Non-doing: Can I do it?

This article also appears on the Huffington Post

Photo by Janice E. LodatoI knew I was in real trouble when I was at the dentist this month for a cleaning and check-up and I was giddy about the prospect of having my feet up and being able to close my eyes for 40 minutes in the middle of my day. Sure, there was someone poking around with a metal object at my teeth and gums, but, hey, if you can get to your relaxed state (thanks Reiki/yoga/meditation), then it’s an excellent spa moment.

Relaying my glee about chilling at the dentist to my husband revealed that something was wrong, very wrong. Why do I have to go to the dentist to relax in the middle of the day?

Hi, my name is Janice and I’m addicted to busyness. Perhaps you are too. Do you have an unrealistic to-do list in your mind, on a piece of paper, on your computer, or smartphone each day? Do you shift constantly from one task to another — perhaps mindless shifting from one to the other? Do you suffer from what Jonathan Fields calls “Reactive Life Syndrome”? If you’re like me, you’re nodding your head, “yes”.

I guess we could spend some time today figuring out how we got here. What life demand or crisis brought us to this place of reaction and constant doing? Part of it is probably cultural. Part of it is probably a coping technique to avoid deeper issues. But how do we break free?

Last week, my life coach, Mary Ann Johnstone, directed me / challenged me to do less. To start taking things off my to-do list – not by working constantly so I could cross them off, but by opting not to do them.

I’m doing miserably at non-doing.

My to-do list is relentless. Though as my 12-year-old daughter noted the other day, “We’re never really doing nothing. We’re always breathing, thinking, meditating, sleeping . . . “ So true, there is always something.

But how can I move to a place of spaciousness? Where is the ability for spontaneity? For choice? For intention?

Here’s a super-simple example. I like to start the week with the laundry done and put away. It seems to make my Mondays easier when I’m not digging through a hamper or staring at my closet trying to decide what to wear. However, sometimes the busyness of doing the laundry takes away from a more soul-fulfilling activity.

So, if I approached my day with greater intention and made a deliberate choice about what I’m doing – one that chooses my higher self – my best self – my highest intention, instead of a preset expectation around clean clothes, then maybe, just maybe, I would feel better about my day and my life. Maybe some stress would drop away. Maybe greater connections would happen; more creativity would manifest; or maybe nothing would happen at all. Remember I’m not doing, right?

So, maybe it’s a feeling or a place of meaningfulness that I’m seeking. Perhaps that is where I would be if I chose intention over reaction.

We are not our actions. We are not what we do. So, I’ve heard people say. There is an essence self outside of our actions. But how do we know it and express it? I think it’s through actions, words, and thoughts. Am I missing something here?

So I’m seeking a place of essence, of intention, of expression of my true self. Of the “me” that is meant to be.

How will I get there? Will it be from a place of relentless doing? Or will it happen in the place between actions? Or is it the type of actions that make the difference? The ones that serve the highest self? Or do even the banal actions serve it? Even the doing the laundry matters . . . done with intention.

What do you think? Are you able to live in a place of non-doing? How do you express your essence-self? Please leave a comment below and join the conversation.

Wishing you abundant spaciousness.

 

 

 

Surfing with Grief

This article also appears in the Huffington Post.

IMG_0582The ground shifted underneath me. November 2016 was a month of grief and shock for me. The loss of the election by way of the Electoral College to a man who brings darkness and hatred with his words and actions shook me to the core. Then, on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, one of my colleagues took his own life in our office suite. I’m still reeling from it all.

On the one hand I’m doing ok. Still doing all my self-care: Reiki and meditation every day, eating nutritious foods, and exercising. I’m also focusing on talking with others about these losses. Sleep has been a mixed bag and, honestly, the darkness of this time of year creates an extra weight.

I’ve always been interested in the mind-body connection. When I was a philosophy student, “The Body in the Mind” by Mark Johnson was very influential to me. During this grieving-time I’m paying attention to the signs in my body.

“I’m doing ok,” I tell everyone and yet my head is pounding. I catch my reflection in a window, and I see my body slumped forward. It is difficult to sit up straight. I eat well and then suddenly intense nausea grips me. I sleep very little or a lot or I wake with a fright during the night.

