The Dalai Lama often speaks about “human being to human being.” No superiority or inferiority—just people.

He shares a Tibetan prayer:

Whenever I see someone, may I never feel superior. From the depth of my heart, may I appreciate the person in front of me.

Often, the person in front of you is you.

Humility involves both/and rather than either/or…

• Appreciate others and appreciate yourself.

• You are essential and you’re not a big deal.

• Your life matters and you’re part of a massive universe.

Desmond Tutu writes:

Humility allows us to celebrate the gifts of others… without denying our own.

Arrogance and shame are two sides of the same coin. Both narrow your view and close your heart.

In humility, you drop both. It’s a middle path of openness and curiosity.

What a relief to let go of needing to be special—or of feeling not enough. You can simply be as you are.

Humility isn’t an idea; it’s something you practice. Here are a few ways to explore it this week:

Appreciation

Pay attention to the people in your life: family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, service workers.

What do they do well? Where are their unique gifts?

Give specific, heartfelt appreciation. Instead of “thank you,” try “I appreciate the way you…”

It’s an attention and presence practice—and a gift to the receiver. They feel seen.

Am I sure?

On autopilot, we can feel certain—about our opinions, our beliefs, the “right way” to do something.

Ellen Langer calls certainty a “cruel mind state.” It narrows your view and constricts your heart.

Try asking, “Am I sure?”

This question opens curiosity and possibility. It can even bring a bit of lightness, especially when you’re holding something tightly.

When you loosen your grip on being right, you make more room for presence and joy.

One hard thing, one good thing

Honor the difficult parts of life and notice the good.

Each day, reflect on something hard. What challenged you? Where did you meet an edge or make a mistake? Honor it. You’re human—and it’s okay.

Then reflect on something good. Where did you experience connection, ease, beauty, or kindness? What did you do well? Celebrate the good stuff.

You can invite others into this, too—at the dinner table, on a walk, or before bed. Share one hard thing and one good thing.

You’re all beautifully human.

If you’d like, you can pause here and try a 5-minute humility meditation.

5-minute meditation

Humility is recognizing your goodness without making yourself such a big deal.

Let humility guide you this week.

You are of the earth—grounded, human, and enough.

If this resonated, you might enjoy The Pocket Pause—a free daily text with gentle reminders to pause, breathe, and come back to what matters.

A demanding project. A family responsibility. A decision that matters.

Yet we’re often so busy disliking stress that we rarely pause to look at it.

Today, let’s look directly at stress.

Stress is a mismatch between the demands placed on you and your capacity to respond to those demands. You don’t yet have the external or internal resources you need.

This is hard!

I recently came across a quote that resonated deeply:

“Stress is part of the price we pay for living a life that matters.”  

– Jennifer Taitz

If you live according to your core values, stress will show up.

This is good news! It means you’re living life true.

That’s the first re-frame for today: Look at stress as an indicator that you’re living a meaningful life.

If you chose to disconnect, not challenge yourself, or stay small, you might remove stress but you won’t experience growth, purpose, and joy.

Stress occurs, no getting around it, so how can we work with it?

Here are three things to try…

reframe the challenge

When you feel challenged by a work project, creative endeavor, or new caretaking role, it’s natural to think, “Can I do this?” Yet a more empowering reframe is “How can I do this?”

The reality is that you can take on the challenge (especially if it’s inline with your core values), you just need to brainstorm how you’ll do it. You could ask for help, get necessary training, or set boundaries.

You can do this—reflect on how.

shift “nervous” to “excited”

Fear and excitement feel similar in your body. Butterflies in the stomach, heart beating fast, tingling on the skin.

How you interpret these signals makes a difference.

Instead of thinking, “I’m nervous,” reframe it as “I’m excited!” Your body is doing what it needs to prepare you. Let the excitement inspire you to move forward.

use a simple Worry List

Worries can keep you up at night, so be proactive with your concerns.

Before bed, jot down three columns in your journal:

• Worries – everything you’re thinking about

• Next Steps – one small thing you can do

• Good Things – any wins, big or small

This practice clears your mind and reminds you that you’ve got it covered.

Choose one of these practices to try this week. See what happens.

Stress will still arise. That’s part of living a life that matters.

Moving through it builds resilience and strength.

You can do this. Your work matters. Your life matters.

We need your light in this world.

Enjoy this 5-minute meditation to support your practice:

You can find more free, helpful guided meditations on my Meditation page to keep building calm and resilience every day.

I lead a 90-minute mindfulness group for residents. It’s a space where people can be vulnerable. Through meditation, they begin to know all parts of themselves. This creates room for forgiveness—and genuine change.

I also have individual visits, where I hear stories of generational trauma, abuse, neglect, addiction, and incarceration. If I went through what they went through, I’d likely also be in prison.

One of those people is G, a young Black man from Milwaukee. He came to the group curious and also afraid.

In our first 1:1 visit, he asked me,
“How do you speak so easily in front of everyone? I have so much fear. Whenever the check-in comes around to me, I feel anxious.”

I encouraged him to keep practicing. And he did.

