Tiny Buddha: Wisdom Quotes, Letting Go, Letting Happiness In

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Kylie Springman

“Slow down and everything you are chasing will come around and catch you.” ~John De Paola

Pushing has always been the way I get things done.

Actually, I should be more specific: pushing myself harder has been the way I get things done.

I grew up believing that life was hard, and that the only way to survive was to give up indulgences, buckle down, and trudge forward. Uphill. Against the wind.

In my small, suburban high school, I spent hours after my classes ended wrestling with quadratic equations.

I had the overwhelmingly generous help of my teachers, who tutored me for free in their after-school time. I had the patience of an incredibly gifted best friend to accompany me at study sessions.

Still, I felt alone in it all. I cried (weekly, probably) over math and science. Other subjects came easily to me, but the black-topped tables of the science classroom consumed my experience of school. I still remember how smooth and cold they were under my elbows.

I continued on to college at one of the most expensive private schools in the U.S., sinking into student loan debt with every lecture. When depression swept me away during my first college semester and my grades suffered, the only solution I saw was to work harder, to sleep less.

The results weren’t good: I exited the school year with deepening depression and a blossoming eating disorder.

It seemed the harder I tried, the worse things got.

Over the next several years, things improved, though I still didn’t feel like I had much control over my life. Happily, I fell in love at first sight with the prettiest (and kindest) girl I’d ever seen, and she shone her light into many of my dark corners. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Andrea Wren

“Every day brings a choice: to practice stress or to practice peace.” ~Joan Borysenko

When I bought my car, I visited only one showroom. I’d made the decision that this was the car for me in around one hour, and chose not to spend more hours or days of my time going from one place to another to check other deals and different cars.

If I hadn’t have found this car, I would have gone to another dealer. However, I’ll never know if I could have saved money by haggling elsewhere, and I don’t care.

I’ve had my trusty and reliable vehicle for over six years now and so far, I’ve never had to pay more than general maintenance and upkeep. So it was worth every penny.

You may be shocked that I made such a large and important purchase in this manner (and I’m not a wealthy person by any means). But I was confident it was a good deal when I found it and it’s never let me down.

I now make most of my purchases like this. I’ll give myself a single option (like shopping at just one store), or will limit them (such as browsing four vacation brochures instead of fifteen), and once I’m happy with the decision, I’ll stick with it.

Why? Because I think too much choice is stressful. And you can quite literally send yourself crazy with it, like I did.

Choice anxiety!

At one time, my need to “shop around” and my desire to keep options open before making decisions was bordering on obsessive. I dithered. I wore myself out. I got confused, and even anxious, when I needed to buy stuff, even if it was just a new winter coat. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Pamela Jorrrick

“Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths.” ~Etty Hillesum

For the second time in a week, the gas light comes on in my car. I’m busy, as usual, and so I push it a little farther, run just a few more errands. But I know that I do need to stop and refill before too long, or I will be left on the side of the road. I’ve been stranded before, and have learned my lesson.

Most of us know that when our cars try to tell us they need something, we had better respond or they won’t get us to our destinations.

We usually have some respect for red warning lights on the dashboard, and at least check out the problem. Unfortunately, it’s not always so easy to see our own signals.

Our bodies and minds don’t come with bright red warning lights, but they do give us signals when they’re running low.

Some of these signals are more obvious than others. When we’re hungry, we might be able to skip a meal occasionally, relying on snacks to get us by, but we all know that at some point, we need to eat real food.

We might be able to miss a few hours of sleep as well, and make it through the next day, but we can’t simply expect our bodies to keep performing without rest.

We may be able to survive in a grumpier and lesser performing fashion when we have less than optimal amounts of food and sleep, but we all know that we can’t skip those needs altogether.

But, what about the other needs that aren’t so obvious? Everyone has probably heard about the benefits of spending some time alone just to think and to gather their own thoughts.

If you work, go to school, have a roommate, spouse or children, this time probably isn’t easy to come by. It’s probably also more important than ever.

Lately, I’ve noticed just how important this need for solitude is to me. As a writer who works at home, as well as a homeschooling mother, I am blessed with lots of time with my family. What I’m lacking severely is time to myself.

