Girl in Haiti

What a way to start a new year and a new decade—with a global humanitarian crisis. I had a blog already prepared about maintaining a healthy weight (as this is a common New Year’s resolution), but I’m shelving that for a future date. The January 12 earthquake that devastated Haiti just seems too pressing of an issue to ignore.

I’m sure you all have been following the news, so you don’t need me to recap story. It does seem like a truly dismal situation, not only due to the tens of thousands of deaths, but also the utter chaos, lack of food, fresh water, and medical attention for survivors.

One suggestion for something simple we all can do, aside from sending funds or going to Haiti ourselves, is a Buddhist practice known as tonglen mediation, which is designed specifically for expressing our compassion for the suffering of others. In the standard meditation, you breathe in peace and breathe out your stress and anxiety. With tonglen, you do exactly the opposite.

Sit in a comfortable position with an erect spine and close your eyes. Take a few moments to quiet your mind and call attention to your breath. Then move into tonglen: as you inhale, imagine that you are taking in all the pain and suffering of those in Haiti. As you exhale, send out loving-kindness, empathy, and a powerful wish for their wellbeing. Breathe in the darkness, breathe out relief. This is one very inexpensive and straightforward way to share your blessings with those in need.

Note: This is my latest posting to the Stanford Alumni Association’s “Living Well” blog.

As the year draws to a close and the days grow short, we tend to turn inwards. Most of us spend time reflecting on our achievements and challenges of the year past. If we set New Year’s resolutions last January, we might dig them up. Regardless, many of us conduct a mental review, considering the question, “How did I do?”

As a trained psychotherapist and writer of self-help books, I am a strong believer in setting milestones. Fixing our sights on attainable as well as stretch goals can help us to stay focused, prioritize, commit, and get things done. At the end of the day, when we do reach our goals, we feel a well-deserved sense of satisfaction.

And yet, this practice of evaluating and assessing the year as a stand-alone, 12-month chunk concerns me. What happens when we don’t reach our goals within that narrow time frame? (And many of us don’t. In fact, research indicates that 80% of people have broken their New Year’s resolutions by Valentine’s Day.) We are prone to judging ourselves harshly. We can fall prey to calling ourselves losers, lazy, unworthy of success, and a host of other derogatory names.

In 2009, I didn’t finish my memoir. Nor did I start a family. These were my two highest priorities for the year. So I guess you might say that I failed. I did, however, unexpectedly spend four months having fantastic adventures on Expedition: Blue Planet, traveling to India, Botswana, and the Middle East. I served the planet by raising awareness of critical environmental issues. I added to my skill set by learning how to write documentary films. I edited a memoir, and co-authored an entire book about inspirational women over forty. I spent precious time with my family in China. I learned more about who I am and what I want in a life partner, how to hold myself during lonely times, how to push myself to my physical limits, and how to let go of my anxiety.

Patty Ivey, a yoga instructor and studio owner in Washington, DC whom I admire greatly, recently told me, “When people come into yoga and ask me for a pose to fix their aching back, I tell them there’s no such thing. We do yoga for the entire body. You’ll only fix the part by working the whole.” So it is with our lives, Patty then pointed out. It can be dangerous to break our lives down into pieces, causing us to lose sight of the bigger picture.

And so, during this time of reflection, we can fixate on what we did or didn’t get done this past year. We can feel elation at certain achievements and transformations, disappointment at so-called failures, and sadness at losses that occurred within the past 12 months. But the question to ask ourselves is not simply, “Did I meet my goals for the year?” The more valuable question is, “How did this year fit into the greater story of my life?”

[Note: This is my latest contribution to the Stanford Alumni Association's Living Well blog.)

Back when the Beatles traveled to the foothills of the Indian Himalayas to study Transcendental Meditation (TM) with Maharishi-guru, most people thought of the activity as some sort of new age, hippie pastime. But over the past few decades, scientific studies have revealed time and again the significant benefits of meditation in terms of health and wellbeing.

The National Institutes for Health (NIH) reports that in clinical trails, meditation has been shown to relieve stress, asthma, and symptoms of chronic pain; reduce frequency and intensity of hot flashes among menopausal women; and improve attention and focus. It is thought to work by minimizing our body’s stress response and increasing activity of the parasympathetic nervous system (causing heart and breathing rate to slow, blood flow to increase, and digestion to improve). And it’s free, available to everyone regardless of age or health, and can be done in the convenience of your own home.

