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

Editor’s Note: This is a post by Chad Davis

“Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real.” ~Neale Donald Walsch

In a moment of despair—moments I find have been increasing this year—I turned to this site for a little comfort. After reading a couple articles, seeing that I wasn’t alone in what I was feeling, I still couldn’t help but remain terrified of the next part of my life.

Job searches were wearing me out. I was trying to figure out where I wanted to live. I desperately wanted that dream job. All of these things had instilled a fear inside of me that I once thought I’d be able to overcome.

And then a year passed and poof, magically, there was no more sense of confidence, but instead a sense of fear.

Then I saw this quote. And I wished that I’d come up with it.

It says a lot, I think, about the way certain words work in our brains without us even realizing it.

“False Evidence Appearing Real.”

 We all know that being afraid of the future is just as silly as being afraid of our own shadows, and yet we fear it all the same.

Why?

The answer is within the quote; it’s a false sense of reality.

We imagine what we don’t want to lose and instantly grow afraid of that loss. But we’re being bamboozled; we’re duping ourselves out of a secure sense of “now” and replacing it with an insecure sense of “what if.”

The only reality that exists is in each passing second, and yet with each passing second comes the agony of not knowing what will come next. It’s a struggle, and nothing more than that.

So what can we do to heal this repeating, self-inflicted wound? Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Roo Mulligan

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.” ~Nelson Mandela

My dog, Elvis, is a sweetheart and a scaredy cat. When our vet found him, he was roaming free with a wire collar embedded in his neck and a raging case of mange. It took her thirty minutes to chase him down and three months to nurse him back to health.

When we first adopted him, he was afraid of everything: bikes, strollers, loud noises, sprinklers, and people. The only things he was never wary of were other dogs. Through a lot of patience and love, Elvis has come a long way. He is no longer afraid of people or bikes, but he still hates sprinklers and he’s always on guard.

This past spring I took Elvis on a walk at a local state park. It was a beautiful day, sunny, high 70’s with a light breeze. We had a great time traipsing through the woods. When we came around the corner at the bottom of a hill, the river sat gleaming in the sun before us. Elvis stopped, sat, and refused to get any closer.

I knew he needed to get his bearings, so I paused and let him absorb what lay before him. I spoke gently to him and tried to persuade him to keep going.

He dug his paws in and started to maneuver his shoulders into this Houdini twist that allows him to slip out of his harness. I stopped and we turned around. Because of his fear, Elvis never got to see or smell all the wonderful sights and aromas awaiting him at the river’s edge.

People are like that too. We traipse happily along in our routines, always doing and experiencing the familiar.

As soon as we have an opportunity to expand our horizons, to see a new place, meet a new person, or accept a new job, our fear kicks in and we stop. We hold back; it’s too scary. 

We don’t know what lies before us. All we know is it looks big and scary, and we fear all the unknowns. If we could just take that leap, act on faith, and move forward despite our fear we would learn (just as Elvis would have) that while it is new terrain, it is still dirt and grass. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Petrea Hansen-Adamidis

“When you doubt your power, you give power to your doubt.” ~Honore de Balzac

A while back I began to feel out of sorts with my writing. It happened after coming down from the high of creating almost nonstop with my inner muse. I noticed that I began to feel down, like the feeling one gets after being at the amusement park when the excitement is over.

Creating and finishing my projects had been a wild ride. It was exciting and intense at times. But once done, an insidious feeling began to over take me.

My thoughts began to wander to “the dark side” questioning my abilities.

What if I can’t create something new? What if people don’t like what I have done?

Like after any expenditure of energy, there is always a lull. Lulls have been known to drain ones creative energy if you let them. I know from experience that if I let myself I can easily slip into a creative stupor.

When in that lull or in that space between creativity, it may seem like nothing is happening. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. We need that break.   

When in this state I feel sensitive and quick to take things personally. I could just do nothing and give in to the disappointment when things have not gone as I have expected. Alternatively, I could use this as motivation, a starting point for another creative endeavor.

