Category Archives: acceptance

Are You Still Working on Yourself?

Working on car

Jill came to our first coaching session saying that she’s been “working on herself” for twenty years but still feels she has more work to do.

Every time I hear that phrase, “working on myself,” I visualize a car with the hood up and someone bent over the engine with a wrench. Frankly, it makes me cringe.

Like many women I know, Jill’s taken workshops, trainings, and courses with top self-help experts–the best out there. Meditation, spiritual direction, success training, more productivity, self-compassion, better thinking, building confidence–she’s done them all.

She even saw a therapist to see if she was depressed. The therapist told her she wasn’t and sent her away.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked.

“I just don’t ever feel good about myself,” she said. “I’m a phony and a quitter. I procrastinate. I don’t use the tools I learn. I keep trying, taking courses, listening to podcasts, but I think I’m just not good enough.”

“Jill, what if the real issue is your self-attack? You’re believing what you’re telling yourself–that something is wrong with you that needs work. What if you don’t need more confidence or self-compassion or productivity? What if the key to feeling good about yourself is accepting yourself right now, this minute, just exactly as you are?”

This is a novel concept for Jill and for many of the women I talk to. It’s as if there is a far-off destination, the land of “I’m fixed and don’t need to work on myself any more.” It’s always a faraway destination, miles from where they are.

But here’s the truth: We have good days and bad days, times we screw up and times we succeed. Sometimes we’re articulate and confident, sometimes we’re withdrawn and awkward. Sometimes we’re kind and sometimes we’re not, especially to ourselves.

In short, we’re human.

When we listen to the inner voice that attacks us, we forget our victories, our successes, and our kindnesses. We don’t remember our loving acts towards others and we can’t see the beauty that surrounds us.

The biggest problem Jill and many other bright, competent women share is believing the inner voice that tells them they’re not good enough exactly as they are

Consider these words from “Wild Geese,” by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

We’re all magnificent and messy, fabulous and awkward, deeply spiritual and disappointingly profane. And we don’t have to crawl on bruised and bloodied knees across a desert, futilely trying to be so good.

So how about getting your nose out of the engine of your heart and soul and gently lowering the hood. Walk away from the idea that you need to be fixed, tinkered with, worked on.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Can you quiet and listen to its soft whispers?

There’s no wrong way to practice mindfulness

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There’s no wrong way to practice mindfulness.
It’s impossible.
You either do it or don’t do it.
But you can’t do it wrong
Because it’s not about right and wrong.

It’s not about sitting still,
It’s about letting something inside get still.

It’s about attention and where it goes.

So go ahead and walk, move, do something,
Something that doesn’t need thinking.

And don’t be fooled.

Don’t think you don’t think when you’re mindful.
You’ll think.
You’re a human and humans think.
That’s why we practice.
To notice that we are such great, grand, relentless thinkers.

It goes like this: you’re following your breath, just like you’re supposed to.
And next thing you know, you’re thinking.
It happens. A lot.

Don’t get on your case.
Just notice.

As a noticer, you notice that you can always notice your thoughts instead of engaging with them.
{Except, of course, when you can’t. Or don’t.}

And then, the magic comes.

Sometimes you notice a tiny clear voice inside.
It sounds different from the usual voice, the one that’s there distracting you.
It’s different because it’s the voice of Truth, and it has no agenda.
It simply whispers in your ear and something inside you goes Ping! and that’s really cool.

But then there’s that other voice. The Nag. The Worrier. The Scold.

Be gentle with her.
When a thought about a problem comes up, gently tell yourself you can solve it later.
When a thought about something interesting comes up, promise yourself that you can daydream about the new shoes you want later.
{Be sure to keep your promise. Daydreams are important.}
When a thought about something ordinary comes up, remind yourself that you can make the grocery list later.

Remind yourself that you are a noticer, an observer,
A scientist in a white lab coat observing microorganisms dance on a slide.
You are the Scientist of You.
You with the urgent, interesting, enticing, dancing thoughts.

When those thoughts get harsh,
Remind yourself that you are not your thoughts.
You are flesh and blood and hair and guts and spirit and energy,
And heart.
That’s what you are.
You are not your thoughts. Listen again.
You are not your thoughts.

And if you notice you don’t want to go back to your breath, then
Notice your resistance.
Observe it with the curiosity of a child watching a bug crawl on a leaf.
Notice what color your resistance is and how it speaks to you.
Is it scratchy or smooth, fast or slow, high or low?
Does your resistance come in words, images, feelings?
Notice that your resistance, too, is just a thought.
And an I-don’t-want-to temper tantrum of a thought is still a thought, just like the other ones.
The ones that tempt you with visions of dinner.
The ones that rerun crappy conversations a million times and tell you that you have to do something about this RIGHT THIS MINUTE.
{Isn’t that funny? What’s the big hurry?}

So go ahead and resist with your wholehearted approval.
Because there’s no wrong way be mindful.