Between errands, online college classes, a part-time job, volunteering, and meeting the needs of everyone else, I often end up neglecting my own need for a moment to myself to think, breathe, read, write, draw, paint, or do anything that helps me relax. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Vlad Rapoport

“Remembering a wrong is like carrying a burden on the mind.” ~Buddha

It was a beautiful spring morning when I was terminated from my job. Before it happened, there were rumors, but I refused to believe that something like that could actually happen to me. I felt betrayed by the manner in which the termination occurred.

Without any substantiation, my company suggested that my ethics were compromised and I embezzled from the company funds. Soon thereafter I learned that the sole motive for the company was to replace me and my assistant with part-time employees to avoid paying full-time employee wages and benefits.

In reality, I worked hard, and often went out of my way for the benefit of the company. And yet, I got laid off.

At first I was shocked in disbelief, with anger and resentment following close behind. I even contacted a couple of attorneys to see if I may have a case. As time went on, I actually realized that losing this job was probably the best thing for me. I moved on.

Or so I thought…

When there is suppressed anger and resentment, we don’t really move on at all. We have a way of pushing away unpleasant emotions. We push away anger and resentments.

But these emotions get stored and accumulate in our subconscious. And while consciously we remain unaware of the damage they cause, they reveal themselves in our physical and emotional health. So there I was, going on with my life not realizing that on a deeper level, I was still holding on to the past.

My suppressed anger ended up rearing its ugly head in both my personal and professional lives. It affected the way I interacted with people around me and reflected in my health. I got diagnosed with depression.

Disbelieving that something was actually wrong with me, I was caught off guard at first. But inevitably, I had to face the truth. I had to become a good observer of myself and my emotions.

I had to teach myself the difference between “thinking” that I was well and actually “being” well. Gradually, I learned. Gradually, I dug deep enough to see the truth. And the day that I honestly saw my anger and pain was the day that I took my first step toward forgiveness—and freedom.

When Mahatma Gandhi was dying, he raised his hands up from his bullet wound and gestured a sign of forgiveness to his assassin. This drastic example illustrates that Mahatma Gandhi knew that forgiveness came from sacrifice and love.

Over a year after I got laid off, I felt compelled to write an email to the person responsible for letting me go. I told him that I was OK and that I harbored no hard feelings. I also thanked him for sending me on the journey of self-discovery. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Melissa Moore

“Some people think it’s holding that makes one strong—sometimes it’s letting go.” ~Unknown

My mom leaned in and gave me a goodnight kiss. The only light illuminating her face was coming from the hallway. I looked up at her, and in the confidence of the dark confessed, “I saw it.”

“It” was my birthday present, waiting patiently for me to wake up in the morning and claim it from its place in the garage. “It” was a turquoise blue Stingray bicycle with a white pleather banana seat and an extra tall sissy bar.

I’d seen it by chance, tucked back in a dark corner, and knew instantly it was for me.

I couldn’t stop myself from ruining my mom’s surprise. I just couldn’t contain my joy. That bike was the answer to my 10 year-old dreams.

And I wasn’t disappointed.

My new bike was the coolest mode of freedom I could imagine. It took me to the local pharmacy for candy and back to the school playground to meet up with my friends. Like an addict, I lusted for the feeling I got from riding past the Skerkoske’s house, Marcia Brady hair blowing in the breeze, singing “I Think I Love You” at the top of my lungs.

Riding something so beautiful gave me all kinds of cocky confidence. I was fearless. Within days, I was pedaling through the neighborhood, arms waving madly in the air, shouting “Look at me world!  I’m riding with no hands!”

I let go without ever calculating the risks involved.

Fear crept up on me gently, a part of the ever expanding feeling of responsibility that came along with growing up.  

Or maybe I’d heard “Hold on to that bike young lady! Do you want to end up in the hospital?!” one too many times. Whatever the cause, the magic of my turquoise blue Stingray was no longer enough to make me feel invincible.

I grew afraid of falling off.  Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Justin W. Riggs

“Our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world as being able to remake ourselves.” ~Gandhi

It was 1999, and my life stunk. I had failed miserably as a missionary for my church, I’d been sent to a mental hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and I was in the process of losing the woman I thought I was going to marry.

I was in bad shape, and didn’t have a clue as to how I could right the ship, so to speak.

Now, 13 years later, I have a great job that provides for me and my family. I have a beautiful wife, two lovely children (with another on the way!), and plenty of free time to pursue the hobbies I enjoy. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and thanks to a few tiny little pills I take every day I also enjoy good physical and mental health.

