1. Truth: There’s lots to worry about, if we choose to worry. 80 million people’s personal information was recently compromised during a hack of health provider Anthem’s system, putting people at risk for identity theft, with the potential for loss of privacy, security, and money. Just about everything we eat or touch has been reportedly linked to cancer. Ebola and terrorism are real. Everyone we love will eventually get sick and die. If we want to worry, we don’t have to look for reasons. Being alive is risky, and we are vulnerable. There is no moment in our life that isn’t ripe with the potential for something bad to happen, for something to go horribly wrong. We aren’t in control, and we are never really safe. This is the human experience. “To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest,” (Pema Chödrön).

2. Truth: We don’t have to freak out when difficult situations occur. When the shit hits the fan, when strong feelings arise, we can make a choice about how to react. We don’t have to crumble in the face of adversity. We don’t need to resist every opportunity that involves obstacles. We don’t need to become trapped by our fear, imprisoned by our struggles. We can work to prepare for the worst, but it doesn’t mean we must live in dread, or panic when the worst does come. When we know a snow storm is on its way, we can get milk and bread, make sure we are dressed warmly and have a snow shovel, help who we can help, and then relax while we wait, meet whatever comes with wisdom and equanimity. Do what you can and then let go.

3. Truth: Life is beautiful and brutal, tender and terrible — keep your heart open. There’s a story Pema Chödrön shares in her book The Wisdom of No Escape: How to Love Yourself and Your World that explains this dilemma so well. She says,

There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.

One Wish: (okay, it’s more than one). May we meet difficulty with wisdom and equanimity. May we help when and where we can. May we taste the strawberry, savor it. May we “appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”

It says “feast” but I like how the script almost makes it look like “beast.”

Healing the self means committing ourselves to a wholehearted willingness to be what and how we are — beings frail and fragile, strong and passionate, neurotic and balanced, diseased and whole, partial and complete, stingy and generous, twisted and straight, storm-tossed and quiescent, bound and free. ~Paula Gunn Allen

1. Truth: Change always begins with awareness. When something clearly isn’t working, no longer serves me (if it ever did), I am faced with “how do I chance this pattern, this habitual way of being?” At first, all I need to do is notice how things are. I sit back, relax, and observe without any judgement or agenda. I watch what arises, notice how I react, see how things really are. I don’t do anything to intervene, don’t need to interrupt or redirect. I am simply a curious witness. All I have to do is slow down and see.

The most fundamental aggression to ourselves, the most fundamental harm we can do to ourselves, is to remain ignorant by not having the courage and the respect to look at ourselves honestly and gently.  ~Pema Chödrön

2. Truth: This initial observation is helped by a sense of curiosity and humor, a quality of gentleness. If I notice things I don’t like, I don’t spend any energy assigning blame. I don’t disagree or beat myself up. If I notice things I like, I don’t cling to them. If I’m confused, I don’t get upset or give up. I continually remind myself that my goal is to see the situation as it is. i don’t need to do anything about it.

Self-compassion is approaching ourselves, our inner experience with spaciousness, with the quality of allowing which has a quality of gentleness. Instead of our usual tendency to want to get over something, to fix it, to make it go away, the path of compassion is totally different. Compassion allows. ~Robert Gonzales

3. Truth: Long before I embody change, I practice pausing. There’s no shortcut for me from awareness to change, but rather I find myself noticing and then pausing. After the pause, I might act out exactly as I always have. On the surface it may seem like nothing has changed, and yet something fundamental has shifted. I can see what is happening. I notice and pause. Even if I act out in a habitual way, I don’t beat myself up about it. I know if I keep practicing, I may one day rest in the pause, and even later still I might make a different choice, embody real change.

We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy. ~Pema Chödrön

One wish: May we let ourselves off the hook, forgive ourselves. May we stop smashing ourselves to bits. May we be gentle. May we slow down and notice — all the ways we are suffering and all the ways we are brilliant. May we allow room for all of it: grief, relief, misery, and joy.