My tea obsession is going strong amid this coronavirus outbreak. I find tea soothing, and on cool days, it’s keeping me warm as I hunker down at home.
I love reading tea bag labels, and today, the label is spot on:
Photo Credit: Me!
Let’s be honest. All of us, at some point, are going to loose our sh*t and act horribly during this lock down. We might act horribly to our family and friends or to ourselves. This is almost inevitable given the heightened stress we’re under, and the lack of our old daily routines, which helped keep us grounded.
But we aren’t always going to act horribly.
For those times when we have our sh*t together, we can try to remember to act with compassion. Because, as the tea says, when we do we will never be wrong. And these days, it’s the little things that really, really count.
The coronavirus pandemic is exhausting on so many levels. Nerves are fraying, and it’s only the beginning.
We are desperate for someone to fix this situation and return us to the lives we were living a few short weeks ago.
That is the dream.
That is not the reality.
The reality is that this pandemic is not going away any time soon. Our lives are changing. They will likely never be the same. This is very, very scary.
But I came across this article — That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief — in The Harvard Business Review of all places, and it has been incredibly helpful in helping me process what is happening.
This is Kessler’s response when he’s asked if what we’re feeling is grief:
Yes, and we’re feeling a number of different griefs. We feel the world has changed, and it has. We know this is temporary, but it doesn’t feel that way, and we realize things will be different. Just as going to the airport is forever different from how it was before 9/11, things will change and this is the point at which they changed. The loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection. This is hitting us and we’re grieving. Collectively. We are not used to this kind of collective grief in the air.
Kessler is spot on. Not since 9/11 have we felt this type of collective grief. It feels foreign, scary, uncomfortable, and it makes us feel vulnerable.
But in the way of the #Woo, Kessler provides us with concrete ways we can deal with this grief and its resulting anxiety by using meditation and mindfulness techniques.
Come into the present, he says.
Let go of what you can’t control, he says.
Stock up on compassion, he says.
And he tells us to name what we’re feeling.
There is something powerful about naming this as grief. It helps us feel what’s inside of us. So many have told me in the past week, “I’m telling my coworkers I’m having a hard time,” or “I cried last night.” When you name it, you feel it and it moves through you. Emotions need motion. It’s important we acknowledge what we go through.
I am in love with those last two sentences, which I bolded.
If mindfulness, meditation, and exploring The Land of the Woo have taught me anything, it’s that burying our feelings and pretending they don’t exist is futile. It’s only through naming our emotions and giving them space that we can take back our power and learn to live with emotions rather than being defined by them.
“It’s absurd to think we shouldn’t feel grief right now,” Kessler says. “Let yourself feel the grief and keep going.”
That is advice I intend to follow as I head into another week of sheltering in place. If you have the time and the energy, I invite you to read the full article.
A few years ago, my husband and I spent a week in Paris, leisurely strolling through the city’s streets and sipping coffee at its cafes.
One night, we decided to eat dinner at a tiny creperie. We got a window seat and ordered crepes and a carafe of cider.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Taxis slowed, scooters stopped, and pedestrians began to congregate on the sidewalk. Some people whipped out phones and started taking pictures. Others drove by and honked. Some pedestrians shielded their eyes.
“What’s happening?” my husband asked me.
While I had a better view than he did, I couldn’t see the cause of the commotion.
“I can’t tell,” I said. “But I’m going to go outside to see.”
Once on the street, I turned to the right and was gobsmacked by a breathtaking view. The setting sun was lined up perfectly between Paris’ low lying apartment complexes and office buildings as it sunk toward the horizon. The unobstructed view created a spotlight effect, where its light was blinding, and its heat was palpable.
The sunset brought the Paris neighborhood we were in to a standstill. Bystanders stood there, enthralled. Passengers asked their taxis to stop. Others jumped off motorcycles to capture the view. Some stood in the intersection with cameras, trying to find the right angle to capture the sun’s stunning display. We were momentarily connected, watching this gift from nature.
A few minutes later, it was over. The sun set. The taxis sped away. I went back to the restaurant. Pedestrian continued their journeys. Paris zoomed back to life.
But I think of that moment now. How everyday occurrences can stop us in our tracks. How nature can be healing. That however diverse we may be, a beautiful sunset can connect us.
In this scary time, we are facing a lot of uncertainty. But every day, the sun rises, and it sets. It can serve as a reminder to pause, to take in its beauty, to breathe deeply, and to remember we are not alone — even if it may feel that way right now.