I don’t want to leave you with the impression that everything changed completely overnight. It didn’t.

To deal with the loss of my girlfriend I did some therapy; I put myself back on the market and did a lot of dating; I consciously chose to let go of what I thought should happen, and accept what had happened. Slowly I healed, until one day I realized that I was open to loving fully again.

Dealing with my mental illness is a challenge that continues to this day. I’ve put in place the foundation for good mental health by accepting the fact that I will need to be medicated for the rest of my life.

After making that choice there has still been an endless parade of medications as we try to find the right cocktail for me. And even with the medications, I still have good times and bad. The medication, I’ve found, is a tool, and not a panacea.

Making these outward choices has really helped, but there is one thing that really changed everything for me: I changed my attitude.

What caused that change? I read a book called Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl.

Frankl was a neurologist and psychiatrist who was imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. He was forced to work as a slave laborer and watch as many of his peers died slow and miserable deaths.

He was separated from his own wife, mother, and father, and lost them all before the war ended. But what did Frankl learn from his time in the concentration camp? Here’s what he had to say:

“Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances…”

When I read those words, something clicked inside of me. I intuitively knew that they were true, and I knew that I needed to learn how to give myself an attitude adjustment if I wanted to have any measure of peace in this world. So I began to study. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Jared Akers

“Feelings or emotions are the universal language and are to be honored. They are the authentic expression of who you are at your deepest place.” ~Judith Wright

On March 12^th of 2006 I faced an important decision: life or death? From my perspective, death seemed reasonable, logical, and easy. Life on the other hand was difficult and full of disappointment.

That was the day I realized I had no idea how to be happy or live with my true self. All I knew and felt in my soul was aloneness; an emotional black hole that consumed me.

Being Emotional vs. Being Emotionally Connected

How I got to that point is a long story, full of addictions, failed relationships, lost jobs, and victimization. Looking back, I realize I hit the bottom as a result of not being connected to myself.

To be perfectly clear, I’ve always been an emotional person. You know—touchy feely, crying when Old Yeller died, etc.

But being emotional and emotionally connected to self are two completely different things.

Being emotional meant I took everything personally. This made intense relationships with the opposite sex agonizing. Every little argument meant she didn’t love me and was walking out the door.

I realized early on it was just easier to avoid them; or at least bolt when they starting getting too serious.

Avoiding Uncomfortable Emotions

I had too many emotional blind spots—out of the way places I’d shove uncomfortable feelings, in some corner of my soul. I’d keep moving just fast enough to keep them unseen in the rearview mirror.

If it was uncomfortable, I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I avoided conversations that might include, “What are you thinking?” or “What are you feeling?” My closest friends were co-workers and anyone who frequented the same bars I did. I refer to that period as my “five dollar life” because I would never put more than $5 worth of gas in my car at one time.

Not because I lacked the funds so much; I just couldn’t stand still long enough. I was in a hurry to get things done, change the world, and make my mark. I was going places while getting nowhere in a hurry. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Anna Guest-Jelley

“Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” ~Walter Anderson

There’s almost nothing I hate more than honesty.

I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in. You may be doing a double-take, thinking “did she mean there’s nothing she hates more than lying?”

I wish.

Most people probably think I’m an honest person, and in general, I suppose that’s true. I am honest with many people. However, I’m rarely honest with the person who matters most—myself.

As someone whose drug of choice is food, I’m familiar with all matters of sneaky and lying behavior. The best I can pin-point, this probably started for me around the age of six. In other words, I’ve had a long time to practice.

And I have to admit, I got pretty damn good.

I could wolf down an entire meal from McDonald’s on my way home from work, dispose of the trash on my way, and then sit down and eat another dinner when I got home.

I wasn’t as good at hiding candy wrappers when I was a kid—stashing them behind the couch where, surprisingly, my mom did occasionally clean. But I perfected the art over time, learning how to wrap one inside another inside another and then squish them down to make them look like one—instead of fifteen.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I’ve even started a new art form called Trash Arranging. (I should probably trademark that.)

Here’s the thing: I like hiding. I don’t like spilling the beans about myself to a new friend (aka someone I’ve known for five years). I’m squeamish about social events, and if I can avoid the details of where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing, I will.

I realize what you’ve read until now makes it sound like I’ll soon have my own reality show akin to Hoarders, but I promise that’s not the case. What I’ve discovered about my own issues is that we all have them.

