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A Skeptic’s Path to Prayer 480 640 Thayer Fox

A Skeptic’s Path to Prayer

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.” Abraham Lincoln

It’s easy to depend on intellect and experience when everything is going well, but when hard times arrive, the self cannot bear the weight of our pain. Pain gifts us the willingness to reach out to a greater force in the universe. Prayer is an invitation to this force to enter our lives. You may assume that a steadfast belief in God or some higher being is a prerequisite to begin a prayer practice, and this is not true. The more I pray, the more my faith grows.

Something about the word prayer has always bothered me. It sounds submissive and sanctimonious. Many of us affiliate prayer with a rigid religious practice. The prayers at the Episcopal Church I attended every Sunday were dreary, and I was forced to kneel. In one of them, we apologized to God for our sins repeatedly. It made no sense to me because as far as I was concerned, he should be asking for my forgiveness, abandoning me in this mess of a life. No one explained God either. In illustrations, he was an old man who did not look friendly. And where exactly was he? And why did he care about me? Like the Santa Claus story, it didn’t add up.

My puppy Glennie died suddenly when I was eleven. Devastated, I cried and yelled at my bedroom ceiling. I made a decision then to abandon any possibility of God. Why would I continue to seek a God who kills a little girl’s puppy? As I became more aware of the suffering in the world around me, the atheist philosophy of Nietzsche and Sartre felt more accurate than anything I heard in church. Cynical and resigned, I steered my own ship until I smashed it to pieces and staying alive required me to lean on a group of strangers in church basements.

Finding a Higher Power is part of 12 Step Programs. The AA literature makes it easy for obstinant cases like me by offering options that replace a religious God. Early on, I heard a man say that if you think you’re the most powerful force in the universe go stand near the ocean and tell the waves to stop. I also realized that I’d been praying for a long time without labeling it. “Foxhole prayer” is the name people in AA called my frantic last-ditch pleas to nothing in particular.

Sober and stable, I built the life I thought I wanted. After a few years, I got too busy managing it to keep up the simple practices that saved me. I didn’t know how far I’d drifted from a spiritual path until after I had another awakening last year that reignited my faith in God. Afterward, I started craving meditation. No longer just an item on my to-do list, meditation became a sacred time in my day when I could detach from my thoughts and the buzzing world around me. But something was not transferring into the 12-hour blocks between sits, and I longed for more.

In January, a new friend came into my life who talked casually about prayer. It cringed at first but eventually became curious. My new friend is humble, and the way he speaks about prayer is enticing. He suggested I read a few essays in Power Through Constructive Thinking by Emmet Fox. After doing this, I was excited to experiment.

Emmet Fox was part of the New Thought Movement which developed in the United States in the 19thcentury. New Thought holds that “Infinite intelligence or God is everywhere, spirit is the totality of things, true human selfhood is divine, divine thought is a force for good, sickness originates in the mind, and “right thinking” has a healing effect.” PTCT was first published in 1932. Emmet Fox writes a lot about the importance of “scientific prayer”, which simply means a routine practice. Scientific prayer is not “The Secret”. Praying regularly does not rig the system so I get my way all the time. Over the past few months, many things have not aligned with my will, but because my faith is expanding, I know that whatever shows up is part of my curriculum.

My initial reaction to not getting my way hasn’t changed. I panic, get angry, blame, feel hurt, etc. I live in a body with a nervous system, so my physical response must run its course when I’m triggered. But now, I experience acceptance within an hour or two of being rattled. Letting go of anything that doesn’t serve my serenity is instinctual. The desire to be right or force an outcome has dissipated. There are fewer “problems”, more lessons. Navigating my day is easier and I feel pretty peaceful most of the time.

It took a while to re-wire myself, stop figuring things out and shopping around for advice. Answers formed by my intellect are biased and convincing. Logic never asks me to step outside a comfort zone or place someone before myself unless there’s something in it for me. The insight I receive from prayer is subtle but clear if I stay tuned in. Meditation is an important partner because it keeps the space open. Answers arrive in the form of a hunch, a person, an email, a phone call, a tug in my heart.

The good news is that you don’t need to define what you believe in, you can pray and be skeptical simultaneously. Skepticism is healthy and different from cynicism. A skeptic does research looking for evidence, a cynic rejects before investigation. Scientific prayer will grow whatever seed of willingness you can muster to get started. The power is undeniable if you take it on wholeheartedly.

All I need to pray is a few minutes alone. I pray before difficult conversations or meetings. I pray when I am nursing a stubborn emotional disturbance. I pray to express gratitude for my life as I walk to an appointment. I pray for people who are in pain. There is no right or wrong way to pray. Prayer connects me with the boundless wisdom that exists in my consciousness and all around me.

When I am murky or blocked, I wait to make decisions or run answers received through prayer by a trusted advisor. My will occasionally dresses up as divine guidance when I am physically off kilter. Exercise, sleep, diet, who I spend my time with are essential because it’s easier to hitch my wagon to historical perceptions and feelings when I am not taking care of myself. Regret waits for me in the past and fear in the future, so staying present matters. Once I realized that truth is only available right NOW, it became desirable to stay where my feet are.

