Sunday, January 17, 2010
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Freedom to Choose
I travelled to Eastern Europe in September of 2005 as part of a Global Volunteer Program, and spent two weeks holding and caring for babies at a Romanian orphanage. I was placed in charge of eight infants, newborn through nine months of age. In service to the babies, I maintained a state of joyous gratitude for eight hours a day over a two-week period, regardless of whether I was changing a diaper, feeding, or playing. It was heavenly.
After returning home to the U.S., however, I found myself in a deep depression. Without the babies, I no longer experienced life as a series of joyous, grateful, purposeful moments. I thought perhaps I needed to return to Romania in order to recapture the experience. I decided, instead, to attend the M.A. Program in Spiritual Psychology at the University of Santa Monica (USM).
During the second year of the M.A. Program, while writing my book,Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead, I effortlessly experienced the same joyous gratitude and dedication to the task at hand. I was in an inspired state for hours on end, day in and day out for almost a year as I wrote the book. It was heavenly.
When the book was complete, however, I found myself in a deep depression. Without the book, I no longer experienced my days as a series of joyous, grateful, purposeful moments. I thought perhaps I needed to write another book in order to recapture the experience. I decided, instead, to volunteer on USM’s Prison Project Team and assist in delivering the Freedom to Choose Workshop to women inmates at Valley State Prison for Women (VSPW), one of the largest maximum-security prisons in the world.(Watch a 22-minute Cannes Film Festival award-winning documentary about the Prison Project)
During my participation in Prison Projects 10 and 11, devoted to being of service to the women inmates, I once again experienced this intense state of joyous gratitude as a moment-by-moment purposeful way of being.It was heavenly. Each time the program ended, however, I experienced a sense of loss and some depression.
I stated my intention for Prison Project 12 as, “Thy will be done.” It was during this third experience that a profound inner transformation occurred without any effort on my part. It was only because I didn't experience loss or depression when the program ended that I stopped to reflect on what had shifted.
I realized that an unconscious judgment had gracefully fallen away. It was the judgment that any one moment is more important than another. As I reflected further, it dawned on me that only by holding this judgment could I have rushed through some moments in order to get to others. I made moments I judged as “important,"more deserving of my full attention, devotion and gratitude than moments I judged as "unimportant." I was amazed with how many moments I had allowed to go by without embracing them in gratitude: driving to an "important" destination,or eating food so I could get on with the more "important" business at hand . . .
Since adopting the belief that every moment is as important as another, time is no longer flying by. Each moment is worthy of my authentic presence and full appreciation. My pace is slow and deliberate. I haven't found the need to rush here or there. I am here, now, in this moment, feeling the tips of my fingers on the keyboard, feeling the breath of life as it moves through my body, feeling my tush connecting with the chair . . . and joyous gratitude permeates it all. It's a walking meditation. I challenge myself to bring forward, in each moment, the essence of who I am: love, acceptance, joy, compassion, gratitude, peace, and wisdom, whether I am coaching a client, driving the car, speaking to a group, or making my bed. I am no longer in service to babies, books, or women inmates. I am in service to Life, now . . . now . . . now . . . with whomever or whatever is present. It’s an awesome way to live. I no longer have to wait for the right circumstance to experience intense dedication in service to the moment. I now bring my intense dedication to each moment.
This is what I’ve learned from the Prison Project. What a gift. What a blessing. What freedom. I guess that’s why it’s called the "Freedom to Choose" Workshop! My choice in each moment has never been clearer.
I am using three tools in service to experiencing this state of being.
First and foremost, I am practicing compassionate self-forgiveness and releasing judgments—the source of all unnecessary suffering—as they surface. I learned this process at USM and it’s an integral part of how I live and what I teach as a self-acceptance coach. This process happens so quickly now that I simply notice the judgment and it almost effortlessly dissolves. I suppose it’s because I’m no longer vested in being right . . . about anything.
Second, I am present—in an ongoing way—to Victor Frankl’s wisdom that we are all free to choose our response in any given moment. This is the ultimate freedom. One of my favorite quotes comes from Victor Frankl, a Jewish psychiatrist who chronicles his experiences as a concentration camp inmate in his best-selling book. Man's Search for Meaning, in which he describes how he found meaning and a reason for living in the most challenging of circumstances: "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."
Third, I am practicing a breathing technique when I start to go out of balance. I call it “smiling breath.” I smile. Then I breathe in through my nose as I allow my belly to fully expand. As I breathe out through my still-smiling, pursed lips, I pull my diaphragm in. I can’t help but feel good as I smile and breathe.