But self-doubt has a way of getting under your skin. For me I begin to feel an uprising of the “you’re not good enough” gremlins inside me when this happens.

I remember when this happened after something I submitted online was not accepted.  It felt like a rejection. “Forget it then!” belted out a voice inside with the force of a 2 year-old having a tantrum when she doesn’t get her way.  Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Barrie Davenport

“Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real.” ~Unknown

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who carried Fear as her constant companion.

It wasn’t fear of wild animals, impending danger, or the shadows that lurk in the night. In fact, her friend Fear had become disassociated with any real thing. It had become an entity all its own that could morph and wind its way into any circumstance the woman happened to be in.

The woman wasn’t born this way.

When she was small, Fear had served her well and taught her how to stay out of harm’s way. But as the girl grew and experienced the world around her (which could sometimes be harsh and painful), Fear found a foothold for power.

Fear taught the girl that Harsh and Painful were always just around the corner, even when they weren’t, and showed her how to avoid life so that she wouldn’t meet them. When she did meet Harsh and Painful, Fear said, “I told you so. You better stick with me.”

Fear’s Sneaky Plot

Sometimes her erstwhile friend Fear thought it was fun to poke around in the young woman’s mind, searching for weak spots so that it could manufacture something that felt as real as an oncoming train or a lurking monster.

Fear was sneaky like that. It liked to torment and create havoc in the woman’s heart and mind. It whispered stories in her ear that weren’t true or only had a grain of truth. Fear liked to embellish. Fear liked to stir the pot.

The woman knew that she’d allowed Fear to become her master. But she kept feeding it by worrying, over-thinking, pontificating, ruminating, and believing without question. As Fear munched away growing fatter and stronger, the young woman began to shrink. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Sophie Chiche

“He is able who thinks he is able.” ~Buddha

I remember hearing this idea somewhere that courage was not the absence of fear, but rather, the ability to do something in the presence of it.

I am scared of being on a boat. I always was. When I was 18, I dated a guy who had a boat, and I decided to brave my fear and get on it for a three day voyage across the Mediterranean. I know, I could have started by peddling in a canoe in a pond, but no—three days, no sight of land.

There was a guy on the boat who was all tough and cool, and he kept saying, “Come on get over it.”

He missed the point. I got over it. I was on the boat; that was about as much as I could do. Scared of it, and yet doing it.

I asked the cool, tough guy what he was afraid of, and he said horses. I happened to have a horse and to not be scared of them an ounce. I invited him to join me after the boat debacle. He said never. Aha! I was on the boat, and he would not come to ride a horse. Get my drift?

Well, I am scared of public speaking, and there I was last month doing a TEDx Talk. The fear was so strong some nights that I literally stayed up till dawn. But I did it. I loved it actually.

Maybe there is a direct link between how hard I imagined it would be and how joyful it felt to complete it.

As long as we don’t let it stop us, fear is a friend, believe it or not. It ignites more power inside of us, so we can jump higher. It is the fear, the managed fear that fuels our engines.

I am still scared of boats and speaking in public, and I am still going to do both. I have never spoken to anyone who said they were afraid of doing something and regretted doing it after they overcame their fear.

We feel good when we overcome our fears. We know we are bigger than them.

We know that we are meant to transcend them.

That is why we love watching athletes push beyond the average boundaries. We instinctively know what they had to overcome to get to where we see them. And to witness someone overcome their fear is a sure way to ignite our engines!

Photo by mdpai75

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…

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 from 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 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…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Terri Cole

“Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here.” ~Marianne Williamson

I got my masters in Clinical Social Work and became a therapist in 1997.

A year later, I got my PHD in Fear.

After a decade as a talent agent predominantly for super models, I was burned out. I realized it was time for a career change when I cared more about getting models into rehab, therapy, and eating disorder clinics than a lucrative Pantene contract.

When I landed in the modeling-agent world, I was convinced I would change an exploitive system. I did not, but the system definitely changed me.