G showed up for group, committed to meditation, and slowly started to believe in himself.

Over time, more of his story emerged. He was ignored and neglected as a child and eventually entered the foster system. His foster parents abused him and convinced him it was his fault.

After hearing this, I looked G in the eyes and said,
“You didn’t deserve the mistreatment. A child should be loved and protected. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is not your fault. You’re lovable just as you are.”

He looked at me, wide-eyed, and said,
“No one has ever said that to me before.”

In that moment, something shifted. He could see himself differently.

G kept doing the internal work. Because of required programming, he eventually had to leave the mindfulness group. But I met with him just before his release.

He looked different—more open, confident, and grounded.

His plans after release were to get a barber’s license and connect with young men in similar situations, helping them see another path.

He was excited for release and confident he’d never step foot in prison again.

I think of G often—how deeply change became possible once he could see his own worth.

It’s powerful to reflect people’s goodness back to them. It may seem obvious, but often it’s not. Many people carry a distorted view of who they are.

When we remind people of their light, we give them permission to be real and whole.

Each of us has been wounded. The unloved places within us can snarl back at the world. But when we meet those places with kindness, they soften and real connection becomes possible.

Today, be kind to your wounded parts.
Be kind to the wounded parts of others.
Look for the light in each other.

That’s where connection happens.

If this resonated, you might enjoy The Pocket Pause—a free daily text with gentle reminders to pause, breathe, and come back to what matters.

We just recorded our winter episode, filled with candor, warmth, and a few nuggets of inspiration.

Make your favorite beverage and have a listen:

🎧 Seasons of Joy: Winter

After three hours, the group energy was calm, clear, and loving. Everyone had small yet important steps forward. I came home feeling inspired and hopeful.

Yesterday, friends from Chicago shared stories about ICE agents doing horrific things. Pulling people from cars, beating them senseless, pointing guns at the crowd, targeting schools and traumatizing children. The horror and injustice is more than a heart can take, yet it’s happening all over our country.

Today, in the Oshkosh prison mindfulness circle, we had a grief ceremony. Each person spoke about people they love who have died—deaths happening while they were behind bars, unable to mourn. Some residents shed tears for the first time, held by the group. It was hard and beautiful and deeply connecting.

We live in strange times, where we must hold two things at once in our heart: People are good and loving AND some people do heinous things.

With so little we can control in our harsh, chaotic, unjust government, we’re left with how we interact with people in our daily lives.

How can we help people be their best selves?

How can we listen and love?

How can we wisely use our voice for people who are voiceless?

Every interaction matters. You may be the light that lifts someone up; the person who makes a small yet measurable difference.

T shared this…

It's been hard for me to face difficult emotions. I took them out on other people or escaped into drugs. But when I finally looked at the hateful things people said to me as a kid (e.g., you're worthless, you’ll never amount to anything), I realized they weren’t true. I didn’t have to believe them. I just needed to hug that younger version of myself.

As he spoke, tears welled up in his eyes. He paused for a while, choked up.

M, another group member, brought him a roll of toilet paper (prison version of kleenex).

Another prisoner said, "it's okay, let it out."

T continued:

I felt emotional—just like this—when I first understood I could live differently. It's changed me. I like how we rubbed our arms during the meditation. It reminded me of my older sister rocking me when I was a child.

Whatever our upbringing, loving or traumatic, we've all experienced loneliness, shame, hurt, fear, and embarrassment. It's particularly hard for a kid. And it's the young child inside us who really wants a hug.

As babies, we're good. We're born good.

To live in this complex world, we develop unhelpful coping strategies, but our essence is good.

It's beneficial to picture ourselves (and the world!) as newborn babies. We all start out good. And we're trying to get back there.

Kindness is the pathway back.

Kindness inward, kindness outward.

We assume others are more creative, more compassionate, more wise.

Recently, during a pastoral visit in prison, I sat with J—as I’ve done many times before. His life story is the hardest I’ve ever heard: relentless abuse, trauma, and loss. Yet somehow, he’s emerged transformed.

Still, he’s in a dark place.

He’s tired. Tired of rebuilding after each depression.

He knows he’s resilient, but it’s getting harder to keep going.

I look J in the eyes, honoring his deep pain, and say:

J, you make a difference in this hell-realm of prison.

You’re a refuge—because you value listening, care, and friendship.

You underestimate your impact.

But your kindness, your awareness, your respectful presence—it changes people.

Even when you feel stuck in the dark, you’re a light for others.

Tears come to his eyes.

His own goodness revealed.

J inspires me.

He’s a steady, caring presence in a place filled with fear and anger.

His very essence—what he sees as “unworthy”—brings calm and connection.

And when that goodness is reflected back to him, he weeps.

He thinks it’s other people doing good work—not him.

This is a humble path we walk.

Aggrandizing our impact is harmful.

But minimizing it is also harmful.

If you do the work—if you’re present, compassionate, real—you make a difference.

You might never see it.

You might never know.

But you do.

This work is messy and imperfect.

You’ll screw up (we all do!).