“Prayer does change things. Prayer does make things happen quite otherwise than they would have happened had the prayer not been made. It makes no difference at all what sort of difficulty you may be in. It does not matter what the causes may have been that led up to it. Enough prayer will get you out of difficulty if only you will be persistent enough in your appeal to God.” Emmet Fox

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ceiling of the Pantheon in Rome
The Everlasting Solution to All Our Troubles 640 480 Thayer Fox

The Everlasting Solution to All Our Troubles

Mid-life, there is no place left to hide. The panic that follows this realization is such a common phenomenon in our society that we’ve named it. Over the years, I’ve witnessed and supported friends in the grips of a “mid-life crisis”. Buried beneath their unlived lives, excavation is an overwhelming prospect. Change comes at a cost. They delve deeper into their vice of choice. More wine, more bread, more plans or more stuff. Anything to stay numb, they “re-arrange deck chairs on the Titanic”.  A few are hopeful that a new romance or job could fix their internal dilemma. They seek the aid of therapists, playing a weekly game of whack-a-mole. Some are flat out depressed and find relief in medication which doesn’t seem to last for long.

And now, it’s my turn.

This month I turn forty-five. I’m restless and swarming with questions. I feel guilty that I’m not grateful for my blessed life. I fantasize about buying a one-way ticket somewhere far away and warm where I can shed my identity. Wondering how I ended up a statistic in the status quo with all the work I’ve done, my default mode is to shake the world for answers. I know that happiness is an inside job and yet I still grasp at worldly structures and conclusions until I get into enough pain and become willing to try another way.

This week, a quote I love, penetrated my self-centered turmoil.

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

When I first heard this Pierre Teilhard de Chardin quote years ago, I assumed that I was already living in the second sentence.  Having had a handful of spiritual experiences, I considered myself a transformed being. What I have come to understand is that yesterday’s awakenings did not turn me into a spiritual being once and for all. I wish it worked like that and it does not. The gravity in the world around me is powerful. I am continuously pulled by longing and disturbance. Staying connected to my spiritual nature takes a Herculean commitment. I must tend to my spirit like the keeper of a sacred fire. My most important job every day is to stoke the flames. I do this by engaging in practices like meditation, prayer and seeking support in spiritual communities.

If cultivating a spiritual life sounds like work, it is. No different than going to the gym or taking a class or anything else that yields results with consistent effort.  So why bother?  Why add one more thing to your busy day that doesn’t directly correlate with advancement in work or personal relationships? Because everything falls into place when I nurture my spirit. It’s a relief when I connect with an energy greater than my identity. Running the show is overrated and exhausting. My way never lasts for long. I must continue to row the boat of my life, but relinquishing the navigation to the higher intelligence found in my deepest consciousness ensures that I will end up where I am meant to be.

I celebrated fifteen years without alcohol on January 2nd. Friends and family outside my sober network associate my achievement with extreme discipline. It’s awkward to explain in passing that I can’t take credit for my course change that included giving up alcohol and other substances that were blocking me from deeper communion with spirit. I don’t drink today not because I fear alcohol but because I know that alcohol is a false idol. It could never provide me a shred of the contentment I have found in my sober, spiritual life.

When I’m living as a spiritual being, I feel unconditionally loved. This is a miracle for a little girl who believed she was broken and unlovable. No human relationship can make me feel loved for long. We cycle through relationships our entire lives blaming people when we don’t feel loved enough. We have an expectation that family, friends, and spouses should offer us endless love and support. This can be true for the luckiest among us, but human love never quiets the patient whisper that tells us every time we fall that we will never be enough. When I take care of my spirit, I am at peace, whole, complete, exactly where I longed to be my entire life.

And when I slide back into unconsciousness and treat the world around me like that’s all there is, I become afraid. Afraid of not getting my way, afraid of getting older, afraid that I will enter my grave with the song still in me and afraid of death. Death is the mother of all fears. Studying Buddhism this Fall while simultaneously expanding my meditation practice eased this primal dread. The truth of our existence is that each of us will die. Everyone we know will die too. It’s not tragic, it’s the promise of our humanity. When I am planted in my spirit, I see that death is just part of a cycle and life is everlasting.

As we evolve into smarter rats, we believe that we have more control over our lives and the world around us than ever. Control is an illusion. Our choices obsess us, they become our masters. We are worn out by the endless decisions required of us to navigate mundane life. Choices perpetuate the illusion that we are running the show.

There is a reason monks live in monasteries on mountaintops wearing the same robes every day and eating what is offered to them by villagers nearby. I only understood this after staying in a monastery Labor Day weekend for a silent meditation retreat. Simplicity is a pathway to spirit. As is silence. The shiny bells and whistles of the modern world distract us. If I do not carve out time to be alone, I lose my way easily. Pain, my loyal guide, nudges me back on track when I stray too far away from a spiritual solution. Few among us come to spiritual practice naturally. The majority of us find our way after surviving through the dark night of the soul. We roll our eyes at the concept of God until we lose a loved one, get sick, have our heart broken or our house burns to the ground. Only then do we turn to prayer.