I was desperate to get off the crazy nicotine, caffeine, adrenalin-fueled hamster wheel that had become my life, but did not know how. Apparently, though, the universe had just the plan.

In 1996, I applied to New York University’s Clinical Social Work Masters Program, never imagining I would be accepted. Much to my amazement I was accepted and spent the next two years remotely running the television department for Elite Modeling agency, getting my degree, and teaching acting as an adjunct professor at NYU/Tisch School of the Arts.

Immediately following graduation, the single most important life-changing event happened. I fell in love with my now amazing husband, Victor Juhasz. Vic was a widower with three angry, out-of-control teenage boys. As if being the divorced/widowed father of three sons wasn’t enough, he also lived in New Jersey.

I didn’t care. It was perfect. He was perfect. Intoxicated with love hormones, I thought this talented, successful, gorgeous man could have 22 teenagers, and I would still say, “It’s all good. Love will find a way!” Believe it or not, this was the calm before the storm.

Four months into our relationship, my father, 61 years old and in prime health, dropped dead of a heart attack.

Three months after my father’s death, I discovered a plum-size lump at the base of my throat, which was diagnosed as a large, malignant thyroid tumor. My heart ached as I underwent surgery and radiation while building a relationship with the three boys, whose own beautiful mother died of cervical cancer when they were 5, 3, and 1.

A mere five months later, based solely on my intuition, a more aggressive cancer was discovered on the other side of my thyroid. More surgery, radiation, and isolation followed.

On a quiet evening, two months after the second cancer diagnosis, I leisurely walked onto the back porch to find a huge stocking-faced man holding a .22 to the back of my husband’s head. We were robbed at gunpoint with our youngest son in the house.

My PHD in FEAR was officially complete. For the first time in my life I was afraid—all the time.

The therapist in me knew it was a trauma response; the human in me was still incensed. I made the distinct decision to become a fear expert knowing that I, nor anyone else for that matter, could really live life if fear continued to dominate my mind and my decisions.

I worked though my own fear with the help of my therapist and spent the next 14 years in my busy private therapy practice in New York City researching the effects of fear and the mind-body connection.

I turned my pain into purpose and taught thousands of clients and students to transform their own fear into freedom.

Here are a few truths I have learned about transforming fear. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Amy Kessel

“Don’t be afraid to go out on a limb. That’s where the fruit is.” ~H. Jackson Browne

I decided to have a homebirth late in my first pregnancy, well into the third trimester. All through the first six months I flip-flopped back and forth, first buying into the message that hospitals were safe for births and homes were not, and then feeling profoundly certain that the best environment in which to have my baby was at home.

The truth is, before I was pregnant I hadn’t thought much about birth. I started my birthing journey wanting to be in charge of how things went, to stay clear of drugs and medical interventions, and to walk away from the experience changed in a positive way. I figured the place in which this happened was secondary, so a hospital might be just fine.

But many of my friends came home from their hospital births just the opposite; they were traumatized by how the experience was wrenched away from them, and took years building back their confidence and pride around birthing their babies. It was clear to me that I didn’t want a scenario like that.

Along with deciding what I didn’t want, I needed clarity about what I did want, and why I wanted it. I turned my questions inward, closing my ears to the cacophony of indecision, and worked the questions until finally an answer appeared.

I began to see this first birth as a way to step more fully into my power as a woman, and I was hungry for that. I wanted to reconnect to primal wisdom, and to tap into strength I suspected lay beneath the surface but hadn’t ever experienced.

I wanted a birth that was empowering, transformative, and authentically mine. I chose homebirth. I said yes while still not knowing with certainty what it might lie ahead for me; my decision required both clarity and a leap of faith.

Once I made the decision, I felt different in my skin. In standing up for what I now knew I wanted at a very deep level, I walked a bit more upright and spoke with more conviction. Having my baby at home turned out to be the most powerful choice of my life. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Matt Ramos

“Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.” ~Shirley Maclaine

Up until a year ago, I saw the world as a place where very few doors opened for me. At first I thought it was due to being extremely introverted. But as time went on, I started to struggle with making friends.