But when your intention is love and connection, something powerful happens.

Your impact doesn’t come from what you do—it comes from who you are.

From how you carry yourself.

From how you navigate this complicated world with heart.

So please—keep doing the work.

Even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

We need it now more than ever.

My third 1:1 was with C, who lost his mom a year ago. Losing a loved one is even more painful when incarcerated. You feel helpless, disconnected, and ashamed.

Through tears, C spoke of how painful it is to think of his mom dying alone, no one to hold her hand. He’s the oldest child and he should have been with her.

We explored his regret, much of which was unnecessary, unkind judgment. (This is not atypical in prison.) C called her every week. He sent her cards. He listened and supported her.

In group, we’ve discussed and practiced forgiveness. I asked him about forgiving himself.

He can forgive some things. He knows how traumatic and painful his childhood was; how that pain led to unskillful actions. He understands.

But then he firmly said,

“I can’t forgive myself for not going deeper with my mom. I stayed on the surface. I never told her how much I appreciated her working two jobs to feed and house us. I didn’t share from my heart.”

“I don’t share that way with anyone. But I’m changing now. I’m going deeper with my sister and niece. It feels important.”

C memorializes his mom by being real, not pretending he’s okay when he’s not. And by sharing why and how he loves people. He cried more in that 1:1 than in all the others combined.

This is a beautiful, poignant reminder to not wait. Don’t hold back the love. Don’t hold back the appreciation. Don’t wait.

Tell people you love them. Tell people the small and big ways you appreciate them. Tell people how you really are.

We all want to love and be loved.

In the words of Father Greg Boyle, “What’s the next most loving thing I can do?”

During our mindfulness group, we sit in a circle, volunteers and inmates together. We begin with meditation and then check in—honest sharing about what’s up for us.

My first few check-ins were raw: the relationship between meditation and grief, the pain of loss. After everyone shares, there’s time for general discussion.

One group member, R, looked right at me and told a story from his previous incarceration.

He went to a parole hearing, not expecting much but received wonderful news: he’d be released in a week. Freedom! R was giddy.

When he got back to his cell, there stood “white shirts.” (Blue shirts are guards; white shirts are administration.) R immediately thought, “Oh no, something happened, and they reversed the decision.” But that wasn’t the news.

The two men in white shirts said, “We’re sorry son, but your mom has died.”

This took R’s breath away. His mom was his best friend. She was the first person he wanted to call with his good news.

On the same day, two extremes occurred: R received his freedom and his mother lost her life.

Through tears, he said—still looking straight at me—that for the next week he bounced between joy and grief. And that strange juxtaposition helped him heal.

His genuine wish for me was that I find beauty and growth within my grief. He believed that was possible.

The whole group sat silent, witnessing this exchange. Both me and R in tears.

R is right. We live in a world where we experience deep loss and amazing beauty. We witness injustice and courageous action. And joy sometimes springs from our grief.

All of this belongs.

All of us belong.

Instead, I’ll post hopeful stories from Oshkosh Correctional.

I volunteer in prison in two capacities: leading a secular mindfulness group and holding 1:1 visits.

The sharing within group is powerful: courage, wisdom, and vulnerability. Yet the sharing in pastoral visits goes deeper. In a safe, confidential space, incarcerated folks open their hearts and share their stories.

I bear witness to cycles of violence, neglect, and abuse. Men imprisoned for violence were beaten up as kids. Men incarcerated for drug use were surrounded by drugs and neglect as children. It’s a harsh, heartbreaking reality, yet these are the cycles of humanity.

Still, some people transform the cycles and it’s inspiring to witness.

Research shows that kids who experience trauma(s) are more resilient if at least one solid, caring adult is in their life. I ask prisoners, “Growing up, was there anyone in your life who was dependable, supportive, and kind?”

Often, the answer is a hesitant “no”: “Well, I guess my mom is that, but she’s still pretty mean,” “Maybe my grandma, but she never writes,” “Not my dad, I never knew him.”

Another harsh reality: We volunteers may be the first caring people an incarcerated person interacts with. This is what keeps us going inside, through metal detectors and big steel doors. We hope to be a dependable, kind presence in these men’s lives.

Yet this isn’t a story about us specifically. It could be anyone going into prison, supporting the inmates. It could be anyone serving people in need. It could be anyone showing up for friends in grief, transition, or difficulty.

This is a reminder of how we impact each other—not just our loved ones but people we don’t know very well.

We have daily opportunities to be kind. They may seem small and unimportant, but that’s where we create change.

In a fearful world, kindness matters. Listening matters. Curiosity, love, and understanding matter.

You never know the exact moment when you’re the person who positively and significantly impacts another person's life.

One of my flower beds was infiltrated by grass, so I started cleaning it up—shoveling out big clumps of sod and replacing it with plants.

The more I looked around, the more grass I saw. My digging (and my thoughts) got angrier and angrier. “I hate this grass!”

It was an extreme reaction to a well-meaning flower bed. Quickly, I realized: I’m not angry at the grass, I’m angry (enraged!) at our government.