Mine’s food, but yours might be something else—shutting down at the holidays, drinking too much coffee, or working just a little (an extra 35 hours per week) too much.

Over the past few years, I’ve started to lift the rock up off my life. With the help of therapy, life coaching, more journaling than anyone probably thought was possible, and an extremely patient partner, I’m taking some steps into the sun of my own experience. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Tim McAuley

“Our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world as being able to remake ourselves.” ~Gandhi

At some point during 2005 I discovered the sense that I am connected to everything; that nothing exists outside of me. This realization came while surfing with a friend of mine. From that moment, surfing became a religion for me.

I sat on top a surf board about 100 yards off the sand, just a little north of the San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant in San Clemente, California for hours on end every single day.

At some point during each session the endorphins would kick in. My mind would empty and I would relax. The best word to describe it would be bliss.

Off the surf board I spent most of my time at the public library reading books about the human experience—history, psychology, religion, and spirituality. Each morning as I sank into this blissful state I allowed the information to pour over me in a manner that Thich Naht Hanh called Dharma Rain. I just breathed deeply and joyfully as my mind filtered information looking for truth.

I could have easily stayed in that state of bliss had I not needed to go to work, or interact with most of the people around me. I’ve never been much of a joiner. Monkhood was off the table.

I tended bar just a few nights a week. I had been sober for nearly a year, but rarely became thirsty even working. It was a means to an end, and it afforded me more free time than any other job out there.

Tending bar also brought into focus the idea that all I observe is a reflection of me. I owe most of real growth “spiritually” not to the texts, not to meditation, and not even to surfing; I owe it to my time slinging drinks. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Noch Noch

“Whenever something negative happens to you, there is a deep lesson concealed within it.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Two years ago, reading this quote, I would smirk and think, “What a cliché.”

In the last two years, I would read this quote and be in utter disbelief that anything can be learned when one is in the depths of hell.

Today, I read this quote and resonate confidently, that yes, even though I tried to end my life, even though I had to quit a high paying job, even though I still suffer from major depression, good has come out of my negative experience, and I have learned the lesson to take care of myself and listen to my body, albeit the hard way.

Around November 2009, my doctor said to me, “Noch, I think you are burned out. Your migraines are most probably due to stress. Please go see a psychologist.”

My fiancé dragged a reluctant me into the shrink’s office, and I came out, diagnosed with major depression. I had no idea what it meant or what would become of me. I just felt extremely unmotivated, had no appetite, only had negative thoughts in my little head, and was excruciatingly tired of life.

I was immensely frustrated with myself. I didn’t know why I was depressed, or burned out. I thought I had it all: the executive job, high on the corporate ladder at the young age of 28.

I spoke a few languages, lived all around the world, had a man who loved me for who I was, had my few soul mates and a wide network of friends. So what happened to me?

Indeed, I felt really ungrateful to be sick at all. All the people who passed me everyday in the misty smog of Beijing seemed to live much harder lives, scraping by the wayside. So, who was I to be unhappy about my life? I had no answer. And the more I thought about it, the more I got caught in my web of negative thoughts and unreasonable reasoning of life.

I closed myself off from the rest of the world, and disappeared off the social radar. I was forced to take medical leave from work, being physically unable to do any work or concentrate.

The few close friends who knew of my plight tried to console me.

“It’s a challenge and test, to make you stronger,” they’d say. They gave me examples of all these great leaders of the world who had to go through trials and tribulations to get to where they were. There was something in store for me, and it would end up a positive life changing experience, they reassured me. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Ben Craib

“Life is a process of becoming. A combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.” ~Anais Nin

Normally my girlfriend and I have a routine for Saturday mornings:

She goes to yoga at eleven AM and then heads into Central London to do a small amount of shopping, and perhaps visit a museum. I might get up, do some writing in the morning, tidy the flat, and then take a dance class at 1PM. These are routines we enjoy, or at least enjoy most of the time.

Last Saturday we spontaneously decided to do none of that.

Instead, we went for a walk along a local canal towards central London. It was a mild, hazy morning, with calm water, seagulls, ducks, joggers, quiet, and sun.

We left the canal and visited some inner city churches and their second hand markets, offering cheap coffee and large, silent spaces.

We finished by visiting two different specialty coffee shops. At the end we sat in the second and best, with sun streaming in through the windows, feeling calm and content.

