The Blame Game Has No Winners

I get emails from grown adults with children of their own who are still blaming their parents for who they are. I get emails from people who are entrenched in a battle with a family member and from those who cannot forgive a former partner. The more you dig your heels in and cling to your opinions, your version of events, your list of ways you’ve been wronged, the less chance there is to let some love in and to shine some light on your own participation and what it is you brought to the equation that led to a painful outcome. We always bring something to any situation, even if that something is our inability to stand up for ourselves, to value ourselves or to put an end to abusive treatment (assuming you weren’t a child at the time — in which case your work is simply to heal, not that it’s easy).

If you’re over 25, it’s time to stop blaming your parents no matter how bad it may have been. People do the best they can with what they’ve got. Sometimes the best they’ve got kind of sucks. This is not about you, and it does not reflect anything lacking in you. Not everyone is going to be lucky enough to have loving, mature parents who are ready or able to put their children first. We should also acknowledge timing, here. You may come into a person’s life at a time when their capacity to love, to extend themselves, to care, is just really limited. I say that in the context of parent-child relationships, friendships, and romantic partnerships. People can only be where they are. If you experienced neglect or abuse as a child, it’s hard not to feel enraged and I think you need to allow yourself that rage for awhile. I think you need to sit with whatever feelings you’ve got, whether they’re feelings of resentment, bitterness or blame and examine all of it. Mourn the childhood you didn’t have. Grieve. But if you get stuck there, if that’s as far as you take the journey, you just land yourself in a world of pain. I think very few people intend to hurt anyone, very few parents intentionally screw it up. Sometimes you just get caught in the storm of someone else’s journey through no fault of your own and you get hit in the face with a lot of hail and end up throwing up over the side of the ship, but you don’t have to stay in that storm for the rest of your life.

There are so many healing modalities available. Yoga, meditation, therapy, journaling, reading and anything else that works for you. Hiking, windsurfing, painting…whatever causes you to lose yourself for awhile, and tap into that larger feeling of being in the flow. Of course we all have different responses to trauma, not everyone handles it the same way. If you need some help, reach out. Don’t allow yourself to stay rooted in the dark, alone and shut down and in despair. There’s no need for that. There’s no reason that your past has to control your present or your future. Love can happen right now, in this moment if you let it. If you don’t believe that, put your hand on your heart and close your eyes, and when you breathe in, think, “I am whole, and I am lovable,” and exhale out some pain. You don’t have to hold onto it so tightly. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

In the context of romantic relationships, let me say this. It is never one person’s fault. If you think that’s possible, I guarantee you you’re missing a great chance to know yourself more deeply and to take some valuable information into your future partnerships. We all have stuff. We all have work to do, places where we could go deeper or show up in greater alignment with what’s true for us. The end of a relationship never tells the whole story. You can’t separate out the beginning and the middle, the alchemy between you and the other person which creates the third thing, the relationship between you. Timing, circumstances, where you were on your path, and where your partner was on theirs. Your participation. Your level of appreciation, patience, kindness, support and understanding. Your actions, things you said, did, didn’t do. What was motivating you. If you want to dig your heels in and point angry fingers that’s always a choice, but it’s not a choice that’s going to lead to growth or a deeper understanding of where you still have some healing to do.

With family members I recognize it can get complicated, but I think it’s so sad when siblings don’t speak to one another for years at a time. Over money, or someone’s spouse who said something hurtful when they were drunk at a family wedding. I know a guy who didn’t speak to his sister for ten years because they were arguing over the money their mom left behind. They both had children during this decade and countless beautiful experiences. These were siblings who grew up playing together, loving each other, sailing together over the summers, climbing trees when they were kids. And then the sister died. Horrendous. Un-dig your heels in life wherever possible so you can keep moving forward, which life asks of you every moment. So you can keep responding to what is, with your mind, heart and hands open. It’s not all going to go the way we want. People will let us down. We are all going to make choices we’d love to do over from time to time. Say things we’d love to take back. All of us. Forgive. Recognize that, and forgive. Or really, you’re in prison.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Where are You Rooted?

Yesterday my six year old son asked me if I knew about the “walking palm trees of the rain-forest.” He told me that these trees were able to “move their roots” if they saw a spot that looked better to them. I told him that was incredibly cool, and that I did not know about these trees. Of course, I had to go Google it, because palm trees walking around the rain-forest seems like something I’d have heard about somewhere along the way. So it turns out the Socratea exorrhiza, or, “Walking Palm” is native to tropical Central and South America, and it has stilt roots that allow it to grow in swampy areas of forest. Some people think their roots exist as an adaptation to flooding, and others believe the roots allow the palm to “walk away” if another tree falls on the seedling and knocks it over. If this happens, the palm produces new vertical stilt roots and rights itself, the original roots rotting away.

I think life asks us to do this very thing again and again; to start over, to respond to the ever-changing nature of things, to move our roots when we need to and right ourselves. But a lot of the time we resist. We cling to the dying roots that don’t sustain us or nurture us anymore, that cannot support our growth any longer. Sometimes we do this out of desperation. We love someone, or many “someones” and can’t bear the thought of hurting them. Or we’re afraid of all that is required to pick up and move toward the unknown. In relationships, it’s incredibly painful. The roots grow down directly from our hearts. But if you aren’t growing, you’re dying, and if you’re dying you can’t nurture anyone else because all your energy is going toward your withering and quiet destruction. Without living, healthy roots, you just won’t have the strength to rise up and reach the light and so life becomes very dark indeed.

I know so many people who keep feeding those dying roots, though. It’s all swampy and murky and nothing new can grow there, but still, they try to shore the thing up, to feed it whatever they can. Sometimes it’s old stories that have become rooted. They’re poisoning the tree, the branches are hanging low, the leaves have mostly fallen off, but the roots of blame, anguish, fear or sadness, of bitterness, shame or guilt keep the person rooted in the Forest of What Was. I spent a good decade in that forest, so I can tell you the main thing that grows there are weeds. The kind that climb up your trunk and strangle your branches and steal all the light and all the nutrients, until you are just this Tree of Blame with sour fruit. “I am this way because this happened, and then that happened, and then this other thing happened, and so now when you say you love me I don’t believe you because everybody leaves and everybody cheats and I’m just going to stay rooted here in the darkness.” Or something like that.

Fear will keep you paralyzed in that forest if you let it, but it’s such a shame because old stories are old. They don’t have to control your present or your future. They may have created some grooves in your trunk, but they don’t have to overtake your ability to produce the sweetest fruit you can imagine; the fruit of, “I Got the F&ck Out!!!” for example. That is some sweet fruit. You may feel stuck and powerless. You may even be rooted to those feelings; there may be some pay-off for you in staying stuck. Attachment to sympathy or attention, a reason not to do the brave and difficult thing so you can stick with what you know even if it doesn’t feel good, or an excuse to numb out are some possibilities. But I have to let you know, the pay-off of digging deep, to the very bottom of your soul, gathering up your courage and your stilt roots, and moving your a$$ to the Forest of Life is Freaking Amazing has a much greater pay-off. If a tree can do it, I have zero doubt you can do it, too.

Sending you a lot of love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

How Are You Walking?

howwelluwalkthroughthefireI think there are really just two choices in life: you live in love, or you live in fear. Either way, you walk through the fire. Yesterday I posted some thoughts on Monday’s bombings in Boston. Someone wrote in that she was angry. Of course. Anger is a completely sane and valid response. None of us want to live in a world where we have to wonder if it’s safe to watch our loved ones cross the finish line at a marathon or drop our kids off at school or go to a movie. These are all things we’d hope we could take for granted, but we can’t, not anymore. There’s violence all over the world, perpetrated every single day by people of all political leanings, nationalities, religions, colors, genders and ages. It’s a border-less, sadly human condition. The real question isn’t who’s at fault. The real question is, does violence exist within me, personally? Am I a peaceful human being, or am I participating in the cycle of violence? That’s what you can work on.

Trying to blame the state of the world on any one person is absurd. On any one political party. On any one country or religion or race. This is a human, global issue. We got ourselves into this mess together, and we’re going to have to get ourselves out of it together. You cannot solve it with more violence. That’s what we’ve been doing, and I would hope at this juncture we could all agree it’s not working out too well for us. We’re hurting each other and we’re hurting our planet, the place where we live.

There’s the home within us, right? The home you’re going to live in for your whole life, your body. Your internal dialogue is going to be your constant companion. Whatever you grow inside yourself is what you’re going to spread as you move through the world around you. If you’re in fear and anger, that’s what you’ll be spreading. If you’re in love, you’ll be spreading love. What do you think we need out there? More anger? More violence? More separation? The same person who said she was angry also refuted my assertion that we all love our children. She said some people strap bombs to their children and that isn’t love. I’ve never heard of a parent strapping a bomb to their child. Not ever. If that’s happened, that’s a parent who is so full of anger and hatred they can’t see straight. Who’s lost that deeply rooted evolutionary, biologically-induced determination to protect and nurture his or her child. I’ve heard about parents raising their children with the belief that Americans are terrible people who deserve to die and that life on earth is not important, it’s the after-life that matters, and I’ve heard of American parents who teach their children that people of other colors and religions who speak different languages and pray to different gods or no god should be hated and also deserve to die.

Sometimes these kids grow up to become young adults who strap bombs to themselves, under some false idea that it honors their country or their god or their parents. If you’ve raised your child to believe there’s something honorable in taking his or her own life and the lives of others in a brutal, senseless, violent way, then I’m very sorry, but you are blowing it as a person and a parent. You’re blowing it because you’re choosing fear instead of love and you’re feeding that diet to your open-minded, openhearted child and you are participating and prolonging the violence. If you didn’t teach that to your child, but you gave birth to someone who came to believe that due to circumstances, events and conditions no one could prepare for, see coming, or manage, then you did not blow it. You were given a set of circumstances no one should judge from the outside and you deserve a lot of compassion.

Fear closes us off and shuts us down. Teaching hatred is the sign of a very broken heart, and it will only perpetuate the cycle of alienation, destruction and violence. The idea that there’s an “us” and a “them.” The only way to understand where someone is coming from is to truly try to see things from their perspective. To drop your own highly ingrained beliefs, opinions, projections and assumptions for just a few minutes, and really listen and truly consider a different point of view.

How might you feel if you grew up in a completely different environment? Most people can’t listen deeply to someone with a different set of core beliefs because it’s scary or it feels intolerable to drop their viewpoint, even briefly. Who am I without my highly ingrained beliefs? Without my opinions and projections and memories? You know who you are without that stuff? You’re me. I’m you. That’s the point. You want to identify yourself as Democrat. Republican. Christian. Muslim. Jew. Palestinian. Black, White. Male. Female. American. Saudi Arabian. Chinese. Try this instead. You are a human being living on planet earth and your anger and your labels will not save you from the very vulnerable experience of being human. Of violence and loss and grief and pain so deep it makes your head spin. Of heartbreak and confusion and shame and despair. It also won’t save you from having your heart opened in ways you couldn’t imagine until you felt it happen. It won’t save you from the crushing gratitude you’d have to feel if you were awake and alive to all that’s encompassed in being a human being on planet earth. For every one person who seeks to create death and destruction, there are thousands who go running toward people in pain. To offer a hand. Their coat. Their phone, their home, the food in their refrigerator. People are good.

I don’t know who put those bombs at the finish line, and so far, neither does anyone else. It could be an American. It could be someone from another country. It doesn’t matter. Whoever it was, it’s a person in a lot of pain. Someone who’s very confused about life. About how to be a human being on the only planet we all share. As someone else said yesterday, “We aren’t okay until we’re all okay.” Please don’t go to anger and stay there. If you’re angry, I get it. Use that anger to bring yourself back to love, to get fired up about how you can help to make the world within you and around you a more peaceful place to be. Teach your children that the space between them and anyone else is sacred and shouldn’t be polluted with hatred and judgment. With anger and blame. Choose love. Again and again and again. That’s how we heal ourselves, each other, and this beautiful but hurting world we live in. That’s how we become nothing more and nothing less than what we are: Incredibly gorgeous human beings on a spinning orb. Wishing that for everyone, and sending love in all directions,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Choose Hope.

choosehopeI watched some raw video from the Boston Marathon yesterday, instead of just reading about it, which is what I’d intended to do, and so I heard the awful screaming of people in shock and dismay. The shaking voice of the man taking the video and the way his breath was shallow, and my own heart-rate went up listening to him. We all sound different in that state. I learned that the one and only time I watched the birth video a girlfriend took during my labor with my son, which was scary and violent and full of moments I wasn’t sure we were going to make it through. All you can hear after the birth is me sobbing and asking again and again, “Is he okay?” in a voice I do not recognize as my own. But it’s the exact same voice I heard yesterday in someone’s video footage and it went straight through my heart. Panic, fear, despair and shock take such a toll on us and we really are all the same in our humanness and vulnerability.

When things like this happen and we look around at the state of the world in general, it’s easy to say, “It’s just too much. Everything is broken and violent,” and to feel hopeless about it all. I went to a screening of a powerful film I’ve seen three times, “Children of War” by filmmaker Bryan Single. He spent the better part of three years in Northern Uganda, filming the work of Jane Ekayu (you can check out her website, childrenofpeaceuganda.com) and other counselors working with children who were abducted from their homes and forced to become soldiers of the Lord’s Resistance Army. They targeted children 5-15 years old because they’re the most tender and the easiest to control. I can’t tell you what these children have been through. Some were forced to kill their own family members. But human beings have an incredible capacity to forgive and heal and people like Jane who care and take action make all the difference in the world.

I realize when we see violence like this it’s natural to want to crawl into a hole or distract ourselves. I saw people yesterday getting angry at those expressing sympathy and bringing up other places in the world where violence is a way of life. One is no more or less distressing than the other. I experienced some of that myself in December, when I wrote about Sandy Hook Elementary and someone said there’s no reason to weep if it doesn’t affect you directly. It’s all direct. Sometimes people don’t feel the impact of how awful something is until it hits close to home; there’s no reason to have contempt for someone who suddenly realizes the heartbreak of violence and destruction. Realizing is the thing, whenever and wherever it happens. What’s happening in Iraq directly affects us all. And what’s happening in the Congo. Do you want to know the truth? It doesn’t matter where it’s happening. Borders are meaningless and something we’ve made up. Skin color is meaningless. We are one people on one planet, and we are all connected. The root of almost all of our problems is that we’ve separated ourselves from each other. If one of us is suffering, we are all suffering.

The thing is not to give up. Not to decide it’s broken and too much, and what can one person possibly do, anyway? You can’t fix everything, that’s for sure. But you can do something. I mean, anything, really. Any way you can extend some love and some hope and some care, matters. It can be the smallest thing. You can hold a door open for a stranger, that matters. You can let someone merge while you’re driving, that matters, too. You can treat everyone you encounter with kindness. If you feel really inspired, you can pick one organization and volunteer. Give your time and your energy and your heart. A secret thing you might not know is that spending your energy trying to uplift someone else will make you feel incredible. Like your life has some meaning and that won’t just be a feeling you have, that will be the reality. We can heal and we can care about each other, and we can impact the way the world around us looks and feels. But hatred won’t get us there. “Us vs. Them” won’t get us there. Demonizing people who are severely troubled or mentally ill won’t get us there, either. Focusing on what’s different won’t do it. But do you have any idea how much is the same? We all love our children. We all breathe the same air. We all have dreams and hopes and fears and nights we cry ourselves to sleep. We could all use a hand reaching out in the darkness sometimes. And we could surely use a lot of people who don’t give up and numb out. I think we have a whole bunch of them on this page.

Sending love to all of you, and to anyone, anywhere, who is suffering,

Ally Hamilton

The Heart Cries Out with Truth. Answer It.

When-someone-shows-youI get lots of emails from people dealing with relationship issues and they often go something like, “I love my partner, and things would be amazing if he or she could just change some essential, defining personality attribute.” I mean, they don’t say it that way, but that’s the heart of it. There are few things in life more painful than falling in love with someone, offering up the most tender parts of yourself only to find you’re being rejected slowly for who you are – what once was endearing is now disappointing – or that you’ve been misunderstood on some profound level. That if you’d just change yourself, your partner would love you again. I see people bend over backwards, or squish themselves into the tiniest amount of space possible to endure. I’ve done that myself in past years, but I’d never do that today.  Love doesn’t require you to crush yourself and betray your spirit. That’s not loving someone and that’s not the experience of being loved, either.