For those of you that associate prayer with religious doctrine, I invite you to suspend your belief that religion is the opiate of the masses. That’s too easy an out. Try it on that different religious institutions are spiritual support systems all in service of the same force. When I “take the good and leave the rest” in spiritual practice and my entire life, I am surprised by what I receive.

My favorite line in the Big Book of AA is, “God could and would if he were sought.” This has always been true for me over the past fifteen years. Please don’t take my word for it, if you are in pain, go seek for yourself.  And if you are not ready yet, your time will come. And it’s never too late.

 

Four books I recommend reading if you are interested in developing a spiritual practice:

Buddhism Plain & Simple by Steve Hagen

The Sermon on the Mount by Emmet Fox

The Wise Heart by Jack Kornfield

Anam Cara by John O’Donohue

 

 

 

 

photo by David Hofmann
Dharma: Bringing Forth What Is Within You 767 1024 Thayer Fox

Dharma: Bringing Forth What Is Within You

What is it that you can’t stop being? I’m not referring to your job, your to-do list or your identity as a parent or partner. What are you unconsciously doing or being as you go through your daily routine? What grabs your attention? When do you feel clear and charged like you downed an espresso? These clues will help reveal your Dharma.

Dharma is a central concept in Hinduism and Buddhism that does not have one translation. “The path” is the most accurate nutshell definition. The implication of dharma is that each person has a right way of living for them. Once you inhabit your true nature and align your life with a path of expression, the journey towards enlightenment begins. Don’t tune out because the word enlightenment feels too lofty, enlightenment in Buddhism just means awake. When we engage in our dharma, our heart awakens, transforming our experience of the world around us.

Years ago, after reading Stephen Cope’s, The Great Work of Your Life, I set an intention to notice what I couldn’t stop being every day. Stephen said to look closely at your childhood. What did you love doing? What characteristics stood out in your personality?

As a child, I loved reading and writing poetry. Under the covers with a flashlight, I whispered the poems of Yeats and Arnold late into the night. In 5thgrade my English teacher noticed my passion and asked me to stay after class. We started meeting regularly, and I shared my journals with her. The memory is vivid because it was my first experience of feeling seen by another person. Observing the “Buddha nature” in someone and reflecting it back to them is an act of love that can change a life.

Writing is now an expression of my dharma, but my dharma is not necessarily to be a writer. What drew me to poetry were the emotions that the writers boldly displayed. The courage in their vulnerability gave me access to my shut down heart. Something inside me desired to be brave and open too.

The next time I noticed a glimpse of a path was at a soup kitchen with my mother. I was twelve years old, so it was suggested that I stay in the kitchen and make cheese sandwiches. As soon as things got busy, I snuck into the dining hall and chatted with the men and women seated there. Moved by their rawness and transparency, something dormant inside me was activated.

Assuming that being of service or a volunteer is part of my dharma is too basic a translation of the soup kitchen memory. Making a difference for the men and women at the soup kitchen did flood me with light, but it was who they were that made that possible. The same as the poets. What reached out and grabbed me in both circumstances was the purity in the communication. It’s the same reason I love attending AA meetings fifteen years later. Alcohol hasn’t been an issue since my first year of sobriety, but I can’t get enough of the brave people there who share from their hearts. I feel blessed to be an alcoholic, so I have access to those church basements.

As a parent, understanding dharma is essential. My greatest responsibility is to notice what my children can’t stop being. Burying them in my dharma would eventually cause them grave pain. My daughter sings as she brushes her teeth in the morning and as she reads in bed at night. My son uses two boxes of aluminum foil to build a robot at 6:00am. It’s not my job to interpret what any of this means, but I can keep exposing them to opportunities that may reveal the next step in their journey. I highly recommend a book series that I love reading to my children called Ordinary People Change the World by Brad Meltzer. Each book describes a dharma journey, and I’ve never made it through one without getting choked up with tears of awe.

A quote in the Bible sums up the importance of connecting with your dharma: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”  The destruction referenced in this quote is rarely cataclysmic. Most people destroy themselves slowly over a lifetime by making small unconscious decisions that lead them farther and farther away from their truth.

Being disconnected from my Buddha nature for fifteen years almost killed me. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to stop drinking. Without alcohol, far from the right path, my experience of the world was excruciatingly empty. Even without an addiction, the world is a distracting place, and most people get lost or coached away from their dharma at an early age by well-intentioned mentors and peers who are not fully expressed themselves.

But it’s never too late. Ever. Finally, at forty-four, I feel peaceful and fulfilled, closer than I’ve ever been to a right way of living for me. On days that I’m impatient because I want it all figured out, I remind myself that dharma is not a destination, it’s a lifetime of becoming.

 
The Hallway: The Space Between the Comfortable and the Unknown 1024 1006 Thayer Fox

The Hallway: The Space Between the Comfortable and the Unknown

Have you gone through a period where you no longer fit comfortably into your life? The old routines, relationships and ways of thinking that used to yield results and fulfillment no longer work? You are confused because you are doing everything right. You feel alone because you don’t know how to describe what you are experiencing to loved ones around you who may take it personally. If any part of this resonates, then you are or have been in “the hallway”.