As opposed to our normal Saturdays, there was a natural flow to the morning—perhaps better described as an evolution.

Every decision was spontaneous. Every decision felt natural. Every moment was savored.

I could have spent an hour planning our “intimate time” down to the last degree—but would it have contained the joy and peace that naturally flowed that day?

This is increasingly how I am practicing living my life: with a minimum of routines and plans, allowing the present moment to dictate the future.

I try to stay in touch with the process of becoming. In doing this:

• Decisions come from a deeper, more natural place.
• Life feels harmonious.
• You cling less to plans and routines.
• When circumstances do change, you are better prepared to face them because you do not cling to a desire of how things should be.
• You open yourself up to infinite possibilities.

I don’t want to knock routines completely. They can bring richness, happiness, and comfort. For example, I cherish my early morning coffee grinding. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Cathy Taughinbaugh

“Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.” ~Marianne Williamson

Are you a dog lover? I know I am.

Animals of all kinds can bring us so much joy, not only when things are going well, but also when we feel pain and are suffering.

“Man’s best friend” can be our true and faithful companions through thick and thin. We look to our pets when we are ready to play and laugh, and they instinctively know when we need their support.

I’ve had a dog most of my life. From purebreds to mutts, I’ve loved them all. It has always felt comforting to me to have a dog around. The joy dogs provide is well worth the effort.

We all have struggles and challenges in our life, and it’s during those times that our pets can really come in handy to help us find our joy.

One of my most stressful challenges was discovering my daughter’s addiction to crystal meth. I felt blindsided by this discovery. I knew she was struggling, but this was something I had never expected.

I learned from this experience that the time I have spent working on myself, as opposed to the time I have spent trying to fix her problem, has been the most meaningful and the most productive. Despite having addiction in my life, I could find my joy again.

For parents in the midst of addiction with their children, it can be emotionally exhausting for long periods of time. It’s easy to let the stress of the situation overtake you.

I am one of the lucky ones. My daughter has gone on to seek recovery for her addiction. She has grown and matured in ways I would never have expected.

We have both learned life lessons, and have evolved into new and hopefully better people. We both know to take it one day at a time.

From this experience, I found I needed to change. I needed to approach life in a new way.

As I watch my dog go through her day, I realize the lessons are really right there in front of me if I care to pay attention.

Here are some of the ways I can be the person my dog wants me to be, and be the person I want to be as well. I know that whatever life brings me, joy is still always there for the taking. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Madison Sonnier

“Let yourself be open and life will be easier. A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable. A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed.” ~ Buddha

I am a very emotional person. I suspect I feel things about ten times more intensely than the average person.

When I’m sad, I’m really sad. When I’m stressed, I’m really stressed. When I’m nervous, I’m really nervous.

Some people would call it being dramatic. I simply call it a genuine aspect of my personality.

I’ve noticed that I have this awful habit of masking how I truly feel or forcing myself to feel differently. It seems as if I constantly have to remind myself that I am a human being and that it’s okay to feel bad sometimes. No one is a positive ray of sunshine every second of every day.

We all want to feel good and happy. When something is upsetting us, all we want is to feel better as soon as possible. But I’ve slowly learned that trying to convince yourself that you’re fine when you’re not will only make you feel worse.  

Whenever I go through some sort of fallout, whether it’s with a friend or a love interest, I immediately cover the wound by telling myself that I’m over that person and they mean nothing to me anymore. I just smile and tell everyone I’m over it and then cry in the bathroom after dinner.

Also, when I went through a phase of feeling depressed and lonely all the time, I would fake smiles and assure everyone, including myself that I was perfectly fine.

I would honestly tell myself to stop being so pathetic and dramatic and that I had no reason to be under such a large, black cloud all the time. I shoved my feelings away and never opened myself up to talk about anything.

The same thing tends to happen even if I’m feeling a positive emotion. There have been times where I’ve felt happy, but let negative people put a damper on my spirit. I would hold back my optimism whenever I was around them.

Sometimes, people will tear you down when you’re happy or make you feel like you don’t deserve to be happy. It makes you feel as if being happy is wrong or offensive.

I often tell myself that what I’m feeling is irrational or stupid. I feel obligated to pretend that I’m stronger and happier than I actually am, even when I’m not. It is extremely rare for me to ever sit down and openly talk about my real feelings.

