Change and COVID-19: We’re supposed to feel like toddlers.

TL,DR: We humans, as members of an always-changing Universe, are subject to repeated cycles of death and rebirth. COVID-19 has pushed us into change. Change follows a predictable pattern. Understanding this pattern helps us ride the “Change Cycle” with more ease and better results. The first phase of the Change Cycle as described by Martha Beck is Square One, characterized by death and rebirth. Your job right now is to let your old pre-Coronavirus identity dissolve. This will probably feel painful and scary, and the pain is made worse by resistance. Care for yourself and others as though you’re in active grief, because you are. We are held in Love as we do this holy work.

The Change Cycle is a foundational component of Wayfinder Life Coach Training. I think it’s a necessary archetypal pattern to understand, especially during times of transition. And boy, howdy, are we in a time of transition right now!  

Everything in the Universe changes. Every single thing. We humans are members of the Universe. So change is built into our DNA, however much we try to deny or resist it. The Change Cycle, as taught by Martha Beck, is initiated by a catalytic event and has four phases.

Here’s a short overview, followed by a deeper dive into Square One.

The Change Cycle: Martha uses the metaphor of a butterfly when describing the Change Cycle.* Imagine a caterpillar melting down in its chrysalis. That’s Square One, the phase of death and rebirth. Square Two, the phase of dreaming and scheming, is when the former caterpillar, now “caterpillar soup,” begins to reform and coalesce as a new creation – a butterfly. Square Three is a Hero’s Journey, when the new butterfly does the hard work of emerging from the chrysalis. This is arduous work for the butterfly, and it can’t be short-circuited. Finally, our caterpillar, after going through a lot of acceptance and hard work, flies freely as a butterfly through Square Four! Square Four, because everything in the Universe is always changing, doesn’t last forever. Along comes another catalytic event, and bam! On to the next Square One! Every time you ride this cycle, you get bigger and wiser and more yourself. Unlike our caterpillar, humans ride the change cycle over and over again until we die, unless we resist it.   

The Change Cycle
Martha Beck’s Finding Your Own North Star, p. 245

Caterpillars naturally enter their metamorphosis. Human beings usually need something to push us into change and transformation, because most of us resist. The catalytic event that pushes us into the Change Cycle may be something we longed for and planned for, like getting married or having a baby. Or it may be something we don’t want and didn’t plan for, like COVID-19.

Deeper into Square One: My friends, we are in a global Square One. This global lockdown accompanied by instant internet news is unprecedented. Coronavirus has forever altered our world. Remember that Square One is characterized by death of old identities. This pandemic has destroyed our identities as people who get to go where we want, do what we want, and control our own destinies.

Square One is painful, and it cannot be rushed. This square is overflowing with grief. Just like your grief when a parent or a spouse or a dear friend dies, this grief simply must have its way with you, and the best course of action is to accept it. As Tara Brach and other Buddhist teachers often say, “Pain x resistance = suffering. Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.”

When my mom died, I felt like my world had altered irrevocably. My life had slipped off the rails. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel anything but pain again – joy and happiness seemed like they had fled and would never return. I know you’ve felt this grief, too. You’ve known the deep sadness of missing someone or something so much you’re afraid you’ll never recover.

The only thing to do when you’re grieving is to grieve. Grief can’t be rushed. It can’t be sidestepped. The dissolution of Square One simply has to happen. Just as the caterpillar turns to caterpillar soup, we become “person soup.” We have to let our former identities dissolve when the new identities aren’t yet clear. The imago cells that coalesce to form the new creation will only find each other when the old creation is completely fluid. Completely disaggregated.

This is how this has to go. Death and rebirth is how our world works. It’s the story of winter’s death and the rebirth of spring. It’s sunset and darkness preceding sunrise and a glorious new day. It’s a waning moon followed by a waxing moon becoming full and illuminating the night. This is how this has to go. It’s okay. You’re okay. Let go. Let death have its way with you.