In that moment, I felt a tongue on my face. My dog, Luna, senses when I’m frustrated. She tries to calm me with loving face licks.

Immediately, my rage turned to laughter. I willingly fell to the ground and Luna crawled on top of me.

As we lay on the grass, I realized: I’m mad because I’m so sad. I feel sad at my core. I let myself cry (which prompted even more face licks).

Millions of people are being harmed by the decisions of our government and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s natural to feel sad and helpless. Although anger feels empowering, it’s not. It’s exhausting.

I need these reminders to feel and metabolize the grief.

We’re all impacted by what’s happening. Our collective nervous system is jacked up. Our hearts hurt.

Give yourself space to feel the feels. Cry the tears.

This connects you to humanity.

And it opens you back up to love, compassion, and joy.

While there’s no quick fix, there are things we can do. These practices can keep you grounded…

GET OUTSIDE

Research affirms that nature soothes us. It calms our nervous system.

Plus, it reminds us that things change. Winter turns into spring, spring into summer. Nothing lasts forever. The natural world has endured horrendous storms. We will, too.

Get outside. Walk through a park, hike in the woods, look up at the sky.

LIMIT NEWS

After the election, I went on a news freeze (and felt so much better!). I’ve dipped back in, mostly to stay informed on ways I can help.

The news is a rabbit hole of rage, disbelief, and sadness. Choose one or two trusted places to curate your news and limit your intake. (For example, no news after 8p.)

It’s not your responsibility to keep watch over the country. Instead, get offline and serve your community. Do the good right in front of you.

PRIORITIZE JOY

In harrowing times, we can become too serious. If the world’s on fire, we can’t be happy. Yet our best work comes from our joy not our despair.

Laughter is necessary medicine. Fun and play are restorative. Creativity is resistance. We must all prioritize joy, not as a theory, but as a daily practice.

Schedule play dates. Connect with others. Make art. Watch comedy. Dance in the kitchen.

Our country needs your courageous joy.

The seasons happen around us and they unfold within us.

Each season has difficulties and joys. We need the light and dark, warm and cold, starkness and abundance to keep us balanced.

My friend, Stacy Parish, and I are collaborating on a series called, Seasons of Joy. Short minisodes for Stacy’s podcast.

We just recorded our winter session. What’s hard, what’s good, and how we’re taking care of ourselves.

Listen to a soundbite…

Click here to listen to the full minisode.

More and more people are turning to mindfulness to help manage stress, anxiety, and inner conflict, which can be typical aspects of daily life. 

By this, we mean that back-and-forth between our thoughts, feelings, or choices, which can leave us stressed and exhausted. Mindfulness offers a powerful way to address this by bringing us into the moment and helping us focus on the present. 

These days there is growing interest in mindfulness meditation, for both body and mind. Practicing mindfulness doesn’t just calm the mind, it helps us to tackle life’s challenges more clearly and calmly. This also helps us to manage stress, work through our inner turmoil, and feel more grounded in everyday life. 

The good news is that it’s easy to start on your own and something that everyone can include in their daily life.

What is Mindfulness and How Can it Help with Inner Conflict?

Mindfulness is the practice of paying full attention to the present moment without judgment. It’s about tuning in to and accepting your thoughts and emotions, instead of worrying about the past or future. Mindfulness is about “being” rather than constantly “doing”, which can make a big difference when dealing with inner conflict.

Being present is one of the most powerful ways to reduce anxiety and create emotional balance. When we’re focused on the present, we’re less likely to get caught up in thoughts about what might happen or regrets about the past. Instead, mindfulness grounds us in what’s happening now, helping us to accept life as it unfolds rather than getting caught up in worries.

Over time, this increased self-awareness makes it easier to face the difficult emotions and inner conflict we feel. If you’re interested in diving deeper into mindfulness techniques, check out this post for more tips on how to include mindfulness in everyday life.

Step-by-Step Guide to Practicing Mindfulness

If you’re new to mindfulness, knowing how to get started might feel overwhelming, but it’s a really simple practice that anyone can try. Here’s a quick, step-by-step guide to help you begin:

• Find a quiet space: Choose a calm, comfortable spot where you won’t be disturbed for a few minutes.

• Get comfortable and close your eyes: Sit or lie down in a relaxed position. Close your eyes if that feels comfortable; this can help limit distractions.

• Take a few deep breaths: Start by taking slow, deep breaths to help settle your mind. Feel your chest and belly rise and fall with each breath.

• Focus on your breathing: Pay attention to your breath. Notice each inhale and exhale, and how it feels as air flows in and out of your body.

• If your mind wanders, gently return your focus: When this happens, simply notice the distraction and gently bring your attention back to your breath without any judgment.

• Notice thoughts and sensations: Observe any thoughts, feelings, or sensations that arise. Acknowledge them, but let them pass without getting caught up in them.

• End with gratitude: When you’re ready to finish, take one last deep breath, open your eyes, and take a moment to appreciate the time you spent on yourself.

Practicing these steps regularly, even just for a few minutes each day, can help you build a stronger mindfulness practice over time.

