Category Archives: COVID-19

Complaining? Maybe try creating instead.

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Six hand-painted letters spelling "create"

When you complain, you make yourself a victim. Leave the situation, change the situation, or accept it. All else is madness. ~Eckhart Tolle

This annoying piece of wisdom from Eckhart Tolle reminds me of the opening lines of Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer: 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.

I’ve seen so many references these last two weeks to 2021 (and 2020) as “dumpster fires” and “shit storms.” Yet these are the years of our lives. We will never get them back. We can never have them be different than they have been. All we can do is live as well as we can, moment by precious moment.

Yes, these years have been painful. We feel grief for what we’ve lost. We feel anger toward those who refuse to do what they can to keep our communities safe. We feel afraid of the next variant, the next school closure, the next eruption of rage in Costco.

What we don’t have to feel is the malaise and ennui of suffering and stuckness. Suffering and stuckness result from thinking things should be different, by God, from how they actually are. {Shakes fist at sky.}

So many changes in our lives come unbidden and unwanted. People get sick. People die. People leave. People refuse to change and we have to leave. We change and we have to leave. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about those unbidden changes but accept them and move on.

Acceptance can take time. Years sometimes. Even decades.

Complaining is an outward manifestation of internal suffering. Unlike pain, suffering isn’t inevitable. It’s optional. It’s a choice. That’s why Eckhart Tolle’s wisdom is so annoying to me. Complaining, although it might feel comfortable and familiar in the moment, does absolutely no good and only delays the healing ushered in by acceptance.

So why do we do it? I don’t know about you, but I complain because sometimes I want to be a victim, at least in the short term. When I’m being a victim, I don’t have to take responsibility for adulting—for running situations through the filter—for asking myself if this thing that’s cropped up requires serenity to accept or courage to change. I can just point fingers at others and not look at myself. I can make other people or the world wrong and myself right. That’s so much easier. Self-righteous complaining feels so comfortable.  

But being a long term victim gets old, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

Life as Earthlings is change. Change follows a predictable pattern, and we do best when we allow it to have its way with us. Change, accepted and absorbed, is holy. Resisting change only causes suffering.

If this resonates, you could choose to notice complaining, your own and other people’s, in 2022. You don’t have to stop, or ask others to stop. Just notice with kindness. Maybe be willing to ask yourself what you’re gaining from complaining. Or think you’re gaining. Because I promise you that whatever you think you’re getting from complaining, you’re not actually getting it. All you’re getting is the false peace of a short-term pressure release, not a reality-based long-term solution ushering in healing and growth.

It wasn’t 2021’s fault that we’re feeling angry, afraid, and sad. It wasn’t 2020’s fault. It won’t be 2022’s fault. It’s just reality. The sooner we face this new reality, accept responsibility for our responses, and grieve our losses, the sooner we’ll be able to access our creativity and live our precious lives well.

Complaining makes you a victim. Creating is the opposite of being a victim. Instead of complaining, maybe choose to create instead.

You create your life with the choices you make.

Live well, one choice at a time. Moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, month by month, and year by year.

Happy 2022!


PS. I have four openings in my Coaching Intensive “Spring Semester” starting in February. Reply to this newsletter if you’re interested in the possibility of diving deeply together for twelve weeks, and I’ll send you next steps.

PPS. I’m breaking all the writing advice and working on two books: the continuation of Martha’s story begun in Lost and Found, and a workbook based on my Coaching Intensive. Stay tuned!

PPPS. This newsletter will be monthly starting with this issue. I’ll write more frequently when I have news to share.

PPPPS. Artist and teacher Connie Solera’s new year-long program, Monopalette, is now open. It’s free and you can join anytime. Every month is devoted to exploring one color. (January’s color is Prussian Blue.) Connie’s Paint Wisdom Studio is delicious nourishment for my artist’s soul, and it might be for yours, too.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Breathing like a toddler through COVID-19

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1962, San Diego Zoo
Three-year-old me at the San Diego Zoo

How are your toddler disciplines going? Are you doing things that help you stay here and now?

My own life hasn’t changed all that much, yet waves of fear and grief wash over me unpredictably and I sometimes feel out of control. There’s a lot of that going around.

Panic comes from trying to resist and control what’s uncontrollable: the virus, the future, other people, those waves of grief and anxiety. Remember, this present moment is the only refuge from what we can’t control or predict.