The only way to come out on the other side of this process a realer, bigger, more present and authentic you is to let the Change Cycle have its way.

These days, just like after my mom died, I’m moving more slowly. I’m tired and inefficient. I’m forgetful and a little fuzzy around the edges. I’m craving several hours each day just to be with this new reality. I’m praying, walking, moving my body with love, sitting in meditation, while working harder than I ever have before. I’m being really gentle with myself – creating a cocoon for this metamorphosis. I suggest you do the same. Treat yourself as though you’re in active mourning, because you are. Life as you knew it, before the pandemic, is gone. It will never be like it was. Grieve the loss. Give yourself all the time you need.

If you don’t take all the time you need, if you push through or avoid or try to step off the cycle, you delay rebirth. I know this to be true. After my mom died and after other catalytic events in my life, before I knew about how change works, I resisted, sometimes for years. Resisting the pain caused me to suffer and stay stuck, completely unnecessariy.

How can you tell you’re resisting the death of Square One? Some classic symptoms of resistance are keeping busy all the time, indulging in addictions, numbing, dissociating, avoiding being in your body, obsessing and worrying, and saying things like “Why me?” and “This shouldn’t be happening.”

We’re supposed to feel like toddlers in Square One, not knowing what the hell is going on half the time, and needing lots of naps. If you’re completely bumfuzzled and often tired, you’re doing it right.

If you take all the time you need to dissolve, to grieve, to become “person soup,” one day you’ll feel a lightening of that load, and maybe just a glimmer of hope. You’ll catch a flash of light in the distance. That’s a sign that you’re moving onto the threshold of rebirth. Those holy imago cells swimming inside you are beginning to find each other and coalesce. A new you is beginning to form. And just like the caterpillar, your chrysalis will have done its work. You will be ready to do the hard work of emerging and flying. And we will be amazed by your beauty!

The Change Cycle is a holy cycle. Although you may not feel like it, although you’re hurting, know you’re held in Love as do this holy work. You will be okay. You will emerge from this experience – COVID 19 or any other catalytic event – as a new creation, and you will be okay.

Contact me if you’d like to delve into this further. I’d love to talk. Consultations are offered free of charge and obligation.

*See Finding Your Own North Star, Martha Beck, Ph.D., for an exhaustive overview of the Change Cycle.

Serenity and COVID-19

Here are four things I’m remembering now. I hope they help.

1. Change and transformation are how nature works. Nothing in the natural world is immutable. Even rocks change. We’re part of nature. Earthlings are designed to change and transform! Expecting stasis, and equating falling apart with failure, will only make you crazy.

Every thing arises and passes away. That’s always been true. Nothing is fundamentally different now, except that we’ve had our illusions of control ripped away. The caterpillar in its chrysalis has to completely dissolve before the imago cells begin to coalesce into a butterfly. Why do we think that we, with our conscious worry-prone brains so afraid of dissolution, should find this fun??

2. We’re all connected. Elsewhere I’ve written about the moment on the Camino de Santiago when I viscerally knew what science and faith had been telling me all along. That moment on the rainy Meseta, when I felt the presence of the deep heart connecting me to everything and everyone around me, is one I’m rooting myself in these days. I’m sure you have those moments, too. Re-member them. Just as trees in a forest feed each other through their interconnected roots, our rootedness in love and peace feeds our neighbors and our world.

3. We’re all grieving right now. You might have lost someone to death. You might have lost your job. You might have, as I have, lost your freedom to go where you want to go. We’re all grieving the death of our sense of predictability and safety. (See #1, above.) So be gentle with yourself and others. Treat yourself as though you’re in mourning, because you are.  