As an example, I was shopping at Marshall’s the other day. I walked to the checkout line to pay for two items. To my dismay, there were at least fifteen people ahead of me, and only two cashiers. I observed myself place a judgment (“Oh, ____! This is going to take forever!”), and begin to move into irritation and frustration. I immediately stopped and released the judgment. I realized that I had the freedom to choose my response. I smiled and began to breathe. Three more cashiers were added before I’d completed the second breath. I was out of the store in less than five minutes. When I got home and was filing the receipt, I noticed that the cashier had only charged me for one of the two items. Spirit is The Master Choreographer, loving and beneficent, with a delightful sense of humor. Oh, and did I mention how loving and beneficent this universe is?
Irene Kendig, M.A., is a speaker, self-acceptance coach and author of Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead. Sign up for a free 30-minute self-acceptance coaching session with Irene.
Read more: http://ping.fm/Q3Ua8
After returning home to the U.S., however, I found myself in a deep depression. Without the babies, I no longer experienced life as a series of joyous, grateful, purposeful moments. I thought perhaps I needed to return to Romania in order to recapture the experience. I decided, instead, to attend the M.A. Program in Spiritual Psychology at the University of Santa Monica (USM).
During the second year of the M.A. Program, while writing my book,Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead, I effortlessly experienced the same joyous gratitude and dedication to the task at hand. I was in an inspired state for hours on end, day in and day out for almost a year as I wrote the book. It was heavenly.
When the book was complete, however, I found myself in a deep depression. Without the book, I no longer experienced my days as a series of joyous, grateful, purposeful moments. I thought perhaps I needed to write another book in order to recapture the experience. I decided, instead, to volunteer on USM’s Prison Project Team and assist in delivering the Freedom to Choose Workshop to women inmates at Valley State Prison for Women (VSPW), one of the largest maximum-security prisons in the world.(Watch a 22-minute Cannes Film Festival award-winning documentary about the Prison Project)
During my participation in Prison Projects 10 and 11, devoted to being of service to the women inmates, I once again experienced this intense state of joyous gratitude as a moment-by-moment purposeful way of being.It was heavenly. Each time the program ended, however, I experienced a sense of loss and some depression.
I stated my intention for Prison Project 12 as, “Thy will be done.” It was during this third experience that a profound inner transformation occurred without any effort on my part. It was only because I didn't experience loss or depression when the program ended that I stopped to reflect on what had shifted.
I realized that an unconscious judgment had gracefully fallen away. It was the judgment that any one moment is more important than another. As I reflected further, it dawned on me that only by holding this judgment could I have rushed through some moments in order to get to others. I made moments I judged as “important,"more deserving of my full attention, devotion and gratitude than moments I judged as "unimportant." I was amazed with how many moments I had allowed to go by without embracing them in gratitude: driving to an "important" destination,or eating food so I could get on with the more "important" business at hand . . .
Since adopting the belief that every moment is as important as another, time is no longer flying by. Each moment is worthy of my authentic presence and full appreciation. My pace is slow and deliberate. I haven't found the need to rush here or there. I am here, now, in this moment, feeling the tips of my fingers on the keyboard, feeling the breath of life as it moves through my body, feeling my tush connecting with the chair . . . and joyous gratitude permeates it all. It's a walking meditation. I challenge myself to bring forward, in each moment, the essence of who I am: love, acceptance, joy, compassion, gratitude, peace, and wisdom, whether I am coaching a client, driving the car, speaking to a group, or making my bed. I am no longer in service to babies, books, or women inmates. I am in service to Life, now . . . now . . . now . . . with whomever or whatever is present. It’s an awesome way to live. I no longer have to wait for the right circumstance to experience intense dedication in service to the moment. I now bring my intense dedication to each moment.
This is what I’ve learned from the Prison Project. What a gift. What a blessing. What freedom. I guess that’s why it’s called the "Freedom to Choose" Workshop! My choice in each moment has never been clearer.
I am using three tools in service to experiencing this state of being.
First and foremost, I am practicing compassionate self-forgiveness and releasing judgments—the source of all unnecessary suffering—as they surface. I learned this process at USM and it’s an integral part of how I live and what I teach as a self-acceptance coach. This process happens so quickly now that I simply notice the judgment and it almost effortlessly dissolves. I suppose it’s because I’m no longer vested in being right . . . about anything.
Second, I am present—in an ongoing way—to Victor Frankl’s wisdom that we are all free to choose our response in any given moment. This is the ultimate freedom. One of my favorite quotes comes from Victor Frankl, a Jewish psychiatrist who chronicles his experiences as a concentration camp inmate in his best-selling book. Man's Search for Meaning, in which he describes how he found meaning and a reason for living in the most challenging of circumstances: "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."
Third, I am practicing a breathing technique when I start to go out of balance. I call it “smiling breath.” I smile. Then I breathe in through my nose as I allow my belly to fully expand. As I breathe out through my still-smiling, pursed lips, I pull my diaphragm in. I can’t help but feel good as I smile and breathe.