The hallway is long, and there are many doors. Some areas are not well lit. Whenever I enter it, my reaction is to exit immediately through the door which led me in, return to what is comfortable. But I have found that staying comfortable comes at a high cost to my soul. At best, comfortable is the field of poppies in the Wizard of Oz.

Taking an inventory of your vices is a great way to determine if you choose comfort over growth regularly. Staying stagnant requires numbing agents because it goes against our ever-evolving nature. For years, I was engaged in a ferocious game of whack-a-mole, using different vices as anesthesia to numb my instincts. After I quit drinking, my smoking took on a new fury. Then I stopped smoking and picked up food. Obsessive exercising eventually replaced overeating. After injuring myself multiple times, I turned my focus to shopping/accumulating stuff. Simultaneously, I filled my schedule with social commitments that didn’t align with my core values. As a result, I often felt awkward and relied on gossip as a way to connect with my environment. And busy is a vice too, being busy ran my show for years.

Running out of vices was the best thing that ever happened to me. Without them, I couldn’t squeeze myself into a life I’d outgrown. I was tired of being Alice in Wonderland crammed into that house after she ate the cake.

Without vices, my pain and longing became acute.

The first time I entered the hallway was when I stopped drinking at age thirty. Not picking up a drink was the easiest part of getting sober. The struggle was waiting in the hallway between my old life and a new life that had yet to reveal itself.

One night, when I was around ten months sober, I went out to a group dinner at a trendy Manhattan restaurant. Some people at the table were friends, others acquaintances. I had been laying low, doing my best to avoid environments that could trigger me, but these dinners had been the bulk of my social life, and it was time to re-engage. After settling in, I was relieved that the wine on the table didn’t tempt me. But as the evening progressed, I became increasingly uncomfortable. The music in the restaurant was loud, so it was impossible to carry on a conversation. Hot and crowded, the waiters bumped into my chair. No one at the table drank heavily, but they were buzzed, swaying and smiling.

I was bored, lonely and longing for something I couldn’t identify yet. I ate to quell my unease and ended up eating everything that I could get my hands on. The void  I felt was the same one I used to flood with alcohol. Food was less effective, but it did the job. Hazy and bloated, I excused myself as soon as the check was paid.

The next day I felt horrible, physically and emotionally. I called my AA sponsor and described my non-alcohol induced malaise. She laughed and told me I was suffering from an emotional hangover. Emotional hangovers occur after spending a lot of time vice free (this is the key part) in environments or with people who do not align with your core values or even worse, trigger old trauma. Symptoms of emotional hangovers include circular thinking, self-doubt, low energy/depression, and anxiety.

But what was I supposed to do? Those were my friends, and this was my life. Something must be wrong with me. That’s when my sponsor told me I was in the hallway. Naming my location made waiting in the unknown more bearable.

That wasn’t my last group dinner, I continued to return to old patterns, hoping that something would click into place. Nothing did. I became willing to try some of the other doors in the hallway. Placing myself in different environments was scary and exhilarating. I met new people inside each door. People who appeared strange at first, and now I can’t imagine my life without them. The more risks I took, the less attached and afraid I became.

I am in a hallway now, growing impatient and wanting to force results. But after many visits over the past fifteen years, I know that if I stay open and curious, the next phase of my life and development will be revealed.
Gratitude: The Best Meal To Serve Your Hungry Ghost 640 480 Thayer Fox

Gratitude: The Best Meal To Serve Your Hungry Ghost

Gratitude is wishing for what you already have. For most of us, this doesn’t happen naturally. Good news is that our brains can be re-wired. Daily practice carves out neural pathways that will routinely lead us to fresh ways of thinking and experiencing the world. Grateful people are happy ones; there is nothing complicated about this equation.

Gratitude is a trendy word today. The star of self-help books and Ted talks, like the beautiful one given by David Steindl-Rast, gratitude’s power is undeniable. Gratitude challenges are prevalent on social media, people post lists for a period and then stop. Schools discuss ways to instill gratitude in children. Gratitude journals are sold at toy stores near the Uno cards.

The mass effort to bring gratitude to the forefront of our collective thinking is a positive step. But when something becomes familiar, we stop noticing it. It’s the reason we forget to wish for what we already have. The concept of gratitude has reached the tipping point of overuse, and people feel like they are cultivating gratitude by attending a lecture at their children’s school or highlighting paragraphs in a book. Engaging in a practice and understanding a concept are worlds apart.

For the first thirty years of my life, I didn’t have an ounce of gratitude. Growing up in an environment that kept my fight and flight response activated, the hungry ghost was strong inside me. I craved and schemed to obtain what I wanted as quickly as I could get my hands on it. It was never enough. Entitlement is the opposite of gratitude. There is no appreciation or relief in the world owes me mindset.

So how did I transform from an entitled wretch to someone who feels deeply grateful for my life? Slowly.

Gratitude has been a focus in the rooms of AA long before it surfaced in the mainstream. Fourteen and half years ago, after not drinking for ninety days, my sponsor told me that my thinking was now the source of my misery. She suggested that I email her a gratitude list every morning containing three items. I asked her how she expected me to be grateful sitting amidst the rubble of my life? With few people left, no job, depressed and over-weight, making a gratitude list felt like a cruel request.