It’s not about the pose.

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Natalie Morales Koundinyasa “It’s not about the pose, it’s about your reaction to the pose.” Over and over I hear this in from my yoga teacher.

When my standing leg turns to jelly, when I quit while the rest of the class keeps going, or when my arm strength gives out and I plop rather than float to the floor, my wonderful yoga teacher, Natalie Morales, softly reminds me, “it’s not about the pose, it’s about your reaction to the pose.”

When I lose my balance and topple sideways, Natalie cheerfully calls across the room, ”nice dismount, Terry!” Encouraged, I grin and quickly return to the pose. With her good humor and gentle guidance, I can focus on my present efforts, rather than grumble to myself about what I didn’t do, how impossibly hard it is, or how I’ll never get it right.

When I can remember this, it’s so much better. If my arms are weak and I don’t pop up into full wheel effortlessly, or at all, it’s fine. My inability to hold chaturanga becomes almost as interesting as my graceful execution of a fully extended dancer’s pose.

I can stay strong, moving forward with less and less effort, steadily improving even as I topple, wobble, and flop.

Slowly and surely, I progress physically. Little by little, my balance and stamina improves, my leg lifts higher, my headstands last longer and become more stable.

But the most empowering aspect of this practice is the transformation of my attitude, from one of competition and judgment to a powerful attitude of acceptance and persistence.

It’s not about the pose.

It’s not about what happens, it’s about our reaction to what happens.

When, despite your very best efforts, life’s challenges still arise (as they always will), what will your reaction be? When the weather changes and your eagerly anticipated plans have to change with it, when loved ones let your down, when life just doesn’t cooperate with you, how will you react? Will you gnash and thrash and struggle? Will you mutter under your breath that it’s too hard, not fair? Will you regretfully scold yourself, tell yourself you should have done better or you should have handled it differently? Will you give up?

Or can you smile, tell yourself “nice dismount,” and jump back in, renewing your efforts?

Can you remember what you did well, how you showed up and reached out, how well you communicated, how you stayed calm under fire, took a risk, stayed in your truth, took responsibility, and aligned with your values?

And just as important, will you forgive yourself for the times you didn’t.

When you fell out of the pose, when you didn’t reach out when you could have, when you were thoughtless or didn’t say the right thing, can you still move forward? Can you let it go, and simply acknowledge that it’s not about what happened? Can you remember it’s always about how you respond this time, right now?

Over and over, we will have the opportunity to answer these questions: How do I want to react? How do I choose to respond?

By remembering this simple truth, we can stay empowered and eager to jump back in, ready for the next challenge, and fascinated by the wonder of it all.

Where’s The “Real” World?

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Londolozi, South Africa

Each dawn we bundle up and sleepily climb into an open Range Rover. We pull thick wool blankets across our laps, gratefully tuck our hands around the hot water bottle nestled inside, and head out across a network of dirt trails traversing gently rolling hills and grassy fields.

We pass leafless tree-skeletons

and quiet ponds ringed with vibrant green marshes.

It looks very much like the open lands in the Colorado foothills, with one very significant exception. Londolozi teems with an incredibly diverse array of animals and birds not found in the wild in North America. Nyala, kudu, duiker, impala, hare, vulture, eagle, bat, heron, mongoose, monkey, warthog, baboon, giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, elephant, water buffalo, hippopotamus, lion, leopard, rhinoceros, hyena, crocodile, duck, stork, lizard, guinea fowl, lilac-breasted roller–the list is endless and in short time, we see them all.

And it’s up close and personal. . . .

We sit motionless, spellbound by the antics of lion cubs pouncing on their macho but indulgent father.

We’re awed by the sublime

And the ridiculous

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We were even charged by this grumpy, one-tusked bull elephant. My adrenaline was running so high, I missed the photo op.

Luckily he only wanted to chase us off. We happily indulged him.

The full moon is shinier and fuller and more beautiful than ever before when sitting atop a termite mound.

And just as we were getting used to the idea that we really were in Africa, that we really were seeing the African land, the African moon, and that the animals really hadn’t escaped from the zoo, it was time to leave.

Toward the end of the week, a couple of folks in our group voiced their dread of returning to “the real world.”

Which raises a fascinating question—which one is the real world anyway? Is it the one at home, with careers, relationships, fashion, television, mortgages, the internet, and animals who eat from cans?

Or is it here, in the African bush?

Accepting Good Fortune When It Comes

Terry DeMeo, Master Certified Coach

Personal and Professional Development

Category Archives: acceptance

Are You Still Working on Yourself?

There’s no wrong way to practice mindfulness

It’s not about the pose.

Where’s The “Real” World?

Accepting Good Fortune When It Comes