Last week, I posed questions to the readers of my monthly mindfulness "heart-letter" and my Facebook page. These were deep questions. And the responses I received were beautiful, complicated, real, and insightful. (If you want to share now or anew, please post in the comments, email me, or write anonymously on my website.) It seemed only fitting for me to share my own answers, as I am in this moment:
What are your struggles?
When “life happens” (read: heartbreaking, difficult things happen to people around me), and too many events arrive at the same time, my heart struggles. I struggle to find joy, hope, and inspiration. The longer I live, the more “life happens"—the frequency of these experiences increases—and sometimes my heart feels flooded with sadness.
What surprised me most when I left my academic career was not the loss of identity, community, prestige, or routine. What surprised me most was my intense discomfort with not receiving a regular paycheck. My entire adult life, I’ve supported myself financially. I equate money with independence and worth. And I struggle with not making a living, even though I know my work makes a positive difference. If anything happened to Mark, I’d be forced to give up mindfulness teaching and take a traditional job with benefits. This is something I'd do in a heartbeat (I’m committed to my family), but I struggle with the idea of money=value and how I “contribute.” I recognize this struggle comes from a very privileged place, but I don’t want to not write about it because I fear push-back about my privilege. (And yet my own privilege makes me want to gag—how can I write about this as a "real" struggle?)
Relationships are beautiful, vital, and complicated(!). It’s a struggle to have hard conversations; to speak from integrity yet not do harm; to set boundaries yet keep an open, compassionate heart; to honor my needs in concert with the needs of others.
What are your dreams?
I've had a long-time dream, which hasn't yet taken shape. I want to write a non-traditional book that’s a combination of personal stories, everyday insights, photographs, prison stories, and daily texts. A book that captures all the ways I express and connect with people via teaching, photography, and blog/FB posts. A book that when you hold it in your hands makes you—the reader—feel connected, inspired, authentic, hopeful, and alive.
Where are you stuck?
I feel a little stuck with my business—trying to grow my audience; trying to make a living; trying to market more broadly in a way that feels genuine to me. I think I’m holding myself back (in ways that relate to my struggles and fears). My word for this year is “soar.” I want to soar, not in a “get famous” way, but in a way that brings my love, presence, and teaching to anyone who's interested. (Sharing my word, "soar," makes me uncomfortable, which relates to one of my fears.)
I’m stuck in technology. I too frequently check email (or other online distractions) instead of focusing on the task in front of me. I get pulled off course by the immediate yet not important tugs of daily life.
What do you fear?
I fear hurting people unintentionally. I know I can’t control the world. I can’t control the reactions and perceptions of others, yet my words and actions have impact in ways I can't imagine, both positive and negative. Harm is something not easily undone.
I fear “getting big.” I don’t want fame or thousands of followers. It’s not that my message is flawed or unimportant—I believe in my message. It’s that I fear the critics: I fear people will lacerate me with their words. And it’s this very fear (facing it) that prompts me to post again and again; to be vulnerable; to attempt to “soar” in honest, humble, real ways.
I fear that my posts (especially Truth Tuesday) are too "me" centered or that they're not real enough. Sometimes I temper my words; I don't reveal the whole truth. I wonder: Am I taking a bland middle road that minimizes my message? As I reread this post, I want to delete it. It feels too self-centered and uninteresting.
What do you seek?
I seek people and experiences that nourish me; where I feel better afterward. I seek people who listen. I seek my own full acceptance of "just being." I seek justice and compassion for the prisoners I work with. I seek a world that believes in goodness.
If you could change one thing, what would it be?
At first, I considered this at a personal level: I want to change my default wiring that “it’s my fault” or “I’m unworthy” or “I’m responsible for everyone’s happiness.” Still, I value and honor all my life experiences, including those that created conditioned (untrue) tapes in my head. The voice I mentioned is getting quieter. I notice it sooner and I make changes faster. It’s not going away, nor do I want it to, because it connects me to humility, compassion, and understanding.
If I had a magic wand and could change one thing, I’d change the ways we communicate. I’ve heard from hundreds of people about their vulnerabilities, struggles, joys, dreams, disappointments, and deepest fears. (If you think you're alone, you are not: we all struggle.) Yet our culture doesn’t have resources (as individuals or as community) to share our stories, feelings, and tender places. We blame and judge; we rarely listen to understand; when we make time to know ourselves—grow, change, and be real—we often feel uncomfortable sharing from an unguarded heart. This saddens me. And I believe it can be different.
I believe it’s possible to communicate in more wholehearted, truthful, kind ways. That’s the change I’d make. That’s the change I try to create daily through my thoughts, actions, and words; through my teaching; through my online sharing; through showing up in this world as an imperfect, in-process, caring human being.