As an example, I was shopping at Marshall’s the other day. I walked to the checkout line to pay for two items. To my dismay, there were at least fifteen people ahead of me, and only two cashiers. I observed myself place a judgment (“Oh, ____! This is going to take forever!”), and begin to move into irritation and frustration. I immediately stopped and released the judgment. I realized that I had the freedom to choose my response. I smiled and began to breathe. Three more cashiers were added before I’d completed the second breath. I was out of the store in less than five minutes. When I got home and was filing the receipt, I noticed that the cashier had only charged me for one of the two items. Spirit is The Master Choreographer, loving and beneficent, with a delightful sense of humor. Oh, and did I mention how loving and beneficent this universe is?
Irene Kendig, M.A., is a speaker, self-acceptance coach and author of Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead. Sign up for a free 30-minute self-acceptance coaching session with Irene.
Read more: http://ping.fm/Q3Ua8
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The #1 Assumption Underlying Regret
No matter what you regret, identify this assumption and set yourself free.
I was talking with a man recently who’d been caring for his dying father.
"I left him to take care of some personal business,” he said. "I knew I shouldn’t have gone because something inside told me not to go. But I didn’t listen. My father died while I was gone."
Regret. The word originates from Old French, regreter, ‘bewail (the dead),' feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over something that has happened or been done, esp. a loss or missed opportunity
"If only I’d been a better sister, brother, wife, husband, mother, father, daughter, son, or friend. . ."
"If only I’d said a, b or c."
"If only I hadn’t said a, b or c."
"If only I’d done x, y or z."
"If only I hadn’t done x, y or z."
Get the picture?
Take a moment to think about something you regret, something you didn't do that you think you should have. Choose something meaningful, something with substance. Get a clear image or sense of it. Now tune in to your thoughts. What do you tell yourself about it? Say it out loud. Don't read on until you've said it out loud, because I want to point something out. Okay, now please tune into your feelings: How do your thoughts make you feel?
As you thought about the regret, did you notice that your mind automatically assumed things would have turned out better if you'd done whatever it was you didn't do?
We assume an untruth when we're in the throes of regret. We assume that what we regret—the thing we should have done but didn't—would have turned out better than the actual outcome. But how can we possibly know with certainty? We can’t.
Next time you catch yourself in regret, remember that you’re making a huge assumption. Truth be told, you don’t know how things would have turned out. Our minds, however, tend to idealize what isn’t in lieu of what is. "If only . . . " is the accompanying refrain.
Here are some conscious assumptions/affirmations that I make that you may find helpful as well:
- Life is occurring in divine order regardless of my judgments about it: facilitates me in owning and releasing my judgments so that I can embrace what is.
- I'm 100% responsible for my own experience: provides me with the power to cease blaming and change.
- Every event provides an opportunity to grow spiritually: facilitates me in looking for and discovering value and growth in the most challenging of circumstances.
Our feelings are generated by our thoughts and our thoughts are generated by our beliefs. If you want to feel differently, you have to think differently and in order to think differently you have to challenge and change your beliefs.
Releasing what no longer serves you—assumptions, limiting beliefs, conditioned patterns, misinterpretations and judgments—allows you to grow spiritually. And guess what? When you change within, life has a way of showing up differently. Outer experience is a reflection of inner reality.
Now, I'm not advocating that you shouldn't grieve when a loved one transitions. If you're present to sadness, give yourself permission to cry all of your tears. But living with regret is unnecessary suffering.
I began this article by sharing about a man who’d been caring for his dying father.
"I left him to take care of some personal business,” he said. "I knew I shouldn’t have gone because something inside told me not to go. But I didn’t listen. My father died while I was gone."
I could hear the regret and guilt in the way his voice lowered and trailed off. Can you see how regret was showing up in the way I just described? In his mind things would have turned out better if he'd been there when his father transitioned. In his mind that's how it should have happened. But, I ask you: how can we possibly know that with certainty?
"It was wrong of me to have left. I should have been there for him."
“Let's take this out of the arena of right/wrong," I said. "From a spiritual perspective, we can't judge it because we don't know. What if, on some level—and for the highest good of all concerned—you and your dad agreed that his passing would play out this way? What might your soul want you to learn from the experience?”
He paused. “I guess my soul would want me to learn to listen to myself.”
“What a beautiful gift your father’s given you. Would you be willing to accept it, receive it and be thankful for it? If I were a gambling person, I'd bet that’s what he'd want for you.”
“But he died alone.”
“I have a friend who was by herself when she transitioned. She told me, through a medium, that it was precisely the way she wanted it. She didn't want to share the experience with anyone in physical form. Would you be willing to consider the possibility that it’s how your father may have wanted it, too?”
“That never occurred to me.”
"And although we all make the transition from physical to spiritual on our own, are we ever really alone? I don't think so."
