Is There An Easy Way to Develop a Daily Mindfulness Practice?

Meditating with this group of young fashion models in Europe reminds me that time is passing each precious day. How we spend our moments is how we spend our lives. Better to do it mindfully and on purpose. 

Meditating with this group of young fashion models in Europe reminds me that time is passing each precious day. How we spend our moments is how we spend our lives. Better to do it mindfully and on purpose. 

One of the things I hear most often from people who ask me to work with them one-on-on or come to my classes and workshops is how hard it is to develop a daily mindfulness and meditation practice

I hear that. Believe me I do.

It IS hard! 

For years, I struggled, too, with developing a daily practice and really reaping all of the benefits mindfulness has to offer 

Benefits like "better relationships, less stress, increased resilience, and fewer instances of feeling overwhelmed, " and "improved concentration, better sleep and better health as you age". 

In response, I decided to create an easy-to-follow daily e-course just for my subscribers, to help you cultivate mindfulness not just while you are meditating, but at work, home, when you scroll through social media, when you eat, move and all of the other things you do daily.

The feedback from this course was SO great! 

Here's what one participant, John C., wrote to tell me: 

I had been interested in learning more about Mindfulness, it’s a term we hear often these days, so when I got Felina’s email about 45 Days of Mindfulness,

I said, “Yes, I’ll do this!”

And it has been a revealing experience. I have become aware of aspects of my personality that I was not aware of before. For example, I realized how I respond to requests from others, both personal and business, and I have made a conscious decision to respond differently.

My normal response had been with resentment and anger. But early on in this 45-Day exercise, I saw that I could respond with love and kindness and enthusiasm instead, and when I do, I feel better about myself.

I’m looking forward to learning more and changing more as this process continues.

Way to go, John!

And because he, and so many others have loved the free e-course (even though I hadn't planned on it) I've decided to make it available as a FREE downloadable e-book, 45 Days of Mindfulness: The Easy Guide to Developing a Daily Practice 

It's my very first book on mindfulness and I'm SO delighted to share it with you! 

With easy to follow daily practices, I give you guidance on how to bring mindfulness
into your life in practical ways: at home, at work, while eating, using digital technology and
social media, exercising, and more. By starting with just one minute of practice on the first
day, and building slowly, day by day, you're shown how to build a lifetime mindfulness
practice in just 45 days while, at the same time, enjoying its benefits from day one.

Why am I so passionate about helping you to develop a practice for life?

Because I have seen the results of what regular mindfulness and meditation have done in my own personal experience and that of so many others. You deserve to have "more peace, more joy and less overwhelm", too. 

Because the world needs you now more than ever. 

My 45th birthday is this week and, with age, I've been taking a look at the world around me and what we are creating for our children.

I know you care as much as I do about contributing to the social, political, environmental and other challenges we face today. And by cultivating mindfulness, you will inexorably be part of the solution to the pressing problems of our times. Slowly and imperceptibly at first, but powerfully and inevitably. 

For your benefit, and for your kids.

Our kids. 

And our planet, too. 

I hope you'll enjoy this FREE downloadable e-book, 45 Days of Mindfulness: The Easy Guide to Developing a Daily Practice.  

When a Man Cries in Public

In Paris last week. A man and his phone. 

In Paris last week. A man and his phone. 

His sobbing could be heard only faintly amid the din of conversation and beeping digital devices that contributed to the on board cacophony.

He was a tall, dark haired man, probably in his late 20s. There wasn’t much that was particularly noticeable about him: the T-shirt, shorts, flip flops, wristwatch all were standard issue.

In other words, there were no external signs that this young man’s behavior might not conform with the expectations of public behavior and decorum in our society.

And yet, here he was, on a flight halfway between Phoenix and Albuquerque, faced turned downward and towards the window, sobbing.

Rarely have I seen, if ever, a man sob that way, especially not in public.

It was the kind of body shaking that was more like that of a howling, wounded animal than of a human, perhaps more like a woman in labor than what sexist and outdated cultural norms demand of men.

He convulsed and shook, and tears rolled down his face.

And all of this he did, with minimal sound. It was almost eerie how quiet it all was, except for the muffled noises as he seemed to fight between his own need to sob, and knowing what public expectations demanded of him as a man.