Daily Practices to Bring Mindfulness Into Your Life

Incorporating mindfulness into your everyday routine can make a big difference to how you feel, and how you handle the more stressful parts of life. Here are some simple ways to practice mindfulness daily:

• Mindful Eating: During meals, try focusing on the texture and taste of each bite. Learn to savor your food without distractions, like screens or multitasking. This keeps you grounded in the moment, allowing you to fully enjoy your meal as a peaceful pause in your day.

• Mindful Walking: As you walk, pay attention to each step - the way your feet touch the ground, the rhythm of your movements, and your surroundings. This practice can turn even a short walk into a peaceful, grounding experience.

• Mindful Breathing: Take a moment throughout the day to focus on your breath, especially if you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and notice your breath entering and leaving your body. Even a few deep breaths can help you reset and refocus.

• Mindful Listening: When talking with others, practice being fully present. Listen without planning your response or letting your mind wander. This type of focused listening not only makes the other person feel valued but also helps you to stay grounded and connected.

• Mindful Journaling: Take a moment to write down your thoughts without judgment. As you write, pay attention to your emotions and thoughts, acknowledging them without getting lost in them. This practice helps clear your mind, reduce anxiety, and gain clarity about what you’re feeling, which helps to process your emotions.

How Mindfulness Calms an Anxious Mind

Mindfulness is a powerful tool for calming an anxious mind by moving our attention away from thoughts about the past or future and bringing our focus back to the present moment. 

Anxiety often strikes when we’re caught up in worries about things that aren’t happening right now, so mindfulness helps us to notice our thoughts without getting stuck on them, gently bringing our focus back to what's happening right now.

Mindfulness is thought to help relax the body physically by lowering stress hormones and calming the nervous system. Mentally, it allows us to step back from our thoughts and inner conflicts to see things more clearly without feeling overwhelmed. 

With regular practice, mindfulness can make it easier to handle stress and understand our feelings, making us less likely to become overwhelmed. 

When you’re feeling anxious, here are some mindfulness exercises that will help calm your mind:

Deep breathing

This simple mindfulness practice helps to bring your focus back to your body. Begin by inhaling for a count of four, holding for four, and exhaling for four. Repeat this pattern for a few minutes. This slows your heart rate and calms the nervous system.

Body scan meditation

This meditation practice and form of Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction shifts your focus from anxious thoughts to noticing the physical sensation of your breath, and any tension in your body. Start at your feet and slowly work your way up, noticing any sensations without judging. This mindfulness meditation practice is grounding and great for easing anxiety.

Check in with your senses

This quick exercise helps you connect to the present moment by focusing on your senses. When anxiety is high, stop and look around and name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. This grounds you in the present moment and stops you from flitting from thought to thought.

Overcoming Common Mindfulness Challenges

Starting a mindfulness practice can feel challenging, and it’s normal to encounter obstacles along the way. Many people find themselves frustrated when their minds wander and they can’t keep focused. If this happens, remember that it’s normal for your mind to wander. Instead of getting frustrated, acknowledge the distraction and return your focus to your breath. Each time you do this, you’ll find your focus gradually improves.

Another common challenge is feeling impatient. You might feel like you’re not progressing or seeing any benefits of mindfulness. It’s important to remind yourself that mindfulness is a skill that develops over time, and there’s no need to rush. Consistently practicing mindfulness over time will bring you the most benefits.

Many beginners also struggle with self-criticism. It’s easy to feel like you’re not doing mindfulness “right” or that you’re failing somehow. Be kind to yourself—mindfulness is about observing rather than judging. 

When you’re new to mindfulness, keeping still can feel challenging. It’s okay to feel discomfort, it’s part of the process. If this is an issue for you, start with shorter sessions, or try other forms of mindful movement. 

The Benefits of Practicing Mindfulness Regularly

Regular mindfulness practice can make a big difference to your emotional and psychological well-being. It helps reduce stress, calm the mind, and promote emotional balance. Mindfulness allows you to focus on the present moment, which not only improves concentration but also lowers stress levels and enhances overall mental clarity.

Consistently practicing mindfulness will help with inner conflict by showing us how to notice our thoughts and feelings without letting them take control. Instead of reacting to something straight away, we learn to pause and notice, which makes it easier to handle our emotions calmly. 

Over time, this practice helps us feel more at peace, instead of feeling like we’re constantly fighting with ourselves.

Starting Your Mindfulness Journey

Adding mindfulness to your day can make a huge difference and leave you feeling calmer, more balanced, and better at dealing with inner struggles. A few minutes each day can help you manage stress, focus better, and feel more at peace with inner conflict. Starting with small steps and being consistent with your practice over time will allow you to see bigger changes.

If you’re ready to explore mindfulness more, check out the Gareth Michael podcast, Spiritual Practicality.

Author Bio

Gareth Michael is a spiritual coach, teacher, channel of Michael, and author of the best-selling book Ever-changing Perspectives. He provides tangible, practical spiritual support stemming from his own life lessons and Michael’s profound wisdom and teachings. His personalized guidance helps people heal, find their spiritual direction, and understand their purpose. Follow Gareth on X and listen to his podcast, Practical Spirituality.