Work is very difficult. Each day I dread going back to the office. I was not there when Sergey’s body was discovered so I don’t carry that pain, but I feel the grief of my colleagues. I see their swollen faces, their gaze that is focused on the floor, and I hear them saying, “I’m ok.”

I’m pushing on at work. Trying to be strong for myself and others. This is the job that I wanted, that I have been seeking. I have a wonderful set of colleagues, the work is meaningful, and a great institution supports us.

However, as things return to normal: an 8-hour day with 10 meetings; demands to meet unrealistic schedules; and difficult problems to solve technically and interpersonally; I feel myself recoiling from it all.

This grief is significant. These dark days are difficult. It’s all a familiar feeling – not sure if that helps or not that I’ve felt this before. I keep coming back to this metaphor:

The “lifeboat” has taken me out to sea. It dropped me off with my surfboard in my regular clothes, no fancy wetsuit or bathing suit. Only thing is, I don’t know how to surf.

Maybe I knew once – in a previous life? Who knows? Anyway, I recall seeing what others do at these times.

They lie down on the surfboard and start paddling with their arms.

So I start to do that. I see a wave form and know that I’m supposed to stand up on the board, balance, and ride the wave. I attempt to do this, but I’m smacked down by the wave and it pushes me to shore.

I stand up with my surfboard in one hand, soaked, sand inside my clothes, salt water in my nose and mouth.

Stinking eyes see people waving to me from the lifeboat – they’re telling me to ride the waves again.

And so I swim out to where the waves are breaking. I don’t know how to do this surfing thing, of that I’m sure, but I see a wave coming and try to stand on the surfboard. I do stand for a tenuous moment with fingertips still clinging to the board and then I fall again.

Back on shore, I sit in the sand exhausted and sore – knowing I’ll need to ride the waves again and again until I’m an expert at this thing I never wanted to know how to do.

That’s what grief is like for me right now.

I don’t know how this will all work out. I do know this is a very difficult time for myself and others and so my intention is: self-care and care for others.

As we navigate grief, I want to offer to you a helpful thought – a practice. When we’re grieving I know these things are helpful:

  • Reiki
  • Meditation
  • Time in nature
  • Talking with friends
  • Physical movement
  • Creativity

That last one is particularly powerful. One doesn’t have to be a skilled artist or even produce work that you share with others, it is the act of creating that breaks down the bonds of grief. Some helpful resources can be found here.

So, I invite you to a place of self-care and creativity. Care of yourself through mindful practices of Reiki, meditation, journaling, connecting with like-minded people, being in nature, moving your body, and creating.

These things will build you up and support your heart in its journey. They will also point to the actions that will align with your values and intentions.

Wishing for us all healing of body, mind, and spirit.

I teach Reiki and mindfulness and I’m operating on autopilot

awareness
Photo by Janice E. Lodato

This article also appears on the Huffington Post.

The title of this post is 100% accurate at times. This is a difficult thing to admit but it’s true: sometimes I’m on autopilot and walk around with an almost complete lack of awareness of my thoughts and of the present moment.

Awareness of my lack of awareness came about in the following way: I have a new, highly demanding job that calls for lots of my attention and time. When I finally carved out some time for writing, an activity that brings me joy and fulfillment, I found I had nothing to say.

My thoughts were not clear, my intention was lost, and the voice in my head that creates a narrative was silent.

There are so many reasons for this situation. First, there is the lack of time spent reflecting on ideas. I haven’t been participating in one of my other favorite activities: staring out a window and just thinking. It may look like I’m doing nothing or that I’m not in the present moment, but I’m in a very present place of engaging with an idea, only in my mind and nowhere else. This feeds my writing.

Second, there is the lack of time spent taking in ideas. Oh, there are plenty of ideas at work that swirl around all day about technology and process issues, but I’m talking about, what are for me, the big ideas. The ideas about what it means to live a meaningful life; what it means to be human; and what it means to be kind and loving. One of the things that feed my writing is reading articles and books that explore these big ideas.

In all honesty, I haven’t been doing those two things and it’s creating a void in my ability to write and think creatively.

Now things aren’t all bad, I’ve been maintaining my self-Reiki practice and I meditate, eat well, and exercise regularly. I spend time with friends and connect with my family, but let’s be honest here, I’m on autopilot.

