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Inspiration blog

The Fear of Caring

7/29/2016

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"We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all."
-Eleanor Roosevelt


By: Denell Nawrocki, MA
How many times have you heard the phrase, "Humans are innately good".?
How many times have you witnessed good deeds occur?
How many good deeds have you participated in?
How many times have you thought of doing a good deed,
​but ignored the thought/pull/desire to?
For me, the answers to those questions vary- and the answer to the last one rather high.

There have been more times in my life than I can count on my fingers and toes where I found myself in a situation where I could have done good or right by someone or something, yet chose not to.

The initial heart-impulse that told me, "Give that woman some money", or "Pick up that litter", or "Smile back at that person", or "Stand up for them", or "Give that person a compliment", became shut down and sequestered by a mind-impulse of fear and self-consciousness.

"Someone else will", or "I'm too busy", or "This is MY money", or "They will think I'm weird" take over, and like a dog with its tail between it's legs, I retreat and change course. 
​
Depending on how deep the heart-impulse went determines how long afterwards I will think about my choice and usually internally lament. ​
Why did I do that?
What didn't I do that?
I could have.
​I should have.
 
Why did I stop myself?
What would have happened if I made the other choice?

Were they someone/ was it something that would have caused me harm?
No

Was it taking time away from something crucial?
​Something more important?
No.
​Then why did I stop myself?
I stopped myself because I was afraid of the other.
I stopped myself because I was afraid of the good I have inside myself.
I stopped myself because I was afraid of LOVE.
It seems to me that in our Western culture, we have become conditioned to fear and violence. It is far more normal and 'safe' for us to live in a perpetual state of fear and disconnection. We have been conditioned to think that open-heart connection and Love for Life and the World is not normal and should be something to fear. 
​This is backwards- and we can change it.
As humans, we have IMMENSE capacity to give Love and to receive Love.
In fact, our heart has a mind of its own!
The heart contains some 40,000 neurons ('brain cells') that can sense. It is a transmitter and receiver of literal heart intelligence. 

When we feel those heart-impulses, it is actually our heart-brain sensing how it can be of service in the situation, essentially filling a vacuum created by negative, low-vibration energy of someone or something in caring need. Nature abhors vacuums, and those heart-impulses are clues as to how to fill it with Love- ultimately  raising the vibration of the situation or experience.
What it would be like if we followed those heart-impulses
instead of running away from them in fear?
How would your day change if you listened to the heart-brain and not the mind-brain?
How would your relationships change?
How would the world change? 

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The truth is that we DO all have the capacity to care ALL THE TIME.
We CAN care without it being detrimental to our own lives, and in fact would most likely improve it.

We do have the ability to listen to the heart in every moment, be aware of the low-energy vacuums surrounding us, and do small actions to fill them.

Caring doesn't have to be some grandiose thing, it can be as simple as giving the person who needs $0.50 more for the bus fare, or picking up that paper cup on the ground, or putting a hand on someone's shoulder when they are upset.

​So the next time you feel that soft heart-impulse, I invite you to take a risk and follow it.
Even if you feel scared or self-conscious. 
Especially if you feel scared and self-conscious.
It could be exactly what YOU need.
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Witnessing Others and their Story

7/22/2016

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By Denell Nawrocki
Every single human has an innate need to be seen, heard, and witnessed. 
It is a part of being human.
When I go places by myself, I purposely open my heart and 'magnetize' others to me- those who have  story that needs to be shared and listened to. Those who are holding a dialogue within themselves, and who have not have the opportunity to voice it. Most often, these stories are painful and full of grief. They are the stories that are difficult to speak, and for some, difficult to listen to. 
​
I love hearing the stories. I love witnessing strangers- who are clueless as to why they are opening up to another stranger- find relief in their heart after speaking their story. 
Do in part to my being a female, most individuals that are drawn to me tend to be men, and I do not fault them for that. When they begin talking to me, it usually follows the same pattern of introduction, getting to know you, and first-meeting inquiries that two strangers usually go through upon the first meeting. But what follows is nothing else but extraordinary.

I begin asking questions. Questions about their life, love, dreams and desires. 
​
This usually takes them aback because most people, when meeting for the first time in a public place do not get asked those sorts of questions. But I ask them.
Deeper and deeper the conversation goes as I guide them down the rabbit hole of authentic communication and expression. It is a journey of the heart.

Last night I took myself out to a restaurant and went alone. 
As per usual, a man of around the age of 40 greeted me and asked to sit down next to me. I agreed, knowing full well that he had a story to share- otherwise he would not have crossed the void between us.
Slowly but surely, as our dialogue continued, he began to express his grief for his failing marriage of 20 years. His wife became an alcoholic after getting a job as a wine-pourer in a tasting room, and since then his marriage has been in a decline.
He expressed to me his concern for his two teenage children, and his own happiness.
He expressed how he purposely 'gets back' at his wife with neglect because of how much she is hurting him.
He expressed to me that he comes from a family with an alcoholic father, and that this whole experience is his worst nightmare coming true- the love of his life and mother to his children turned into the type of person he loathed the most.
And I listened. I listened to this man tell me his grief story, and kept eye contact with him for the duration. 
At one moment, he stopped, looked at me, and said, "I don't know why I am telling you all this. I just met you. But I feel so comfortable telling you. I needed someone to talk to."