This is a space where you can show up just as you are. I see you. I believe in you. We can move through the grief together…

Feel the feels

Likely, you feel a range of emotions: rage, sadness, disappointment, numbness, hurt, exhaustion. These are normal. They’re part of the grief cycle.

It’s important to feel these feelings. If you bypass them now, they’ll come back later.

Consider where you feel most supported. A walk in the woods. A friend’s living room. Snuggling with your pet.

In one of these spaces, let yourself feel. No need to force it—there’s no blueprint to follow—simply open up. See what happens. It all belongs.

This process takes time (it’s not a one and done). Be mindful of your experience the next few weeks. Grief may show up in surprising places. Again, it’s normal.

While your heart is tender, it’s okay to set boundaries. (You don’t have to “love everyone” right away.) Set boundaries with people, news, and social media.

Create a container for yourself, so you can begin to heal. You will return to love when you’re ready.

Shift from why to how

To distract from big emotions, you might get lost in thoughts. Yet spinning out in your mind doesn’t feel good—it creates tension and anxiety.

Notice if you’re asking “why..?” questions. For example, “Why did this happen?”

Shift your thinking to “how…?” questions. For example, “How will I take care of myself over the next four years?” or “How can I support the institutions I believe in?”

Why keeps you ruminating; how empowers you to make change.

Connect to core values

This hurts deeply because your core values were violated. The anger and sadness are guideposts to what matters most to you. Instead of gripping your pain, metabolize it by living from your values.

For example…

• Actively support organizations that align with your core values.

• Create regular, intentional community around your values. (A community can be you and one other person.)

• Look for good work currently being done in your area. Talk to others about this good work.

There’s so much that’s out of your control. Focus on your square footage of the world.

Do the good right in front of you. You make a unique contribution. Put your energy there.

To help with this process, I recorded a short meditation. Get as comfortable as you can and have a listen…

This is natural. Our lives ebb and flow.

Still, I think there’s a nagging issue underneath. To illuminate the issue, I’ll draw from the research of Oliver Burkeman and Devon Price.

Price, a social psychologist, wrote the book, Laziness Does Not Exist. According to him:

The laziness lie is a belief system that says hard work is morally superior to relaxation and that people who aren't productive have less innate value than productive people.

It’s an unspoken yet commonly held set of beliefs and values. It affects how we work, how we set limits in our relationships, and our views on what life is supposed to be about.

The laziness lie is fueled by three core beliefs (all of which are untrue!)...

• Your worth is your productivity.

• You cannot trust your own feelings or limits.

• There's always more that you could be doing.

Price beautifully articulates the flaws in each of these beliefs.

You can read more in his book, but for now take a deep breath and trust that you’re worthy just as you are, it’s important to listen to your body’s limits, and doing more is not a pathway to happiness.

What a relief!

Still, our culture encourages us to work and strive and be more productive. No wonder it’s hard to find meaning and purpose!

Burkeman is a journalist who wrote the book, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals.

Here’s what he found after hours and hours of research and experimentation: There’s no time management system that works; you have 4000 weeks in your finite, precious life; you can’t do it all, so focus on what matters most.

He writes:

Once you’re no longer burdened by an unrealistic definition of a life well spent, you're free to consider the possibility that many more things than you’d previously imagined might qualify as meaningful ways to use your finite time.

From this new perspective, it becomes possible to see that preparing nutritious meals for your children might matter as much as anything could ever matter, even if you won’t be winning any cooking awards, or that your novel’s worth writing if it moves or entertains a handful of your contemporaries, even though you know you’re no Tolstoy, or that virtually any career might be a worthwhile way to spend a working life, if it makes things slightly better for those it serves.

Let’s put these two research results together:

Beliefs from the laziness lie skew what you think is meaningful. When you let go of the lie (and the idea that you can find more time), you see meaning and purpose that exist in your ordinary daily life.

Walking your dog has meaning.

Dancing in the kitchen with your kids has meaning.

Weeding your garden has meaning.

Resting on the couch doing nothing has meaning.

Helping your neighbor has meaning.

It’s hard to ground ourselves in these truths when our society says differently, but we can do it together!

It’s communities just like this one that change the world.

We create a new way of doing and being.

Celebrate all the ways you find meaning and purpose in daily life!

You’re all making a difference. This difference doesn’t come from you being productive. It comes from you being real, present, and loving.

We painted rocks while sharing thoughts about life and death, honoring loved ones, and posing questions.

There was freedom in talking about death in such an open way. Making art next to each other, we had an easy connection.

Hard topics became pliable. New insights arose.

As we experience summer abundance, we often shove down grief and mourning. Put it off until later.

Yet summer can hold our feelings. It’s big and alive. A perfect place for working with death, especially as we shift into fall.

Grief is our internal experience. The rollercoaster of emotions that happen when a loved one dies.

Mourning is how we metabolize grief. Outward expressions of remembrance and connection.