4. Presence is our only refuge from what we can’t control or predict.* You can’t control the past or predict the future. The only thing you’re in charge of is how you show up in this present moment. Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, has this to say:

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Let’s look back at Frankl’s middle sentence above: When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. I’m reminded of this version of the Serenity Prayer used by Twelve-Step groups: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

Here’s a “Serenity Practice” to help calm your worried brain:

  • Write down the things you’re currently worried about.
  • One by one, ask yourself if you can and want to do anything about the thing, whatever it is.
  • If so, and you choose to take action, make a to-do list or a checklist. Identify the first step, and calendarize it.
  • If you’re worried about something you’re not in control of, find a way to begin to accept it. You might try RAIN, or prayer, or a ritual of giving your worry to the universe.
  • Finally, make a habit of connecting to your Wise Self during this time of intense unpredictability, in whatever ways work for you. Breathe. Walk outside. Do yoga. Call a non-anxious friend. Make something. Help someone.

I’m here if you’d like to talk through this practice. I’m here if you want to talk about anything else on your mind unrelated to COVID-19. I’m here if you just want someone to talk to, especially if your mind is losing its shit. Contact me if you’d like to schedule a free, no-obligation conversation. I have time for you!

Be gentle with yourselves, my friends. Be gentle with each other. Be present to the miracle of this moment.

We won’t be the same when this is over, but we will be okay.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash, edited on Canva

*Approximate wording of a statement made by Dr. Martha Beck during her weekly Facebook Live on March 22nd.

“Are those HUMAN ashes?!”

Monkey asking "Are those human ashes?!"

“Are those human ashes?!”

Three twelve-year-old boys asked me that question when I was teaching at a Roman Catholic school some years ago. These boys, Protestant like me, were attending the compulsory Ash Wednesday mass for the first time, and were horrified at what they thought was going on.

I reassured my young students that no, those were not human ashes.

Today though, to you, I say “Yes! I hope so!” I hope the ashes of Ash Wednesday are your ashes. I hope during this holy season of Lent that you let what’s in the way of love burn up in Easter’s holy fire and wash away in the waters of new birth.

Lent is a time to get back to the true you. To return to and relearn the real sweetness of your heart, underneath the accumulations, armoring, and disguises of the years.

Soften. Gently notice obstacles to love and let them be removed. Be open and willing to be burned up. Trust your essential goodness. Listen deeply to your heart, which is the same thing as listening to God.

Your heart is also God’s heart. Your soul is that place within you where you and the Holy are most connected and interpenetrated.  

That’s the point of Lent. Disciplines are how we do this relearning, reconnecting, and listening, as incarnated souls living in precious bodies on this lovely planet in this singular moment. So choose your Lenten discipline carefully and make sure it does what you want it to do.

Perhaps you imagine Lent as spring cleaning. Or getting the garden ready for another growing season. Or razing that fancy McMansion and building a tiny sustainable house in its place. Or, as they do in northern New Mexico, cleaning the acequias so water flows freely to thirsty places. Or something else entirely.

The point, when the priest smears the gritty ashes on your forward and says “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” is not to dwell in your badness. The point is to reconnect with your goodness, your heart and soul, where you are at home in Holiness.

The hope of Lent is to give everything that is not true – every obstacle to loving yourself, others, and our world – to the flames of Lent.

Give everything that binds you to the flames, and rise in freedom with the sun of Easter.

Photo by Jamie Haughton on Unsplash

“Who do you think you are?”

There are some things no one else can tell you. Some things you just have to decide for yourself. Unfortunately, these things are the big things. That’s why having someone else tell us what’s true seems so necessary. Who are we to say we know the truth about the big things, such as the meaning of life and why we’re here? It feels important to get the big things right.

Most of us rely on other people and institutions and systems and culture for answers to the big questions, subconsciously if not consciously. Dismantling those belief systems is scary. You’ll probably feel like you’re falling. You are!

As Chögram Trungpa said, “The bad news is you’re falling through the air, no parachute, nothing to hang on to. The good news is, there’s no ground.”

It’s not about knowing the truth, you see. It’s about seeking your own answers to the questions that are ultimately unanswerable this side of the grave.