I didn’t have many of them—and opportunities only knocked a few times a year. That’s when I realized my problems stemmed from my passivity and fear of actually going out and talking to people.

My few closest friends always told me to join a club or go to parties. People always told me where to meet people. But they never really showed me how to actually create conversation.

On top of that, I never really liked going to big social gatherings. I’m introverted and tend to be overwhelmed when a lot of people are around. I like talking one-on-one.

So I decided to do things my own way. I started talking to strangers on my college campus and in the city because I was tired of staying on the sidelines.

It was scary for a naturally timid person like me, but I decided to fight the fear.

Great things come to those who are willing to risk rejection and put themselves out there.

After two months of doing this, I made some great friends, simply by starting conversations.

It’s an empowering mindset to be able to create conversation with potentially anyone. There is always the choice to talk to whom I want to talk to.

I asked people what drink they bought from the coffee shop. I asked someone about her customized bike. I asked people to share opinions on things that affected me.

Some people opened up to me. Some people stayed shut down. Some of them continued talking about themselves when I put the spotlight on them. Others simply answered my question and left the conversation there.

All of these interactions allowed me to understand how to engage with people. For example, I learned that tone and body language are more important than saying the right thing.

Through my experiences, I learned that people are usually friendly and happy to talk to you.

I’ve been able to meet more people than I ever expected just by opening up to them.

That’s when I learned that it was up to me to be proactive and create my own doors instead of complaining that none were opening for me. It was up to me to create my own opportunities by connecting with people.

Besides feeling more connected, I feel happier knowing that I have the power to talk to whomever I want to. More opportunities arrived by networking with others. For example, I was able to pursue photography with a new friend simply because I reached out and asked. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Jackie Vecchio

“If you are never scared, embarrassed, or hurt, it means you never take chances.” ~Julia Soul

The moment comes when you are on your knees.

You are filled with a knowing that there is something better. There is a life for you that you are not living and you are ready to live it.

I call this the moment of awakening—the moment when you hear your soul’s cry for the next step in its evolution. You are ready to live your fullest expression.

Anais Nin said it best, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

For me this looked like a crazy dysfunctional relationship with food and the feeling that I was spiraling out of control. I was literally stuffing down my truest, most authentic self, and I felt lost and off my path. I was filled with a pain that I didn’t understand, that I realized came from the void of not living my purpose.

A whisper that I had been ignoring for far too long finally spoke a little louder and said, “You are here for more than this.” It came as a feeling and awareness all throughout my body.

For you, it may feel like you’re stuck in a never-ending cycle, one that keeps you from feeling whole and fulfilled. It’s a sense that something is missing, and you are ready to break free. You realize that your deepest desire is to improve your life and fill that greater vision for yourself.

Often this feeling comes with a sense of determination, which can quickly turn into paralysis and feelings of:

• Fear of the unknown and of judgment
• Shame for where you’re at and for needing help
• Regret of your past choices

These feelings are natural and normal, and there is absolutely no reason to let them stop you. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Lynn Zavaro

“Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.” ~Rumi

This summer, I drove up Highway 5 from Los Angeles on my way to Grass Valley to visit my friend Carol, a painting teacher, for a week of painting in her studio. I can’t remember the last time I hit the road on my own for an eight-hour drive to nature.

I forgot what it was like to crank up the stereo listening to old tunes, straining my vocal cords to and singing full voice off key.

On my right, I saw semi trucks making deliveries from central California farms. I watched onion peels from the truck beds flit through the air like white winged butterflies. I saw tons of bright yellow lemons piled high, Italian tomatoes toppling onto one another, and potted trees tacked down by enormous tarps waving through the speeding air.

Passing Sacramento and getting off on Highway 49, I found myself driving on a straight two- lane road lined by dense tall cedar trees, into what seemed to be like the center of the earth. Carol calls this the “channel.” Hardly a store, restaurant, or gas station around. I couldn’t help but question my friend’s sudden move into such isolation.