This takes so many forms. People fall in love with someone they want to save (change). I’m going to love this person so much, they’ll heal and all these painful places within them that also cause me to suffer will go away. Or, this person has clearly told me they have trouble committing, but that’s just because they haven’t loved me before. Oh, yeah? I’d go get your crash pads out now. Sometimes a person gives to get– I’ll love this person so well, they’ll never leave me or hurt me. I’ll accept all kinds of poor treatment and keep showing up with love and eventually they’ll appreciate me and then I’ll have them. People are not possessions. Love is not controlling or manipulative. It’s not conditional or punishing. Love is accepting and when it’s happening well, it will open you and lead to the greater expansion of your heart and your partner’s.

I think a big part of the problem for people has to do with this desire to project. I have people write in about how they’ve made lists of all the attributes they’d like in a person and then they meet someone they’re attracted to and BAM! Miraculously, this person has all these qualities, down to their eye color and political leanings. Sometimes we want love so much, we simply see what we want to see. The best gift you can give someone is your curiosity and your full, kind attention, whether you’ve known them a few weeks or many years. Most people will tell you who they are if you give them the space to do that.

You really don’t want to be pushing important things under the rug, receiving the information that’s comfortable and editing out the stuff that’s confrontational, worrisome, or confusing. I think the key is to listen deeply and open to it all. You either love and accept people for all parts of themselves, the way you have to love yourself if you want to heal and be at peace, or you don’t, in which case you find the courage to gently release them. This is not to say we don’t all have our “stuff” and our places where we can grow. A great partnership is a foundation to move through those areas in a safe and loving space, to go deeper and become more vulnerable and still be accepted and cherished. That’s when you see a person blossom in the context of a relationship (If you haven’t blossomed before the relationship, it’s highly likely you’re going to go through some serious growing pains along the way, and you’ll either grow together or apart). But too many people fall in love with someone’s potential and that’s painful for both sides of the equation.

There are other areas this shows up as well. Parents who struggle to accept their children as they are, who have such a strong vision for their son’s life or daughter’s life, it’s hard to accept their path may look completely different. The heart cries out with truth. Part of loving means answering that call, and being in support of other people as they answer it.

You can’t change other people, and you can’t save them, either, but you can love them with your whole heart. Everyone deserves to be loved like that.

Wishing that for you, and for everyone,

Ally Hamilton

Don’t Give Up.

A few weeks ago, someone messaged me on the fan page and said he was going to end his life. I can’t really explain the panic I felt, especially because his message was a few hours old by the time I saw it. He shared some details of his life over the last few years and why he’d come to the conclusion that it just wasn’t worth it. He’d suffered some devastating losses, enough that it was understandable he felt hopeless and defeated. I wrote back immediately and gave him the Suicide Prevention Hotline number (800-273-8255), my number, and also contact information for three therapists I know and trust. I begged him to write back and let me know he’d received my message and also told him there have been times in my life when I’ve felt like giving up, too. Not for many, many years, but I certainly entertained those thoughts at one time in my life. When things feel so dark you really can’t think of a reason to lift your head off your pillow, the thought, “What’s the point of it all?” is natural and understandable.

Yesterday, someone wrote in a thread, “Why can’t we talk about the miraculous sometimes, too?” and then she wrote back and rescinded her question, saying that it “all leads back to joy.” But it’s a legitimate question and there are days when I just write from my heart and send out a hit of love. Or I hope I do. I write about the shadow emotions a lot because I feel in the spiritual community there’s so much focus on being positive and spreading the light. I think it’s alienating for many people. There is so much light. There’s a limitless well of love within each of us, but to uncover that well there’s usually some digging required. A lot of people feel alone in that digging, like there must be something wrong with them and sometimes they give up. Numb out. Run, deny, try to push it all down. Or they become bitter and think other people must have it easier. The truth is some people do have it easier. We don’t all go through the same experiences. There are some people who will suffer losses that are so knifing, so brutally painful you have to hope they’re going to be able to put one foot in front of the other, and that’s usually when some well-meaning positive person will come along and smugly assert that, “everything happens for a reason,” and forget that the foundation of a true spiritual practice is compassion. There’s nothing comforting in telling a person who is trying to remember how to breathe in and breathe out that their loss has happened for a reason, or that they should focus on all the good things in their life, or that one day they’ll understand why. Some things will never, ever be okay. Some things will never make sense. There are some lessons that will never elicit gratitude. Growth, yes. If you get through it. Deeper understanding, insight and compassion? Yes. Gratitude? No. Not for some things.

It’s my belief a spiritual practice ought to be there for you whether you’re moving through beautiful, joyful, miraculous times in your life, or you’re going through blinding pain that makes you want to give up. I don’t worry about those of you feeling gratitude. I love you, but I’m not worried. I do want to reach out to those people in darkness and say you’re not alone and offer a hand. A blog post. A yoga class, a hug. An email. Whatever I’ve got. Because I really think that’s what we’re here to do. We’re here to love each other, support each other, and share and grow together and I think that is pretty miraculous. When I look at my life today, it’s hard to imagine I ever wondered what “the point of it all” was, because it’s very clear to me now. The point of it is to love your heart out. To connect. There’s an insane amount of joy in all that. I’ve been emailing with the man who was feeling desperate a few weeks ago. He’s talking to someone and getting support in many areas. Sometimes we need help. It’s not easy, this business of being human. But it is pretty amazing.

Sending you a ton of love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

What’s Up, Monkey?

Sometimes life can be brutally painful. We lose someone we love beyond our ability to put it in words, way too soon. Loss like that is violent and shocking, even if it happens slowly. Or we have our hearts broken in a relationship, sometimes over and over again by the same person. If betrayal is in the mix, it’s even more painful. Or we lose a job we really loved or wanted. Or we simply can’t seem to get any traction going in any direction in life, with relationships or work, or even with how to be in this world. Maybe there’s an abusive background. A family of origin with addiction issues. A history of broken promises, emotional or physical violence. You get the picture.

Whatever you’re coming out of, you have a choice. You have the choice to ask for help if you need it. Healing is often confrontational and painful and lonely and confusing, and having someone there to hold your hand or offer an ear or a shoulder can really make all the difference. Someone who will kindly hold up a mirror for you, and make sure you’re examining your inner landscape clearly and thoroughly, because you can’t let go of those things that are blocking your ability to give and receive love without understanding them first and without allowing yourself to mourn and to grieve for what was, or what could have been. Your understanding is your path to liberation, your willingness to open to all of those emotions we’re taught to push down is the key. You actually want to pry the lid off and invite them all to come flooding in so you can swim in that stuff for awhile, and scream your heart out if you need to, and shed your tears, and exhaust yourself until there’s no denial and no fighting of reality left in you. There’s just facing it, as it is, and as it was, so you can open to how it could be. Your awareness and acceptance and compassion for yourself clear the path toward a new way of being.

Starting over is also lonely work. The old way doesn’t work, and the new way hasn’t become clear yet. Some of your closest family members and oldest friends may not like your new adventure. They may feel threatened and angry, like you’re rejecting them in an effort to take care of yourself, which really has to come first if you plan on being happy in this life. Socrates has a beautiful quote, “The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”

Even if you’ve been hurt and disappointed, neglected or abused, abandoned or ignored, you have the choice to live in fear, hardened and bitter and full of rage and blame, or to do the brave thing. To let go of the old handlebar you’ve been hanging off for far too long. The one that burns your hands with its heat and its pain and its why and its unfairness, and to reach out for love. To make yourself vulnerable in that space between the one and the other. To use all the strength and hope and courage you’ve got to propel yourself forward and reach out with your open hand and your open heart for that bar in front of you that’s full of promise and something new. Something different. To open to the possibility that you might do all that and slip right off the bar and land on your face and have to get back up again and start over. But that if you keep reaching and you keep trying, eventually the way will become clear. And then my dear monkey, the bars become rather fun.

Wishing you the courage to let go and reach out, and sending love, as always,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

It’s the Story, Not the Ending

Do you know any octogenarians? One of my closest friends is 80, he’s been a private client for eleven years. If you spoke with him you would not feel like he’s in the midst of his “ending” and he’d tell you off if you suggested such a thing. Most days when I leave he says, “Don’t let the bastards get you down,” mostly because he knows I’m going to shake my head and laugh and also because, much to his chagrin, he knows I don’t believe in bastards. I just think some people are having a really tough time with life. He can’t stand the expressions, “No worries,” or “It’s all good,” either. He’s funny and brilliant and one of the most alive people I know. He used to sing totally off-color Irish lullabies to my kids when they were babies. As they’ve gotten older, he sings the songs with the real words not the “sailor” versions. But anyway, I used to think like that. That at eighty, I’d have it all figured out. My story would be long done by then, I’d just be living it out. Now I realize there is no ending, happy or otherwise, not until your final exhale. Until then, it’s all the story. Parts of the story are going to be stunningly painful. Other parts are going to be so amazing they’ll expand your heart and you’ll feel like it’s going to burst right out of your body and there’ll be every shade of everything else in between. The real question isn’t whether you’re going to find that happy ending. The actual question is whether you’re going to be happy as you move through the unfolding story of your life, day to day.

I grew up on the same fairy-tales you did and I’ve seen the same romantic comedies. For a good long while, I bought into all that. I thought if I was somehow perfect and I did everything the way I was supposed to, straight A’s, thin enough, pretty enough, someone would come along and “save me” and I’d live happily ever after. Or something like that. And then this way older man came along, and that wasn’t a happy ending. And the Mirror Guy showed up and that wasn’t happy, either. I’d graduated from a great school and starved myself through twelve years of ballet and there I was with my diploma and my thinness and these relationships that broke my heart and there didn’t seem to be potential for that happy ending on the horizon. I started to get an inkling that it isn’t on the horizon, it isn’t going to happen one day in the future when things calm down or you meet someone or you make X amount of dollars, but I didn’t know that then, not for sure. I’d see families walking down the street and wonder, “How did they do that?” You know, because I was about twenty when I thought this way and had no actual idea of what it would take to make a relationship work. Or a life. I think lots of people reach adulthood without a clue. Without knowing themselves.

It wasn’t until I found yoga and seated meditation that I started to understand happiness was an inner journey and a process of discovery. A willingness to open to reality as it is and to do the work to heal what needs to be healed. To let go of the grip and the false notion of control. If I do everything “right” then I’ll be happy. If I’m a good person things will go my way. The “right” we’re sold is a big fat lie. The real right is what’s right for you. What’s true for you, and no prince or princess is going to show up and tell you. There isn’t going to be this magical kiss on the lips that makes your life fall into place. There isn’t going to be a big enough house or fast enough car. There isn’t going to be a job that solves it, although it goes a long way when you find something to do with your time and your energy that’s fulfilling to you. There’s just you. Looking at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day as you brush your teeth. You either look at yourself with kindness or contempt. The fairy-tales should really be about that. The fire-breathing dragons are inside us and they have nasty little voices that say, “Not good enough.” Those are the ones you face, and you slay them. You take what is real and true for you and you split them down the middle with it. Eventually they leave you alone, or you’re just too full of love to house them anymore or they’re mostly sleeping, but when they wake up once in awhile you don’t have to waste a lot of energy slaying them again, you just give them a look and they cower and go back to sleep because they don’t own you anymore. Something like that. The most essential part of your story is going to happen inside yourself and then there will be external factors and the way you respond to them. Those external factors play a significant role in your story as well, because it’s not a level playing field and sometimes the most devastating things happen to the most incredibly loving people.

I see so many people still searching for that brass ring or that “right” person to complete them. I have an inbox stuffed with emails from people trying to figure out what’s wrong with them, what they’re doing or not doing that’s causing the unhappy result they’re getting with their lives. Why they aren’t getting the breaks even though they’re doing everything “right”. This happens with people on the spiritual path, too. I’m doing my yoga. It’s been ten years. When am I going to be happy? Well, how are you doing your yoga? Are you breathing and focusing and practicing with compassion for yourself? Are you feeding a loving, kind voice? Are you listening deeply and responding honestly? Are you curious about your experience or attached to the outcome? Are you tuning in or zoning out? Because showing up on your mat consistently is great, but it’s not the whole story. Some people show up six days a week, but beat the crap out of themselves or get attached to the poses, or feel good on days when they’re full of energy and feeling open, and bad on days when it’s a struggle.

Happiness is not a destination, it’s a process. It’s an ever-unfolding choice you make. It’s equanimity in the face of life’s ups and downs. A knowingness that this is how it is now, not how it’s always going to be because everything is always in a state of flux. Sometimes you allow yourself to just be heartbroken, to suffer and grieve or to be enraged, and shake your fists at the sky, or dig your hands into the dirt of why. You embrace it all, and as much as possible, you open to the wonder of it all. There’s beauty in everything, even the most devastating losses. The fact that you’ve ever loved so much to grieve so deeply has some beauty in it. Loneliness has some beauty in it; the fact that your tender heart longs to be seen and understood is beautiful. It’s real. Love requires your bravery and your vulnerability and that’s gorgeous. The pain opens us. Generally the deepest growth springs out of the sharpest pain, and wisdom is gained through suffering. Is it human to sometimes wish for less pain, less growth, less suffering and less wisdom? Of course, but we don’t get to choose what happens, we only get to choose how we respond. The more you’re able to surrender to what is and honor the truth in your heart, the more you’ll be able to relax into the unknown of the thing and there’s a lot of peace in that. Wishing you a truthful, inspiring, exciting story, and sending you a lot of love.

So grateful to be traveling with all of you,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Marriage, Divorce, and Little People

Yesterday I posted about lies, deceit and betrayal and as I expected, it stirred up a lot of feeling in people. Today’s post is focused on marriage, divorce, and children because I got a flood of emails from people related to this topic. It seems many people are in relationships that aren’t growing anymore. We could talk about that quite a lot. How is it that our divorce rate is so high? It’s over half of all marriages that fail now and I believe a large part of it is cultural. We’re taught to keep looking for bigger, better, newer, shinier. So much of what we value is external. A lot of the time, we aren’t looking at the gifts right in front of us.

We’re living in a time when everyone is busybusybusy, racing from one place to another and then it’s Monday again. And again and again and again, and wow. A whole year just went by. Three, five, wait. How old am I? This year I’ll take that vacation. Hmm, maybe next year. This weekend I’ll hang out with my family. Oh, wait, I can’t, I have a deadline. We also have a broken system where you have to work your a$$ off to be able to afford health insurance for your family and to keep food in the fridge and a roof over everyone’s heads. It’s not like I don’t get that, but still. A walk after dinner. A dinner without devices on the table. A story before bedtime. Something. A card for your spouse for no reason once in awhile. Date night. A touch on the arm on your way out the door and a moment to really see each other, remember each other. Or it’s going to die.

I dated a guy who was a runner once. Every morning he’d jump out of bed and go for a run. Then he’d come back and jump in the shower and race out the door with barely a goodbye over his shoulder. He’d race the entire day until he collapsed in bed at night. He raced through everything. I’ll leave it at that, but I mean everything. The only time he slowed down is when he’d travel for work. Then he’d call me and want to talk because he’d be lonely in some far-off place. You can’t race through life and prioritize your to-do list and come home and zone out in front of the television and never give the people in your life your full attention and expect a relationship to keep growing. You have to water it. You can’t have the attention span of a flea and think that’s going to cut it. If you don’t see and appreciate what you have, you’re probably going to lose it.

Weddings are easy, marriages are not. You have to choose to marry the person every day. To see them and hear them and cherish them the way other people do, people who are not taking them for granted and who don’t assume they know all there is to know. It’s funny, I’m lucky enough to have some friends I’ve known over twenty years. I don’t ever think I know all there is to know. Yesterday, I was supposed to talk to a girlfriend I’ve known since I was twelve years old and we couldn’t make it happen with her kids, my kids and the time difference. But when we do talk, it’s not going to be static on the line because things have happened since we spoke last week. She’s not the same today as she was seven days ago when we talked about everything, and neither is anyone else. People felt confronted yesterday by what I wrote. People who may be engaging in email flirtations or more. You think I don’t understand? I fully understand, believe me. It’s painful to live in a house with someone who doesn’t see you anymore. I’ve been there more than once. More than twice.