I stick to my routine like a drill sergeant and have no wiggle room for a healthy, long-term gaze out the window. So, I’m re-evaluating my workdays and my schedule in general to make sure there is open time for reading enriching materials and thinking, just thinking.

Perhaps I’m more mindful than I give myself credit for – I became aware of my lack of day-to-day, moment-to-moment awareness of my thoughts and I’m making changes to come back to that place of mindfulness.

And as I finished writing that, the previously silent wind chimes in my backyard, sang out – affirming my intention and awareness of the present moment.

Sat nam. I am. I am here now.

Wishing for you an abundance of loving awareness.

I Boycott the NFL and I Support Free Speech

This article also appears on the Huffington Post

footballLast night I walked by a sports bar on my way home from work and thought, “Oh, it’s Monday night. There’s football on!” For a moment I was gleeful, my mood lifted and then I remembered – I don’t watch the NFL anymore and feelings of sadness and loss came over me.

Sports were a central part of my upbringing. They were the activities that we did together as a family, they were our shared entertainment, and they were a point of conversation and of income and a reason to travel. Indeed one of my fond childhood memories is of sitting on the sofa with my father and watching football on a Sunday afternoon in the fall.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a zealot about my boycott, I will still gladly sit on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon and watch football with my father. However, outside of that I will not engage in following, cheering, or watching the NFL.

I know my boycott means nothing to the NFL and its franchises, but it is meaningful to me. I do not want my time and actions to promote an activity that knowingly harms another human being’s life. The NFL has long been aware of the seriousness of head injuries and has actively sought to cover up this topic. I’m not an expert in this area, but have found these credible sources:

Also, this beloved game is full of sexism. We can start with the most obvious: the cheerleaders who dance on the sidelines in revealing outfits for the entertainment of the fans. Many have been paid below the minimum wage in stark contrast to the riches the men in the organization receive.

I’m not writing this to try and convince you to participate in this boycott. Though I think it is worthwhile, I recognize how deeply engrained this sport is in our culture and how it is a lifeline for so many.

I’m writing this because I want you to know that I love football and I miss it, but I’m voting with my time and money by not participating in it as a fan. If you join me in this, I thank you. If you don’t, I completely understand.

Perhaps, someday, our entertainment and the long-term health of the athletes, and respect and equity for all individuals, can exist in harmony.

Until then, you’ll find me outside raking leaves and hiking this autumn.

 

Note: I do not support the boycott of the NFL because players want to point out racism in their country. I support all people’s right to peaceful protest as outlined by the constitution.

 

 

 

Let it go

This post also appears on The Huffington Post.

let it go
Photo by Janice E. Lodato

“I have something to let go of,” I said out loud in my sleep waking myself up from the most intriguing dream. As I laid still in the dark, under the covers but wide-awake, I wondered at the statement I heard so clearly. What was it that I need to let go of?

As I reflected on this the possibilities seemed endless. Here are just a few of the ideas that first came to mind.

I could let go of the:

  • Need to be right
  • Expectation that I’m interested in everything
  • Drive to try to be good at everything
  • Expectation that I have to do things by myself

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “that would be a lot. That would be so liberating. But would I still be me?”

I started from the bottom of my list and worked up. “Let go of the expectation that I have do things by myself.” I developed a simple intention: Ask for help.

Now this may sound simple if this is not something that you carry with you – if you naturally ask for help and rally others around you, but, honestly, for me this is difficult. Often when I ask for help I do so in an incredibly awkward way. With people I don’t know very well I may appear overly eager or overly aloof. With my family members I often only ask for help when I’m at the end of my rope. Sometimes literally crying and crazed for someone to dig me out of the hole I’ve gotten myself into. Here’s an ugly example:

It’s Sunday afternoon on a hot and humid summer day, I’ve worked a full week at a new job with a long commute. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed by my weekend to-do list. I feel the list of responsibilities is all mine. I’m kneeling in our backyard pulling weeds that seem endless. Pulling, pulling, until my hand hurts and I start lashing out at my family. “How can you do this to me? If you loved me, you wouldn’t let this happen!” I literally cry out to them. They rally to help me, but I’m left feeling incredibly guilty about my outburst and my lack of ability to ask for help to begin with.