My head was buried, ironically, in Huston Smith’s Why Religion Matters, part of my intention to fight against the tendency so prevalent in our world to stay at the surface of life and thought exacerbated by the ubiquity of technology. I was longing and hungry for more time to be spent in the depth and richness of deep contemplation underneath the realm of our ordinary diurnal tasks, where meaning is made, and this book was simply one of many such oft-foiled attempts.

Huston, one of the greatest religious scholars of the 20th century, writes about how a pseudo-scientific understanding of the world (what he calls scientism) has ripped away our common sense and traditional ways of knowing about things that are not proven by science in double-blind trials. Again and again, he writes about the realm of meaning that is valid and deeply worthy of respect, and which is all too often dismissed as not being factually based. A bias as crippling as the biases which Galileo and Copernicus had to face, too. 

I was captivated by the depth of the book and so grateful I had escaped the surly bonds of social media for long enough to actually read this way again. 

And here I faced the struggle that I find gets the better of me and many of us all too often: to say something to the young man sitting just a few inches away, or to keep my head buried in the book in fear of what might happen if I do?

The reality is that, in so many ways, our common experiences of compassion and tenderness towards those who are suffering are radically limited to safe spaces where we have permission to be with people in sometimes intimate ways. I make up that hundreds of years ago, if you saw someone sobbing right next to you in the orchards where you were picking apples or on the farm where you were milking cows, you wouldn’t think of not reaching out in compassion. That the imperative of being civilized, respectful and always decorous, actually prevents us from exercising our natural impulse to authentically connect with and be with those who are hurting.

I contemplated the dilemma in front of me: reach out to my brother or respect the rules of modern society which value privacy and individualism far more than they value connection, and risk making it worse for him and, potentially, me.

Eventually the impulse to care for another human being got the better of me and I had to say something.

But what?

What the hell could I possibly say to this man I didn’t know in a public place whose body language clearly seemed to signal that he, like a wounded animal, wanted to be left alone?

With whatever courage I could muster, I decided to wait for a pause in his sobs when he finally had to look in my direction.  After several minutes, with red eyes and a splotchy face, he glanced up.

And I heard this come out of my mouth:

“Do you want to talk?”

He nodded no, silently, but his eyes spoke of gratitude

He put the palm of his hand to his chest in that well-recognized gesture of being touched emotionally, and mouthed,  “Thank you”.

I nodded, as if to say, OK, and went back to my book.

Here it was, two perfect strangers in a public space, having a deeply authentic and private moment.

I had no idea why he was sobbing and noticed my analytical mind trying to find reasons why:

Had his girlfriend broken up with him?

Was he on his way to his father’s funeral?

Did he lose his job?

But none of that actually mattered.

What mattered was that this human, an American male no less, sitting in seat 8A, was hurting amidst dozens of other people. And he was courageous enough to be showing it.

How many others on that flight though were holding their pain to themselves?

Holding on to the idea that, in our culture, it is weakness to show emotion or to need others, medicating themselves with everything from food to obsessive social media, prescription drugs to sex?

I had no answers only more questions as my eyes went back to my book.

But over the past month of travels on more planes than I can count - from Oslo and Prague, Paris to London - I’ve been noticing more and more how much harder it is becoming for us to authentically connect. And how especially tough that must be for men, who still have even less social permission to publicly express emotion and vulnerability than do women.

We look down, get on our devices and check out of communal spaces as soon as possible. And then we wonder why we feel lonely, disconnected and frazzled.

Instead we could take a risk to look up, to each other and to what lies within us. 

The yearning to authentically connect with others is as common in Paris and Papua New Guinea as it is in Poughkeepsie and Pasadena. And for those of us living in the undemocratically elected Reign of Technology, leaning into a mindful and authentically meaningful life takes great intentionality and care.

It also takes a community to remind us of its value and necessity.  

And it takes a willingness to make ourselves vulnerable to those across the aisle - whether on an airplane or in the halls of power - to make us feel human.

I don’t know about you, but I’m going to keep trying. Even if it does get a bit turbulent at times.

Want to connect more authentically with those around you? Sign up for a free coaching session and start building the life you truly want today. 

What the Super Bloom Can Teach You About Imposter Syndrome

What the Super Bloom Can Teach You About Imposter Syndrome

 

Death, Money and Sex: The Open Secret

A beautiful, passionate, soulful artist and mother reached out to me to coach her recently. She was eagerly wanting something and sensed that it might be found in the connection her intuition told her to follow.