When I would call my sponsor to complain that I had nothing to put down on my list, she would calmly ask me, “Did you have a bed to sleep in last night? A warm meal for dinner? A roof over your head?” Annoyed that she would suggest these necessities for my list, I was desperate to feel differently, so I did what she said.

For the next few years, I made gratitude lists daily. The lists became effortless as my life grew. They still included simple things like a great yoga class, walks around the reservoir in Central Park, a delicious meal at City Bakery, and a job that paid my bills. On challenging days, I would put down the three items that my sponsor mentioned when I started the practice. I didn’t just scribble them down anymore, I sat with each one, finally understanding that they weren’t as elementary as I initially believed. They were and still are enormous blessings.

My baseline well-being shifted with my thinking. There is always something right in front of me to be grateful for, it just requires a shift in perspective. I no longer write lists, but I end my two daily meditations by saying thank you for whatever blessings I am present to at that moment. What I focus on is my choice and choosing to focus on the abundance in my life always improves my mindset.

 

Photo by Mikes Photos
Transcendental Meditation Is Not as Boring as It Sounds 1024 576 Thayer Fox

Transcendental Meditation Is Not as Boring as It Sounds
Do you meditate regularly? If so or if not, are you sick of hearing about meditation? That makes two of us. Listening to anyone describe their meditation practice is on the same level of tedium as someone telling you about their dream. But meditation is an essential habit in my life that produces results. This post is about how I went from being a New Yorker brain NEVER meditator to someone with a forty minute a day Transcendental Meditation practice.

Similar to my belief in God, meditation is my own thing, I don’t need anyone to support or understand it. What you get out of meditation may be different than what I do, and if you practice it regularly, you will get something, guaranteed. As promised, I won’t wax poetic about my profound meditative experiences, but I strongly suggest that you read David Lynch’s Catching the Big Fish. It’s easy to digest and will get you excited.

For twelve years I listened to people discuss their meditation practice at AA meetings. Meditation is part of the 11thStep in the 12 Step program. If you take on recovery the way the founder of AA, Bill Wilson intended, you will come face to face with it at some point. Some people listen to the Headspace app, others have cushions, some meditate on a subway for five minutes during their morning commute. I used to pretend that my park walks counted as walking meditation but after learning TM, I feel the difference.

I am an all or nothing gal which leads to my main reason for signing up to learn Transcendental Meditation: I do well in structure. The four-day course is designed as a springboard to help you create a new habit in a supportive environment. It’s not free, and after plunking down the fee, you feel obliged to see it through.

Pain has always been my greatest motivator, so I signed up for a TM introductory course in the Fall of 2016 after a rough summer with my son.  If you read my previous post about Expansion and Survival Mode, then you know that I experienced post-traumatic something after he had an accident as a four-year-old.

Up in Maine, a year after the doctors declared my son recovered, he cartwheeled down a narrow stairwell while running. I lost it. Thankfully the area was carpeted, and after five hours spent in the ER for observation, the doctors said we could head home. My son barely had a bruise on him, but I wept for days. I use the word wept on purpose because it wasn’t conventional crying, it was frenetic trapped energy passing through me in the form of non-stop tears. My hands shook, and I could barely sleep. Jolted awake periodically by visions of my son rolling out of bed, I started checking on him throughout the night and lining his floors with pillows at 3am. Sleep had been a “thing” before my son’s accident, but this was drastic.

Whatever mental and emotional flooring I had installed that past year fell out from under me. I knew I wasn’t my old self, but I had no idea that I was on the verge of a breakdown. Friends and family asked me if I was getting help in impatient tones. Their empathy had long expired. My husband was the only one concerned. We are both stoic creatures, and he knew my behaviors were far outside my baseline character.

A week later, on a playdate with a new mother friend, I opened up and explained why I couldn’t focus on a conversation with her while watching my son fly around the yard with her boys. She asked me if I had ever heard of Transcendental Meditation and suggested I check it out when I returned to New York in the Fall.

A month later, I was seated in a comfortable chair at one of the centers on Madison Avenue. The instructors are out of central casting, talking slowly in soothing tones and I felt like I was in a meditation documentary. To my relief, I didn’t have to sit in the dreaded lotus position, or even entirely still. This has been a past meditation deal breaker for me. You are allowed to wiggle your feet, stretch your arms, and do whatever movement comes naturally to you while you are meditating. In TM, you are given a “mantra”, a meaningless word that produces a sound that helps your mind focus and settle. Your word is your secret, I have never told anyone my mantra.

Overall, the course was simple and relaxing. I did not experience any WOW moments like I had in other workshops but I was intrigued by the data. Nonetheless, after investing the time and money, I took on my new practice wholeheartedly. After a few months, I noticed that I wasn’t as reactive and that doomsday scenarios weren’t domineering my headspace. Navigating daily life felt less weighty, which freed me up to enjoy it more.

Some days I feel like I am fake meditating, using my mantra as a hammer to break up the chatter in my head. Other days I fall asleep in the first few minutes. Occasionally, I sink into a boundless space where my mantra disappears, and I experience a chill that runs up and down my spine. In my assessment, these are the days that I am meditating correctly but my TM teacher Donna said that they all count just the same.