These occur around death, yet they also appear with loss in general. Loss of a job, relationship, physical capability, creative endeavor, or community.

Reflect on your recent losses. Is there mourning you need to do?

The beautiful thing about mourning is it can take any form. It’s yours to shape and mold.

Mourning can be a ceremony or a new tradition; it can be a creative expression; it can be a hike in the woods.

Death and loss are powerful. They demand our attention.

It’s important to feel the feels (all of them!). They all belong.

And it’s important to metabolize these emotions, so you can take a few steps forward.

Make space for mourning. Let the natural world hold you.

Remember you’re surrounded by a world that understands grief. It’s expressed differently by everyone, but it’s a shared experience.

How do you want to remember, celebrate, create, cry, laugh, connect or dance?

There’s space for mourning. Trust in the abundance of this summer to fall transition.

And be gentle with your tender, brave heart.

We receive loud and regular messages from society: Do more. This is urgent. Reply right away. Hustle, hustle, hustle.

Notice how you feel reading these words. It doesn't feel good to rush.

These cultural messages are unkind and they're untrue!

Rarely are things urgent.

Take a deep breath (let your exhale be audible, like a big sigh).

You have time.

You have space.

You are doing great!

Today, rewire the urgency habit.

Look at your list of work/home tasks for the day.

You're not going to complete it all and that's okay!

Choose the three most important things on your list.

Rearrange the other tasks—move them to another day or delete them altogether (are you doing things you don't need to do?).

Give your attention to what's most important.

Yet remember that even important tasks are not urgent.

You can make progress without rushing.

Throughout this day, take 3-breath pauses. Let your outbreath be long and audible. Thirty seconds of space.

5-Minute Meditation

Your attention is a precious resource. Pay attention with intention. Focus on what matters most.

You'll forget (you're human!) and you can begin again.

“Is this your mid-life crisis?” my husband wondered. I clarified, “It’s not a crisis; it’s more like mid-life deep reflection.” He smiled. I understood. My rewording changed nothing. It was the first week of classes and I was in crisis.

Thirteen years earlier I came to Lawrence University, wide-eyed and eager. I welcomed September and thrived in the classroom. The community embraced me; I belonged. Though I worked long hours, I couldn't imagine a more fulfilling career. No surprise: I was asked to participate all over campus. Naively (and, at first, genuinely), I said yes—yes to everything. I wanted to be seen and appreciated, liked and respected.

I also had a tenure decision looming. In year six, my work would be critically judged by a committee of peers. I felt thick anxiety about this process. Anxiety that shook me awake at night: Am I smart enough? Am I dedicated enough? More must be better. More articles, teaching overloads, and service to bolster my tenure file. I was firmly on the academic treadmill—point of view straight ahead, uphill.

My decisions arose from a distorted reality: if one person didn’t really like me, I worried the world would see my unworthiness. If I didn't publish enough papers, I thought the world would see I’m a fraud. I hosted parties, made sure not to offend, did backflips for my students, and gave until depleted.

In moments when I spoke freely and honestly, I was quickly filled with doubt. None of this was obvious to others. Since childhood, I learned to hide my insecurities. I achieved while maintaining a positive, happy exterior—it just made things easier.

After I earned tenure, I felt the physical effects of my long, hard push. My digestive tract rebelled and my heart raced. As a life-long athlete, I respected my body. I valued health over work—a realization that motivated my “Year of No.” I needed room to breathe. With every new request I kindly said no, honestly explaining my code-red status.

I attended a student art exhibit, where a postcard shared nine important words: saying no is a big part of saying yes. Indeed, if I didn't say no enough, I wouldn't have room to fully say yes—to passionately work on interesting projects. So I selectively said yes, reduced my work hours, and reclaimed my personal life. And the sky didn't fall.

My inner-critic warns that I have no choices: “horrible things will happen if you stop incessantly doing.” A vital piece of my understanding was to notice what occurs when I make an intentional change. I became mindful of my actions—what stemmed from my inner-critic versus the actual constraints of my job? How could I better align my inner-life with my work life?

To organize my thoughts, I wrote a work mission statement. My primary intention was clear: teach and mentor students about statistics and about life. This brought my focus back to the students and away from distractions; it influenced my choices. Campus politics didn't interest me. The decisions of administrators didn't affect my daily life with students.

The students were my compass. If a work activity didn't directly impact them, it fell to the bottom of my to-do list. This helped in the short-term, but I still felt depleted. No longer did I welcome September.

I found new creative outlets: gardening, writing, cooking, and visual arts. I took photography classes and carried my camera everywhere. I made time for my photos and blog, even at the end of a long work day. It was the creative heat I needed to survive. Interestingly, the hours I spent with my hobbies, ostensibly to keep me sane, changed my view of myself—I eventually saw outside my academic identity.

I remember a particular August day: while watering the plants, I resigned myself to soul-filling work only in the summer; I resigned myself to gutting through the academic year. The no-choice credo: I earned tenure; Lawrence is a special place; I’m excellent at my job; I will retire in this career, regardless of my contentment level.