What do you do? You go to the person you built a life with, even if the walls are starting to crumble and you say four words: I am in pain. And with as much kindness as you can, you tell them exactly where you’re at, even if you’re petrified, even if you have children, even if you would rather suffer yourself than bring pain to your family. Because I promise you, if you are in so much pain that you’re resorting to desperate acts with other people, your family is already feeling that. If you have children, on some level they know. They may not understand what they’re feeling, but they are feeling it. They’re on the ship with you. My parents got divorced when I was four and I remember all of it. If the space between you and your spouse is charged or dead or full of anger or lies or heartbreak or utter disappointment, realize that’s the space your children are growing in. Children have no defenses, they aren’t hardened, they feel it all. Maybe your spouse will storm out. Maybe they’ll hold your hand and cry with you, and it’s possible you’ll touch on something ancient between you that hasn’t been stirred in a long time. At least you’ll be communicating honestly.

If you feel like you can’t have the conversation without support, ask to go to couples’ counseling. I’d highly, highly recommend that in any case. If you have children, I think it’s a must, even if you end up talking about how you’re going to end things, but if you can save it, save it. Try with everything you’ve got. Read the book, “The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce: A 25 year Landmark Study”. We want to say that children are resilient and what matters most is that they have two happy parents. That’s true, but I can tell you honestly the best thing for your kids is keeping the family together if there’s any way possible to do that and be happy. I say that as someone who wasn’t able to do that.

Sometimes the best thing for everyone is for mom and dad to live in two different places. I just think people go a little too far with this kids just need mom and dad to be happy. I hear about schedules that are convenient for divorced parents, but so insane for the kids. Here one night, there the other, back and forth so much it would make anyone’s head spin. I grew up three nights here, four nights there, and even that was really hard. There’s a line. If you have to split because staying in your marriage requires the crushing of your spirit and your children’s too, then yes, you need to end it, but put the kids first. If you have a co-parent who won’t do that, that is so, so hard, but then your job is to rise to that occasion the best you can and be a rock for your children. A safe space (and to get support with that if you need it). Being a single parent is not at all easy. Depending on the other parent, it can be very, very painful, or it can be manageable, but as with everything in life, you cannot give your power away to someone else, or make everything someone else’s fault. Your ex is your ex for a reason. If there’s no support, understanding, respect or consideration coming from them, that is rough, but then your job is to figure out how you’re going to deal with that with grace and strength. You’re going to have to figure out who and what you can lean on to get through so your children do not pay the price, or pay as little as possible.

There are three kinds of adults I meet. Those whose parents got divorced, those who wish their parents had gotten divorced, and those lucky people who grew up with two parents who were able to pull it off. You know what? Everything you go through will open you and teach you something if you let it. As much as we may think we do, or we may want to, we never know what someone else’s path is supposed to look like, even our own children’s. Yes, your job is to put them first. Always. And to protect them as much as possible, and to nurture them and hold them and share with them anything and everything you’ve got. Your job is also to teach them what it looks like to be a happy, kind person. Isn’t that what we all really want for our children? We want them to be happy, right? To live life with their hearts open. To be able to recognize what’s true for them, and to live guided by their own inner yes. How will they be able to do that if you don’t show them what it looks like? It’s not impossible, but they’ll have to work a lot harder to figure it out without an example.

No matter what happens or how you feel, your ex will always be your child’s other parent, the other most important person in their world. Do you know people who don’t have good relationships with their moms or their dads? It’s a heartache that never goes away, and it wreaks havoc on all their interpersonal relationships unless they work on it a lot. You don’t want that for your children. (If we’re talking about a situation where there’s abuse and you are dealing with concerns about your child’s physical and emotional well-being, then we are in a different territory altogether, and then your job is to do everything you can to protect your child). Once in a parking lot I saw this little girl, probably about three years old, crying in her stroller and saying that she missed her daddy. Her mom looked really stressed out and yelled at her, “It’s a mommy day, you’ll see your dad tomorrow!!!” I couldn’t help it. I went over to her and said, “She just misses her dad, it’s totally normal. She loves you. Why don’t you take a time out, I’ll stay right here with her for a few minutes.” And her mom started crying and sat down in the drivers’ seat of her car, and I squatted down right outside the door and had the most amazing conversation with that little person. When her mom came out of her car she handed her cellphone to her daughter so she could talk to her dad.

The best thing you can do for your children is support a healthy, nurturing relationship with their other parent, even if their other parent is a rat-bastard, no-good @#$SB(&^$%. Okay? I understand that might be your reality, but even then. Your children will figure that out for themselves if that’s the case, your job is to help them get the best out of their other parent while they’re little. To feel loved and supported by that person, even if s/he has a limited capacity to love anyone. Also try to remember you have your experience with your ex, and your children will have theirs. Putting your kids in the position where they feel they have to choose sides is brutal for them and not loving. If you can work out a way to be friends with your ex, that is so ideal, but I know that’s not always possible.

What is possible is that you never, ever say a negative word about your ex to your child. Ever. I know exes who launch an intentional campaign to turn their children against their other parent, and I want to say if that is something you are doing, I can absolutely guarantee you will pay for it dearly at some point. It may not happen until your children are eighteen, nineteen, twenty, but as soon as they’re old enough to look back and think about what was said and done and by whom, you will pay for it. That is not putting your child’s best interests at heart, that is allowing your rage, bitterness and disappointment to poison you and to bleed into your children. They will never thank you for that, and if you cost them their relationship with their other parent and steal from them years they could have had love and support that were denied to them because of you, that is going to have a very damaging effect on your relationship with them. Right as you enter your golden years, right at the time when you hope those relationships will blossom and you and your grown children can develop a deeper bond based on a greater, more mature understanding of what it means to be a human being on planet earth, right then…that is when they’re going to understand what you took from them, and right then is when you will pay. Do not let that happen to you or to them. If you are enraged, talk to a therapist, your best friend, your mother or anyone else who can lend a sympathetic ear, but do it when your children are not within earshot. And do your best in the face of everything to work it out so that your children have as much stability as humanly possible.

Sending you love, as I always am.

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Whatever Your Truth, Own It

tellingthetruthIf you’re involved in something that requires you to lie and deceive you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I say this to you because I get so many emails from people who are having relations they have to keep hidden. Sometimes they’re email flirtations, and sometimes they’re full-fledged affairs. If you’re in a relationship that can only happen behind closed doors, that requires you to lie to people who love you and trust you, you are in the process of breaking your own heart, your own spirit, and your own ability to trust yourself. You’re going to have to do something about that, or the world of pain you’re in will become less and less livable, and please believe me when I tell you I understand that life is complicated, and sometimes we find ourselves in situations we never would have imagined.

People lie for all kinds of reasons. They fear the outcome if they tell the truth. They don’t want to face the consequences of their own feelings. They aren’t ready to make changes. They want to do what they want to do. They’ve figured out a way to justify what they’re doing. They’re angry. They’re unhappy. They feel powerless, stuck, paralyzed to do anything but stay where they are and seek happiness outside the bounds of their commitments. When you sacrifice your integrity and your ability to respect yourself, you lose the ability to move freely. Life becomes a prison of your own making.

When you don’t feel good about yourself it permeates everything. If you’ve been in so much pain for so long that you finally look for relief through desperate acts, it’s really time to withdraw and regroup. I understand if you’ve been in a loveless relationship for a long time, a hit of passion can go directly to your brain and cloud everything until you can’t see or think about anything but your next fix. The real fix is going to happen inside, not outside. It’s heady and intoxicating to be wild for someone and to feel those feelings of being wanted. It’s fine to desire that, it’s human, but you don’t want to experience those things in a way that’s ultimately going to make you feel badly about yourself.

We have all kinds of stories we tell ourselves. This person really loves me, it’s just the situation is a mess. That may be true. In which case it’s time to clean up the mess or walk away. Allowing yourself to participate in a set of circumstances that are hurtful to you and would be to others if they knew, that’s simply not going to lead to happiness or peace. That’s not living in alignment with your own truth and your highest self. Being able to speak your truth and own it is the key to your freedom, and to living with your heart wide open in a way that feels good. Having someone look you in the eye and break your heart is painful indeed. But you know what’s worse? Having someone lie to your face and betray you in their heart. Wishing you the strength to embrace your feelings, put an end to situations that cause you or others harm, and live your life in a way that makes it possible for you to be free, if you haven’t already.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If It’s Making You Miserable, That’s a “No”

relationshipstatusYesterday I got a phone call from one of my close girlfriends in New York. She’s divorced with a young daughter and recently re-entered the dating scene. It’s been six years since she’s dated and times have changed. I’ve experienced some of this myself over the last year, as those of you who follow the blog may recall. There’s all this online dating, okcupid and match and let’s hook up (I may have made that last one up), and texting and tweeting and instagram and seriously, isn’t dating complicated enough without having to distill your thoughts into 140 characters or update your relationship status so everyone knows you’re getting some? Or you were and now you’re not? Or you may be but aren’t sure?

Anyway, she called me because she went on a date with this guy and as far as she could tell it was a home run. They went out to eat and talked for hours, walked through SoHo holding hands and ended the night with a hot make-out session on her couch. He talked about how she’d have to meet different friends of his, and things they’d do together this summer. She felt totally confident they’d be going out again. He texted her when he got home and said he hoped she had sweet dreams and knew he would be. Said he’d call her the next day to make a plan, and that he couldn’t wait to see her again. And then, crickets. It’s been almost two weeks since their date and no contact from the dude. Of course it’s especially crushing because it was her first foray out of the gate, and because she sent him an email a week later “checking in” and heard nothing back. So she wanted to replay the whole night with me to see if she was missing anything because she feels rejected and her feelings are hurt. I got the whole play-by-play in such minute detail, it was as though I was there on the date. She wondered if he’d seen the picture of her ex that she hadn’t put away yet. If it scared the guy off that her ex still works for her dad. If maybe he thought she was conflicted and that she might reunite with her daughter’s father. If she had talked too much about the demise of her marriage even though he expressly asked, and had shared the story of his own divorce. If she had moved too fast by making out with him for so long, or not fast enough because she sent him home without letting him scramble her eggs. You get the drift.

I listened to all of this and when she was done I said I thought it had nothing to do with her. I know her. She’s funny and smart and kind and a total head-turner. She’s confident and sexy, and there’s just no way she’s not hearing from this guy because there’s anything lacking in her. I said all of that, of course, but also just listened because it doesn’t matter if I know all that, it only really matters if she does. I don’t know what’s going on with the guy. Maybe there’s someone else in the picture. Maybe he’s great at first dates. Maybe he got scared. Maybe he likes head games. Who knows? But she’s suffering and watching him update his statuses with pithy remarks and tweet about basketball games and post pictures with friends out to lunch. Of course I told her I thought she should stop “following” him everywhere and get back to the business of being awesome.

It’s incredibly hard to walk away from situations we don’t understand. Especially when it seems that a real connection happened, but we’re not always going to get answers. Some things will be left undone, unsaid, unknown. It won’t all be wrapped up in neat little packages of digestible information. Some people are in incredible pain, in lonely desperation with no idea how to move forward. Some people make a mess of things because that’s where they happen to be when you cross paths with them. Try not to expend too much energy in an effort to figure it all out. Just trust that it won’t be a mystery when it’s right. You won’t be wondering and suffering and having crazy conversations with your friends dissecting every sentence you uttered, searching for the mistake. The hole inside you you must have exposed. The dumb thing you said, or the fact that you snorted when you laughed. You won’t second-guess yourself. When it’s right, you’ll just be happy. (Assuming you were happy already.) Tired, but happy.

Wishing that for you, and so much more,

Ally Hamilton

Throwing Pans is Not Your Only Option

Last night in class I ended up with a roomful of people who had clearly been doing yoga for a long time. When we got to the first Warrior I, I said, “You all look like you’ve done this pose a million times, but you’ve never done it before in this moment. Don’t take it for granted, because that’s how people end up divorced.” Everyone laughed, but I was serious. (Not that I minded the laughter one bit). It’s so easy to think, “I know this person. I have their number down,” and stop paying attention. Stop learning and listening and being open to the evolution of the person next to you on your path. As if they’re frozen in time. As if there hasn’t been any growth or change since they said, “I do.”

Yesterday I received an email from a sweetheart of a guy. I asked if I could share his story anonymously, because I get emails like this all the time. He said he’s in love with this woman, but he’s not going to pursue it because his parents got divorced and he just doesn’t want to go down that road. He said he knows he’ll never find anyone as perfectly suited to him, that they have an amazing time together. There’s laughter and love and affection and intellectual compatibility, but he knows how it will end. I asked him how he knew. He said he just knew. That’s just fear, and I so get that it can be paralyzing. We only have the frame of reference we have, and our experiences shape us and inform the way we think about the world, romantic partners, friendships, and “our place in the family of things,” as Mary Oliver says.

Your past does not have to own you and neither does your pain. Your pain is running the show if you let go of someone you adore because you’re too afraid that someday you’ll be throwing a pan at her head the way your dad did at your mom while you watched in the grip of fear and powerlessness and rage. You do not have to live your life as that scared kid and throwing pans is not your only option. (Whatever “throwing pans” may be for you). You are not the same person you were last year, and neither am I, and neither is anyone you’re going to encounter today. We are always in process, everything is process. You respond and you grow, or you react and you suffer. A reaction comes out of your past. It happens when you feel triggered and your heart starts racing, your breath is shallow, and the whole scene, even the air between you and the other person, is charged. We get triggered when a current situation brings up a painful past experience. When someone says something or does something that’s the equivalent of stabbing a searing knife into the most tender place we’ve got. If it isn’t healed, it owns your a$$.

It’s easy to underestimate our capacity to grow and change and embrace new ways of thinking and being, but we are all capable of those feats. We’re built for them, because everything is in a state of flux, it’s the nature of all living things, of life itself. You are not your mother or your father or your wounds. You are not your thoughts, either. “You are the sky, everything else, it’s just the weather,” as Pema Chodron says. If you’re willing to walk right into the center of your fear and have a seat and open your hands and open your eyes and open your heart, you will find that it won’t kill you. It will hurt. It will be wildly uncomfortable and confrontational and if you allow it to, it will open you and soften you so you’re ready to give and receive love. It’s not easy, but it’s a lot easier than watching someone you cherish walk out the door because you did not believe in your own ability to forge a new path for yourself. To use your past experiences to inspire you to move in a different direction.

You are capable of incredible love. It’s the very essence of your energy in my opinion. It’s the real “charge” in all of us. You may have static in the way of fear and abuse and neglect and heartbreak and disappointment and despair and rage and bitterness blocking your channel, but that stuff is your path to freedom if you explore it. You can’t get to the love if you’re not willing to examine the pain. You’ll never outrun the pain and you can’t numb out enough to deny it. Or you can, but that actually will kill you. It will kill your spirit and your yes and your ability to continually uncover your gifts and share them. It may even kill you in a literal sense if you try numbing out to the degree that’s required if you really don’t want to feel the reality that you’re owned by your fear. Move into your fear so that eventually you can wrap your arms around the people you love without entertaining the idea of pans for even an instant.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

The Person You Decide to Be

I’ve had two weddings, but only one marriage. My first wedding was to a man who kept the antique mirror I (painstakingly) had restored when I was nineteen years old, the one that belonged to my grandma whom I adored and lost long before I met him, and who also kept the vintage diamond necklace that belonged to my great-aunt, which I’ll never be able to pass along to my daughter. I call him Mirror Guy. I didn’t love him and I can’t tell you what I was doing with him because it feels like another lifetime and because I was in a fog fueled by outrageously painful migraines, percocet and a stubborn desire to cling to stories that didn’t serve me, to blame my parents and my childhood for my brokenness, and a general sense that I had no clue what I was doing here. I was coming off of some of the darkest times of my life and I was very young and totally lost. I’d been in that damaging victim mentality for too many years, blaming other people for my poor choices and behavior, numbing out, denying, running. I wasn’t an awful person or anything, I’ve always been kind, I was just a bit of a mess.

You know the syndrome, right? I am this way because this happened, and then that happened, and then this other thing happened, so when you leave the room, I think you’re leaving for good and that’s why I’m freaking out. As if that makes sense. This thing that should have happened did not, so I have fear that no one will love me and nothing good will happen, so I’m just going to sleepwalk, okay? Because I don’t know how to do the ‘awake, I’m-going-to-take-responsibility-for-the-way-my-life-unfolds-thing yet, so if you want to marry me, sure. Sounds good.’ Or something like that.