Like most of you, I am in a daze reflecting on the spread of coronavirus, and how much my life has changed in one short week. I am sheltering in place, having loaded up my fridge, freezer, and pantry with food, and my laundry room with detergent, wipes, and soap.
A week ago, we laughed at sheltering in place. This week we know sheltering in place is a stark reality that could last for months.
Where is the Woo in all of this? For me, it is everywhere.
To start, I’ve been craving down time for years. Four years in fact. The past four years have been difficult ones for my family and me as we’ve faced major illnesses, multiple deaths, and unexpected diagnoses. It’s left me drained, especially when I am continually commuting between the East Coast and the West Coast to tend to family needs.
“When will it stop?” I kept asking the Universe as I was repeatedly pulled away from my daily life.
Now, suddenly, in a way no one could have imagined, it is stopping. For the first time in four years, I have no travel plans, no bags I need to pack, no jet lag to adjust to, no rental cars to book.
I am just here.
The result is that my mind is relaxing, releasing, and opening up. Story ideas are flowing to me in ways they haven’t for years. My concentration is rising. I am more productive than I’ve been in months. My meditations are deepening. I feel newly alive and more connected to the earth.
I also feel so much joy for the earth, and what it means for the planet when we keep our cars in the garage and our airplanes on the ground. Will the earth get the break it so desperately needs? Will our patterns of consumption change after spending perhaps months at home, away from stores? Will we think twice about commuting in the same way once our offices reopen? Will we have more flexibility to work from home?
But I also feel sorrow. So much sadness for those who have abruptly lost their jobs and been told to go home, their services no longer needed. Waiters and waitresses and bartenders and baristas and flight attendants and mechanics and retail workers and drivers.
Just like that. No warning. Overnight.
Millions are losing their jobs as shelters-in-place have shut business after business after business. I feel pain for my town of Napa, which thrives on tourism and welcoming others to our city. We have survived drought and fires and rolling blackouts. Now, our livelihood is being snuffed out by a virus that has not yet made itself known in our town.
And I feel so thankful that the Woo brought Jennifer Pastiloff into my life just 10 days ago. As I read her book, she is teaching me that it is possible to feel two things at once. That I can feel joy and sorrow about this virus. That I can be relieved and worried at what is happening. That this situation is good and bad. Life, Jennifer says, is not either/or.
Instead, I’m understanding that we are complicated beings, with complicated feelings, and the coronavirus is the most complicated event I’ve faced in my lifetime. To confront it, I will need to live in the and instead of the either/or.
This week did not start off on a high note. I’ve been having trouble writing. This Coronavirus situation is only getting worse (as I write this, it has just reached pandemic status). And even though I am doing my Kegels, my backache hasn’t disappeared. So I turned to Louise Hay’s Heal Your Body guide to see what she had to say about lower back pain:
Fear of Money. Lack of financial support.
Well, damn. Why does Louise have to be spot on?
Money is ALWAYS a trigger for me. It’s even more of a trigger now because I’m in a state of transition. I’ve cut back on my work so I can figure out my next step professionally, but I still judge myself by how much money I make. I know I will make less this year. My husband knows I will make less. But accepting that — instead of being extraordinarily grateful to the Universe that I can do that — has been super hard for me.
To top it off, I am failing at my attempts to practice non-striving. I cannot stop pushing myself to come up with a clear cut strategy for living my best life. Do I want to pursue writing? Do I want to get a meditation degree or certification? Do I want to look into yoga teacher training? I’ve been so distracted by this tug-of-war that I can’t write.
But this week, the Universe showed me it had my back.
Ever since I read Sheri Salata’s book, The Beautiful No, I’ve been listening to the Sheri + Nancy Show podcast. I feel like Sheri and Nancy have become my friends and a valuable source of support. (Ok, yes. That sounds a little creepy.)
But this week’s podcast blew me away. Sheri and Nancy interviewed author Jen Pastiloff. Before yesterday, I’d never heard of Jen. But as of today, she has changed my life.
As I learned about Jen’s life, it sounded amazing. She leads retreats for women all across the globe! She’s a yoga instructor! She’s written a best selling book!
And. She’s. Deaf.
BOOM!
My heart stopped when I heard that. My eyes filled with tears. I had to place a hand on my heart. I’ve been dealing with hearing loss for a decade, and I have let it stop me from living my dreams. In the past few years, I have slowly started to beat back my depression and regain a sense of self through therapy, meditation, the teachings of Abraham Hicks, the work of Dr. Joe Dispenza, and the support of my husband.