Where did this drive to be so independent come from? Is it something innate in my introverted personality? Was it fostered by birth order? Or did it stem from those elementary school teachers who poured accolades on me for my independent project work? To me, it really doesn’t matter where it came from. I’m here now and this is how I act and react. Now, how do I change it?

Because I’m not proud of any of these incidents of crazed independence and isolation and the results are often filled with regret and guilt that lingers over days. I ask myself, “How can I head this off before it happens?”

I repeat my intention: Ask for help. And, I add: Do it now, do it often.

The other three ideas to let go of seem closely related to each other. Of course, the one at the top of the list: the need to be right is a big one. It is so wrapped up in my ego. My sense of self sometimes seems to hinge on it. However, when I let it go. When I don’t need to be right. When instead I focus on my relationship with the other person – on the love and kindness and a being of light that I am and they are and that I want to nurture in the world, the need to be right drops away.

A few weeks ago, Carl Richards wrote in the New York Times about “The Cost of Holding On”. He noted:

‘The faster we learn to drop our emotional dead weight, the more room we create for something better. I’m talking about everything from stewing about the guy who cut you off in traffic this morning to still refusing to forgive an old friend for an event 20 years ago. …

My question for you is, “What’s one thing you can set down this week?”’

I’ve been working on this lately – the letting go, the liberating myself from these restricting and toxic approaches to life. I’m replacing them with the following:

  • Ask for help right now.
  • Focus on my true interests and skills.
  • Love

It’s a practice and sometimes I fail at it. I am hoping that the more I follow these the better I’ll get at it and the more I’ll be liberated from the grips of false expectations.

Wishing the same for you: abundant freedom, love, and light.

If these thoughts resonated with you, please join the conversation on Twitter and Facebook!

The Suffering of the World

suffering of the worldOne morning while reading the news on my way to work, I felt overwhelmed by the suffering of the world. I arrived at my stop, exited the L, and walked the streets of Chicago and saw suffering all around me: the homeless man with the deep, open gash in his leg; the elderly woman limping slowly along the sidewalk; the child crying and clinging to her mother’s leg; the frowns on faces of my fellow walkers – stressed about the day.

Sometimes I feel the suffering of the world so fully that it stops me in my tracks. As a Reiki practitioner, one of the things I hope to do is help people decrease their own suffering. However, sometimes it feels impossible.

I help one person only to turn around and hear the story of another person’s suffering, and another, and another.

I feel it and it nearly overwhelms me.

How can this be? I’m a Reiki Master of Masters. I help people. I offer up the universe’s energy through my hands and I can even do this without directly touching someone. So, how can it be that I feel so overwhelmed and helpless?

I really did not know how to address this or what would be helpful and then, this thought came to mind: “You made a difference for this one and that one. It’s the most you can do. You must keep doing it and you must include yourself in this healing.”

And then, of course, I remembered the story about the starfish, which I’ll share with you here:

“Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young man paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”

“I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?” asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said,
“It made a difference for that one.”
Loren Eiseley

Go out there today and make a difference, even if it’s just for one person. It matters.

A Vow to Myself

Wedding VowThis article also appears on The Huffington Post

My abs are tight, stomach flat, legs and arms strong and fit, I haven’t had a cold in months – I’m beautiful. I love myself. This body, she is wonderful and I feel so much love for her.

But then . . . something changes. A cold sneaks up on me and I’m sneezing, stuffy, and coughing – feeling miserable. Or I’m busy at work and haven’t done any crunches in weeks and my abdominal muscles return to their womanly shape. Or time has simply marched on and my muscle tone and skin tone have changed – not so tight anymore. I show my age.

How can I love this body? She’s not pleasing me right now. She doesn’t allow me to maintain the façade of youth. She gets sick – sometimes very seriously sick. How can she do this to me?

Can I love my body in sickness and in health? Can I love her unconditionally?

Honestly, that has been difficult for me. When things aren’t just right with my body, I notice my thoughts are not as kind, not as gentle. I hear my mind say, “How could this have happened?” As if I’m immune to all illness, injury, and aging. Then I hear, “If I don’t look great, I’ll lose so much in my life: work, relationships, attention.” Now, really mind is that true?