Of course I thought I loved him or I wouldn’t have worn the Cinderella tulle dress and gotten myself to the beach club on time. But you can’t love if you’re sleeping. You can stick your arms out in the darkness and hope you run into something good, but you probably won’t. If you’re in darkness, you’re most likely going to fall in a ditch and break something, like your heart or your ability to keep sleeping. Something will give, that’s for sure. Nor can you see that the person you’re about to marry is incapable of telling the truth in any form about anything or of being honorable or kind, or of loving you in any capacity at all. I should have known because he told me he was separated when we started dating, but actually he wasn’t and it took two years to sort it out. Somehow I became fixated on that and never realized I didn’t love him and it would have been just fine if he’d stayed married to that other woman, thanks very much. I should have known because my therapist at the time asked me what we did together that was fun, or what it was that I liked about being with him and I literally could not think of a single thing. I should have known because too many of the things he said to me did not make sense and often came back to bite him in the arse later. It’s not like there weren’t signs. I begged for signs. Do you realize if you’re asking for signs that’s a sign? I didn’t.

I have to share about the signs because it’s comical. I’m going to the store to try on wedding dresses with my mom weeks before the wedding and she has to wait in the car because I’m throwing up. I’m throwing up. Nauseated at the thought of buying a dress to marry the man who turned out to be Mirror Guy. I can’t get the song, “You Don’t Know Me” out of my head for weeks. The morning of the wedding it is sunny and gorgeous and I think, “At least that’s good,” because we are getting married on a deck overlooking the water in front of 250 people, most of whom I’ve never met. At 4pm the sky turns black. I’m not exaggerating. Black, and then the sky opens and there’s rain like I have never experienced in my life, not before, not since, not anywhere, even in the jungle of Costa Rica. Torrential rain so thick it sounded like someone was an inch over the roof of the minivan with a thousand power-hoses. Giant frogs dropping from the sky would not have surprised me. Oh, did you catch the part about a minivan? My wedding party left in the limo I was supposed to be in because the makeup artist wanted to do me last so my makeup was fresh, but she ran so late they had to take off, so I went to the beach club in a minivan with my parents and my little brother and his best friend.

More signs: Because there was a weather alert with a red stripe across the bottom of every television telling everyone to get home and stay indoors, the traffic on the highway from the hotel to the beach club was nuts. Like a parking lot, people racing out of the city to make it to their homes. This is in New York, mind you, where this kind of weather simply does not happen. So my step-dad drove on the shoulder of the highway for six miles. So pretty much, on my way to getting married to the very wrongest person, hundreds of people gave me the finger. How many signs do you need before you turn the minivan around? That’s like a punchline, isn’t it?

When I got to the beach club my mom and I raced to the bridal room, and my best friend and bridesmaids shoved me into my dress and someone handed me a glass of champagne because I said I thought I might pass out, and of course champagne is the answer when you feel faint and are about to make one of the worst decisions of your life. So I went down the aisle like a wind-up doll, done up like a princess, vacant eyes. Worse than that. Deer-in-the-headlight eyes. As if I hadn’t said yes to all of it. As if it were just happening to me. When the justice of the peace announced we were man and wife, there was a crack of thunder and lightning so loud you can hear it on the wedding video and everyone laughed nervously and I thought,  “Well. You can’t ask for more signs than that.”

I say he didn’t love me and I know I didn’t love him, even though I believed I did and I believed he did in my sleepwalking state. But he didn’t want a wife, he wanted a mother. Someone to make dinner and read his screenplays and rewrite all the dialogue because people don’t speak like that. Who speaks like that?

More signs:

Him: Hey, why don’t you leave your dog at the kennel this weekend, because actually, I don’t like dogs.

Him: I need to go shoot this commercial, so drop everything and come, okay? Even though it’s in Canada and you’d rather stay home since I’ll be shooting all day and sitting around a set isn’t all that fun, and I don’t want you off exploring by yourself because you’re too young to be off on your own like that in a foreign country.

Me: Um. Canada? I think I can get around because I speak English.

More signs: It was never consummated. I’m not saying we hadn’t had sex before the wedding. I’m saying there wasn’t any after, and there wasn’t much before because he preferred porn to an actual human. But I didn’t know that then, so I was busy thinking there must be something wrong with me and feeling rejected all the time. Anyway, I had the thing annulled. I should say, I woke up several weeks after this wedding and had it annulled. And Mirror Guy is actually the perfect name, because that’s what happened. I looked in the mirror and thought, How? How did I land myself in this mess? How did I not stop, at any of those burning red flags and turn myself around?

Maybe it was compounded by the fact that the much older guy I dated had come before Mirror Guy and by this point I was just wrecked, but I got the message. I got it hard and ugly and in the face. There was no one to blame but myself, because my mom didn’t like Mirror Guy and said as much, and my dad and step-dad didn’t think much of him, either. All my fingers pointed back at myself and I thought, I’d really better turn this sh&t around, now, or my life is going to be bleak and dark and very painful. No light. I’d been doing yoga for a couple of years at this point and that’s the light I used to find my way out of a nightmare of my own making, without the mirror or necklace, but you know what? Such a small price to pay. Because in the years after that I started planting the seeds that sprouted into the life I have today. I look at my life now and I’m blown away. Two amazing, healthy, happy kids. A man who is everything I ever could have hoped for and so, so much more. Friends who know how to show up, a few of whom have been there through everything with me. A community of yogis locally and around the globe because the internet is pretty amazing. And all of you.

You get to decide who you’re going to be, you really do. I’m not saying everyone has equal opportunities or that the playing field is level. I’m saying you have the power to decide how you’re going to do your life, and what you decide makes all the difference in the world. You get to decide what to dwell on, what to emphasize, what to cling to. You get to decide whether to forgive other people and forgive yourself and move forward. You get to decide whether the past is going to determine your future, or be something you grow from. You get to decide whether you’re going to blame and moan or get busy working. I hope you decide to be your best self. To own your story. To refuse to let your past dictate your future. To get your hands filthy with your pain so it doesn’t control your life, because there’s no need for that. Your life can be so beautiful. Even with heartache and tragedy, there’s still so much beauty to be found if you open to it. Wishing that for you, if it hasn’t happened already.

Sending a ton of love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Your Capacity for Change

Endings are hard, especially endings between people. I’ve never had an easy time with them; I must have missed the day when they taught “clean break.” Whether it’s a relationship, a job, or a way of being that needs to come to an end, loss is not easy. Soul-searching is important if you’re thinking about making big changes especially when other people will be affected, but there are certain times it’s just clear that change is coming and needed. A friendship is not what you thought it was, your boss is abusive, your landlord goes through your underwear drawer when you aren’t home — time for a change! Everything living grows, blossoms, peaks, and dies and something else is birthed. Resisting that reality is futile, you may as well head to the ocean and try to hold back the waves. This doesn’t mean all relationships die, it means we must be willing to shift and grow together and also accept that sometimes we’ll grow apart.

Growing up I had a friend I adored, I’ll call her Mary. We met in kindergarten, and were in school together all the way through our junior year of high school, mostly because I would not hear of going to any school where she wouldn’t be. I was at her house so many afternoons and weekends, her mom walked around in her underwear in front of me like I was one of her own. Before the start of third grade, my beloved best friend told me she didn’t want one best friend anymore. Now that we were almost eight she planned on having lots of friends. I went home and got in bed and cried my eyes out for hours. At some point my mom called Mary and asked what had happened and told her I was inconsolable. Mary said I misunderstood, which I wanted to believe but knew was just a thing she was saying to my mom to not be in trouble. I was sick to my stomach the first day of school, but Mary sat next to me and we played at recess, and I went to her house after school like always. It went on that way, but she did start spending time with another girl who wasn’t very nice to me, although we are now in contact and Mary and I aren’t. Life is so funny, and can you believe this stuff starts so early? This one likes me, but this one doesn’t. I love her, but she loves someone else.

When she was in preschool, my daughter announced one night that she didn’t want to go to school when a certain three year old boy was there because he never wanted to play with her. I asked her how she felt when he didn’t want to play and she said it hurt her feelings. I told her I remembered feeling that way when I was little and that grown-ups feel that way sometimes, too. I told her it did hurt, but if he didn’t realize how totally great it was to hang out with her, he was just missing out on all the fun he could be having and that was sad for him. I told her to play with the kids who love to play with her. Problem solved for a three year old, but this sh&t never ends. I have a bursting inbox of emails to prove it.

Depending on your personality, your life experiences and the context, dealing with change and loss can be very challenging. The end of a job you’ve had for years, even if it isn’t inspiring you and hasn’t been for far too long, is still a loss. It’s a loss of your comfort zone, of the familiar. If it’s imposed from the outside, of course it can also involve the loss of security, income, and if you have it wrapped up together with your identity, self-esteem. Even if you quit, if you’re in the driver’s seat, if you’ve decided it’s time to go, it’s still the loss of something old and the beginning of something new. The end of a relationship that isn’t growing anymore is still the loss of what was, what had been. The end of self-destructive patterns that are causing your suffering is still the loss of the familiar coping mechanisms and ways of denying. Now what?

Life is so much about transitions. If everything is in a state of flux, how do you open to the changing reality? Most of what stops us from embracing change is fear. We all want to be able to count on something. This is my house. Out on my lawn is my tree (it’s not your tree). These are my shoes. This is what I do on Mondays. Here’s where I put my mat in my yoga class. This is my partner. I know this person. (Do you know them, or are you assuming you know everything there is to know? Because your partner is changing just like you, growing, opening, thinking about things in different ways, evolving as life brings new situations and events, some wanted, others not.) The only thing you can really count on is that everything is changing all the time and that fighting that truth will cause you to suffer. Open to it all, invite it all in. Let it wash over you. Take action when you need to. Don’t expect to blossom if you’ve planted yourself in soil that has been stripped of all its nutrients, that hasn’t been watered for far too long. Nothing inspiring will grow out of that. Mourn when you need to. Be enraged, lonely or confused. Let your heart break. That way you can also open to all the gifts. All the wonder and joy and surprise and love. All the beauty and growth and expansion of your heart. Accept the endings so you can also embrace the beginnings. Sending you so much love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Grab Your Inner Tube

onlyinastormSometimes life brings a huge storm our way. We lose someone we cannot imagine living without. We’re fired from a job. Our spouse walks out or has an affair. Our child is in pain. Other times we choose the storm, we walk into it head-on knowing there’s a need to leave the familiar shore and head into unchartered waters.

When I moved to Los Angeles in 2001, I really didn’t know anyone out here. I moved with a guy who also taught yoga and liked cheese a little too much and when it all fell apart I ended up three thousand miles away from home with a few people I called friends, whom I was really just getting to know. And, of course, I had my dog. The ex had a serious road rage problem so for the six months we’d been out here, I’d tried to figure out some kind of reasonable solution. We had one car and would often leave for our own Ashtanga practice at 6am and head together to all the classes we were teaching the rest of the day. If I drove, he screamed at me to go faster, to take a different route, to cut this or that person off. If I took a right instead of a left he went ballistic. He became this insane person in the car, instead of the hilarious and kind-hearted person I knew, and it was jolting, because it would happen right after our yoga practice, or after a peaceful hike, or really, anytime we went anywhere.

When he drove it was generally a 90-miles per hour blur, involving the “traffic fingers” of many other drivers, blaring horns and screeching stops. Neither scenario was appealing or safe, but I truly feared we’d have an accident if I drove while he raged, so he drove and I would hope we’d get wherever we were going without a problem. Of course I spoke with him about it and he always promised to calm down, but never managed to pull it off. Then he was gone and I had no idea where I lived. I had to start from the beginning and remind myself, that way leads to the mountains, and that way to the beach. I went on a dating detox because I was alarmed I’d missed the cheese problem and some other stuff. I’ll explain the cheese thing in another post, lest you think I actually broke up with someone who liked Gouda too much. I say that as a friend of said ex. He still calls me every Thanksgiving because of a funny and crazy holiday we shared that involved his sister, my dog, and a pair of pajamas with bunnies on them. We check in from time to time. Grab a bite when I’m in New York. But when it ended, I just felt bereft and confused, like the rug had been pulled out from under me by my own hand because I’d ignored my intuition. I felt pulled to retreat and regroup, and thus began what we call in yoga my “Dark Night of the Soul”.

It’s a storm you choose because your way of being in the world hasn’t been working out too well. Friendships, relationships and jobs that don’t feel authentic are left behind, but it happens in an emotional hailstorm. When you start to change your inner wiring, the system is going to revolt. The tendencies, patterns and coping mechanisms that have been keeping all that raw emotion at bay are going to rise up. They’re going to beckon. If you have the strength and determination not to repeat a pattern you recognize gets you nowhere, not to numb out or run or deny, you’ll likely find yourself in a state of depression, which is generally confusing when you know you’re moving in a healthy direction. ‘”Shouldn’t I be feeling better?” you’ll think in despair, “I’m doing everything right.”

That’s the storm, and if you want to come back to yourself, that’s where you have to head. In many ways it would have been easier for me to move back to NYC where my family and friends were, or to throw myself into another relationship. Instead I meditated and practiced yoga and taught my classes and hiked with my dog and wept a lot. I felt lonely and allowed myself to open to that. I felt scared and heartbroken and sometimes I wondered why I didn’t just make it easier for myself, but somewhere I knew I needed the pain. I needed to finally lean into it and swim through it so it wouldn’t own me anymore. So I could come back to myself. It is a storm. Sometimes you get pulled under and are thrashed into the rocks and you can’t see the surface, but if you want to really know yourself, you have to embrace everything. You have to accept and integrate all parts of yourself. It’s not easy work, but when the sun emerges and you take a deep breath and know you’re home, the kind of home that’s with you wherever you may go, it’s so worth it.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If You Have a Pulse, You Have a Chance

paulnewmanchanceJust a quick hit of love for you, today. Don’t ever give up on yourself. Not ever. Don’t give up on life, or love, or the possibility that you might forge a peaceful path for yourself. No matter how big a mess of things you might have made, no matter how incomprehensible a loss you’ve endured, no matter how confusing and lonely things may be right now, don’t give up. Life is going to bring everything.

We want the stuff that feels good — the love, the feelings of joy and delight and passion and excitement, and we resist the stuff that hurts; the pain, the confusion, shame, grief, loneliness, rage, guilt and doubt. But it’s all coming at us. Unless you’ve worked on it quite a lot, you’re probably going up and down with external conditions; happy when things are going the way you’d like and depressed, angry or bitter when they’re not. Life is under no obligation to give us what we want, to unfold the way we expect it to, to cooperate with our plan and there’s no power in being a victim of circumstance. You have the tools you need to figure it out. To put it back together again.

Underneath all the fear and resistance is love. You might need some outside help. There are some losses that are so knifing, just getting out of bed is a feat. Just remembering to breathe in and breathe out. I get that. Compassion for yourself is the thing in those instances when your heart and spirit are crushed and you think there’s no way it could ever be okay again. And, listen. Some things will never be okay. Accepting that is the key to moving forward, even if everything in you wants to head back in time to the before of the thing. For awhile, just brushing your teeth and taking a shower is a big deal. Just getting dressed and giving yourself time to feel all your feelings without rushing yourself to feel better.

But short of those losses, which are real and devastating and very difficult to comprehend, much of our suffering is coming from our thoughts. The ability to quiet the mind so you can get in touch with your intuition is so liberating. So you can tap that inner yes of yours. So you can live with your heart wide open and have the courage to say no to the things that don’t feel right. The mind is like a washing machine, spinning around and around, recycling the same thoughts, loud and full of shoulds and can’ts and there’s no way I can do that’s. It will keep spinning and spinning and send you in circles or keep you paralyzed by fear, feeling overwhelmed by all the noise. It’s relentless if you don’t gain some mastery over it.

When do you lose yourself? When do you feel that feeling of being so immersed in something there are no thoughts? For me it’s yoga, but for you it might be something else. Hiking, wind-surfing, cooking, singing or skiing. Whatever it is, make time for it because those are the moments when your intuition rises.