  • Why is there life at all?
  • What’s the purpose of your particular existence?
  • Where do we come from? Where are we going?
  • How shall we live while we’re in these bodies on this planet?
  • Why do we suffer and die?
  • What is love?
  • Does God exist? If so, what is God’s nature?

And there are the big questions for churchy people: sin and morality, the need for redemption, forgiveness.

The answers you’ve received from your parents and teachers, your churches and your schools, your televisions and social media feeds – they’re all made up. They’re someone else’s best guess.

No one knows the true answers to the big questions. That can be freaking scary. But please don’t hand your questions over to a “higher” authority. Don’t throw your hands up in despair and go back to Netflix. Don’t take the easy answers that you know in your heart aren’t right for you. Don’t decide the answers aren’t important.

To rely on someone else’s answers is to hand them your power. We can’t ultimately know the important answers. Anyone who says they have them is lying or deluded. The seeking, the doing the best we can, is what’s important.

So be intimate with your big questions. Sit with them. Ponder them. Learn to be comfortable with not knowing. Let them grow and stretch you. Let the big questions make you bigger and stronger and more flexible.  

Pay attention to your experience and intuition. Pay attention to your inner wisdom. Give yourself the respect you deserve. Strive to live in integrity with your questions. Listen to the wise ones. Find a community that welcomes your searching – one that blesses your open hands and open mind.

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash

Let your messy light shine.

Woman holding light: Our cracks and broken places are where our light shines into the dark.

Last week I wrote an intensely personal note to you which included two pieces of information I rarely share: my dad’s skiing death and my stepfather’s abuse.  I put them out there for all the world to see. Why?

Mostly, it’s because I’m tired of keeping these secrets. I’m seeing more and more clearly that I’ve been making both events mean that I’m bad, broken, and unlovable. If you know them about me, you won’t like me. Or you’ll feel sorry for me. I don’t want to believe that anymore. That belief has caused me to lead a diminished life, and I’m tired of it.

Here’s what’s truly true: bad things happen to everyone. As do good things. It’s all part of the human experience. What hurts us is the story we tell ourselves about the bad things. And the good things, too. What hurts us is our thoughts about ourselves, others, and the nature of the universe. What hurts us is thinking we deserve these events, bad or good.

The brilliant Kara Loewentheil’s Unf*ck Your Brain podcast on December 17th was about vulnerability. Kara dropped this bombshell that exploded in my brain: “The only person we’re vulnerable to as adults is ourselves.” Kara elaborated that when we’re afraid of someone else’s negative judgment when we tell them something personal, it’s because we secretly believe they’re right. If we’re okay with the information, we’re okay with their reaction, positive or negative. So I dug into why I resist telling people about my dad’s deadly accident and my stepfather’s sexual abuse. I thought it was because hearing about these events makes others uncomfortable, so I was just being considerate. And they do make others uncomfortable, but that’s only part of the story. Mostly they make me uncomfortable.

It turns out I’ve spent fifty years believing bad things happen to bad people, and I thought I needed to keep my badness a secret. But of course the truth is I didn’t cause either event. My dad hit a tree so hard he died. My mom’s need to have this man take care of her was stronger than her desire to protect me. That’s all. I didn’t cause my parents’ divorce, my family’s disintegration, or my dad’s alcoholism and three remarriages, either. I was a just child trying to make sense of bad situations created by the adults in my life who were dealing with their own shit as well as they could. Sometimes they dealt very badly. And gravity happens, even to the best of skiers.

I’m learning to think of the decade that undid me as a testament to my strength and resilience, and the mysterious power of grace. As I’ve come to see myself differently – as a tender, strong woman who deserves joy – I’ve also come to see my parents differently. This is forgiveness. As I open myself to deeper and deeper healing, I’m letting my parents off the hook. I’m forgiving my dad for dying young and my mom for inviting someone into our lives who hurt me. I’m pretty sure, as I continue to heal, I’ll find that I’ve forgiven my stepfather, too.