Let’s take a moment here for The Work from Byron Katie:

  1. Is it true? (Yes or no. If no, move to 3.)
  2. Can you absolutely know that it’s true? (Yes or no.)
  3. How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought?
  4. Who would you be without the thought?

This thought is pretty easy to deconstruct:

  1. No
  2. [Skip]
  3. I’m mean to my body. I don’t treat her well. I’m judging her negatively and I want to hide her.
  4. I would be a being of love and light. I would love her unconditionally.

Ah, love unconditionally. Can I love my body as I love my beloved? Can I treat her the way I treat those I love the most in my life? Why is this so hard?

For me, I know that my expectations for my body are unrealistic. I also have habits of mind, deeply indoctrinated by our culture that are not kind and loving toward my body.

Lovingkindness extended to my body, just as I love my beloved. From this day forward I’m resolving to love my body . . . in sickness and in health. And so I’m offering this vow to my body, my beloved in this earthly realm:

I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.

Wishing you an abundance of love that fills your being: body, mind, and spirit.

Everyday Mindfulness

This post also appears on The Huffington Post

“If you really want to be a rebel, practice kindness.”
The Kindness Rebellion by Sharon Salzberg

Stop. Notice. Or don’t stop. Keep going AND notice. It’s all here for you right now.mindfulness meditation

Lately, I’ve been putting a focus on everyday mindfulness as a way to increase kindness and calm in my life. For me this means not just the mindfulness of the meditation cushion and the Reiki session. It also means the mindfulness – the deep awareness – of the ordinary.

An example of everyday mindfulness is feeling the water while I’m washing my hands. Noticing its temperature and the sensation of the water on my skin. Seeing the bubbles of the soap and smelling the scent of the soap. Hearing the sound of the water flowing from the faucet and into the sink. Still . . . only washing for 60 seconds or less, though in those moments – those seconds – completely mindful of washing my hands.

This exploration allows me to experience the sacred in the ordinary. It takes me deeply into all the gifts of this abundant life . . . the water, the soap, the knowledge, the care, the ability . . . to wash my hands. So ordinary, so divine.

You may be reading this and saying to yourself, “How can you revel in such an ordinary and mundane task when the world is imploding upon itself?! When we’re faced with constant violence and hatred. Wake up and fight.”

And, yes, I hear you. I can’t read the news or interact on Facebook without crying. I hear you, my heart breaks constantly and I speak up as I can. And my path is one of peace. My path is one of the warrior of peace. I will stand calmly in the face of violence. I will be a source of love, kindness, and calm.

In order to do that, I need to cultivate it. To create calm in me, I need to practice it. To be able to smile and reassure those who are suffering, I must be sincere in my peacefulness. To be able to listen calmly and provide helpful guidance, I must be calm. I must be able to be present. Here in the ordinary of everydayness and in the extraordinary face of violence and upheaval.

I’m not saying that this is your path or should be your path. I’m simply saying this is the way for me. The path to peaceful presence and kindness for me is through everyday mindfulness.

I’m able to access that through the practices of Reiki and meditation and ongoing, daily, moment-to-moment reminders to be myself, to be here – not in the past and not in the future. Here at this red light, this opportunity to breath, to notice my hands on the wheel and my feet touching the floor, and the sensation of a small smile that comes over my face that reminds those around me that I am safe, I am calm. I am.

Reiki, Empathy, and Proof

Yesterday, an article was published in the Boston Globe called, “Easing a Patient’s Pain – Even Without Proof it Works.” The article discusses the use of acupuncture, massage, reflexology, and Reiki at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. It reports that, “The hospital soon will start a nearly $2 million project to convert the first floor of one of its buildings into a new

complementary therapies at Dana-Farber
Photo by Pat Greenhouse / Globe Staff

center for ‘integrative therapies,’’ which eventually could double the number of patients it can accommodate. More than 3,000 patients scheduled appointments for acupuncture and massage last year, a 25 percent jump over 2014.”

This is indeed excellent news for patients at Dana-Farber and for the promotion and acceptance of these complementary therapies. The article says it’s an “unusual” move but actually this is not so unusual as in 2008 over 800 U.S. hospitals, or around 37%, offered Reiki according to the American Hospital Association and that number continues to grow.