Have you made mistakes? I’d be shocked if you hadn’t. I’ve made plenty, some big. Mistakes are part of the growth process. Some of the biggest growth I’ve experienced has come out of some of the worst choices I’ve made. Sometimes you have to screw it all up so you can put it back together the way that feels right. The way that opens your heart. Did you ever take something apart and realize you can’t put it back together? You have no idea how the parts fit and the directions are lost somewhere very safe you put them so you wouldn’t lose them? And you sit with pieces in your hands and think, how do I do this? How do I put this back together so it works? The answers are inside you. You may need someone to kindly hold up a mirror so you can find them. To reflect back at you your own darkness and your incredible light so you can see yourself. So you can know yourself. So you can find your way. So you can sort through the pieces and let go of the ones that are blocking your ability to give and receive love.

It’s never over in this life until your final exhale. My feeling is, if you can do one thing, even one tiny thing like hold a door open for a stranger, your day was worthwhile because you contributed to a happier, kinder, more thoughtful, caring world. Start there if you need to. But don’t give up.

Sending you love and wishing you peace,

Ally Hamilton

Throw Some Luggage Overboard!

losingsomeofthebaggageOne of my oldest girlfriends, I’ll call her Sue, is incredibly self-aware when it comes to identifying her “stuff” and owning it when she doesn’t show up the way she’d like. She started going to therapy when she was thirteen years old due to her parents’ ugly divorce, and as she got older, for her own relationship issues. She had watched her parents tear each other down directly and indirectly, through her. Her mom said horrendous things about her dad and her father said awful things about her mom. When they each remarried (which they both did, more than once), the bitterness was quadrupled.

Her stepmothers made snide remarks about her mother, her mother couldn’t stand her father’s new wife, either time. Her father thought her first step-dad was not very bright, and her step-mom said he laughed like a woman. I witnessed a lot of this myself, as did all our friends, at sleepovers and afternoons at her mom’s or dad’s house, and once, sadly, during Sue’s sweet sixteen. Her dad got drunk and took the mic to toast Sue, but it somehow deteriorated into a tirade about Sue’s mom. Not so sweet, and Sue ended up in the bathroom, with a bottle of champagne that she downed and then threw up all night. And so it went.

In high school Sue struggled with an eating disorder and I watched her turn herself inside out trying to be perfect, to control the little bit she could. She was smart as a whip, but sometimes she’d play dumb because she thought guys liked that. Her family has a lot of money, and Sue would often buy lunch for a whole group of us. Or more accurately, she’d pay for lunch with her American Express and her dad would pick up the tab because her parents believed throwing money at the situation would somehow make it okay. We went to college together as well, and as we grew up, a pattern emerged for Sue that was no surprise to any of us who’d watched her struggle over the years. She kept picking guys who ended up hurting her. Not the typical stories of ways men and women can misunderstand each other, or not show up all the way, but deep, “I just realized he’s been stealing money from me for months” kind of pain. The relationships were usually high-drama, and there were many times Sue showed up at my house unexpectedly, eyes puffy and red, sobbing in the middle of the night.

Sue started drinking heavily, first a couple of nights a week and then most nights. Eventually she cleaned that up. If you were to talk to Sue, you’d know within minutes you were speaking to an awake, aware person. She’s intelligent and funny and kind. She can tell you exactly why she’s done the things she’s done. She can give you the whole road-map to explain all her choices and all her behavior. But so far, it hasn’t helped her resist the pull of acting out these dramas. Sue wants a happy ending, but she keeps trying to go back and carve one out of her past as if she could rewrite history. As if she could change her parents into people who were mature enough and loving enough to put her first, to love her well.

Time and again, Sue ends up crashing into the brick wall she keeps choosing, even though the crashing part sucks. A few years ago, I really worried for her. She’d hit such a low point I wasn’t sure she was going to be okay. I went back to New York to teach and I saw Sue for the first time in many months. She was gaunt, and her nails were bitten down to the quick. Her eyes were dull and so was her spirit. Through it all, Sue has always been a force. So I was really disturbed to see this lifeless person who looked like Sue sitting before me. She’d just had another painful breakup and I could see this time she was taking it particularly hard. She started to relay all the details of what had happened. What she’d done. What he’d done. What she said, and why she felt the way she did. I listened as I had so many times before and when she was done, I looked at her and said, “Sue, I love you. You’re an incredible person with such a beautiful heart, but you have to put the baggage down now, or it’s going to destroy you. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re as lovable as a person gets. Your parents did the best they could but their best kind of sucked. You have to stop letting this own you.” And Sue started sobbing, right there at the restaurant. People looked over at us and Sue apologized to me for making a scene. I went to her side of the table and hugged her, and told her to go ahead a make a scene. Because sometimes you work your sh&t out on a rainy Tuesday afternoon at a Thai restaurant downtown. Sometimes you’re just sitting there sobbing with chopsticks in your hand deciding it is finally enough.

Carrying your old, painful stories around with you wherever you go is exhausting, back-breaking work. At a certain point, it simply drains the life out of you. Everybody has pain. Everybody. Some people have more than others and some are better equipped to deal with the everything that life brings. The heartache and disappointment. The trauma and abuse. The neglect and loneliness. The confusion and shame. We’ve all experienced at least one of these, some people have seen all of that and so much more. I once met a girl at a workshop I taught, who told me she had to stay angry at her father so he’d pay for what he’d done to her. I asked her how that was making him pay, since she never spoke to him or saw him. I said I was pretty sure she was the one paying. Your past will shape you and inform the way you think about yourself and the world. If that way isn’t loving, you’re going to have to unlearn some stuff, which is, of course, harder than learning it the right way the first time. If you think people suck, for example, you’re going to have to unlearn that. If you think you suck, you’re going to have to unlearn that first. Have some compassion for yourself. Be kind. In some way or another, we’ve all been Sue, collapsed on the bathroom floor, throwing up our pain all night long. If you want to travel back to your past in a productive way, go back there and give yourself a hug. Re-parent yourself if you need to, but put some of the heavy stuff down. It does not have to own you. The destination that really counts is your journey to inner peace. You’re going to have to throw some bags overboard to get there.

Wishing you strength and love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Run Like Hell

I’m going to state some things that may seem totally obvious when you read them in black and white, but which I think we tend to forget in our tender hearts: Unkind, hardened people are not suddenly going to be soft. People with rage are going to behave in violent ways. If someone is envious of you, they are not going to have your back. Self-absorbed people will not suddenly think of you and how you might feel in any given situation. There are people who are so damaged, they actually want to drive the thorn in your side intentionally. Hurt people hurt people as the saying goes. People who behave in any of these ways are in pain themselves and are living in a certain kind of prison. All kinds of abuse and trauma can lead to imprisonment like this. As Thich Nhat Hanh says, “When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That’s the message he is sending.” The sad fact is, help is only available to those who decide to help themselves. You can’t do it for someone else. You can’t save anyone but yourself.

Of course you can’t define a human being in a word, we are all complex beings and only to the degree that we examine our pain and our motivations will we be accountable for our actions and the kind of energy we’re spreading. The way we’re being in the world. A person coming from an angry place most of the time may be able to pull it together to do some great stuff on those days they’re able to rise above. What I’m talking about here is a baseline way of being. If someone is commonly thoughtless or cruel. If someone consistently behaves in ways that are hurtful. If someone is generally so wrapped up in their own experience it doesn’t even occur to them to think about the impact of their actions. People who hurt us the most are usually also suffering the most. You can have compassion for them and you can practice forgiveness, but you really don’t want to put yourself in their path if you can help it; you don’t want to keep paying the tab for someone else’s cruel or thoughtless acts. If a person stabs you in the back, don’t expect them to turn around and call an ambulance for you. We can look at any of this stuff and say it’s not personal, right? A scorpion will sting you because that’s the nature of a scorpion. You can also open your heart and your mind to the idea that a person can change and grow. Where they are now is not necessarily where they’re always going to be. If someone hurts you, it’s the most liberating thing to wish them well, but you do that from a safe distance. The part that is personal is how you choose to respond. You don’t stick around to see if they want to push the knife in more deeply.

I say this to you because if you’re kind and open and trusting, if you want to hope for the best from people, you may need to look at whether you’re sacrificing your own well-being in the process of loving someone who is not able or willing to love you well, or participating in a set of circumstances that insults your soul. Your work is to heal your own heart so you can open to all the love within you, and give it away freely. If you keep engaging with people who crush your heart thinking tomorrow might be the day they realize what they’re doing, that’s kind of like “expecting a bull not to attack you because you are a vegetarian,” as Dennis Wholey says. Forgive if you can, for your own sake, so you’re not held hostage or made sick in your soul by the actions of someone else, but set up your boundaries and be prepared to defend them, because some people just won’t get it. Not in the time-frame you’d like, and maybe never. If it’s a person you must have in your life, then you figure out what it is you need to maneuver as safely as possible through painful terrain. You set up the best possible circumstances you can to take care of yourself. If it’s not a person you need to be dealing with then run like hell, my dear.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Choices

When I was seventeen I began dating a man twenty years my senior. He came after me with everything he had, but once he had me he treated me terribly. I didn’t leave because I was convinced I was in love with him. I stayed and endured treatment no one would if they were feeling good about themselves. He lied to me and cheated on me, but was also controlling and possessive. He was emotionally distant and verbally abusive and he scheduled himself every waking moment of the day.

He was in pain, I have no doubt about that now, and he was running from it. But I didn’t have the understanding to recognize that, nor the tools to not take it personally. He leaned on me and wanted me to be there for him, but there were times he was incredibly cruel. We were still together for his 40th birthday and I planned a huge surprise party for him. By then we’d been together three years, and I was close to all of his friends and most of their girlfriends, although a few were hostile to me because of my age. I rented a pool hall and called a caterer. I ordered a cake and sent invitations to all his friends letting them know it was on the down low. I also made reservations at a restaurant I knew he wanted to try, and planned on heading to the pool hall after.

I’d saved money for months so I could afford to do all these things and I was excited like a kid on Christmas morning. Of course underneath all of it was the hope that maybe once I did this he’d really love me. Really see me. Really appreciate me. I wish I could go back and give my seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-year-old self a hug. Grab a tea and say, “You know what? Get the f&ck out of here. Amazing things are going to happen in your life and this man isn’t going to be a part of them.” Except he is part of them because he’s part of my story. A week before his birthday he confronted me in our kitchen. “I know about the party at the pool hall. Tell me who you invited so I can make sure you didn’t forget anyone.” He said this to me in a strange, angry manner, as if my efforts to surprise him with something special and sweet were somehow a betrayal. I burst into tears. He laughed. Maybe he was nervous, I don’t know. Maybe he felt unworthy underneath it all, but it was a nasty laugh and it broke me. He wouldn’t relent until I pulled the guest-list out of my purse and threw it on the kitchen counter. I hadn’t forgotten anyone. Then he asked me about the pool hall and what kind of food I’d ordered. He didn’t want to be embarrassed. I’d ordered sushi from his favorite restaurant and had a friend of his who was a pastry chef bake him his favorite cake. By the time he was done grilling me, testing me, laughing at me, I felt like I was made of bones. Like he’d stripped the heart right out of me and thrown it on the counter alongside the guest list. Like I could break into a million pieces and his housekeeper could come by and sweep me away. Like I was nothing. I told him everything, including the time of our reservations at the restaurant he’d been talking about for months. It had taken me months to get us in there. A few nights later, before the night of his party, he went to that restaurant with a friend of his who was a food critic. So the night we went, he’d already been there. He robbed me of any bit of joy and he was remorseless.

A few months later things got worse and I finally found the strength to leave. Not because I was in a healthier place, but because I knew if I stayed he would kill me. Not literally, but my spirit. My ability to open and grow and become myself. He was, in the end, so mean he left me no choice. Leaving was the hardest thing I’d done up to that point and I was shattered. I had played out some old history with him and it was as though every heartbreaking thing that had ever happened to me happened again. But little by little I started coming back to myself and eventually I landed in a yoga class. The rest is my history. I don’t regret the experience, but I do regret that I needed to learn the lessons in such a painful way.

Once I left, he begged me to come back. Said he realized what he’d lost. That he’d change. He said every single thing I’d hoped he would say when we were together, but it was too late. His words were like dust and my heart was a stone to him. We all make mistakes. Depending on the kind of pain we carry and our inclination to face it or run from it, we all have the potential to spill our pain all over the people closest to us. Even if they love us and would do anything for us. Even if they aren’t equipped to deal with all that pain. Sometimes the mess we make is so great, there’s simply no cleaning it up. There’s just the sad understanding of what has happened and the possibility to grow from the pain, or not. We always get to choose. Hurt people hurt people as the saying goes. If you’re in pain, you know it. Running from it doesn’t work, but it is a choice. Pushing it down or numbing it out doesn’t work, either, but those are still choices. Being accountable is a choice. Doing the work to heal yourself so you can love yourself well, and by extension, love the other people in your life well, too, is a choice. Whatever you choose, you will have to live with the result of those choices. Again and again and again I say, choose love.

Sending you some love right now,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Your Intuition Doesn’t Need a List

quieterubecomemoreucanhearToward the end of the relationship with the guy who still has the antique mirror that reminds me of my Nanny, and the piece of jewelry that belonged to my mother’s great Aunt, I went to my best friend’s summer house on Cape Cod. It was January and at that time of year, it’s a locals-only scene. There were virtually no stores open. I didn’t take my phone, but I did take my dog. I stopped on the way there and bought groceries for the week. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going except, of course, my friend whose house it was, and my mom. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I’d had the same conversation with everyone I trusted. I was talked out. I knew I had to leave this man, but I was struggling to accept what I knew. Which, I believe, we do a lot with those painful truths. When we start to feel them and acknowledge them, it’s as if they begin to take up residence in our lungs. Little by little, it becomes harder to breathe.

So there I found myself, or more accurately, there I took myself and my dog and my groceries and a starter log because I had no idea how to build a fire, but I knew I’d want one. I took my books and my journal and my jeans and some warm sweaters. My down jacket and my gloves and my scarf and my crowded lungs and my broken heart and my amazing gift of a dog. I didn’t know exactly why I was going, I just felt pulled to do it. For a little over a week I stayed in this big house by myself, feeling vulnerable because it was the setting for every horror movie you’ve ever seen. Young woman in a big house by herself in a deserted place with no phone service? But also feeling like I was exactly where I needed to be. I walked on the freezing beach and ran into exactly no one.  I wrote in my journal and curled up by the fireplace to read my books. I talked to my dog, the world’s best listener. I talked about the situation we were in since he lived there, too, and the choices I’d made to land us in it. I did not look away from my part in the whole thing. By the end of the week I had reconciled what I knew to be true with what I knew I needed to do and just like that, I could breathe again.

If you want to get in touch with your own truth, you’re going to have to quiet your mind, which is LOUD unless you’ve worked on it. The mind is so full of shoulds and can’ts and there’s no way I could do thats. Of reasons and judgments and lists of why not. But your intuition has no list. It doesn’t need a list. Your heart wants to sing. Your intuition is the score. Without it, you are lost. Alone. Disconnected. The notes don’t carry, it’s like singing into the wind. You don’t have to leave your life to get quiet, although sometimes it’s very helpful.

The first time I did a 10-day Vipassana (insight meditation) sit, I thought they’d have to pick me up in a rubber van. I thought I’d end up in slippers taking blue pills every four hours, with my friends saying, “I don’t know what happened. She used to teach yoga, and then she went on this silent retreat…” But by day four I was amazed and by the end of the retreat I didn’t want to speak and I didn’t want to leave. We talk too much about absolutely nothing. I blathered on this morning about traveling on planes with kids in tow, and a couple of minutes in I thought, “Who cares? Is it really news that traveling with small children isn’t easy?” and I stopped talking. People talk about their weight and their cars and their breakouts and their plans to renovate their houses or their faces or whatever. But really, listening is the thing, and if you can’t listen to yourself, to that deepest truest voice within you, how will you ever step into your own light? It doesn’t matter how you quiet your mind. For me, that’s the heart of my yoga and meditation practice. But for you, it might be wind-surfing, or hiking or salsa dancing. The thing is to figure out what you need if you haven’t yet, because that’s how you get connected to your (true)self and that’s how you sing from your heart.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Spring!!

springToday, on the vernal equinox, the first day of Spring, it’s such a good idea to think about what you’re planting. Whatever you feed is going to grow and strengthen, and blossom all over your life and I think it comes down to one choice when you strip it all away: Are you going to feed Fear, or are you going to feed Love?