I have attended two ten-day silent Vipassana meditation retreats (find out how you can, too, at www.dhamma.org). Not only were we not permitted to talk, but we could not listen to music, write in a journal, exercise (other than walking during breaks), or read books. Basically, we had to live in the prison of our own minds with no distractions.

I was so nervous on my first day there that I nearly threw up on the meditation hall floor.  Seriously. For three straight 16-hour long days, I stewed, raged, got bored, fidgeted, and generally hated the experience. The only part I looked forward to was the delicious vegetarian lunch.

But on Day Four, I had a breakthrough. The afternoon session slipped by without my becoming anxious or agitated. In fact, I couldn’t believe it when the gong sounded, signaling that the evening tea break had begun. My mind had quieted down. I had found peace. I bowed forward on my cushion, placed my forehead on the floor, and wept with gratitude. Of course the very next day, I was back to my jumpy self… but at least I knew that my efforts were getting me somewhere.

If you don’t have a meditation practice, I recommend giving it a try. Just pick a quiet place in your house and set an alarm for 15 (or start with five, then ten, then work your way up to even 60) minutes. Sit comfortably on a cushion with a tall spine, and watch the breath move in and out of your nostrils. When you notice your mind wandering, simply label what you’re doing without judgment (“thinking,” “planning,” “remembering,” “fantasizing”), and then return to monitoring your breath.*

My favorite excuse people give for not meditating is: “I’m no good at it!” Really? I say. Guess what? None of us are good at it! You’re not born a meditator, anymore than you’re born a pianist or athlete or doctor. You have to work at it. What’s more, there’s no such thing as a good or bad sit. If you’re sitting, you are by definition meditating. Some days are easier than others. Some days bring a nearly instant sense of calm and grounding, whereas some days you’ll find your mind wandering and struggling throughout.

But isn’t that the nature of life? We feel more balanced and competent when we stand in our deep-rooted sense of who we are and the goodness of life, than when we allow ourselves to get swept up with intense emotional responses to every “good” or “bad” event that happens. The key—to meditation and to wellbeing—is not to judge or react, but rather to find equanimity, returning to the breath time and again no matter what whirlwinds surround and invade us.

*If you want to learn more about meditation, I strongly recommend the classic book “Wherever you Go, There you Are” by Jon Kabat-Zinn, MD. You might also try attending a meditation group at a church, yoga studio, hospital or wellness center, or Buddhist facility near you.

I had a fascinating weekend in New York City. I was the guest of Irwin Kula, selected by Time magazine as one of the top ten most influential rabbis in the US, and Craig Hatkoff, a genuine renaissance man who writes rock operas and bestselling children’s books (among many other talents and careers). The duo is creating a massive multimedia project centering on the topic of spiritual innovation, and has brought me on board to help write the book. I feel so blessed to be a part of this exciting project.

But what I wanted to share today in terms of Living Well was this. Irwin and Craig’s key question about any given spiritual practice is, “Does it work for you?” The only real “rule” is that you don’t negatively impact anyone else when you do it.

In other words, you might go to church, synagogue, temple, or yoga in order to connect with a community of like-minded people. You might say your prayers, or light a candle every night, or sit and watch the sunset in order to feel a moment of calm and peace. You might work at a homeless shelter, join a beach clean-up, or volunteer at your child’s school in order to make the world a better place. It doesn’t matter so much what you do, or even whether it fits neatly within the confines of one religion or another—unless that is important to you. What matters is: does it get the job done?

I invite you to consider… What makes you feel connected? What gives your life meaning? What restores your hope? What comforts you when you are down? What works for you?

(Originally posted to Stanford’s Living Well blog.)

The day before Halloween was a beautiful Friday morning in San Francisco. The sky wore its favorite fall shade, a sharp pale blue. “The perfect day for a bike ride,” I thought to myself. I packed up my computer, shouldered my backpack, and headed off to Samovar Tea House to write for a few hours.

Five minutes later, I was lying on the pavement on Market Street with a bloody split lip, smashed front tooth, and dislocated shoulder. I’d hit the infamous Muni train tracks at precisely the wrong angle and gone flying over the bike’s handlebars, landing on my right arm and my face. Ouch.