The session continued a bit longer, but can you feel the energy start to free up?
The next time you find yourself deep in regret, remember to question your assumptions. No matter what you've done . . . or haven't . . . you are lovable, worthy . . . and all is well.
Copyright © 2009 by Irene Kendig, Speaker, Workshop Facilitator, Self-Acceptance Coach and Author, Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead: Seven compelling dialogues that will transform the way you think about dying . . . and living
http://www.irenekendig.com
I was talking with a man recently who’d been caring for his dying father.
"I left him to take care of some personal business,” he said. "I knew I shouldn’t have gone because something inside told me not to go. But I didn’t listen. My father died while I was gone."
Regret. The word originates from Old French, regreter, ‘bewail (the dead),' feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over something that has happened or been done, esp. a loss or missed opportunity
"If only I’d been a better sister, brother, wife, husband, mother, father, daughter, son, or friend. . ."
"If only I’d said a, b or c."
"If only I hadn’t said a, b or c."
"If only I’d done x, y or z."
"If only I hadn’t done x, y or z."
Get the picture?
Take a moment to think about something you regret, something you didn't do that you think you should have. Choose something meaningful, something with substance. Get a clear image or sense of it. Now tune in to your thoughts. What do you tell yourself about it? Say it out loud. Don't read on until you've said it out loud, because I want to point something out. Okay, now please tune into your feelings: How do your thoughts make you feel?
As you thought about the regret, did you notice that your mind automatically assumed things would have turned out better if you'd done whatever it was you didn't do?
We assume an untruth when we're in the throes of regret. We assume that what we regret—the thing we should have done but didn't—would have turned out better than the actual outcome. But how can we possibly know with certainty? We can’t.
Next time you catch yourself in regret, remember that you’re making a huge assumption. Truth be told, you don’t know how things would have turned out. Our minds, however, tend to idealize what isn’t in lieu of what is. "If only . . . " is the accompanying refrain.
Here are some conscious assumptions/affirmations that I make that you may find helpful as well:
- Life is occurring in divine order regardless of my judgments about it: facilitates me in owning and releasing my judgments so that I can embrace what is.
- I'm 100% responsible for my own experience: provides me with the power to cease blaming and change.
- Every event provides an opportunity to grow spiritually: facilitates me in looking for and discovering value and growth in the most challenging of circumstances.
Our feelings are generated by our thoughts and our thoughts are generated by our beliefs. If you want to feel differently, you have to think differently and in order to think differently you have to challenge and change your beliefs.
Releasing what no longer serves you—assumptions, limiting beliefs, conditioned patterns, misinterpretations and judgments—allows you to grow spiritually. And guess what? When you change within, life has a way of showing up differently. Outer experience is a reflection of inner reality.
Now, I'm not advocating that you shouldn't grieve when a loved one transitions. If you're present to sadness, give yourself permission to cry all of your tears. But living with regret is unnecessary suffering.
I began this article by sharing about a man who’d been caring for his dying father.
"I left him to take care of some personal business,” he said. "I knew I shouldn’t have gone because something inside told me not to go. But I didn’t listen. My father died while I was gone."
I could hear the regret and guilt in the way his voice lowered and trailed off. Can you see how regret was showing up in the way I just described? In his mind things would have turned out better if he'd been there when his father transitioned. In his mind that's how it should have happened. But, I ask you: how can we possibly know that with certainty?
"It was wrong of me to have left. I should have been there for him."
“Let's take this out of the arena of right/wrong," I said. "From a spiritual perspective, we can't judge it because we don't know. What if, on some level—and for the highest good of all concerned—you and your dad agreed that his passing would play out this way? What might your soul want you to learn from the experience?”
He paused. “I guess my soul would want me to learn to listen to myself.”
“What a beautiful gift your father’s given you. Would you be willing to accept it, receive it and be thankful for it? If I were a gambling person, I'd bet that’s what he'd want for you.”
“But he died alone.”
“I have a friend who was by herself when she transitioned. She told me, through a medium, that it was precisely the way she wanted it. She didn't want to share the experience with anyone in physical form. Would you be willing to consider the possibility that it’s how your father may have wanted it, too?”
“That never occurred to me.”
"And although we all make the transition from physical to spiritual on our own, are we ever really alone? I don't think so."
The session continued a bit longer, but can you feel the energy start to free up?
The next time you find yourself deep in regret, remember to question your assumptions. No matter what you've done . . . or haven't . . . you are lovable, worthy . . . and all is well.
Copyright © 2009 by Irene Kendig, Speaker, Workshop Facilitator, Self-Acceptance Coach and Author, Conversations with Jerry and Other People I Thought Were Dead: Seven compelling dialogues that will transform the way you think about dying . . . and living
http://www.irenekendig.com
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