The article also points out that Reiki was rejected by MD Anderson because there is no definitive proof – it’s just a placebo that’s as effective as speaking to an “empathic person” according to Lorenzo Cohen, director of integrative medicine at MD Anderson. I find this a fascinating statement because in the U.S. we spend large amounts of money on talking to empathic people called psychologists and social workers. If Reiki is as effective as psychotherapy, doesn’t that elevate its status?

Also, the “just a placebo” line has been used so many times. We all know that placebos can be very effective. Yes, we don’t know the biomechanical mechanism involved in Reiki but that’s because we don’t really know how energy interacts in our biomechanical selves and we don’t really know how the mind/body/spirit interact. However, we do know that people who experience Reiki leave a session more relaxed, with less pain, and that they often experience accelerated healing.

As Lissa Rankin, M.D., writes in Mind over Medicine, “What I found is that nearly every clinical trial demonstrates a placebo effect, but some health conditions appear to be more placebo-responsive than others. Placebos seem to be most effective when given to patients with immune-systems conditions . . . mental-health condition . . . nervous-system disorders . . . cardiac symptoms . . . , and most effectively, pain disorders.” She goes on to point out that the placebo effect is not found in clinical trials for cancer, heart attacks, stroke, liver failure, and kidney disease because that would be unethical as a sole treatment.

Dr. Rankin goes on to discuss complementary healing methods and writes, “I’d like to make the argument that perhaps nontraditional healing modalities work not so much because of the modality being practiced as because of the potent combination of positive belief in the healing method, the nurturing care offered by the practitioner, and the relaxation responses these treatments induce.” (page 54)

Indeed, positive belief can be a very powerful prescription and I applaud the important step that the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute is taking to assist their patients in mind, body, and spirit.

I look forward to the day when we fully embrace the role of the mind and the spirit in healing our bodies.

 

Self-love: Calling my body, “she”

This post also appears on The Huffington Post.

Photo by Janice E Lodato Calling my body she

One day as I entered a bathroom stall at work, I was thinking about my body. “It’s tired. It’s old. It aches.” — were the thoughts that went through my head. Then I stopped myself, both mind and body, and thought, “Why don’t you call your body “she”?” After 50 years on this planet this thought arrived as a revelation. I’ve always called this body, “it” and, unfortunately, there have been times I’ve treated it with disdain. Like many others I have struggled with liking and loving myself, especially my body.

For me, I clearly identify my body as female and calling her “she” makes sense. I know for others that perspective is not as clear and the words may be different for them, but I invite all of us to at least address our body with an animate pronoun or a name.

These bodies are pretty amazing. Let’s start with a few examples.

  1. Your Body, She is a healing machine. Our bodies are constantly working toward a state of health and equilibrium.
  2. Your Body, She enables you to do so much. To see the beauty of a sunrise, to hear the sounds of uplifting music, to walk in the woods – to name just a few. She is an enabler, not a burden.
  3. Your Body, She provides you with awareness. Not just body awareness, but also emotional awareness. As we tune-in to our bodies they tell us the truth about how we’re feeling and provide us with instinctual awareness about situations and the people in our lives.

Why would you not call your body, “she”? Because she gets sick and dies? Because she gets fat or thin with no rhyme or reason? Because she is subject to scrutiny and criticism by others, especially doctors and our inner self-critic? But she is just having a human experience. She is a human body with all its wonderful aspects and all of its imperfection. If she were your friend, would you treat her the way you treat your very own body?

So, is calling your body, “she,” really helpful? I have found that when I’m talking about my body as a “she” my thoughts and actions are gentler. For instance, the other day my knee hurt – maybe from running too much or too fast or from stretching too little. My mind said, “Go running anyway, you’ll be fine.” But my body . . . she said, “Please rest. One day off and a little extra stretching would do me wonders.” So, because I respect her and her innate wisdom, I rested. I stretched. The next day I felt great and was ready to roll again. She showed me how appreciative she was and I ran with ease and comfort.

This body, she really is wonderful. She accompanies me on great adventures, is a guiding force in so many of life’s pleasures, she shares her wisdom (often so quietly that I have to stop and listen and just breathe and sometimes with such force I’m startled by the sudden clenching of my stomach or how my breath is taken away). She is a kind companion on this journey of life and I bow in honor to her – my first best friend.