I made it to the ER, where doctors shoved my shoulder back in, gave me a sling, and told me to lay off the yoga for at least a month. They stitched my upper lip back together, and advised me to see a dentist about the tooth, which now sticks backwards into my mouth at about a 45-degree angle. All in all, they said, I was lucky. No permanent damage. All fixable.

I freaked out for a while. No yoga—my sanity! My perfect teeth—ruined! Braces for four months! Only mushy foods for the next four to six weeks! I threw myself a pity party. Poor me! Poor me! (Pity parties are the best—you should try one sometime if you haven’t already. Nothing like a good, long cry to release all those feelings of frustration and despair.)

Then I settled myself down. Literally, by sitting on my meditation cushion and just watching the breath flow in and out of my nostrils. I realized that, thank heavens, I could still type at my computer, so I wrote. I reveled in the visits from my wonderful friends, who brought me homemade pumpkin soup and savory (mushy) tamales, organic Vitamin E oil to prevent scarring, movies, laughs, and hugs. One even found a t-shirt sporting a hilarious cartoon of a biker hitting the Muni tracks (see below). I watched in awe as my lip miraculously repaired itself.

ParkLife Tee

A week later, what lessons have I (re)learned from this experience? A few.

First, there’s no reason to have a big, nasty reaction to unexpected and unpleasant experiences. It was okay to throw a fit for a day (or two), but that was enough. If I’d continued to feel sorry for myself, I only would have made matters worse—and probably interfered with the healing process. I have adopted the mantra, “So that’s that.” I can choose to be upset about my braces and the lack of yoga, or I can choose to accept my new reality—and feel appreciative of what I do have every day.

Second, I’m acutely aware of yet another reason to eat whole foods, exercise, not smoke, and generally be kind to your body. It’s not just so that you look and feel good. It’s also so that you give yourself the power to heal.

Third, I was reminded of the true nature of life. S.N. Goenka, the Buddhist instructor of my two ten-day Vipassana silent meditation retreats, frequently intoned, “Anicca, anicca, which means, in the ancient Pali language of the Buddha, impermanence.” Nothing is certain. Nothing remains stable. This is the truth. The trick is to move peacefully through the groundlessness–and preferably avoid stumbling on the Muni tracks along the way.

Caveman

Reposting my latest contribution to the Stanford Alumni “Living Well” blog:

I’m typing up a blog posting. You’re reading it online. It’s unlikely that either of us is outside doing a physical activity at this moment. According to University of Kansas psychology professor Dr. Stephen Ilardi, we’re breaking the rules for beating depression—we are not living like cavemen.

My mom sent me a care package the other day. (Yes, I am 36 years old and my mother still sends me care packages. Aside from newspaper and magazine clippings, they are likely to contain random objects like Corn Nuts. It’s adorable.)

Anyway, this particular package included an article about Dr. Ilardi’s happiness research, which my mother had torn out of the AARP magazine. Dr. Ilardi ran a pilot program for combating depression that involved returning to our pre-modern roots. The rules were: get outside, be physically active, socialize a lot, take omega-3 supplements (due to generally poor nutrition), and sleep enough. The results were impressive: 76% of the participants demonstrated a reduction in depressive symptoms, as opposed to just 27% in the control group, which received medication and/or psychotherapy.

I buy this prescription for happiness. It makes sense intuitively that if we’re outdoors breathing fresh air and feeling the sun shine on our faces, we’re treating our bodies well, we’re interacting with others, and we’re spending less time thinking and more time doing, we’ll be less depressed. Taking these steps consistently gets my serotonin pumping, that I know.

In fact, I spent Friday night at my 15-year Stanford Reunion class party. I’d been feeling a bit down and was concerned that I might feel drained by the evening. But the opposite was true. Connecting to old friends whom I hadn’t seen since we were 22, and meeting other fascinating people for the first time, was a fantastic mood-booster. The room buzzed with energy and enthusaism–it was contagious. When the lights finally came on and the organizers asked us to leave, I floated off on a cloud of wellbeing.

What works for you?

I’m proud to be sponsoring Rama, a 16 year-old Indian girl who lives at the Hope Home in Calcutta, for the fifth year in a row. I visited the Hope Home while traveling in India in 2004. I was extremely impressed with what these Irish Catholics had created in cooperation with their local staff: an orphanage and school for a tiny fraction of Calcutta’s street children.