Anchoring into your breath will help you stay present. You always have your breath, as long as you’re alive. And it’s the perfect metaphor for what we need to be about these days: accepting the reality of this present moment and surrendering attempts to control what isn’t ours to control.

Martha Beck, as well as many other mostly Buddhist teachers, teaches this “accept and surrender” meditation. Doing it once will help. Doing it for five minutes will help even more. Doing it for twenty minutes in the morning and again in the evening is ideal. But doing it is the helpful thing. Try not to let the perfect be the enemy of the done.

Ready? Here it is. Sit quietly. With every inhalation, say to yourself, “Accept.” With every exhale, say to yourself, “Surrender.” That’s it. That’s all you need to do. When your mind wanders, as it inevitably will, just gently return to your breath and these two words. This is all you do.

You can embellish if you choose. You can substitute other words. (I find “Let go” fits my brain better than “surrender.”) You can expand the words, maybe saying “I accept this world as it is” on the inbreath and “I surrender control of this world” on the outbreath. Whatever. Just, please, do it. It will help.

Every breath is a little resurrection. You drew your first inbreath when you were born, and your last exhale will be at the moment of your death. Every breath in between birth and death can be an acceptance of this life just as it is, followed by letting go of any attempt to control this amazing gift.

Another suggestion, lifted from Kara Loewentheil, is to write a manifesto or mission statement for yourself. I suggest following the “thoughts create feelings which lead to actions which create results” model. Here’s mine that I just wrote:

I believe that I’m strong enough and flexible enough to handle what comes my way, and I feel courageous in my vulnerability to this present miraculous moment. I will show up compassionately as my true self, rooted in Source, loving and free and available for my family, friends, community, and the world.

When I read this, I feel much more relaxed, present, and creative. Is this a manifesto a toddler would write? I think so! Maybe let your inner toddler help you write yours.

I invite you to share your manifesto in the comments, if you’re feeling brave. And let me know how those toddler disciplines are going!

There are so many generous creators offering resources to help us get through these COVID-19 times. Martha Beck is offering a newly-created course for a special corona rate. Registration is closing April 14th, so check it out if you’re interested. (I don’t get a commission. I just find her work insightful, useful, and fun!)

Toddling through COVID-19

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1962, San Diego Zoo
Three-year-old me at the San Diego Zoo

“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.”

That’s what I wrote in last week’s post about the Change Cycle and how this global pandemic has smacked us into our next metamorphosis. We’re all preschoolers again.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling, this not knowing what the hell is going on. I’m finding it easier to stay in the present moment, the only refuge from what we can’t control or predict, when I care for myself like I’m a three-year-old.

You know how to care for a toddler. You give that child a structure that keeps them safe and supports their toddler work.

Here are some concrete practices for being simultaneously three years old and that three-year-old’s caregiver.

(Do you have a photo of yourself as a preschooler? Put it where you’ll see it often. Do the same for the other adults in your household, as a reminder that we’re all preschoolers now.)

  • Sleep when you’re tired. Nap early and often.
  • Draw something. Scribble and doodle, then add color. Finger paint. Mess around with clay.
  • Go outside. Sit in the sun. Plant seeds. Take lots of walks. Stack rocks. Make a nature mandala. Pay attention to birds and flowers. Lie on your back and watch clouds. Gaze at the night sky. Cuddle with a warm, furry animal.
  • Put yourself in water. Splash your feet in a river. Wade in a creek. Swim in a pool or lake. Take a bath
  • Keep yourself comfortable. Stay warm. Snuggle up. Wear your favorite clothes.
  • Dance and play.
  • Pay attention to what interests you. Do what you want to as much as you can. Follow your urges. Be all in. “What doing, do.”
  • Be intentional about screen time, and take a break from horror and violence. Give yourself screen-free days.
  • Feed yourself healthy food, and a few treats. Drink lots of water. Limit intoxicants and stimulants.
  • Give yourself structure: Put yourself on a schedule that nourishes your body, mind, and spirit.

Ask for help when you need it. Hold hands when you can.

Breathe deeply. Laugh often. Love with your whole heart.

For more on the grief associated with this global pandemic, see this post from the Harvard Business Review.

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

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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

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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.