Fear tells you there isn’t enough, and if someone else gets there first, they took your spot. Fear tells you you are not enough. Not good enough, smart enough, funny enough, buff enough, rich enough, skinny enough. You don’t say the right things and you’re going to die without having allowed yourself to be fully realized. Without opening up to your beautiful gifts so you can share them. Fear tells you you should stay where you are because it’s safe. Because you don’t have what it takes to make changes. And who are you to challenge the status quo, anyway? Fear tells you your past has damaged you and there is no chance for peace or happiness for you, no possibility of real connection. (There are times fear is good. You ought to look both ways before you cross a street. You want to pay attention to those hairs that stand up on the back of your neck when you’re twelve and passing a stranger on a narrow stairwell). For the most part, though, Fear is a f&cking liar.

Love knows there’s enough. Love knows you’re enough. Love understands you are here, and you are you, and you are the only one who can share your particular gifts. No one can ever take your spot, because no one else can be you. The only question is whether you’re going to step into your spot and bloom. Offer it up, whatever you’ve got, with everything you’ve got. Love knows your weight, height, hair color, eye color, skin color, waist size, lack of hair or abundance of it really, truly doesn’t mean squat. Your heart is the thing. Your yes is the thing. You heal yourself and you follow your heart. Those are the two essential ingredients if you want to be at peace. Full of yes. Those are the seeds you need. Plant that. Feed that. Watch that grow and strengthen and blossom all over your life. Happy Spring. Get out your gardening gloves!

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Be the Architect of Your Own Joy

If a person is crazy about you, you’re going to know, it’s not going to be a mystery. I get emails from people every day who ask about various situations they’re in. This guy barely calls. This girl doesn’t make a lot of time for the relationship. This person is probably seeing other people. This one is separated or divorced, but still hanging on to their ex. This one used to like me, but I didn’t like her and now I do and she doesn’t. I like this woman but she likes other women. I have a huge crush on this guy but he’s gay. Or married to my sister. Or dating my best friend. I like this woman but she has a boyfriend, but really she’s in love with me she just can’t hurt the other guy’s feelings. We used to go out and now we’re both dating other people, but last week we fell into bed and now it’s a mess. I like this girl but my family doesn’t. I like this guy but I’m too scared to tell him. I went out with this guy and it was amazing, but I never heard from him so now I stalk him, but just a little. Mostly on Facebook. Okay, sometimes I sit across the street from his house. He may have gotten a restraining order. But I’m pretty sure he’s gonna come around.

I’ve loved people who were distant, inattentive, or frequently mean. I’ve liked people who sent very mixed messages. I’ve liked people who didn’t call. I stopped doing all that a long time ago. It’s a good thing to stop doing. Please take the mystery out of this for yourself. If a person wants to be with you, they will find a way.

The real, painful issue to examine is why you’re giving so much of your precious time and energy to anyone who isn’t running toward you with everything they’ve got. Perhaps you’ve forgotten you’re made up of 37 trillion or so cells that have never come together in exactly the same way to be YOU at any time in the past, nor will they again at any time in the future. There are seven billion people on our planet, and only ONE, particular, amazing you. So why would you second-guess your value? If you undervalue yourself and accept treatment that really isn’t what you deserve, you, my friend, are the architect of your own suffering. The story to look at is never what the other person is doing; the story to examine is always the story of your participation. Participate in joy, freedom, recognition and celebration. In understanding and appreciation, and oh, wow, I’d almost given up hope I’d find someone like you. Choose love. You’re too incredible to wait around on stand-by for a boat that couldn’t dock where you are, anyway. Get out of the airport and head for the ocean.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

What You Allow

Last week I received an email from a colleague. It was pedantic and rude, written by someone so arrogant he didn’t even realize how offensive he was being. I have a strong feeling it’s not an email he would have sent to a male colleague, but I could be wrong on that; it’s possible he talks down to everyone regardless of gender.

Thankfully, I’ve been at this rodeo long enough to know it’s never smart to write back when you’re in a reactive state, and believe me, the email I was writing in my head was fiery. I went about my day teaching and picking up my kids from school, going to the dog park with our energetic, mouthy puppy, but every so often, in he crept, Mr. Let Me Enlighten You and every time, I got pissed again and started firing back in my head. I let him have it eight ways from Sunday. Then I’d catch myself, shake my head and laugh at the balls of this guy, and come back to laughing in earnest with my son and daughter, taking in the gorgeous day, feeling the sun on my shoulders.

It’s always our choice whether we receive the gifts people offer or not. Sometimes someone is sending you the gift of outrageous rudeness, and why would you want to sign for that?! That’s a return-to-sender in my book. I never did write back, nor will I, because some things simply don’t deserve the time and energy required to respond. His arrogance is probably a shield against some deep insecurity, but that’s his work to figure out, not mine. I have nothing to prove to anyone, but I went through half a dozen drafts in my head and I let him steal way too much of my day. My meditation teacher S.N. Goenka calls this “boiling yourself.” The event is over, but you re-live it in your head and get yourself as worked up as if it were happening in the now.

It’s really hard to hold your center when you feel insulted, attacked, misunderstood, dismissed or otherwise pained by the comments or behavior of someone else and that’s especially true if it’s a person you love. (Thankfully not the case in my scenario from last week, ha). When loved ones are in pain and their pain spills out all over our lives, it’s incredibly challenging to love them without being held hostage by their suffering. Life brings everything and not all of it is easy. In fact, some of it will break your heart boldly and without warning on a rainy Sunday afternoon, or a gorgeous Tuesday morning. Life is under no obligation to give us what we want. Some people will face loss and pain that is incomprehensible; it’s not a level playing field. Not everyone handles the everything that life brings in a way that makes sense from outside the experience.

Some pain is so knifing, people run from it. Try to numb it out, push it down, avoid it at all costs. You cannot make a person feel ready to face their trials, doubts, fears, weakening tendencies or past history. That’s inside work. When you love a person who’s in self-destruct mode, it’s the most challenging thing in the world to disengage if you must, but it’s an essential lesson in life — we cannot save other people, we each must save ourselves. Or not. You cannot manage another person’s path. You can’t take a person by the shoulders and shove them into the cave of their own despair, telling them to sit there and feel it all and let it wash over them until the heat of it is released. That’s a task they choose or they don’t. All you can do is manage your own path. Do your own healing, return to your own love and joy and inner yes. If a person you love is flailing about it pain, you can do everything in your power to support them, but you do them no good if you get down in the mud and flail about with them. That’s not going to help them, but it is going to hurt you. Keep coming back to love. That’s the best thing you can do for yourself, and everyone in your life. Direct your energy.

Sending you love, and wishing you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here, and my yoga classes and courses here.

Love and a Pair of Sandals

If you follow this blog, you may remember the much older man I dated during college. When that all fell apart it was awful, and it took me over a year to get back on my feet. Closer to two, really. It would have been great if I’d taken some time to heal, but instead I ran head-long into another disaster. Rebounds rarely go well, but I hadn’t figured that out yet.

After finally ending the previous relationship with a man who’d been emotionally distant and unkind, inattentive and unfaithful, and ultimately very cruel to me, I suppose a guy who was jealous and possessive, constantly in my face and in my space, seemed like a good call. I won’t recount the million examples I could, but it was so crazy that one night after we’d had dinner out, he grilled me all the way back to his house about the way I’d looked at the waiter, screaming at me as we walked north on Broadway. Apparently I had lust in my eyes when I ordered my soup.

This kind of outburst was so common I started “watching myself.” I was a little less friendly and open (he told me I was naive when it came to men and that my friendliness was being misinterpreted as flirtation), and I checked in with him by phone all day when we weren’t together. If I called ten minutes later than he expected, he was positive I was sleeping with every member of the New York Knicks. Nuts? For sure, but I certainly didn’t feel ignored. Anyway, this insanity continued and I became less and less of myself, until one fateful weekend when we went to Lake George with my best friend and her then-boyfriend.

When they pulled up to his apartment to pick us up, they heard him screaming from their car from inside the building, which is saying something considering we were in New York City. I can’t tell you why he was screaming, but I’m sure it involved some other imagined transgression. By the time we got to the lake-house I was so tired, I wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed. Instead, as I unpacked, he noticed a pair of sandals he’d never seen before. “Where’d you get those sandals?” he asked. I told him I’d had them for awhile and couldn’t remember. He proceeded to ask me twenty-five questions about those sandals, with the wild look in his eyes I’d come to know so well and I guess I’d just had it. “You know what? You’re right!! You figured it out. Some man came up to me on the street the other day and told me he had to have me, but first, he was going to buy me a pair of sandals. Then I went home with him and we had wild sex all afternoon and I kept the sandals on the whole time!!!” He stormed out. My friend came in to see if I was okay. “Wow,” she said, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this guy with the sandals.” And I started laughing and crying at the same time. By the time the weekend was over, so was the relationship.

This is an extreme example, of course, but in many relationships, people do some lesser degree of this dance. Frequently, the very traits that drew a person in become the same qualities they can no longer stand — gregariousness or shyness, confidence or insecurity, warmth and affection or aloofness. What was appealing or endearing when the hormones were raging has become a source of annoyance, frustration or despair. This is different than the natural compromises that are part of the process of two complex people choosing to come together and create a relationship in the space between themselves. There’s a difference between give-and-take, and trying to change a person, or possess them.

Love is not controlling or jealous. It doesn’t manipulate or force. Love is a celebration, and when it’s happening well, it’s the most liberating foundation there is. You love well with open eyes and hands, and with an open heart. It’s an acceptance and an honoring and a cherishing. It’s an expression of your deepest yes, and an extension of that yes to your partner. It’s wanting their yes to blossom also. You simply cannot do that for someone else until you know how to do it for yourself. Two rooted flowers leaning in together and rising up toward the sun is a gorgeous thing to behold. Two weeds strangling each other, not so much.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Soul-Purging Truth

soulpurgingtruthLast time I was in New York, I had lunch with a couple of girlfriends I’ve known for years. They spend a lot of time together. I only see them when I’m in town, but we talk on the phone, over email and on Facebook. One of them, I’ll call her Sue, had recently started seeing a guy she met on a dating site. It seemed like they had a lot in common and we were happy for her. The last guy she dated stole money from her for months and took off one day without a word. She has a history of dating men who end up hurting her one way or another, so we were hopeful this was going to be different. After we’d been catching up for awhile, she confessed that there was this “one thing” that was troubling her.

“Oh boy, here we go,” said our other friend, whom I’ll call Bertie. I pinched Bertie’s arm because she needs behavioral therapy sometimes. “No, it’s no big deal,” said Sue, “he’s just really close to his mom.” When we asked what she meant by “really close” she explained that his mom called him every night at 10pm at which point he’d go in his room, close the door and not come out for at least an hour, usually two. Sue was not supposed to interrupt, come into the room, or make any loud noises. Bertie’s mouth fell open and she hit my arm with the back of her hand before throwing her hands in the air, and then putting her head in them, elbows on the table. Sue’s eyes got wide.

“That’s kind of unfortunate timing,” I said, “And what’s with all the secrecy? Does he not want his mom to know he’s dating someone for some reason?” Sue said she didn’t know. “And you’re just supposed to wait until he comes back out of the bedroom? For two hours? Maybe this has just been their pattern all the years he’s been single, talking at night. Have you talked to him about it?” I was trying to get a fuller picture, but before Sue could answer, Bertie said, “I KNEW something was off about this guy!! That’s disgusting, okay, Sue?! He should talk to his mother during the day, not at night when the two of you should have some intimate time together. That’s just not normal. Something’s really off about this. And how many times do you have to get this lesson?? You have horrendous judgment when it comes to men!!!” Sue started crying. Bertie got angrier, said she was not, “up for another round of this,” threw a couple of twenties on the table and left in a huff.

Bertie loves Sue like a sister. I totally understood that’s what was motivating her outburst. Total frustration that someone she loves was probably heading for another brick wall (Sue is no longer dating the guy; she got out quickly and is relatively unscathed, and she and Bertie have made up). We’ve all been there. A person we care about deeply seems likely to get hurt and we’re powerless to stop it. It happens with family members, too. A couple of years after I graduated from college a close friend of the family said to me, “What are you doing with your life? You’ve graduated from Columbia University. When are you going to get it together?” And even though I knew she loved me, it stung and it sunk me a little further into that darkness. When a person is struggling, cutting them down is not going to help.

It’s a tough pill to swallow sometimes, but we never know what another person’s journey is supposed to look like. Each of us has our lessons to learn and sometimes we need the lesson over and over again to really get it – to be done with a certain way of being or thinking or treating ourselves. It’s hard to love someone who’s struggling without stepping in and trying to manage their path. Picking them up and saying, “Go that way, COME ON!!! It’s so obvious!!!” But it’s inside work. You can offer help if someone you love is in pain, but ultimately, we each have to do our own work to heal.

If you love someone who’s struggling, patience is the lesson. Compassion. Understanding. We all struggle, we all have pain. If you love someone who’s bent on self-destruction, that’s a heartbreak. Sometimes it means you have to love the person from afar. But you can’t control anyone else’s journey any more than you can control your own. You can work on the way you respond to the people in your life, and the circumstances that present themselves. You won’t always show up the way you want to, you won’t always make the healthy choice, and neither will anyone else. You may knowingly head for a brick wall, because maybe you need one last ride to be done with that chapter. If you have something to communicate to someone in pain, do your very best to be kind and clear. It’s not easy, this business of being human. Honest communication is always good, but screaming your viewpoint in frustration, not so much. Words are very powerful, and they can go right to the center of a person’s heart. A person’s heart is precious. Just like yours.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, please find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Mirror, Mirror

When I was thirteen I had a ballet teacher who was incredibly hard on me. He’d shame me in class and never offer a kind word, no matter how hard I worked. One day as I stood on my toes and twirled and twirled, he yelled out, “You could walk into any company, Hamilton, and they’d take one look at your body and hire you. But as soon as they saw you dance, they’d fire you!’

I remember the feeling of shame and the heat that rose up and stained my cheeks as I kept twirling and trying. Tears escaping the corners of my eyes, heart crushed. One of my friends twirled by and brushed my arm with her hand, a gesture of sympathy, and I had to work harder not to break down. I danced that day with a fire raging inside me until he finally asked if I was okay. That shocked me, and made me wonder at my rage and his behavior. How could he think I was okay?

Years later, after I’d stopped dancing, I ran into him on Broadway. He called out to me. He seemed much older, but his gait was unmistakable. He asked me how I was, how my little brother was, and where I was dancing. When I told him I’d quit, he was stunned. He said he’d always thought I’d been special, that’s why he was so hard on me. The fact that he was so hard on me was one of the reasons I’d quit, though I decided not to share that with him. He wasn’t teaching anymore, so his brand of tough love wasn’t likely to have a painful impact on any other thirteen year old. I could see he’d meant well, even if his methods were lacking in compassion or understanding at the time.

If you’re a certain kind of person (people-pleasers, take note), and you sense someone doesn’t approve of you, the disapproval is a hook. Once you’re on the line you can dance like a clown, but you’ll never get the affirmation you seek unless you affirm yourself. I’ve had people roll up their mats and leave my yoga class, I’ve had people write nasty posts about this blog. Not everyone is going to like me, or you. The main thing is being able to look yourself in the eye at the end of the day when you’re brushing your teeth in front of the mirror. The only opinion about the kind of person you are that truly has an impact on your well-being is your own opinion.  If you live your life trying to please everyone else, you’re going to be miserable. You’ll be coming from a place of neediness and desperation. There’s no power in that, and you can never make everyone happy.

I’d argue you can never make anyone happy. People are happy or they aren’t, that’s inside work. But if you’re living in alignment with what’s true for you, if you’re honoring your intuition and following the pull of that yes, you really can’t go wrong. That yes is your connection to your purpose and your gifts. Your gifts are yours to share. If you’re coming from that place, you’re coming from love. People who are angry or bitter may not like that or understand it. It’s hard to be coming from a place of pain. Wish them love, but follow your heart, so when you see those “I want you to like me stickers” on your mirror at the end of the day, it’s a no-brainer.