I always smother or bottle everything up and it’s not healthy.   Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Laura Fenamore

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

With 2012 just starting, New Year’s resolutions are on everyone’s mind.

I’ve never liked the word “resolution.” As defined in the dictionary, resolution means “a firm decision to do or not do something,” and anyone who’s ever done, well, anything knows that life rarely works like that.

I prefer to think of my January decisions as New Year’s Solutions. Defined in the dictionary as “a means of solving a problem or dealing with a difficult situation,” solutions are useful and practical. Thinking about them now helps us find peace in whatever may happen in the year ahead.

The best solution I can think of, and one that is especially helpful after the excess of the holiday season, is letting go.

As a Body Image Coach, I often hear stories from people who decide at the beginning of a year that this will be the one when they’ll be able to fix their bodies.

They want to “fix” themselves; they want to look like their high school pictures or their super fit best friends or whoever’s on the cover of Vogue.

My feedback for all who are constricted by a negative diet mentality: let go.

This seems counterintuitive, ironic, cruel, and maybe even ridiculous. You’ve just connected with a powerful desire about what you want your life to be like, and now I’m going to tell you that you have to move forward completely unattached to the outcome of whether you’ll get the life you want and will now be working toward.

The crux of this philosophy is that in order to get that which we want, we must let go of our need and desire for it.

This may sound impossible, unattainable and completely contradictory; however, this is where freedom lies.

I know firsthand that letting go is the path to freedom and joy. My struggle with weight started when I was a toddler. When I got older, I thought that if I could only lose the extra weight, I would be happy.

I did lose the weight—100 pounds—between my 24^th and 25^th birthdays. I had finally achieved what I thought was my goal; I was thin, so I should be happy, right?

I was more miserable than ever. I was so worried about gaining the weight back, so scared that I might relapse, that I couldn’t enjoy my newfound health.

I was stuck living in fear that the future would not be what I wanted, that I would lose control, that my hard work would be for naught.

It was only when I figured out how to live in the present, how to be focus on the now and not concern myself with worrying about things that had not even yet happened, that I was able to be happy.

After learning to do that, not only was I content for the first time in my life, but I also was able to keep the weight off without worrying about it. I have kept that 100 pounds off for 24 years.

We achieve the life we desire when we begin living for the moment, in the moment, and because of the moment. Finding happiness in this New Year will not be an outcome or a result. It is doing; it is being.

How can your foster this way of being in your life? It begins with looking at those things we desire most and finding the bliss in working toward them in the present—not in achieving them in the future.

Achievement is still the goal, but ironically, you only get there by letting go of the need for it. Click Here to Read More…

by Lori Deschene

Important Note: The winners for this giveaway have already been chosen! You can purchase Tiny Buddha: Simple Wisdom for Life’s Hard Questions on Amazon.com. Also, be sure to subscribe to Tiny Buddha for free daily or weekly emails!

The winners:

• DeniseJane2010
• Cd_at_aspenacres
• Printpopceo

Happy almost 2012!

It’s been an exciting year for Tiny Buddha. For one thing, the community has grown, but what I find most exciting is that the number of people sharing their stories and engaging with other people has increased exponentially.

During the first year, I published two posts from the community per week. In January of 2011, submissions slowed down, and I wondered if perhaps I’d need to take a new direction with the blog.

In February, however that all changed, and posts started coming in so frequently that I was able to publish one per day, and oftentimes had to ask people to hold off on submitting so that I could catch up.

That has remained steady all year, and I’m excited to see that countless insightful, helpful, loving conversations have unfolded in the comments, some which included me and others that did not.

Tiny Buddha is what it is because people are willing to be honest about their experiences, and in doing so help others and let them know they are not alone. If you haven’t already, I hope you’ll contribute a post in 2012!

I have learned so much for everyone who has shared themselves here. So here are the top 10 insights of 2011 (based on page views and comments): Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Fiona Robyn

“Every day brings a choice: to practice stress or to practice peace.” ~Joan Borysenko

I had a terrible morning. I needed to make a short YouTube video to promote my therapy practice, and I thought it would take twenty minutes at the most.

The technology was more complicated than I thought. I struggled on, wanting to do it by myself. Half an hour later, I surrendered and asked my husband Kaspa for help.

Two hours later, we were still trying to make it work.

I started thinking about all the other things I was meant to be doing that morning. A tense knot formed in my stomach. I started snapping at Kaspa—if only he knew how to make it work, I’d be finished by now. Grr!