Those events broke me, and it’s okay. I’m okay. I think Leonard Cohen was right: the broken places are where the light gets in.  

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

And light doesn’t only come into us. Light goes out, too. Our cracks and broken places are where our light shines through most brightly in the dark. Our imperfections can be channels of grace and healing for our world. We can flow with this light.

Sharing my broken places with you, dear reader, has been healing for me. Thank you for allowing space for them.  

An invitation: If the time is right, gently and with immense kindness, ask yourself what about yourself you keep sequestered from other people. What secrets do you carry? Why are you choosing to carry them? What are these secrets costing you in energy and intimacy?

Answering these questions will help you discover if you, like me, believe untruths that are causing you to suffer. Contact me here if you’d like to investigate together.

Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash

Let God call you “Sweetcakes” for Christmas.

This Christmas, let God call you "sweetcakes."

Forty years ago my dad died while skiing in Keystone, Colorado. That event put the cherry on top of the decade that undid me. I’d been mostly holding myself together through my parent’s divorce when I was 12, my big brother and eventually my little sister leaving to live with my dad, my dad’s subsequent three marriages, and my mom dating and marrying a man who violated me. Despite all that, I was still remarkably intact. Until December 15, 1979.

That sunny December morning shattered me. From that day on, the world felt lined by broken glass.

As children do, I made sense of my dad’s sudden death and all that had come before by concluding that I must be a bad person and I deserved this pain. So I renewed my efforts to be a good girl who followed the rules and did as she was told. Like many women living under patriarchy, I had a deep sense that I just wasn’t good enough, so I practiced other-focused, people-pleasing behavior and created a life that was too small.

I was desperate for ways to make life not hurt so damn much. Sharp surfaces, piercing nails, rattlesnakes with poisonous fangs – they seemed to be everywhere. So I stayed little and quiet and I stuck to well-trodden trails, striving to pad myself and blend in and make myself useful. A bad person pretending to be good.

I spent forty years seeking solace outside myself, searching for places that didn’t hurt. Trying to find answers to the wrong question. Looking outside myself, when what I needed to do was see the lie and let it go. I was trying to figure out how to live in a world of broken glass, since that seemed to be what I deserved, rather than allowing myself to see that I’d made the world of broken glass with my own mind.

I’ve realized that forty years is long enough to wander in the wilderness of suffering and self-loathing. The meaning I made from that terrible decade – that I’m not worthy of love and respect, that bad things only happen to bad people – is a lie. I know it’s a lie because I feel hard and separated from my soul when I believe it.

This lie of self-loathing can only be healed by choosing to believe the uncomfortable truth that God doesn’t make junk. Even squirrels have value and worth. All creation is holy and worthy and beloved, just because it exists. Value is intrinsic. It doesn’t have to be earned. We are born perfect.

The false belief my clients have in common, the core thought causing them distress, is this: “I’m not good enough. I have to try harder. I have to pretend to be perfect.”

Focusing on that false belief doesn’t heal it. Focusing on the false belief only cements it deeper. That belief is a habit. That’s all. We break old destructive habits by building new, better habits.

So shine a light on that false belief just long enough to identify it, and then set about gently dismantling the lie. Don’t take the wrecking ball to the lie, or do battle with it. Just focus, instead, on healing your brain by believing new, life-giving thoughts. “I am okay. I am enough. I am necessary. I am priceless.” Just five minutes a day will begin to weaken the old false beliefs and begin to build a home for the ages. The too-small dilapidated house you’ve been living in will slowly crumble and blow away.

Gently give your heart, who’s known all along that you are beloved and precious, light and rain and warmth.

The seed of your true self has been waiting for just such conditions to sprout.

She will burst her armored shell, break forth, and sing. Your small life will be broken open and will never be the same. The world changes when you become yourself.