Sending you so much love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, please find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Don’t Drive the Scorpion Ferry

There’s an old tale I love about the Scorpion and the Frog. If you don’t know it, it goes something like this (though I’m taking some liberties): Once there was a scorpion on the bank of a stream. He called out to a passing frog, “Excuse me! Could you give me a ride across? I can’t swim!” The frog looked at him like he was nuts. “Dude,” he said, “you’re a scorpion. I’m not giving you a ride. If you sting me, I’ll die,” to which the scorpion replied, “If I sting you, you’ll drown, and I’ll die, too.” This made sense to the frog, so he said, “All right, climb on.” Halfway across the stream, the scorpion stung the frog. With his dying breath, the frog said, “Why have you done this to us?” and the scorpion said, “Dude, I’m a f&cking scorpion!”

The way people treat you is a statement about where they are on their journey, what tools they have in their toolbox, what things they’ve been through, what they’ve learned about how to survive in the world, and how they’ve been treated by other people. It’s also subject to change; a scorpion may not always be a scorpion. The main thing to grasp is that it’s not a reflection of anything lacking in you.

If you read this blog regularly, you’ll remember the much older man I dated when I was seventeen. He was seeing other women for the three years we were together, and although I could never prove it, I always felt it. (I confirmed my fears once). At the time, I took it as a sign that I wasn’t enough. Not pretty enough or “something” enough to keep him interested solely in me. I spent so much time over the course of those three years feeling awful about myself. I was hooked on this interaction and convinced if I could just be enough for him, then I’d be happy. I didn’t realize that his inability to be faithful had nothing to do with me, or that a person who’s lying and sneaking around is ultimately having a painful relationship with him or herself. When you respect yourself and are making choices that are aligned with what’s true for you in a conscious and kind way, you’re not going to lie.

I think if you’re like most people, the tendency is to take those times you’ve been hurt, disappointed, neglected, betrayed, or even abused – personally. Hurt people hurt people, as the saying goes. A person can only be where she is, working with whatever tools she’s got. What is about you, is what you do about it if someone isn’t treating you well. Sometimes we get caught up in relationships with lovers, family members, friends, or colleagues. Maybe things start out well, but over time the quality of the interaction deteriorates. Circumstances change and you observe responses you wouldn’t have predicted. If you have a pattern of participating in relationships with people who treat you badly, then it is time to take a long, hard look at why. It’s about something. Identifying that something is the key to your freedom. Your deepest pain is your greatest teacher.

There are lots of frogs in the world, but there’s no other frog just like you. If you’ve been swimming in shark-infested waters too long, hiding in shadows and making yourself as small as possible out of fear, or some idea that you’re not lovable, or enough, or worthwhile, I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to turn around and swim directly for the mouth of that shark. Otherwise you’ll never rest. You’ll keep running the Scorpion Ferry, becoming harder and less hopeful with each ride. Being a hopeless frog sucks. I know, because I was one. Letting yourself get swallowed whole by the shark of your fear is not a fun ride, but it won’t kill you, either. If you’re still hanging with my Moby Dick-Aesop’s Fables-Life of Pi metaphor, then you probably already understand the Willa Cather quote, “There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.” The Dark Night of the Soul is a storm. It’s also an invitation to know yourself, truly and deeply. To heal and liberate yourself from your pain, so that the next time a scorpion calls to you from the bank of a stream, you’ll be like, “What’s up, Scorpion? You need to get your ride from a shark, my friend!”

Sending you love, and the strength to swim toward your pain if you need to!

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, please find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Jump!!

leapoffaithI moved to Los Angeles in 2001 with my boyfriend at the time, who was also a yoga teacher. We’d only been dating about six months and of course moving 3000 miles across the country together sounds romantic and fun at that point, albeit a little nuts. I don’t regret it, he’s still a friend, but because of a piece of cheese and some other issues it fell apart six months after we moved here. He went back to New York and in order for me to pay my rent, make the car payment and feed myself and my dog, I took over all his classes. Which, combined with my own, totaled twenty-seven classes a week.

I taught from West Hollywood to Redondo and was on the freeway all day long, stopping back at my place in Miracle Mile for some seated meditation, then racing my dog up to Runyon Canyon for a quick hike. Up at the crack of dawn for my own Ashtanga practice, and getting home from teaching between 9 and 11pm every night. I did that the first three years I was out here. It was a crazy pace, but I look back on that time with some nostalgia. It was lonely in a funny way, because I was surrounded by people in my classes all day long, having this very social, communicative experience before and after class, and going home to my dog. I was on a self-imposed dating hiatus, and was just starting to find my true friends out here. There were times I’d fight rush hour traffic to go teach at the place in Redondo that was paying me $30, and by the time I drove there and back it was a wash, but I loved that class. It was just an especially sweet and dedicated group of people, a little community unto itself. I felt the same way about my WeHo group, and Westwood. There were moments I wondered if all these people from all these places would drive an hour to see me, but those were fleeting thoughts during traffic jams.

Eventually, I was offered a chance to teach at the new location of a donation-based studio I adored, full-time. No more freeway, no more need for 27 classes a week, more time with my dog, and the possibility of some down time by the beach. But in order to do it, I’d have to wipe out my checking account, because it basically meant leasing the space from the studio, first and last month’s rent, administrative fees, and some other odds and ends. I’d managed to save a few thousand dollars by working my butt off and not spending more than I absolutely needed to get by. No one knew for sure this new studio would work, and of course, the only way you make money in the donation system is if your class is pretty full. I called a few trusted friends. Most said I’d be crazy to do it, but in my gut, there was a YES. So I wrote a check and left myself with $19 in my account. No savings, no back-up plan, no way to pay rent at the end of the month if it all went badly, nothing. Another studio called right at that moment and offered me 10 classes a week if I walked away from the donation place because it was in the same neighborhood. Because, y’know, having $19 to my name wasn’t enough of a test. I passed on that offer. I had enough dog food to last a month, and I kid you not, I ate peanut butter for three days. I quit every single place I’d been teaching, and gave everyone schedules for the new studio. For many of the people who’d been taking class with me the last three years, it meant an hour’s drive in traffic each way. So now my question would be answered. The first night I taught, 45 people showed up. Fifteen of them were my crew from Redondo. West Hollywood showed up. Miracle Mile. Century City. I don’t mind telling you I went in the back and let myself cry some tears of relief. And incredible gratitude.

Almost anytime in my life I’ve been scared sh&tless to do something, it’s a sign to me it needs to be done. I’m not talking about being reckless, mind you. I just don’t want to be owned by fear. I don’t want fear to be a reason I don’t move in the direction of that yes. That yes is all you’ve got. Without it, I think we’re all lost here. When I was thirteen I had a huge crush on my English teacher, Michael Trano. (Yes, that’s his real name, and Mr. Trano, if you’re out there, I think of you often and am so grateful for all your enthusiasm about my writing and all your insight about life. And also, I used to write “Ally Trano” all over all my notebooks.) Every year, we had to give a speech, and compete for the “Doris Post Speech Award.” The first year I went through this particular hell, it was in Mr. Trano’s class. I was the kid who shook when called on to read. Hands shaking, voice shaking. I can’t tell you why, I just didn’t enjoy that kind of attention. I guess fear of speaking in public is fairly common. When the day of the speech came, I could not do it. I got up in front of Mr. Trano and all my classmates, and I shook so hard I couldn’t read my notecards and eventually I simply couldn’t speak. I ended up in tears, ashamed and unable to pull it together. He let me give him that speech one-on-one after school.

Every year after that, through middle and high school I dreaded that f&cking Doris Post speech contest. Straight-A student, plenty of friends, done in by this simple task. I always picked boring topics, and I always shook, but managed to barely get through it, until the last year, which was my Junior year. I was in an advanced placement English class, and most of the other students were Senior boys. I loved my teacher, Jayne Connell (Ms. Connell, if you’re out there, I thank you, too. For all the support and all the love and all those laughs, and for the amazing works of literature you put in front of me). I gave a speech about why it’s funny when a bunch of guys hang out and one of them farts, but a group of girls do not high-five each other for the same feat. I WON the freaking Doris Post speech contest, the last year I was in High School, before I took off for college the following year. I had to give that speech to the entire school, scared out of my mind. Every teacher I’d ever had. Every friend. I’ll tell you the truth. I still have a huge fear of speaking in public. Not when I’m teaching yoga, I can talk all day long if people are busy in down dog, and it doesn’t matter how many people there are. But if those same people sit down and stare at me in folding chairs, we’re in different territory again.

A little over a year ago I was asked to give a TEDx talk. I felt that same horrendous fear come up, same thirteen year old kid. But I did that too, simply because I was scared to do it. Screw your fear. A couple of months ago I went on a date with someone I went out with once last year. One of the best dates of my life as far as true connection. I couldn’t fathom why he didn’t call me after, but a year later I got an email from him asking to go out again. Out we went, same amazing flow. So at the end of the night, I said, “I really think you’re awesome and would love to get to know you better. Annual dating isn’t really my thing.” We laughed, talked about further plans, and zilch. But it’s okay. I was scared to be honest like that, but I don’t regret it. Fear is a lousy reason to squish your yes. Facing your fear won’t always lead to a happy ending. But kicking your fear in the nuts and living with your heart wide open feels pretty awesome. Give it a shot if you haven’t, and let me know how it goes 😉

Ally Hamilton

Pick Up Your Pieces. (Fall Apart First)

sorryisntenuf2‘A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine.”
~Vera Nazarian

When thinking about patterns of destruction in your life, figuring out the source of your pain is the key. An excellent way to do that is to examine the pay-off. What are you trying to get out of these relationships and interactions that ultimately cause you more pain and suffering? Love? Attention? Praise? Pity? Try to be unflinchingly honest with yourself; you don’t have to share the information with anyone else. (Although sometimes doing so is incredibly healing and liberating). Do you long to be the hero of the story, or the victim? Is it possible you’re addicted to painful feelings because they feel familiar? Awful, but like home, like what you know? If you can’t identify what’s driving you, it’s very difficult to do anything about it. It’s like hiking a slippery trail in the pitch-dark, you’re just going to keep falling and crashing into things or people, hurting yourself and others without wanting or meaning to, but being at a loss as to how to stop the cycle.

Sometimes the pull of these relationships is like an addiction. You need the fix. I think many people are addicted to something. We tend to think about drugs and alcohol, but people can be addicted to approval. A person who’s taught that love is conditional can perpetuate that idea in almost every relationship in their life, and feel they must earn love, they must be perfect to be appreciated. Evidence of that love is the pay-off in that case. A kind word, a hug, a thoughtful gesture, and the person feels good for a moment, and starts working again for the next fix, for the next high.

Pain drives addiction. That’s an absolute. A happy, healthy person is not going to shoot heroin or try crack, not even once. A happy, healthy person is not going to get drunk and stoned every night, or chase a partner who cannot love them well, or gamble away thousands of dollars every day, or shop online until they’re bankrupt, or eat ’til they throw up, or starve ’til they are bones, or watch porn relentlessly, or rage uncontrollably at their loved ones all the time. Pain is at the root of addiction, or more accurately, the refusal or inability to sit with it. It takes practice and tremendous effort to lean into your pain, especially if you have a life-long habit of numbing it out. We are taught to push this stuff down. “Don’t be sad”, “Don’t be angry”, “Don’t cry”. It’s like a cultural mantra for those of us in the west, to be strong and tough. That’s largely because of the whole “survival of the fittest” mentality which we’ve completely misunderstood and adopted as a way of being. It doesn’t seem to be working out too well for us.

So if you’ve been numbing out for years and you aren’t in touch with your perfectly natural feelings of sadness or anger or fear or confusion, shame or guilt or grief or jealousy, learning to open to all of those uncomfortable but necessary emotions is going to take some time and practice. You might need a considerable amount of help and support. It’s like learning a new language, only harder, because you’re adopting a new way of being. You’re changing your internal wiring. You’re intentionally crashing your own hard-drive. If you figure out the source of your pain and you open to it, you free yourself. You end the cycle. The pull of the addiction fades. It might creep up from time to time when you’re feeling vulnerable or tested, but you’ll recognize it right away and brush it off like a fly on your shoulder. That’s the formula. You can be in a state of craving, hungry for the fix, or you can be hungry for the truth, whatever it may be for you. The other option is trying to avoid your pain, and in that scenario, it owns you. It rules you. It will continue to drive you. You’ll have nothing but “sorry” when you could have so much love.

Sending you a ton of it right now,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here, and yoga classes and courses here.

Let Them Go!

Years ago, I was taking the yoga class of a good friend of mine when a girl in the back row rolled up her mat, quietly gathered her belongings and started heading for the studio door. My friend, who was a newer teacher at the time, went to the door as she was trying to scurry out. I heard him ask if she was okay. I’m not sure what she said, but then I heard him ask why she was leaving as he put himself between her and the door. I heard a lot of whispering back and forth, the entire class held hostage by the situation. I put my knees down and waited, as did a number of other people. Suddenly the girl yelled, “I don’t like the music you’re playing, or the sound of your voice, or anything you’re saying. I don’t like your class, okay?!?!” It was an awful moment, and my heart broke for him because I knew that had to hurt, but I was also pained by the fact that he hadn’t simply let her leave. There was no reason she needed to explain herself. I had a pretty good feeling she was going to feel badly later, too. It was as though a bomb had gone off in the room. He never recovered the class, mostly because a lot of his focus went out the door with the girl. He left with her, so to speak.

Rejection is an awful feeling. Depending on your feelings about yourself and where you’re at in your life, you’re likely to either brush yourself off and keep going, fall into a deep depression, find yourself obsessing about it, or start chasing. This happens in the realm of friendships, romantic relationships, or interactions with colleagues. The truth is, not everyone is going to like you. Or me. A number of years ago I went on a Match.com date with some dude. It was okay. Very nice guy, no fireworks, but good conversation and an enjoyable night. He said he’d call the next day but didn’t. I got a late-night text saying he’d call the next day instead. I wasn’t bothered because I wasn’t planning on another date. I was trying to figure out the kindest way to say that whenever he called. At the end of the second day he sent another text that it had been a crazy day and he’d catch up tomorrow. At that point, I just shot him an email and said I’d had a nice time, but I didn’t feel that pull and I suspected he didn’t either. I wished him well and meant it. No harm, no foul. The minute I told him not to call, the phone did not stop ringing.

We humans are funny. But you can trust, if someone likes you it’s not going to be a mystery. If someone wants to be with you, they’ll find a way. If someone doesn’t get you, or like your work, or enjoy your class, or want to hang out, just keep going. You’re too incredibly special to let that throw you off. Do your best not to take things personally. Life is too short to worry about the one person who doesn’t like you. Or two, or three, or whatever. Just move with the people who embrace you, who are happily moving toward you with their arms open. If someone heads for the door, wish them love!

Sending you a ton right now,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Go Get It

Yesterday I was talking about letting go of relationships that are toxic when you’ve tried everything else, and today it seems logical to talk about patterns. Anyone can fall into an unhealthy relationship once, or twice, or maybe even three times – staying in them is the thing. In the beginning, hormones take over and create quite a haze. Dating is fun and easy and light.

When you live with someone, then you start to see underneath the surface, and even then it takes time. But if you have a trail of long-term, unhealthy relationships behind you, it’s very likely you’re playing out some old history. It’s tempting to point to the story of how other people have hurt you or disappointed you, but if it’s a pattern, it’s time to figure out why you’re co-creating situations that are going to cause you heartache. Why you keep setting yourself up to be disrespected, emotionally abused, taken for granted, or fill-in-the-blank. If you want to heal in a deep way, the story of your participation is the one to examine. Blame won’t get you anywhere, and neither will martyrdom. There’s no power in that stuff.

Carl Jung has a quote about this I reference frequently: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” The pull of this stuff is ferocious. If you’re trying to rewrite history, you’re doing it because you’re trying to heal the deepest wound you’ve got. In order to revise what’s happened, you need to set up similar circumstances. You need to pick a person who’s going to tap that old, deep stuff for you. You won’t know you’re doing this, of course, until you’re deep into the relationship, and maybe not even then. But I’ll bet you the dynamic feels familiar and you feel “hooked.”

Then you get to make yourself sick and crazy trying to manipulate the situation so you can have your happy ending. This kind of manipulation can look like love, as in, I’ll give you everything I’ve got and be generous in ways that sacrifice my own needs, wants and feelings so you’ll love me. Or you won’t leave, or reject me, or cheat, or whatever it is you’re trying to solve. That’s not love, that’s manipulation poorly dressed up to look like love. Look at your actions carefully. If you’re giving because you want to get something in return, figure out what that something is. That’s your wound. Hold it up to the light and examine it. Own it. Get busy healing it so it doesn’t own you anymore. I’m not saying you don’t actually love the other person. It’s totally possible real love has sprung up in a quagmire of pain. It’s also possible you can make something beautiful happen. You won’t solve the original wound, though. That’s work you have to do on your own. That’s yours.