But hearing that Jen — this fabulous, accomplished, inspirational woman — was deaf felt life-changing. There are so many people I look up to in The Land of Woo. But I have yet to meet one who is deaf. You cannot be what you cannot see, and hearing Jen’s story allowed me to finally see myself living a dream life.
My path forward has become a bit more clear. I feel as if I have a soul sister supporting me in this Universe. Perhaps a whole tribe. Listening to that podcast, I felt genuinely complete — and that is something I haven’t felt in a very long time.
See, for the past four years, I’ve tried to minimize my exposure to the news to keep myself sane and my depression in check. What is happening politically in our country is distressing, and what is happening globally to our climate is devastating. Sometimes, it’s too much for my heart to hold.
But over the weekend, I broke this minimal-news pact. Knowing I needed to cast my ballot in my state’s presidential primary, I read one distressing political story after another distressing political story.
One of my coping techniques when I’m faced with overwhelm, as I was over the weekend, is mindfulness and meditation. But Monday morning, my mind was having none of it. Instead of sitting quietly and mindfully breathing in and out, panic over casting my ballot coursed through my body.
While delusion and not true, I felt the fate of the world rested on my vote.
In the way of The Woo, Renkl’s description of the despair she was feeling read as if she was reading my mind:
Paying attention to what is happening in Washington is a form of self-torment so reality altering that it should be regulated as a Schedule IV drug. I pay attention because that’s what responsible people do, but I sometimes wonder how much longer I can continue to follow the national news and not descend into a kind of despair that might as well be called madness. Already there are days when I’m one click away from becoming Lear on the heath, raging into the storm. There are days when it feels like the apocalypse is already here.
“Yes,” I wanted to shout as I read this passage, “So much yes to all of this!”
But Renkl didn’t wallow in despair. She offered the advice that my racing mind and jittery heart needed to hear:
Instead of giving up something for Lent, I’m planning to make a heartfelt offering. In times like these, it makes more sense to seek out daily causes for praise than daily reminders of lack. So here is my resolution: to find as many ordinary miracles as a waterlogged winter can put forth, as many resurrections as an eerily early springtime will allow. Tiny beautiful things are bursting forth in the darkest places, in the smallest nooks and deepest cracks of the hidden world, and I am going to keep looking every single day until I find one.
As I finished her article, I noticed my heart rate slowing, my panic subsiding. Instead of feeling frozen by overwhelm, I now have an action item that fits perfectly in The Land of Woo. I am dedicating myself to finding and acknowledging the ordinary miracles I experience every day — like the miracle of Renkl’s article landing in my Facebook feed at the exact moment I needed it.
The entire challenge is digital and pre-recorded. While Lissa will only send daily emails for 40 days, I’ll have access to the content well beyond that. So, I asked myself, why don’t I just do this challenge at my own pace? For some, this revelation might seem super obvious. But for me, it wasn’t. I’m so used to be a Rule Follower that I never feel comfortable bending the rules.
But to take this challenge seriously and spend adequate time with the content, I need more than 40 days. We’re covering a lot of content that I find really compelling, and I want to give it the time and attention it deserves.
My 40 Day Challenge will probably be more like an 80 Day Challenge, and I’m ok with that. This week, instead of moving to Step 2, I am re-dedicating myself to Step 1: Believing that healing is possible. Part of my homework is to come up with a mantra that reaffirms this belief. Lisa gave us this mantra as an example: “I am whole, healthy, and free of symptoms.”
And, as she told us, saying it once a day isn’t going to do it.
So I’m going to spend some time meditating on my mantra, hopefully landing on one that is uplifting, inspirational, and a joy to repeat many, many, many times a day.
I started to develop lower back pain in December — specifically on December 21 when my husband and I were trying to fly back East for Christmas. Instead of a smooth ride and one easy connection, we were hit with 10 hours of disastrous flight delays.
At some point during the day, as we were standing at yet another customer service desk, my lower back spasmed. It had never done that before, but I was suddenly super uncomfortable and had to bend over to get it to stop. The tightness of that spasm feels like it has never fully disappeared. For the past two months, I’ve had on-and-off lower back pain that seems to be triggered by sitting, standing, driving, and exercising. Pretty much, any type of movement can trigger it 🙂
To begin with, he explains that historically, humans ran long distances and carried heavy objects on their heads or backs. The only way this was sustainable was if humans had strong pelvic floor stability.