I finally finished the video (with the help of a very patient husband!), but I was in no state to do any more work. I felt panicky and rushed, and my brain kept talking me through the list of all the things I needed to catch up on, like a stuck record.

Once I allow myself to get into this kind of state, it takes me a while to “come down” again.

After some time sitting at my desk and feeling agitated, I decided to go out into the garden. I walked slowly up the path, noticing the bang of my heart. I looked at the baby pink roses, the inner-most petals still holding onto drops of dew. I heard the clear song of a blackbird. I took a deep breath. And another.

These are the things that help me when I get panicky. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Cat Li Stevenson

“Each time you stay present with fear and uncertainty, you’re letting go of a habitual way of finding security and comfort.” ~ Pema Chodron

Being the thought-out planner with a neatly plotted road map—and a compass tightly gripped in one hand, pointing due north—I cringe a bit (okay, a lot actually) at the thought of changing direction, being adventurous, and going off the beaten path.

I’ve purposefully designed my external life for security—the cushy job, maximizing the 401K, additional streams of income to insulate the extra-super-comfy-security, a large home for a future family, long-time childhood friends, and a solid marriage.

I am deeply grateful for all of these and, on most days, find pride that my focused, linear thinking has created a surrounding of comforts.

As I venture further on this journey, though, I realize that anchoring ourselves with an abundance of security can actually become a dangerous habit.

It can create an attachment that prevents us from being fully awake.

My straight-path mindset hadn’t really prepared me for an off-roading adventure. I held a belief that if I softened my resistance to allow things to go in a direction other than I had planned, this would be a mini-failure of sorts—a “giving in” to the unknown.

And the unknown, after all, is deeply rooted in scariness, signifying weakness, giving up, having no direction. It’s not secure, and far, far from safe.

Or so I had thought.

Sometimes we can be blindly walking down a path and then an obstacle, a detour, or a sharp turn appears, asking us to expand our mind and heart to see and feel differently.

This past year, I found myself becoming a security-junky of sorts, as I would not allow for an unforeseen change to enter my life.

I would stand firmly at the arrival of this unwelcome circumstance with crossed arms and a tremendous amount of resistance. I held tightly onto my compass, my road map pressed against my chest, and didn’t want to let go. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Cheryl B. Engelhardt

“To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.” ~Unknown

After four years, four months and seven days of a long distance relationship with a mountain guide (between my NYC apartment and Maine, northern New Hampshire, Jackson Hole, WY, and various other parts of mountainous America), I was at the end of my rope, so to speak.

Being slightly older than him, and much less capable of handling the gaps of two to five weeks between seeing each other, I suddenly felt a strong urge to move on. I was craving the next part of my life, whether with him, or without.

For months leading up to September 21st, 2011, I was constantly wanting more from him and blaming him when he couldn’t or wouldn’t give it. To me, “more” meant traveling more to see me, spending more time and arguing less when we were together (despite the immense amount of pressure I put on every visit), and communicating with me more often when we were apart.

Constantly terrified I would lose him, I was hanging on to something I wasn’t sure I wanted, or perhaps wanted for the wrong reasons. In my over-analysis of it all, I was becoming lonely, desperate, and depressed.

I was barely surviving the relationship, let alone thriving, which is what I really wanted. I couldn’t force the result I wanted, and I felt powerless. I figured it wasn’t meant to be.

But when we were together, it felt like we were.

Then I felt the crazy creeping in. (Yes, more than it already had.) At some point in the fog, it became clear to me that I was completely attached to a single outcome—that he would change his life to fit mine.

For years I felt like I had fit into his life (we started dating just a few weeks before I got laid off of my dream job). But what needed to happen was to create one life together. And in order to do that, I needed to get clear on what I wanted for my life, and for our future, because until I did, he would never be good enough. I later learned that acceptance is the first step to thriving with someone.

I started to look at the situation with objective eyes and realized what didn’t work for me and what did.

What didn’t work was seeing each other a total of three months out of the year. What worked was that he had chosen an adventurous and inspiring career, and I accepted that. What didn’t work was to be far away from a major city, specifically New York or Los Angeles, while still developing my music career. What did work was to live in the country only an hour and a half away from New York.