But by the time was approaching for her scheduled session, she was in an entirely different place than she had expected to be.


A beloved person in her life unexpectedly and tragically died.


She cancelled her session, wanting to howl and grieve and be alone instead.

I could relate.

Boy could I relate.

This week, in fact, is the one year anniversary since my own mother passed away.

There have been so many hours of howling and grieving. Even some, yes, this very morning.

Like animals who run off to the cave to lick their wounds, we humans, too, have a wisdom and knowing that draws us inward in times of deep pain and sadness.It is part of the human experience: the allegorical archetype of diving into pain and loss and tragedy like Persephone and then, by some miraculous resiliency that’s part of the human spirit, coming back to life.

But this depth of common experience can only be revealed when we are willing to go down deep into our own psyches. And for many, the conflict between wanting to look good and put together on the surface can raise a deep conflict with the inner yearning and desire to howl like an animal at times.

Isn’t that what wild animals do, after all?

Howl and hide in caves and then, eventually, come back to circle into the pack of other animals?

What I wanted so much was to deeply honor my artist friend who wanted to take the time to howl and grieve and experience the deep loss. To know that that depth of being is what makes us most deeply human.

Week after week, I see clients who want richer, fuller, more meaningful lives. They - we - want more joy, more peace, more fulfillment in our lives.

And the ones who get those lives I have seen again and again, are the ones with the courage to both wail like a wild wounded animal or a puppy that’s been taken from it’s momma … and show up to the pack of animals again.

There is a paradox that, while there is a time to be alone in the cave to lick one’s wounds, in our culture especially, that is where the story ends.

We lose a child, a friend, a partner or a beloved pet.

A relationship fails.

Our political leadership goes mad, making choices that look insane.

We face the reality of our childish and inauthentic relationship with money.

In all these instances, our habitual tendency is to hide out alone, and then start to cope alone.

We turn to compulsive busyness, to keep the pain of loneliness from seeping in.

We turn to fixing ourselves to hopefully avoid the pain of ever feeling vulnerable to loss again.

We numb out on empty carbs, one too many glasses of wine after the kids are in bed, or sexual misadventures.

All these things we try to cope with alone. 

Death. Money. Sex.

Rather than pretending they don’t cause us all pain, we can try something different.

We can try to accept what the poet Rumi referred to as the Open Secret, that I first heard about from one of my mentors at the Omega Institute for Holistic Learning, author Elizabeth Lesser. 

You know that thing when your friends ask how it’s going and you say, “Great!” with a big smile on your face while you are secretly freaking out about the fact that your new husband won’t have sex with you?

Or when your boss asks if you need some time off to deal with health issues and you say, “No, no, I’m FINE!” because you're secretly terrified of losing your health insurance, job and financial security if you tell the truth?

Or when your friend who is a little more outwardly successful, more organized and well-spoken asks you to support a cause she’s involved in and you say yes but secretly think, “Shit, she has it all together and I am going to look so stupid next to her. What’s the hell is wrong with me?”

What Rumi invites us to do, way back from the 13th century, is to stop pretending it’s all fine and cop to the open secret. Because we are all pretending and that's partially what causes the suffering and isolation. 

To reveal your hurt and your truth to another, safely and appropriately, is where authentic connection is made.

And this is where mindfulness comes in.

By developing a practice of “paying attention on purpose in the present moment without judgment” (in the words of mindfulness pioneer Jon Kabat-Zinn) you begin to watch your thoughts, feelings and beliefs and not take them so seriously.

You can watch them rise and fall in your mind and body, and let them go without telling such a long involved story about what a loser you are, how everybody else is better at life than you, and how lonely you are.

Or how it is always going to hurt like it does now.

With a regular mindfulness practice of even a few minutes a day, you learn to rest in compassionate presence with yourself. And when you can cultivate self-compassion towards the parts of yourself you judge the most, you can begin to open up to the compassion in others.

Let me be honest here: I have in no way mastered this.

But I am nowhere near where I once was in terms of vicious self-judgment.

The open secret is that we all have pain.

Death, money and sex cause every human alive to have challenges at some point or another in life. It’s the human condition, not a personal failure.

And when we can accept it, and accept the loving kindness available to us, both within our skin and in others, we come back to life and light.