He goes on to explain:
While sitting at work, driving, watching TV, or eating at the kitchen table, pelvic muscles are required to do absolutely nothing. Over time, without use, they atrophy, resulting in pelvic and low back instability.
Pelvic floor strength is the foundation for the spine. If the foundation is weak, the spine above will not be stable and low back, mid-back, or neck pain may result. … Unless you regularly perform pelvic floor exercises or Kegels, you most likely have a weak and possibly unstable pelvic floor.
(bold emphasis is my own)
Basically, he’s saying my pelvic muscles have atrophied and could be a cause of my lower back pain.
But what I love about this article (beyond a potential solution for my back pain) is the connection he makes between Kegels and Ayurvedic pelvic floor exercises. He writes:
For both men and women, not only is the science behind pelvic floor exercises amazing, but Ayurveda actually described these techniques thousands of years ago. Two ancient techniques restore strength, health, and integrity to the pelvic floor: ashwini mudra andmula bandha.
(Bold emphasis is my own)
This is the description of ashwini mudra: rhythmic contraction of the anus in an effort to direct prana and kundalini energy up the spine into subtle energy channels called nadis. And this is the description of mula bandha: The practice is performed seated. After a full nasal inhalation, the breath is held while the anus is contracted for 1-2 seconds, performing 4-5 contractions before exhaling to complete one round.
This reminds me of a very intense breathing meditation I did, led by Dr. Joe Dispenza, that is designed to pull the mind out of the body and elicit brain strong positive emotions. During the meditation, Dr. Joe plays energetic music and instructs you to:
Contract your intrinsic muscles, your perineum, your lower abdomen, your upper abdomen, and as you contract those intrinsic muscles, I want you to inhale through your nose in one, slow, steady breath and pull your energy your perineum, your lower abdomen, your upper abdomen, through your chest, through your throat, through your head, all the way to the top and hold it at the top and let your energy move to your awareness and hold it there for a second. Hold it … and as you exhale now, relax.
And this is what I love about The Woo.
The deeper I go into The Woo, the more I find that it’s all connected. Different teachers use different words, but so many of these ideas are linked and interconnected. Today, we are using alternative methods that are thousands of years old to heal ourselves mentally and physically. Yes, modern medicine is amazing, but so is The Woo.
Sometimes, the tea just nails it, and today was one of those days.
I’ve been drinking a lot of tea this winter, and this was the message on my fourth tea bag of the day: Without realizing who you are, happiness cannot come to you.
This truism hits so close to home. I’m in a year a reinvention and re-imagination. Who am I really? What do I want really? What makes me happy really?
To answer those questions, I am trying to remove the “shoulds” from my life — I should have accomplished this, and I should look like that — and replace them with “I am.” Phrases such as “I am carving a new path, and that’s ok.” Or “I am on a far different journey than I ever would have imagined, and I’m happy with that.”
Or even, possibly one day, “I am whole and complete, and I am in love with that.”
Today, the tea was there to keep me honest and guide me on my path.
I’m a striver. Always have been. But I hope the words that follow that phrase aren’t … and I always will be. That is why today I needed to prove to my striving mind that non-striving is ok, and sometimes even better than striving.
Yountville, Ca. Photo Credit: Me!
When I woke up, my to-do list for today looked something like this:
The kicker? It’s President’s Day! The real kicker? It’s 75 and sunny in Napa Valley, it’s February, and my husband and I both have the day off! So why am I wedded to my to-do list? What would really happen if I ignored it and only did what I wanted, allowing my non-striving mind to take charge? Well, I did just that. I put my non-striving mind in charge.
Here is what my non-striving day looked like:
Meditated for 45 minutes
Day dreamed for 10 minutes
Got in the car with the husband
Drove to our favorite little Napa Valley town
Had a leisurely lunch of Spanish tapas and paella
Went for a walk along our favorite streets
Stopped to take pictures
Said “I am lucky” so many times
Held my husband’s hand and laughed with him
The thing is, by the time we got back from eating and strolling around and taking in the sun, the day was barely over. I hadn’t wasted the day. Instead, I felt amazing. I felt serene and relaxed and so blessed to have enjoyed a spring day in the midst of winter. My husband and I were still able to do our grocery shopping. I still called my parents. And now I’m off to exercise.
The bottom line: My non-striving mind was far more productive than my striving mind, and it took better care of me. I had time for all the really important things — meditating, spending time with my husband, calling my parents, and enjoying the sunshine. Everything else on the to-do list? Maybe I’ll finish it all tomorrow. Either way, my striving self is just going to have to learn how to be ok with that.