The Hope folks rescued Rama off the streets shortly before her grandmother was about to sell her into sex slavery. With my very manageable contribution of 250 Euros ($375 US) per year, they Hope Home is able to house, feed, clothe, and educate Rama. I can’t imagine a better way to spend that money.

Rama

I’m now posting every other week to the Stanford Alumni Association’s “Living Well” blog, which you can view here:

http://pgnet.stanford.edu/get/page/blogs/blog/?ciid=117

However, I’ll also be reposting those entries onto my own blog. Here is the first one. It’s an introduction to me, in case you don’t know me already

What makes you feel in love with life?

-    Going for a run, the crisp, cold air burning your lungs and ears.
-    Reading a passage from a book that resonates so deeply you feel the author must know you personally.
-    Laughing to tears with your children.
-    Discovering a new friend, or reconnecting with an old one, and remembering that we’re all more similar than we are different.
-    Working on a project that lights your soul on fire.
-    Music. Art.

I prefer the term “wellness” to “happiness.” Happiness seems like something you have to chase after, a butterfly darting away before you can catch it in your net. Wellness, on the other hand, is a state of being. You might feel happy at times, you might feel sad. You recognize that those feelings are transient, and you connect with a deeper sense of calm that sustains you.

We’ll be exploring ways to access wellness in this blog. To me, this means enjoying moments of small delight on a daily basis. It means focusing on building trust in yourself and your life path. It means finding ways to connect with compassion, love, and generosity with other people. I invite you to comment, send in your own views, and suggest topics for future blogs. I’d like this to be an interactive experience, as I’m certain that we can learn more from one another than you can learn just by listening to me.

A little bit about me. I have a BA and MA (’94, ’95) from Stanford in psychology, where I thoroughly enjoyed being able to study with many of the top minds in the field. I’ll never forget Philip Zimbardo, creator of the revolutionary Stanford Prison Experiment, blasting rock music every time we entered his “Psychology of Mind Control” classroom. Or Robert Sapolski’s revelations about the destructive impact on our bodies and minds of our human reaction to stress. Or Amos Tversky’s Nobel prize-winning research on the surprisingly irrational way in which people make decisions.
Since graduating, I’ve spent ten years co-authoring, freelance editing, and ghostwriting non-fiction books on health and wellness, spirituality, and psychology. I feel that each project has been a mini-thesis, providing me with the opportunity to dive deeply into the subject matter. And I’ve taken on much of what I’ve written about as part of my lifestyle. For instance, after editing two books on Buddhism (professor of Buddhism at Columbia University Robert Thurman’s “Infinite Life;” His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard Cutler’s “The Art of Happiness in a Troubled Word”), I began practicing meditation. I have since completed two ten-day silent Vipassana meditation retreats. Co-authoring “Sexual Fitness,” which focused on improving your overall health in order to enhance sexual function, got me to take my eating and exercise habits more seriously. I began doing yoga, and have since become a yoga instructor.

In addition to writing and teaching yoga, I work as a life coach. Around the time of my divorce in 2005, I entered an intensely dark period during which I called into question all my inherited, subconscious ideas of who I am and what it means to be successful. This journey led me to pursue a MA in counseling psychology at Pacifica Graduate Institute, a small school that is home to Joseph Campbell’s library. And so I bring an understanding of depth psychology, archetypes, and mythology to my reflections on wellness, as well.

I look forward to exploring with you.

As of Oct 10, 2009, I’m joining Stanford Alumni Association’s new blog about health and wellness issues, called “Living Well.” Several alumni will be contributing, including an MD who also has trained in alternative Chinese medicine and reiki, and an alumn in her 80s who will talk about longevity and happiness. Please take a look!

https://pgnet22.stanford.edu/get/page/blogs/blog/?ciid=117

Our Expedition: Blue Planet leader Alexandra Cousteau is currently in Wyoming for the Jackson Hole Wildlife Film Festival, the “green Oscars” of the documentary film world. The Expedition short films have been nominated in two categories, Best Web Presence and Best Use of New Media/Web 2.0. It’s a huge honor.

Blue Legacy’s Jonathan Smith speaks on the Web 2.0 panel this morning, and Alexandra speaks on the Web Presence panel tomorrow. The ceremony is Thursday evening. Wish us luck!