Our plan was to go deep into the painting process, just the two of us, and I was excited for the immersion. Because of the heat, Carol said we’d paint in the morning and the evening, but in the afternoon we would hike to cool down in the Yuba River.

I’ve been a city girl for far too long and was embarrassed by my trepidation to go into the river.

I remember when I was nine swimming across the Mississippi headwaters at Lake Itasca in Northern Minnesota. I also remember the picture of me on my Mother’s desk—I was five, at Robbers Cave State Park in Oklahoma, stripped of all my clothes and crouching in the running cascades over river rocks, with arms held wide into the air.

I brought my bathing suit with me but Carol said I wouldn’t need it—it was Northern California after all.

“Naked?” I yelped.

“Yes, silly! No one but us will be there.” Click Here to Read More…

by Lori Deschene

“The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.” ~Flora Whittemore

I have been running this website for almost two years. A few months back, I met a goal I set for myself: I eliminated most of my other freelance work, and focused my energy on Tiny Buddha.

Since I don’t require much money to live—and since my eBook has been selling regularly—I was able to transition in the spring. As a consequence, I decreased my workload dramatically.

Now that I have more time, I realize that I need to discover a sense of purpose beyond writing and editing, and not just through hobbies and fun. Essentially, I need to find new ways to contribute to the world, regardless of the income it generates, because I crave a greater sense of connection and engagement—outside the world of the web.

Last week, I received an offer to run a ‘tween website, working part-time hours. My first paid writing gig was for a ‘tween magazine, back in 2006. This felt meaningful to me, not just because I fulfilled the dream of seeing my byline in print, but because I understand how difficult it is to be that age.

Many of my problems began in junior high, when I was chubby, overdeveloped, harassed, and even abused by other kids. Because that time was so traumatic for me, I revel in the opportunity to speak to girls who may be struggling to love themselves.

This leaves me with a tough decision to make: Do I listen to the instinct that tells me to try to help young girls? Or do I listen to the instinct that tells me to stay unplugged when I’m not working on Tiny Buddha?

Do I do what comes naturally to me—what I’ve done through various sites these last five years—and keep analyzing, advising, and helping online? Or do I step outside the world of the written word, onto a path I’ve yet to define, and see where it may lead?

One seems to involve a lot more certainty. I’ll definitely feel fulfilled writing for girls (and the extra money couldn’t hurt). But I’ll likely also feel frustrated that I’m continuing to spend so much time alone, at my computer.

The other revolves around a million unknowns. What’s next if it isn’t online? How do I pick one of the many ideas I have, and how can I bring it to fruition? How do I know that what I choose will work out, and if it doesn’t, that I won’t regret not going the other way?

The answer is I don’t, can’t, and won’t. We can never know for sure when we make a decision that it’s going to pan out as we hope. All we can do is follow our strongest calling, and then trust that whatever the future holds, it will enrich our lives, one way or another.

Since I’ve been struggling with career-related decisions recently, I turned to the Tiny Buddha Facebook page and asked the community, “How do you make a difficult decision?” I collected some of the responses that resonated with me most strongly: Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Lynn Zavaro

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” ~William Shakespeare

I love to paint. I’m not a professional artist. I have no technique, and I am not trained. But I love how the brush feels as it dips into color and moves across a white page.

Painting allows me to be free, to have fun and play. It also does something else: It shows me how I judge myself and how I can get in my own way. It reveals what I believe about myself that stops me from creating whatever I want.

Even as I take joy in the process of painting I still hear the inner-critic in my head:

“This flower is not pretty enough. It should be purple, not red.”

“Make this face look good so others can recognize what a good painter you are.”

“You can’t paint just for the sheer joy of it—you need to be doing more productive things with your time.”

“It’s ugly, and when people see it, they’re going to think you’re weird.”

The judge inside me likes to tell me how bad I am. He mocks me, teases me, and pushes me around. He’s mean, insensitive, and determined to hold me back.

