others in the process. Teens, tweens, and adults are all welcome.

If you are interested in the topic but can't make the workshop, I also highly recommend Karla McLaren's website, which has a ton of great information about how to understand and work with different emotions. Karla's work is the foundation for a lot of what I will be teaching, and I am so grateful that she shares it there for free. 

A Fearless Conversation About Fear

Do you know the song "Nothing More" by the Alternate Routes?  I heard it playing at a coffee shop the other day, and immediately fell in love with it. The message I get from it is the same one I try to spread through the Gift of Happiness: How we treat each other matters, and it's possible to treat people (including ourselves) with love, no matter what the situation. Of course, just because we can doesn't make it easy, but it is still important.

One thing that trips me up when trying to love people is fear: fear of rejection, fear of judgment, fear of feeling stupid or gullible or wrong. There are so many things to be afraid of! But letting that fear take over is a recipe for loneliness.

This Sunday afternoon, I am leading an open conversation about fear: how to listen to it, engage with it, and learn from it so that it can empower rather than control you. If you are local to the Boston/MetroWest area, please consider joining me at Befriending Fear, Sunday 4/12 from 2:00-4:00 p.m. at Roots & Wings Yoga and Healing Arts. This is a chance to share your experiences with fear and courage, and get a new perspective on areas of your life where you are feeling stuck.  

With a little fear -- but also excitement! -- I look forward to our conversation.

On Being an "Expert"

Tomorrow evening I will be driving all the way to Derry, NH to facilitate a workshop called "Befriending Anger." This is the first in a whole series of workshops about befriending emotions, and not surprisingly, all sorts of different emotions have been popping up for me to practice befriending in the past several weeks.

Last night it was fear: Fear that I am not actually an expert on anger. Fear of pretending to be an expert on something I'm not. Fear that my need to impress people tomorrow night would prevent me from actually connecting with them, that my inauthenticity would be the death knell of the workshop, and that I would leave feeling horrible.

While feeling horrible about a workshop wouldn't kill me -- been there, done that! -- the fact is, I don't want to feel bad about it. I want to feel great about it! I want to leave feeling like everyone in the room got something of value, including me. I want to have no regrets about driving 2 1/2 hours in rush hour traffic, or offering the workshop for free, because I got to spend quality time with interesting people, each of us discovering new things about ourselves and each other that will make a real difference for our lives and relationships. That's what this whole Gift of Happiness thing is about!

And here is another insight that came from listening to my fear: Even if I were an expert on anger in general, that wouldn't make me an expert on anyone in the room tomorrow night, how anger works for them, or what anger might have to teach them. But I do have a lot of experience with the practice of befriending, and that is the key word in the title, "Befriending Anger."

This is not a workshop about "managing" anger, or using anger effectively, or letting anger go, or anything else you may want to do with it. It's about shifting your fundamental relationship to anger, to start looking for its gifts, which will in turn open up new insights and possibilities for handling difficult situations.

It will be an awesome conversation, and I am excited for it!

In Search of the Perfect Morning

I came back home after school drop of this morning feeling like a horrible mother, despite my best efforts. I imagined all the other elementary school moms and dads silently judging me for all sorts of failures: for running late yet again, for parking illegally on the narrow street, for nearly causing an accident when my daughter opened her door right in front of a passing car. Never mind that my kids don't have rain gear that fits, or backpacks that close properly. I felt the entire community looking at me, shaking its collective head.

Back at home, alone, I started to get a grip.

"Sure, maybe someone was judging you," I said to myself. "But the likelihood is that everyone else was so focused on their own life that they hardly even noticed you. Or if they did notice, maybe they breathed a silent sigh of relief that someone else was even more frazzled than they were."

The reality, of course, is that all of those critical voices live in my own head, based on my own fears and judgments stemming from who-knows-what in my past.

"What exactly do you want from me?" I asked the critical voices. And I listened as they told me all of the details of the perfect morning that I was supposed to have experienced: everyone well-rested and cooperative, filled with love and gratitude and enthusiasm for the day, every possible need anticipated and met without effort. The expectations were so high that it was ridiculous to get upset about falling short.

The truth is, the perfect morning routine -- that it would possible (or even desirable) to get it all down to a science -- is a myth. Each morning is different, right? With different energy, different expectations, different kids having gotten up in the middle of the night for different kinds of reasons.... I just don't know -- really can't know -- can't predict -- can't control -- what a particular morning will look like. Maybe I'll get to school on time, and maybe I won't. Maybe I will get up early to exercise, and maybe I won't. Maybe the kids will get along with each other, and maybe they won't. Maybe everyone will be healthy, or maybe they won't. Maybe the heat will be working, and maybe it won't. It's just impossible to know. The less I need any one of those things to be guaranteed, the more freedom I will have. Imagine if I could only be happy if all of those vectors lined up a certain way? What kind of fool's game is that?

I can see how it would be tempting to try to come up with a formula, where maybe if just 80% of things went right it would still be okay, I could still be happy. But still, that creates fear, this sense of ever-present monitoring and evaluating of whether life is "good enough." Even if I made that percentage ridiculously low, as long as there is some minimum threshold below which the morning -- and I -- am not okay, I am setting myself up for an emotional roller-coaster ride.

The only freedom from this craziness is to approach it backwards. To admit up front: I have no idea, ever, how this morning (or day, or conversation, or project) will go. But I refuse to be a slave to it. Every single thing could go wrong, and somehow I know I would be able to handle it. Because I am resilient! I don't have to be perfect to be worthy of love and happiness.  And I don't need my morning to be perfect in order to love and be grateful for it.

You don't need to be perfect, either, to be worthy of any of the good things you may want. Here's to your happiness as well -- regardless of what your morning happened to look like.