When people ask how Transcendental Meditation differs from other forms of meditation, I don’t have an answer. Whatever works for you regularly is the right form of meditation. For me, TM’s structure and group aspect were essential in getting started and developing a sustainable habit. Included in the initial TM course fee is a lifetime membership to all TM facilities so you can go to group meditation events, lectures and one on one check-ins if you feel frustrated or need the extra support.

I love my mantra. The random word comforts me. I reach for it when my nervous system gets overloaded. If I wake up at 2am with a ticker tape of thoughts, my mantra puts me back to sleep. At the risk of sounding corny, it’s gives me access to a safe place inside myself that I never knew existed. That alone is worth it.

 
Feedback: Who You Listen to Is Just as Important as Who You Ignore 640 428 Thayer Fox

Feedback: Who You Listen to Is Just as Important as Who You Ignore

Over the past year, feedback has played a critical role in my growth. Seeking feedback has been a system of mine since I stopped drinking. So why did it take thirteen years for me to see any results? A glitch was sabotaging my feedback system. I was jogging 5 miles a day and eating an extra-large fat-free/high sugar frozen yogurt covered in rainbow sprinkles for dinner wondering why I couldn’t shake the extra few pounds. One blind spot can derail an entire system. Feedback is either a tsunami wiping out miles of beach or rocket fuel that can blast you to the moon, there is no in between.

After thirty years of doing things my way and ending up with a suicide note in my side table drawer, I became open to feedback. This was my first experience taking advice. Without alcohol as anesthesia, I was swallowed by the pain of poor choices and unprocessed emotions. A flesh container filled with impulses and fears, it was amazing that I had survived for thirty years without listening to anyone. Desperation gave me the willingness to try a different way. As the AA old timers say, I took the cotton out of my ears and put it in my mouth.

My life grew exponentially as I followed suggestions from my sponsor and other sober women from AA. I met my husband, we had our daughter, bought an apartment, settled into the American Dream. A year after the birth of my son, my ego started whispering, “we can take it from here.” It’s easy to locate the periods in my life when I allowed this thought to be my driver; dragging myself out of a burning vehicle is always the next scene in the movie. Eight years sober, with every box checked I hit a spiritual bottom.

With pain as my motivator, I returned to AA and started working with Jeff. Yes, is a gift of willingness and I started saying yes again to whatever was suggested. The feedback system was successfully re-instated; I began to feel better.

Widening the feedback circle with my expansion, I noticed how a casual comment could deflate me. Negative or careless feedback can destroy an embryonic idea in a sentence. Yet, I kept bringing dreams to intelligent people with clipped wings and walked away believing that flight was not an option. Unaware of my blind spot in this pattern, I thought I needed to keep working on becoming a better me who would produce better ideas.

Rarely did I strategically select the source of feedback because unbeknownst to me, information wasn’t my objective, I was looking for approval and love. Proximity also made a lot of my decisions. It was easy to be lazy with a ton of well-educated friends who will give me thirty minutes of their day. I would share whatever idea was percolating with whoever was next up on my calendar. A stopped clock is right twice a day, so sometimes I got lucky.

At the two Tony Robbins events, I attended this past year, my blind spot was uncloaked. First, I had to separate love and approval from my feedback loop. Next, I had to get clear on what I wanted to accomplish. If you want useful answers, then you need to carefully construct your questions. Then I had to look at how I selected a feedback source. Tony says that mastery is doing something every day, taking a course or reading a book doesn’t make you a master of anything. The key to feedback is finding someone who is living and breathing the topic, so it is integrated into their bloodstream and not an extraneous subject they study. For example, seeing a shrink who is single to discuss your marriage because she has a degree from Columbia on her wall is the wrong determining factor. Going to a friend who still giggles and holds hands with her husband fifteen years later will always yield superior results.

The other day on a plane, I was able to help someone who was struggling with addiction. I know I have a black belt in this area, so I spoke up confidently when the young man across the aisle asked me if I thought he drank too much. I also know when to keep my mouth shut or recommend another feedback source. If I am giving boardroom advice based on Adam Grant’s brilliant presentation philosophy in The Originals, the only thing you should consider is purchasing the book. I haven’t given a business presentation for over fifteen years. Yesterday’s work doesn’t qualify when considering a feedback source.

If you choose to casually share a new endeavor with a friend or colleague, be prepared for unsolicited feedback. Knowing who to listen to and who to ignore is an essential skill. Always ask yourself before the wind leaves your sails “Is this person qualified to give me feedback in this area? Better yet, be conscious about what you share with whom. Just because someone is a good colleague or mother friend doesn’t mean they will understand your creative vision.

Positive people who always agree with every word you say are great fuel sources, but they aren’t ideal for feedback either. If your heart rate hasn’t picked up when you request feedback, then you are playing it safe. I showed three people preliminary blog posts before starting The Growth Project: one person for quality, another person for content and then my husband who I can count on to say it all. Building a site without this due diligence would have been wasteful if all three of them declared that my articles didn’t align with my mission.