When we engage in a project, whether it is the beginning, the middle, or the end, the judge loves to get involved. Although the judge is very unoriginal and speaks to each of us very much the same, his judgments take on hundreds of forms.

The judge is most definitely a thief, robbing us of our innate goodness, worth, talent, values, and ability. He makes us believe in illusions, wreaks havoc on our spirit, and causes chaos in our mind.

He likes to break our ego and tell us we are not enough and bad. He likes to tell us we are not loved and not cared about—that we don’t matter.

He even likes to stroke our ego and puff us up, telling us how good we are, how special and how unique. “Look how beautiful that purple flower is. Look how very talented you are. When people see this, they’re going to find you very special.”

He loves to break us and stroke us. He loves to seduce us and tempt us. He loves to make us doubt ourselves.

So how do we silence this inner critic and put him in his place? Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Amy Johnson

“When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” ~Lao Tzu

Pretty much everyone I know thinks they should be doing better in some way, at least sometimes.

Are you totally and completely satisfied with what you’ve done so far in life? No little part of you thinks, maybe I should have more money in the bank? Or maybe I should have a more professional wardrobe, or a book contract, or a dog that’s housebroken?

The word “should” is not exactly enlightened or peaceful. Nor is the practice of judging yourself or believing that you’re not exactly where you’re meant to be. But we’re human so our thoughts inevitably go there from time to time.

We judge ourselves. We hold ourselves to standards that someone else made up—standards that may not even make sense for our current life.

I often hear people say things like:

• “I can’t believe I’m in my 40s and still don’t have matching luggage.”
• “Shouldn’t my child be reading by now?”
• “I always assumed I’d exercise regularly after I finished college.”
• “I can’t believe I don’t have better health insurance at this stage in my career.”

I have to wonder, whose beliefs are those? Whose standards are they, really? It’s not like we wake up at 40 and suddenly crave matching luggage. Someone fed us that expectation somewhere along the way, and we forgot it wasn’t our own.

Would the mother feel genuine concern for her child’s reading skills if they lived on a deserted island? Or is the pressure external, based on what others say, think, and read, and she simply doesn’t realize those thoughts aren’t hers?

And I, too, have thoughts like these all the time. Not those exactly, but ones like them.

Like how I should be famous by now. Really. The ship has sailed for being on Oprah but isn’t someone going to beg me to come on their show?  And how I always thought that by age 34 I’d own a home with a yard, not a small condo in the city. Or how I still buy all my clothes on sale and I don’t have a decent wardrobe. And how I still say “like” and “awesome” way too much for an adult.

So it’s starting to look like we’re all in the same boat with this I-should-be-doing -better stuff.

Since it’s such a universal human issue, maybe we can make a collective pact to just stop with the shoulds? Can we collectively agree to be just a little kinder to ourselves? Can we set aside the judgments and be proud of ourselves, right this minute, not when we achieve something we haven’t yet achieved? Click Here to Read More…

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

“If we are not fully ourselves, truly in the present moment, we miss everything.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

I’ve done a lot of stripping lately. It’s been liberating. I’ve been peeling away layers of the ego—all the accumulated stuff—to find who I am at the core.

It wasn’t too long ago when I noticed how quickly my life would go from an extreme high to an extreme low—how one moment could seem so perfect and wonderful, and then suddenly something would happen and it would turn into a less appealing scene.

The story went something like this: “Life is good. No it’s not. Life is good. No it’s not…” This narrative repetitiously replayed like a bad remix.

I was never fulfilled because I was always dependent on something outside of me—the praise I received that day, what the scale said, how great my workout was, or the next scheduled vacation.

I remember the first time I published a piece of my writing and I asked my husband: “Is it perfect?” Then I agonized over what kind of feedback it would get.

He smiled and quickly said, “Perfect is too many people to please, babe.”

His words resonated with me and peeled away one layer of my ego. Slowly, more layers began to peel as I became aware that I’d given my worth to other people. I’d become reliant on external feedback because I did not value what I was worth. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s note: this is a contribution by Cat Li Stevenson

“To a mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.” ~Chuang-Tzu

The beauty of life is that we constantly have the opportunity to change it.