With this new self-awareness and clarity, I was able to pack up my car to go visit him in New Hampshire, and be okay with the fact it could be the last visit. I was ready to let him know my terms, where I was willing to be flexible, and where I knew I had to take care of myself. I was open to the fact that it may not work out. And in that openness, there was room to choose.

So besides packing up my things for the four-day visit, I packed up his things, from shirts to boxers to a pair of shoes to his rollerblades. (Yes, folks, the boy can rollerblade. He grew up on a river in Maine and ice skated all his life. It’s quite sexy actually.)

When I arrived in New Hampshire, we dove into a deep conversation about our future. For the first time, I was not telling him what I thought he wanted to hear. I was clear, I was powerful, and all the while, I was not making him wrong or blaming him for anything.

My communication came across clearly. We were able to create what a “day in the life of us” really looked like. After creating that, I cried. I had been so focused on how it wasn’t ever going to work that I wasn’t able to imagine the wonderful ways it could. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Danielle Nelson

 “Every new day is another chance to change your life” ~Unknown

Take a moment to imagine it: your ideal day. At work or at play. Big events or routine tasks.

Imagine how you’d feel as you yawn, stretch, and step out of bed. What your first action would be. Your second.

What you’d eat, what you’d do, and how you’d spend your time. The lightness of happiness as you ease (or not, if that’s your pleasure) from one activity to the next. Your ideal day, start to finish.

Just imagine.

Picturing your ideal day is a common exercise that I use with my clients. It’s clarification visualization, a way to hone in on what you’re really after in your professional and personal life.

Last week, while working my way through an e-course to help bring focus into my business and life, I found myself on the other end of that exercise: writing out my ideal day.

On my ideal day, I woke up well-rested. After my morning exercise and shower, I sat down with a tasty beverage, reviewed my planner for the day ahead, and felt excited about what I had on my plate.

My tasks were spread throughout the day with plenty of space in between—an element missing from my current, “non-ideal” life—and there was time for creativity, reading, and “magical content creation.” This is how I reframed writing, a task I struggle with, suggesting that the words would come easily.

The day would lead to a dinner created by my own hand from fresh, local ingredients, and it would also include plenty of sunshine, fresh air, and nature’s beauty. It would conclude with a good night’s sleep to start the process all over again. My ideal day was about space, self-care, balance, and excitement.

But I didn’t just write about it. I thought about it. And then, most importantly, I let myself have it.

After I completed the exercise, I set out to incorporate just one thing—one feeling—into my “normal” everyday life. I chose space, because it was a predominant theme for me and the thing I felt the most drawn to.

Everything in my current world had felt very crammed together—work, friends, family, downtime; it all felt rushed. Deep inside, I craved breathing room.

When I sat down to incorporate space into my schedule, I was surprised at what I found: that I had the “room” to incorporate so much of my ideal day into my life right now. Not the sunshine, of course—I can’t control the weather—but I could have not just space, but balance, self-care, and excitement, too.

Not five years from now, or even two—right now.

It might seem impossible, but whether your ideal day involves a tropical beach, margaritas, and courteous and attentive staff, spending more time with your kids, or writing a novel, it can be done! Step by step, little by little, you can get there.

Here’s are some steps that are helping me do it: Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Alesha Chilton

“What other people think of me is none of my business.” ~Wayne Dyer

We sometimes make excuses as to why we don’t deserve the best.

We say that our relationship with our partner is good enough and that other people have much worse relationships. We don’t reach for our dreams because doing so would make us feel too selfish.

Isn’t it time you stopped letting fear run your life? That you stopped making excuses for why things aren’t better in your life?

Fear is an ugly word. It keeps us from true happiness because it prevents us from taking risks. We avoid anything slightly painful, even though staying in the current situation hurts more.

When I was younger I was afraid of being myself. I constantly wanted to conform to others in order to be liked and appreciated.

 I just wanted to be liked for myself, but I wasn’t letting people see that person.

I’ve learned that if you show the real you, not everyone will like you, and that’s okay. The people who are worth your time will appreciate you for who you are. And you will have deeper, more meaningful relationships as a result.

I was afraid to think for myself, was not confident in my decisions, and let others decide what I should be doing according to their beliefs. I felt like a toy boat being tossed about in the ocean, and it was exhausting.

In high school we aren’t taught what healthy relationships look like and what is and isn’t acceptable.  We make excuses for other people’s behavior, even though it is hurtful to us. We hope that they will change and think that perhaps we can mold them into better people. Click Here to Read More…