Here is my Feedback hit list as a take away:

  1. Feedback is critical, but who you choose to receive it from more so.
  2. Don’t default to the easily accessible. Your smart and available friend who attended Princeton twenty years ago isn’t qualified to coach you in many areas. Doing extra research and finding the six degrees of separation source is worth the effort.
  3. Ask yourself before approaching any source “Why are you qualified to give me feedback on X.” The answer should be as evident as the color of the sky.
  4. If you find yourself a recipient of unsolicited feedback, don’t mistake certainty for sage wisdom. Knowing what to ignore is just as important as your great idea.
  5. Feedback is only valuable if you implement it. Don’t waste people’s time unless you are ready to go the distance.

 

Photo by Drew Rae
Are You Stuck? Find Your Blind Spots 640 426 Thayer Fox

Are You Stuck? Find Your Blind Spots

Are you self-aware? Can you speak about your strengths and weaknesses with ease? I know the danger of this position firsthand; self-knowledge seems useful initially but ends up creating a surplus of certainty. Certainty is the cement in which we get stuck. Our known weaknesses don’t take us down, it’s our blind spots. If you don’t believe that you have any, then you have just located your first one.

I learned about blind spots at The Landmark Forum a few years ago. The Forum leader drew a Venn diagram on a whiteboard in front of the room. Inside the first circle on the left, he wrote: What I Know I Know. He then told us to write down an example of something we know we know so I wrote addiction and nutrition. In the circle at the end, he wrote: What I Know I Don’t Know. Most of us borrowed his example, to fly a plane, to complete the exercise. He finished the diagram by writing What I Don’t Know I Don’t Know aka Blind Spots in the middle circle.

The forum leader told us that the majority of what stopped us in life was housed here. A blind spot is a hidden area that you can’t see about yourself which can cause minor and severe accidents as you change lanes in life. Although blind spots are unconscious, we often go to great lengths to keep them concealed.

The irony of blind spots is that they are glaring to many of your friends and colleagues, like a strand of spinach wedged in between your two front teeth. Uncovering blind spots is the secret to becoming unstuck in any area. The inspiration that becomes available in the breakthrough moment when you come face to face with a blind spot is electric. It provides energy to take massive action and action will always move you forward.

A powerful way to uncover blind spots is to interview your friends and family. I did this exercise in my 3rd Landmark course, Self-Expression and Leadership Program, four years ago. The feedback was invaluable. I chose three conscious friends and asked how I occurred to them. Trusting they would speak out of love, I listened carefully, not liking everything I heard. One friend said that many people saw me as a combination of “aloof, hard to get close to, intense and confrontational.” Another friend asked me who else I planned to interview “nobody’s going to tell you the truth.” When I asked her why they wouldn’t, she responded, “because you scare people.” Ouch.

These conversations changed me. The disconnect between who I wanted to be and how I occurred to people was face up on the table now. My deepest desire was to connect with people in a meaningful way, but my delivery and mannerisms were sabotaging this possibility. When I couldn’t find an access point with someone or felt awkward in a situation, I became aloof, the cool girl act from my teen years. Of course, not everyone is available to connect deeply, so I also had to address why I kept going to the hardware store for oranges, which has always been one of my favorite Al-Anon sayings.

Here are three tips on how to locate blind spots:

  1. When you complain about being powerless in a re-occurring situation. Being a victim. “She makes me feel X all the time.”
  2. When you make excuses about people or situations that keep you from looking at your part. “He acts the way he does because he had a rough childhood.”
  3. When you believe that an external event is causing a problem instead of taking a closer look at your behavior. “Everyone was gossiping at the dinner.”

I had an old boss who constantly complained about everyone being an asshole: the garage attendant, the barista, and most of our clients. He believed wholeheartedly in his interpretation, and the stories he would relay were convincing. I fall into this rut too and the words of a wise friend always pull me out, “You see one or two assholes in a day, maybe it’s them. If you see more than three, consider that you are the asshole.”

It takes guts to locate a blind spot, but the breakthrough awaiting is worth the initial discomfort.

Photo by Jan Krnc
Judgment or Reality? 640 432 Thayer Fox

Judgment or Reality?

How many times have you made a decision based on an abrupt judgment? Do you feel confident that the way you see things is reality? Do you explain some of your judgments as instinct?

I’ve been off lately, barely able to sit through my two daily meditations because of the creepy crawly energy under my skin. The voice in my head has been relentlessly antagonistic. I could chart and study the chain of minor events that lead me here, but that would be a waste of time.

Looking for relief, I walked into a midday AA meeting in my neighborhood. Finding a seat in the first row, I adjusted the angle of my chair repeatedly, so I wasn’t too close to my neighbors in any direction. That’s the nature of the mood I can’t shake. Finally seated, I stared at my phone pretending to read something so no one would engage me in the usual friendly AA fashion.

Looking up at the clock, I cased the room, every person looked crazier than the next. Why did I think this was a good idea? How the hell could these people help me when they were all tearing at the seams?

No one sat in the leather speaker chair yet; there was still hope. I prayed a wise female version of Gandalf would plop down and say something astonishing.