We always have the power to recreate it. We can change our thoughts, remember how to live instead of planning each moment, forgive the past, be present for the now, slow down the speed, and push the reset button on a day that has escaped us.

I recently had one of those days.

This past Saturday was wonderful. Or so I thought it would be when I woke up.

I’d been invited to a traditional Cambodian, Vietnamese Wedding, and was excited to attend. Although I didn’t know the bride or the groom, I would be the guest of a good friend.

I had a couple of mishaps that morning that caused me to be late. First, I spent 30 minutes with my younger sister, peeling a wad of gum off the heels she’d borrowed from me the night before—the ones I planned to wear to the wedding in the next hour.

I half-sprinted without make-up to my car, holding a coffee that later spilled all over the front seat.

I arrived to the ceremony 15 minutes late. I quickly made my way towards the front door of the home. A room full of women in vibrant, traditional Asian clothing greeted me inside.

I introduced myself to a couple as a guest of Sophya, a good friend of mine. They just looked at me blankly, perhaps unsure who she was, and didn’t really respond.

I made my way to the nearby couch where a small group of kids were playing to wait for Sophya there. After getting lost in Legos for 20 minutes, I heard Sophya calling me from another room. Click Here to Read More…

by Lori Deschene

“To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.” ~ Pema Chodron

Nine out of ten times when I feel paralyzed, it’s because I doubt myself.

Sometimes I doubt my knowledge—whether I truly know enough to move forward. Sometimes I doubt the choices I’ve already made, as if I can somehow find a sense of control in rehashing what I’ve done and deciding how to do it better in the future.

Other times I doubt my instincts. I think I know what’s right for me, but my mind decides to split and take sides, creating a nagging sense of internal conflict over what I actually want to do.

I’ve mostly dealt with this as it pertains to my dreams, and it’s partially because I’m terrified of doing the wrong thing and somehow ruining everything I’ve been working toward. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, or make the wrong decision and then have to take responsibility for the outcome of my choice.

It feels easier not to choose at all.

But what I’m learning is that there is no such thing as “wrong.” The only wrong choice is not making one. That’s not to say we’ll always create the outcomes we visualize. But maybe that isn’t the point.

Maybe the point is to learn to be less afraid of leaping, knowing that the net may not always appear, but the fall will never be far enough to do any lasting damage.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as I stretch outside my comfort zone with public speaking. As a former loner, I don’t deal well with crowds in general, let alone crowds staring at me while I talk vulnerably and passionately about something I love.

The space between the stage and the ground always feels like a massive distance, both in the ascent and the decline. I can’t say for certain I will ever feel fully confident in the spotlight. I may always feel at least some self-doubt, but I can choose not to doubt the choice to stretch and grow.

Doubts are just an inevitable part of life. The important thing is that we act in spite of them. Click Here to Read More…

Editor’s Note: This is a contribution by Angela Gunn

“The greater part of human pain is unnecessary. It is self-created as long as the unobserved mind runs your life.” ~Eckhart Tolle

For a very long time fear has controlled me. It has paralyzed me, kept me living in desperate situations, and stopped me from living the life of my dreams.

It has only been with age and the practice of mindfulness these last few years that I have come to recognize the fear within me, having finally begun the process of facing it.

By facing fear I don’t mean that I’ve started base-jumping, purposely trapped myself in elevators, or allowed tarantulas to climb all over my body.

I mean that I’ve sat in meditation, watched the fears arise, and rather than react to them or allow them to become part of the stories that make up my life, I’ve observed them in my mind from a distance.

I’ve felt how they’ve manifested in my body, and I’ve moved into that physical discomfort in order to pay attention to fear in a way I’ve never allowed myself to do before.

When I think about the compulsive and addictive activities that have kept me stuck in a place of fear in the past, they all come from stories that play through my head everyday. For example: Click Here to Read More…