I met another man who was seated with his friend at the bar- again around the age of 45-50. He came from El Salvador and his friend from Mexico City- both flamboyantly gay and proud of it. I shared a drink with them- they offered- and thus began to unfolding of their stories. 
The man from El Salvador began to recount his life to me- in broken English- and the pain and suffering that he has gone through. Abuse, rape, kidnapping, struggling to survive, disconnection from his family, loneliness, tragedy.
He began to cry. Tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed my hand, telling me that although he has gone through terrible, terrible things, that he still has Esperanza (hope) and still had faith in God.
He hugged me and thanked me for listening- calling me an Angel.
I thanked him for his vulnerability and his story. He had such a deep story to tell. 

I may never see these people again, and that is ok.
I know their story- what they were holding in their hearts that needed to be released.
I like to believe that by having the hardships in life expressed and witnessed, they move through a person's being and become 'unstuck'.

Perhaps chronic illness is just stuck stories that have never been spoken or heard. 
Perhaps violence is the expression of those stories- they need to come out somehow. 

​Everyone has stories needing to be shared. 
Every single person you see has experiences- good and bad- that have yet to be witnessed and heard. 

Perhaps the next time you are out in town, put down your phone, take out the ear phones, and open your heart to the stories surrounding you.
​Someone may approach you, or begin a conversation. Stay with it. Ask questions. Go deep.
Watch the decompression of a person's heart occur before your very eyes, and hold that sacred space we all crave. 
​

Maybe you are the one that needs to share a story. Maybe that person you speak to is there to hold the space for you.
You never know.
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Living Through Grief

7/20/2016

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by Jesa David
​Most humans on this planet will one day be lucky enough to experience the loss of someone they love so much, it feels like they are torn in two. I say lucky because a coin always has two sides. You cannot love someone deeply and not feel their loss just as deeply. It is a gift to love someone, and the pain of losing that person can also remind you just how fortunate you are to have known them at all.

I can speak to that personally. On September 12, 2015, I lost my husband and partner of nine years to alcoholism. He was 36. Alcoholism is a disease that affects every aspect of your life, and the past two years of our marriage had been especially difficult. This is an extreme simplification, but living with alcoholism deserves its own essay.
I remember the first week after he died. I seemed to be floating through each day, in a strange, disconnected cloud that only I could see. I was fortunate to have sick time I could use for bereavement leave. I woke up late each day, having barely slept. The lack of sleep strangely helped by numbing me. I didn’t eat much at all. I walked my dog because dogs must be walked. I took calls from family and check-ins from friends. I went on a date only because the guy told me his dad had died a few years before, so I thought he might be comfortable around a grieving person. I noted that being with other people meant I wasn’t crying alone, and that seemed preferable. In retrospect, it was bizarre to have been out with him, but in truth, I wasn’t there on that date at all. I was deep inside myself, reeling and shocked and untouchable by the outside world.
As I continued about my life, I thought it must be so clear to other people that I was going through something. That I showed on my face my loss. I waited for people--grocery store clerks, waiters, the mailman--to ask, “My God, what happened to you?” Nobody did. I found myself telling people I met what had happened to me, even when they didn’t ask, because I didn’t feel I could carry on a conversation of more than a few sentences without them knowing. It just felt too divisive. I couldn’t be this shocked and devastated grieving person on the inside, and just normal on the outside. If they couldn’t see I was broken, I would have to tell them. This can make for an awkward pause in the conversation. That’s okay. You have bigger things to worry about when you’re wading through all the fallen thoughts and memories that bubble up when you’re freshly bereaved. As time passed, I noticed my filter growing back. I noticed I could carry on a conversation that didn’t always seem to involve my husband. It felt like growth. It is growth.
I’m not sure everyone knows that time will pass and they won’t always feel so in pain. I did. I knew I wouldn’t always feel the way I did. You can’t. Life really does go on. But this in itself is an additional pain. How could it be that the loss of this person I so loved would one day be small, that it wouldn’t be with me every second? I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to forget how it felt, though the pain seemed unbearable. If I didn’t feel that pain, it would be like he didn’t matter anymore. That the hole he left behind had filled in, and no one thought of what had been there. So while you can know in your heart that you won’t always feel like you do, also know that the love you have will always be there. Pain will be, too. But not all the time. And you’ll find other ways to carry on that allow space for the memories you have. I find myself taking on habits and traits he had--little ones, like keeping gum in the car, or liking certain dishes. It comforted me when I first noticed I was doing that, like he lives on in me just a little bit.
I can’t speak to what it feels to lose someone suddenly, because death was a possibility for the two years before William died after he first became ill. But for me, I noticed that I didn’t worry any longer. I had worried every day while he was alive, about various things, most of them to do with him. I worried I would come home to find him dead. I worried he would kill himself. I worried he would leave the burners on and start a fire, or let our dog out and not notice. These worries were completely lifted once he was gone. The worst had happened. What was there to worry about now?
But because a coin is always two-sided, the gift of no longer worrying was accompanied by the incapacity to experience joy. This is called anhedonia, as I later learned, and is very common in grieving. It too, doesn’t last forever. Joy crept slowly back into my life. Several months later I noticed I occasionally looked forward to things again: trips, events, even just lunch with a friend. Before, the impulse of excitement and joy was there, because these are activities I had previously enjoyed, but was quickly deflated by my go-to thought of “but, I don’t really care.” I didn’t care ultimately that I had lunch with a friend or went on a trip or any of those things, because William was dead. What did it matter?
I am still going through this “process” of grieving. And I will be for the rest of my life. As other people I love inevitably pass away, I know I will again feel the pain of losing William, triggered by the new loss. It just won’t always be so acute, and it shouldn’t be. It won’t mean it suddenly matters less that he’s gone. It means I’ve grown around the hole that he left behind, filled it with memories of him and gratitude that he lived at all, and that I was given the gift of loving him.
    For whatever your grief may be, I believe there are some ways to help yourself through it. At least, here are some things it helped (and helps) me to remember:

-Do not let anyone make you feel you are not grieving correctly. There is no correct way to grieve, and loss affects everyone differently.
-Some people will feel deeply uncomfortable around you. It’s not you. They are not comfortable with death or sadness or the knowledge that they too will someday lose someone they love and even die themselves. They would rather not be confronted with this and you are a walking, talking reminder that life really sucks sometimes.
-Try not to take this last one personally. Try to accept what people can give you. Some can give you a pat on the back, or an email, or an awkward, “well, life goes on....” (my neighbor actually said this). They don’t know what to say to you. But they care. Know that, and then go spend time with people who are comfortable with you, and who can provide real support.
-Eat. Try to eat, try to exercise. Those two weeks I was home alone, surrounded by my husband’s things and just drifting, I could barely make myself eat. But I tried. I also exercised, which is always a good idea, especially if it gets you out of the house.
-Try to leave the house, but don’t force it. Remember it’s okay to leave at any time. You get a free pass. If the conversation you’re having or the movie you’re watching or even the grocery store suddenly makes you feel like you need to leave and be alone, then do that. Cancel plans if  you need to. But do try to get out sometimes and see those people who support you.
-It will come in waves. You’ll get better at predicting when those waves come, but for a while, you won’t know where you even are. Try to accept that. Sometimes waiting it out is all you can do.
-Each “milestone” (your loved one’s birthday, holidays, anniversaries, etc.) will bring a different set of emotions. Be prepared for how you will feel as each one approaches (I warn friends that I turn into a bit of a basket-case a week or so before), and give yourself space to feel that. Know that what you feel on their birthday versus what you feel on a holiday you both loved to spend together may not be the same.
-Find a way to make space for the person in your life. Don’t immediately get rid of all their stuff or put any reminders of their existence in a cupboard so you don’t have to see it and feel that pain. The pain will be there anyway. Let the grief be a part of your life. Mourning is the public expression of grief, and it’s important. Let other people share your grief, too.
I hope this may help someone out there who has been or is going through the loss of a loved one. There are many more aspects to grieving and loss I didn’t touch on, and naturally, there are cultural and experiential differences that affect grieving. But for the most part, these reminders have either helped me, or would have helped me had I thought of them.

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Listening Deeply... 

7/14/2016

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by Jul Bystrova

I have been going through much change inner and outer, as I've been watching old stories and patterns fall away deep in places I didn't even know were there. Stories that no longer serve me, stories that are old replays or personal versions of the drama we see being played out in the world. I have been asking "how can I best respond to the painful events happening in my life and the world". The answer I get is to keep practicing being in my heart, listening deeply and align my actions from there. I believe action is important, but heart aligned action is the only way to truly heal and to
help those around us.

Though it has been a sweet relief to let go of old stories, it also has felt precarious, disorienting and strange.  A time of change and transition is what Charles Eisenstein calls  the "space between stories". It has felt uncomfortable to let go, before there is anything else to hold onto. As I talk to others in the same place, it seems we are in that space collectively as well. Are you riding the waves of uncertainty and looking for a way to be in deeper relation with your own tender leanings? Asking what is real and more satisfying to your heart?   You are in good company!   Let us keep fiinding ways to come together in our journey.  There is so much healing that happens when we are witnessed in our authentic vulnerability.

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