A few minutes before the start time, a robust, dark-haired man took the seat. His sweaty face looked familiar. Then it hit me how I knew him. Struggling for over a year now, he could barely pull together ninety days of sober time before going on a bender. Thoroughly agitated, my instinct told me to bolt; no way this messy man had any sage advice to pass on.

Before I could gather my stuff, he introduced himself and began speaking. Debating whether I dashed for the door now or waited until he finished, I realized as I put a water bottle into my backpack, that the dark-haired man was staring only at me. Before I had time to be uncomfortable, he paused and pointed at me, “I know you” he said loudly.

This is totally off script, a speaker never addresses anyone in the audience during the twenty-minute opening talk. Without responding, I tilted my head giving him a quizzical look. He continued anyway, “I was counting days when I heard you speak at the 79th street workshop, you know that big Sunday 11th step meeting?” I nodded, I had spoken there recently. The speaker smiled, “That was the best qualification I’ve ever heard. I wanted to drink badly but stayed sober so I can sound like you one day.”

Sound like me? The judgmental shrew about to walk out as you bare your soul? I looked down, unworthy of his generous words. Today, I was not the woman who gave that talk. My eyes filled up as my heart opened. Putting my hands together, I bowed my head in a Namaste to show appreciation.

Gratitude surged through me, replacing all irritability. One sentence out of a stranger’s mouth smashed the self-centered glasses I had been wearing for days. Humbled, for the rest of the meeting I listened like my life depended on it.

My judgment almost kept me from being able to experience that mystical moment. I wonder how many beautiful minutes, hours, days, years have been stolen by snapshot opinions masquerading as instinct. God/ a higher intelligence/ destiny connects with us through other people. The most important job I have every day is to make myself available.

 

Are You Revealing or Hiding?
Photo by Artem Bali
Are You Revealing or Hiding? 640 426 Thayer Fox

Are You Revealing or Hiding?

What if when we met someone new, instead of sharing external details about our lives, we revealed a few stories from our past that shaped us. What if we spoke about what made us feel excited and what we would like to accomplish? What if the creation of relationships was more intentional and transparent? What kinds of extraordinary bonds could be created using this formula?

After watching Diane Keogh’s Ted Talk, I did exactly what I just described and made a lifetime friend.

At first, I felt the concept in the speech was obvious. After years spent exposing my core in the rooms of AA and listening to others do the same, I experienced firsthand the healing power of personal narrative. Once I realized that my secrets weren’t unique and the ugliest parts of my story were useful to others, I began to boldly inhabit my history in church basements all over Manhattan.

This transformation was compartmentalized, and socially, I still defaulted to the weather, vacations and other safe conversation topics which left me unfulfilled when I walked away from an exchange. These rote dialogues didn’t reflect who I was or who I wanted to be, but I didn’t know how to create an opening for more to exist. Interactions began to feel like a waste of time after I became aware that the paths I kept taking would never lead to the complete connection that I craved.

As Diane mentions, in every conversation, people are either trying to hide or reveal their pasts. The longer I sat with this thought, I saw the disparity between my AA world and daily life. Blaming my zip code and others perceived limitations in the area I chose to hide in provided me with the excuse I needed to avoid taking responsibility. At that moment, I made a decision to merge my two worlds.

At this time, my son started at an Upper East Side preschool. I signed up for the role of class mother, which was a shared position with another woman named Alison. We first met briefly in September 2013 at a class welcome meeting at the school. 5’10”, thin, blond with an easy laugh, the only thing that differentiated her from the general Upper East Side population was her Canadian accent. Aside from sharing the class mother role, she also had twin boys, so at the least, we would be playdate buddies.

After drop off, a few weeks later, Alison came up behind me and asked if I wanted to walk home together since we lived a block apart. I decided to follow through with my new vow and bravely attempt a different version of the get to know you exchange. At the least, it would calibrate our dynamic so future interactions would be straightforward. Alison kicked off the conversation with the perfect question, “You mentioned that you grew up in New York? What was that like?”

For the next 6 blocks, I gave her a synopsis of my life; highlighting painful and joyful moments equally, leaving nothing out. I didn’t dial my energy back or soften my tone in a concerted effort to be less intense, a criticism I have been given much of my life. I felt clear and calm as I spoke. Midway through I noticed something remarkable in Alison’s listening. I didn’t know then that she is a trained mediator. My post: The Power of Listening explains this distinction.

As we approached Alison’s block, I explained what kind of friendship I was interested in creating during this phase of my life: something real and growth-oriented where we could both say it all. Unfazed, Alison smiled and looked me directly in the eye, “that’s an amazing story, and I am interested in having that kind of friendship with you. Do you want to grab a coffee or walk in the park soon?”

I walked away with tears in my eyes- boy was I wrong about Canadian Barbie. Alison and I still laugh about my misconception. She is rare soul, and still one of my closest friends even though she lives in London now.

Since that time, I have taken risks with people that did not yield the same results, but they saved me time and energy in the long run. Living like this no longer allows me to complain about people’s capacity. Once I reveal myself, my part is done. I can walk away knowing that I gave the interaction my all, no matter the results.

Today, are you revealing or hiding your core? If so why? What do people need to know about you to truly know you?

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