I know now the World cried with us when my dad died on that mountain. Holiness was in the trenches with me as my world fell apart. Light was shining through the broken glass. Love has been holding my hand all along, leading me out of the wilderness back home to myself.

Christmas, the Feast of the Incarnation, is God saying “Yes” to us. The Divine is telling us this fleshy human life is beautiful.

This Christmas, hear Holiness say, “You matter. You are necessary. You belong. You are perfect.”

This Christmas, hear God calling you “Sweetcakes.” She says it every moment of every day. Listen. Let Love in.

God Says Yes To Me

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I’m telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Kaylin Haught, From The Palm of Your Hand. © Tilbury House Publishers, 1995.

Photo by Denys Nevozhai on Unsplash

What would it feel like to be free?

Girl in field of daisies: You are holy. You are perfect. You are beloved. You are safe.

I wonder what it would feel like to be free. What would it feel like to know that I am perfect just as I am? To know I can be 100% me in the world and I would be safe? To know I can say what I think and share how I feel and I would still be valued and belong to a community? To know that I could tell the truth and have a family and friends who love me?

What would it be like to truly comprehend that, in reality, hiding and not sharing myself is what creates loneliness and division?

If you think your true nature is too outrageous and loud and uncouth, or too quiet and sensitive – if you reject your true nature and judge yourself as unacceptable and wrong – then no external healing on the planet can touch that inner disconnect.

That inner disconnect, your self-loathing and lack of love for your authentic being, reproduces itself in your outer reality because of this cycle: Thoughts create feelings. Feelings drive actions. Actions produce results. Results accumulate to become the circumstances of your life. Then you think more thoughts about your results and circumstances, and the cycle continues.

If your foundational thought is “I’m not okay. I’m not good enough. I have to pretend to be someone I’m not to be safe and loved,” then you will feel fear and shame. Fear and shame drive actions that probably look a lot like being good, accumulating achievements, and meeting others’ expectations. These actions produce results that accumulate to create your life – a life that doesn’t fit who you really are. Your life becomes an illusion that must be maintained so you feel okay about yourself. Maintaining the illusion takes a tremendous amount of energy and is ultimately unsustainable.

Living a lie is always unsustainable. Your belief that you’re not okay, you’re not good enough, and you have to pretend to be someone you’re not to be safe and loved is a lie. I know it’s a lie because it causes suffering.

The way back to the truth is not to believe something else really hard.

It won’t work to tell ourselves over and over that we’re fine just the way we are if we still, deep down, believe we’re shit. We have to drop the lie that’s causing suffering. We have to see the lie for what it really is, and replace it with the truth.

The source of your self-worth is ultimately a faith question. Your innate worthiness, your guaranteed belovedness, your essential holiness, can’t be proven. It can, however, be experienced and remembered. There was a time in your life when you were deeply connected with your innate preciousness. You didn’t question it. Even if your mind can’t pull up those memories, your body remembers. That connection still exists. You just have to find the connection and strengthen it. Even though the spring has gotten blocked, the source of the flow remains. The blockage just has to be dislodged so the water can flow. The lie of “not okayness” is the blockage. And the water wants so badly to flow through you.

Try this. Put one hand on your heart and the other on your belly. Breathe deeply. Feel your heart beating. Now imagine that you’re holding a baby or a cat or a dog in your arms. That tender, perfect creature is in your care, and they’re completely safe. Just resting on your chest, being completely who they are. Now imagine that you’re that baby or that animal, and you’re resting completely in the arms of a loving presence who’s got you and is never going to let go. Call that presence what you want – God, Universe, Mother, whatever. You are holy. You are perfect. You are beloved. And you are so, so safe.

This is the truth. You were born perfect. You’re still perfect. You’ll always be perfect.

Freedom is knowing that the thoughts keeping you caged are lies, and they’re flimsy as dust. Freedom is living as the perfect, holy creature you are.

Choose to believe the truth you’ve always known. Choose to be free.  

Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash, edited on Canva