But when I hit crisis mode within the first week of classes, I questioned the life-long academic path. A phone conversation with a former student brought clarity to my feelings. Steph began as my advisee; now she’s a close friend.

She asked probing questions: "Imagine you are part-time, teaching no introductory stats, how does that feel?" (It still feels empty, not heart-filled.) "What if you had paid time to learn new statistical methods?" (Ugh.) "Do you even like statistics anymore?" (I don't know.)

Our discussion held pauses when my tears flowed. Identities to which I clung were stripped away. I grieved those identities. And I also saw how painful I’d let my work life become—I was inured to the disconnect between my daily actions and activities that filled my soul. Who was I?

After that phone conversation, I knew I would resign. To many, it seemed a quick decision. To me, it was the answer to years of questions. I was trying to solve my discontent puzzle by moving around pieces within my job. Once I understood I didn't have to be an academic my whole life, my choice was obvious. I could drop the academic identity and still have plenty to give the world.

When I shared my decision with the Lawrence community (a community I cherish), I received two common responses: “I’m really sad for Lawrence, but happy for you” and “I admire your honesty and bravery.” I didn't expect the latter reaction, yet it poured in from people—from very different people.

A friend recently asked how I came to such peace with the decision. My answer: I accrued enough self-awareness and fully trusted myself. Before I could see my choices, I had to clearly see myself. And this is where my bravery began, in looking.

It took courage to explore layers of myself in therapy. It took courage to sit for weekends in silent meditation—alone with my thoughts and feelings. It took courage to make different life choices from those of my colleagues and to try new creative outlets—to put forth my artistic work in the beginning stages when I was most vulnerable. It took courage to love myself, as is. And I drew from these experiences when I mindfully considered a career change.

For many years I resisted an empowering truth: we all have choices—even when, especially when, it feels like we don’t. Our culture encourages us to mistake wants for needs. Our busy schedules convince us that choices are actually must-dos.

Some of our well-grooved habits, roles, and assumptions no longer feed us, yet it takes awareness to recognize when this happens, and it’s vital to know we have a choice. Once accessed, we can see these wide-ranging choices (from saying a simple no to quitting a job), even when external forces push us in different directions. It’s not an easy path, but it’s the path to freedom.

The month is September and for the first time in years, I feel an absence of dread. My creative ideas flow, no longer chained to the school schedule. Every day I write, take photographs, connect with people, and fully experience life. Can I make a living through these daily pursuits? That’s an open question. And even we non-academics appreciate the richness of an open question.

Astronomical events invite wonder and awe. They remind us that we’re small yet not insignificant. We’re part of something so much bigger.

(If you want more of this, Awakening Awe is coming in August!)

When I start teaching a new mindfulness class, I ask people to share what brought them to class. Notice if you see yourself in these comments...

"I’m so uncomfortable with my internal and external turmoil."

"Sometimes my mind races but more often than not, I feel buried in mud."

"I react to situations and then get upset about how I handled it."

"I’m stronger than the life I feel stuck in. I need a better sense of me."

"My days are extremely busy between working full time, shuttling my kids around, and taking care of everyone. I want to work on self-care and enjoying life."

"My whole creative self is blocked right now."

"I want to help myself feel that I am loved, I am good, and I am enough."

"I seek more space for me and less pressure about work and caregiving."

"Life seems so crowded: deadlines, people expecting lots. I'm not even sure I like myself sometimes."

"I’m rushing through the year without truly living."

Hearing from others reminds us that we’re not alone! Whatever your current struggle, people understand; they feel it too.

Sharing in this way is similar to watching the eclipse: your problems feel less personal and you remember the big picture.

Still, it’s helpful to have guidance out of the muck!

With mindfulness practice, regularity is more important then length of time.

If you pause for three breaths throughout the day, that’s better than meditating once a week for an hour.

Regular, small pauses make a difference! They bring ease into the chaos.

Here are three practices you can try...

Red lights

Reframe red lights as a welcome invitation to pause—take three deep breaths and check in with yourself. Remove distractions (stow your phone). Take your hands off the wheel, relax your shoulders, and breathe. Embrace red lights!

Look at the sky

When you’re outside, pause to look at the sky. Three breaths with the vastness of the day or night sky. This practice provides perspective and cultivates wonder. It turns down the “me” volume and reminds you of the larger community in which you stand.

Elongate the exhalation

When your exhale is longer than your inhale, you activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which is the rest-relax system.

Try this: Breathe in through your nose for a count of 4 and breathe out through your mouth for a count of 8. On your exhale, pretend you’re blowing through a straw. Breathe in for 4, breathe out for 8.

(Additional practice: When you hum or sing, you elongate the exhale. Hum at red lights!)

I know you’re busy. I know you take care of others. I know life feels too full.

Choose just one of these practices. Try it this week.

Small, regular pauses.

We’re doing this together! You’re in community. Your joys are celebrated and your struggles are shared.

Thanks for being part of a positive change in this complex world. I love y’all!

PS: If you want a deeper dive into mindfulness, it’s best to have a teacher. Schedule a Spark Session. I'd love to work with you.