I recognize this stuff can be incredibly painful, uncomfortable, and confrontational. The good news is, when you take responsibility for your life and the choices you make, you take your power back. There are many things in life you cannot control – most things, in fact – but you can decide where to direct your energy. Where to place your heart. What kind of behavior you’re going to accept. What kind of person and partner and friend you’re going to be. How honest you’re going to get with yourself. I’d go all the way on all that stuff. That’s where the joy is in life. In your ability to live it, to show up with your heart wide open. To value your own specialness as much as anyone else’s. To give of yourself freely, without fear. Set up circumstances where you can do that so you love your life and you love yourself, and you can give love to everyone in your orbit. That’s a happy, meaningful life. Go get it.

Sending you love,

Ally Hamilton

If the posts are helpful, you can find my books here and my yoga classes and courses here.

Grab Your Antivenin

pplwhopoisonourspiritMany years ago I ended a relationship that had become toxic. It was painful, as those endings are, and I was very young and did not do a great job of making a clean break. In fact, I really screwed it up. I left behind a closet full of clothes, an antique mirror I’d had stripped and restored that made me feel close my grandmother (there’s a picture of the two of us sitting in front of it from my third birthday party, the last birthday my Nanny got to spend with me), and a gorgeous piece of jewelry my mom had given to me that she’d received from her great-Aunt. For months after I left, I kept asking my ex when I could come and retrieve my belongings. It was never a good time for him. We would meet for tea occasionally, because in those days I thought it was essential to somehow remain friends after a breakup, even if it was ugly. I’d ask about when I might show up with a van, and he’d always delay with stories about business trips, or trying to sell his place and needing those things around for staging purposes.

Eventually, I made plans to move to Los Angeles and he moved somewhere else (he’d never tell me exactly where, all I had was his cellphone number and email address at this point), and said he’d put everything in storage. He said once he’d landed somewhere for real, he’d have it all shipped and make arrangements to send me my stuff. He kept me on the hook like this for a couple of years, calling with promises that it would be soon, stories about how he might also move to L.A. and talk of huge projects in the pipeline that were going to change everything for him. I tried to convince myself that this was a good opportunity to practice patience, compassion and non-attachment (after all, it was a mirror in storage and not my Nanny), but the interaction was making me sick, because it was a lie. Somewhere inside I knew I’d never see that mirror again, and that the necklace was also gone.

One sunny day he called as I was driving to my Ashtanga class and I simply told him never to call me again. I was shaking as I spoke, but I told him I realized he’d been keeping me on the hook and that I’d been allowing him to do that and I was now taking that power away from him. I let him know in my book, friends didn’t steal from each other or play mind games or exert control over one another, and he was now out of my life. I told him if he had a shred of decency he’d send the necklace back to my mother, but I expected he did not. I don’t think he believed I’d really cut him off, because I hadn’t up to that point. But something inside me cracked open on that drive and I understood the that truth was more valuable than any inanimate object, no matter how imbued it might be with feelings of love for someone I’d lost. Just like that, I set myself free. Some people do not belong in your life. You can forgive them (and there’s no doubt when you forgive, you liberate yourself. The other person still has to live with who they are and what they’ve done, and do their own work to heal themselves or not), but that doesn’t mean they belong in your world. In cases like this, there’s a line where compassion for others becomes abuse of self, and that’s not a line you want to cross. The price you pay is simply too high.

I understand it’s incredibly difficult when those toxic relationships happen between family members. All kinds of issues can lead to that particular heartbreak; drug addiction and abuse top the list. Disregard, disrespect, neglect, arguments over money, and/or a failure to show up can be issues that tear families apart. No one wants to be in the position of having to cut off a member of their own family. I feel when it’s a relative, you do everything humanly possible to mend the rift, but some people make it impossible, and refusing to accept that will cause the worst kind of betrayal there is – betrayal of self.

Losing people is the most brutal pain I know, especially those we’ve loved, but loss is part of life, and some people will be taken from us too soon, others will fall away from us for other reasons. Human beings are complex, and life brings everything, and not everyone handles it well. Whenever possible, accept that most people are doing the very best they can with what they’ve got. Few people are intentionally trying to hurt you or let you down. And yet, you absolutely must love yourself first. You cannot allow yourself to be abused, to shrink so someone else can shine, to lose trust in yourself. That’s the well you draw from for everyone else in your world. If you let that well dry up, you won’t have anything left for anyone.

Toxic relationships are called toxic because they make you sick. They drain you to the middle of your bones. As sad as it is, excising them from your life frees up an incredible amount of energy. And by the way, there are many instances when the cutting off of a person becomes the catalyst that makes them take action. (But not always, so don’t do it for that reason). Do it because you must. You can’t save anyone else, but you can save yourself.

Sending you love, and a little antivenin if you need it!

Ally Hamilton

Get Over It (Fear)

fearisafeelingI think I could make a pretty solid case that fear is at the root of the most uncomfortable feelings in life:

Jealousy – the fear that someone else has something you don’t, and that because they have it, you never will.

Shame – the fear that you aren’t worthy of love.

Guilt – the fear that you are not a good person.

Doubt – the fear that you won’t be able to live up to your potential.

Anxiety – the fear that something awful is going to happen.

Frustration – the fear that things will always be as they are now.

Rage – the fear that you are being hurt because you’re unlovable.

Resentment – the fear you are being taken for granted.

Hatred – the fear of something you don’t understand, that challenges or threatens your belief system.

All these feelings are natural and perfectly human, but I think if you look at it spelled out this way, you’ll see that almost all our fears are based on illusion. When we’re in the grip of fear, it certainly doesn’t feel that way, but it’s important to recognize feelings aren’t facts. They arise, they peak, and they subside, like everything else in life. Sometimes people who’ve been hurt, disappointed, betrayed, neglected or discarded, adopt fear as an outlook, as a way of being. I really can’t think of anything lonelier than walking through life this way, feeling you can’t count on anyone, including yourself. Fear is debilitating mentally and physically. It shuts us down and closes us off. It makes everything seem harder than it is.

Love is at the root of all the most amazing feelings in life. It opens us up and creates the path toward connection. I truly believe when you boil it down, we’re either motivated by fear or by love. Fear sits huddled in the cave, cold and small, and says, “I can’t go out there, and here are all my reasons why.” Love busts out of that cave and says, “I don’t know exactly how I’m doing this, I’m certainly full of flaws, but let’s do this thing, anyway.” The best path to love is discovering your gifts and sharing them freely, with abandon. That’s the stuff that gives us a feeling of purpose and meaning. If that’s your motivation, you just won’t spend much time being held back by fear. Not that it won’t creep in from time to time, and try to talk you back into that cave, and not that you won’t still end up in there when you’re feeling tested, but just that you’ll be too busy and too committed to sharing whatever you’ve got to really let it grab you for long. The cave isn’t much fun, after all and fear only works if you buy into it. I’d stop buying if you haven’t already.

Sending you lots of love!

Ally Hamilton

Just Keep Going.

Let-everything-happen-toWhen I was 25 I found a lump in my breast. It felt kind of like a squishy marble I could roll underneath my fingertips, and the moment I discovered it the icy grip of fear wrapped itself around me. My maternal grandmother died of breast cancer. My doctor didn’t love the way the lump felt, and she sent me to a surgeon, who recommended I have it removed. The following week I was on a cold table, counting backward from one hundred.

The next thing I remember was hearing the radio playing and the doctors talking to each other. I was freezing to the very core of my being, and my arms were strapped down. I could feel this awful pressure in my chest. I desperately wanted to speak, to say, “I’m awake. I hear you talking about your weekend and I feel you inside my body and I’m terrified and so, so cold”, but I couldn’t find language, I couldn’t make my mouth form any words. To this day, when I have nightmares they are almost always about my need to say something, and my inability to speak. Often I’m underwater, which is how I felt in those moments. Sometimes I wake up screaming.

I think terror accurately describes my feeling on that table. I found out later that they’d discovered what turned out to be a second fibroadenoma (noncancerous tumor) underneath the first (also benign) one. The surgery took longer than expected, and the anesthesia had started to wear off. Apparently I did groan, they gave me more of whatever it was that knocked me out in the first place, and I went under again. I woke up in the recovery room sobbing and confused, and when I told the doctor I’d woken up on the table, she didn’t believe me, but when I described the conversation she was having at the time, her eyes got wide and she explained what happened. She also told me the tumors were completely benign. Terror, relief and gratitude all wrapped into one experience.

Life is full of everything. We humans crave the good feelings, the love, the joy, the passion, the feeling of purpose and laughter and being so in love with someone you examine their hands, turn them over, look at every line on their palms the way their mother probably did that very first time she held her baby. We all want to be happy, content, at peace. To feel seen and heard and understood. That’s natural and understandable, but because life is full of everything, it’s simply not realistic to expect to feel good all the time.

Sometimes you’re going to feel lost and alone and so sad there will be an actual, palpable, incredibly painful weight where your heart should be. Where it still is, pressed underneath the onslaught of your grief, despair, rage, confusion, shame, guilt, fear or doubt. No feeling is final. The best thing I know to do is open to it all, lean into your feelings as they arise.

Some days you’re going to feel depressed even if you have food in your refrigerator and a comfortable place to live, even if most things in your life are pretty good. Depending on what life throws at you, you’ll have times of intense grief and intense joy, times of being completely in love, and times when your heart is fully broken. You can keep grasping for all the good feelings and resisting all the uncomfortable ones, but that’s the definition of stress–being in one place, wanting to be in another. Refusing to face reality as it is, fighting the truth, which is kind of like trying to hold back the ocean, is exhausting and pointless, and it creates dis-ease. Also, the most uncomfortable feelings are also the ones that tend to lead to the most growth, to a deeper understanding of yourself. Sometimes we need to be in intense discomfort in order to finally make some changes.

Speak out when you can, even if you’re speaking out with the voice inside your head. Name your fears, acknowledge your pain. Feeling strapped down, cold, stuck, unable to express yourself–that’s some of the worst pain we experience. Just swim. Don’t worry about being positive, just be real. Accountable for the energy you’re spreading, of course, and finding a raft when you need one, but real. Sending you so much love, Ally Hamilton

Can You See My Hands??

abandonourviewsWhen I was in the first grade I had a teacher who didn’t like me. I don’t know why she didn’t like me, but I know she said I gesticulated too much at the Parent-Teacher Conference, because I remember my mom explaining what that meant, and years later I read the report card. A’s in everything, too much gesticulation. I was reading and writing well above grade level, but she didn’t like the way I expressed myself. I still use my hands a lot. Hello? My mom’s side of the family is Italian, and yes, I use my hands a lot when I talk. Also, I was six. But I digress. I remember the feeling of wanting her to like me, and of trying to figure out what I needed to fix about myself to gain her approval. Is it glaringly obvious to me now that making an issue of how much I used my hands or made faces when I talked is completely nuts? For sure, but I didn’t understand that then. One day during recess we were playing some game where half the kids were on their hands and knees being “horses”, and the other half were the riders. I was riding. Mrs. B, who’d been in the Teacher’s Lounge, was suddenly in the doorway, bellowing, “Ally Hamilton!! Come with me!” I froze, terrified, and she yelled, “Now!!”. I got off my horse/friend, and followed her out of the classroom and up the stairs, my heart racing, little hands shaking, blinking back tears. I quietly asked her what I’d done, and she said, “You’re getting the children into too much trouble.” And just like that, she confirmed what I already knew, and had always known. I sat on the bench outside the Teachers’ Lounge where she told me to stay (she couldn’t take me to the Principal’s Office, after all, since I hadn’t actually done anything wrong) with my face on fire and this awful feeling of shame flooding my body, and took it in. I was different, I wasn’t like the other kids. According to her, I wasn’t even one of them. My friends were, “the children”, I was …what? And I had always had the feeling of standing on the outside with my nose pressed up against the glass, even though I had plenty of friends and got along well with everyone. I think we all feel this way to some degree, but at six, I had no way of understanding that. When we had our second recess that day, I sat in the little stairwell where we entered the classroom from the street, and cried all the tears I’d been holding back for hours. My friends Robin and Karen came and sat on either side of me, and put their arms around me, and told me she was just mean. Kids get it.

If you’re awake, then you already realize you’ll spend most of your time in that internal space that is your home. Your inner world. You’ll filter everything around you through your own particular lens, which has been shaped by all your experiences. So in a sense, you’re always on the inside looking out. Depending on all kinds of factors, things you’ve been through, your experience of love, the degree to which you’ve been able to count on people, your own trust in your ability to discern what’s real, and how many times you’ve been betrayed, mistreated, or cherished, your lens is either going to be pretty clear, or pretty foggy. It might even be cracked, causing all kinds of misperceptions, making some things appear bigger than they are, others out of reach. The path to healing yourself is really about wiping the lens clean so you can see and face reality as it is. To become more responsive and less reactive. To recognize the space between inside and outside is really nothing more than the way you’re receiving and interpreting the data that’s coming at you. The truth is, we are all very much the same, even though we have our individual lenses. We are all human, we all want connection. We’ve had our hearts broken and some of our dreams have been shattered. We have fears and doubts and shame and rage, to varying degrees, and hopes and joy and the pull of that which inspires us. We have a deep well of love if we’re brave enough to uncover it. We have gifts to unwrap and share if we don’t let fear stand in our way. We have grief, and loneliness and longing. We have days full of light, and days full of darkness so thick we cannot hear our hearts. Our intuition. There’s the connection of collectively feeling separated. The shared illusion. The more we can acknowledge that we feel alone, unseen, misunderstood or altogether ignored sometimes, the more the lid comes off the Big Secret. We are all floundering around here, doing the best we can to work it out and make sense of this excruciatingly beautiful experience we call life. On some deep level, we are all trying to answer the unanswerable questions, to bring some order to the chaos, and to learn to work hard, and then surrender. To let go or be dragged, as the proverb goes. You’re not alone in this thing. Neither is Mrs. B. If you need to wipe your lens clean, get busy. Life is gorgeous even with its pain and confusion. There’s a depth to it we’d never feel if it was sunny every day. The ride is kind of amazing when you stop gripping the handlebars. If your inner world is your home, you always have the option of flinging the doors open and inviting it all in. Hoping you do, if you haven’t already, and sending you lots of love. And gesticulation! Ally

Be Discerning with your “Yes”!

yestoothersnotoyourselfWhen I was a kid, I took horseback riding lessons at Claremont Riding Academy for a time. I loved it, and I loved the horses, but I was really allergic to them. I’d leave for my lessons looking like myself, and I’d come home looking like I’d been on the wrong end of a cage fight. Eyes swelled shut and red, wheezing, skin blotchy, upper respiratory system defunct for a good twenty-four hours. I didn’t care. I was stubborn, and I loved every part of the experience, especially the amazing feeling when the horse took off and hit its stride. Like it was just me and the horse and nothing else, if I could surrender and go with it. I loved focusing and losing myself. I think it was my first glimpse into the reality that there are certain things in life we love, even if they make us sick.

This is such a tough area when it comes to people. And if you’re a giver, and you’re trying to live your life with your eyes and heart and mind wide open, it can become especially tricky. There’s a line where compassion and forgiveness of others becomes abuse of self. If you have care-taking, peace-making tendencies, you have to remember to keep your own well-being on the radar as well. If you race to forgiveness, sometimes you rob a person of a lesson they really need. You pay the tab for their transgression. And you rob yourself of the time you might need to process your own feelings. Anger is a normal, legitimate emotion we will all experience, especially when we feel wronged. If you push it down, it’ll come back to bite you in the a$$ later.

I have a friend whose teenager has been having real problems with substance abuse for years. He’s sold jewelry of hers; pieces her mother wore that are irreplaceable to her, and one night he tried to pack up all the televisions and laptops in the house. When she tried to stop him, he threatened her. She had to call the police on her own son. It’s incredibly sad. Where do you draw the line? You love your child. You’re hardwired to give whatever you’ve got. But if you don’t stop giving in this scenario, you do your child a disservice. My heart goes out to people dealing with this, it’s a very painful, lonely, heartbreaking line to walk.

The need for boundaries comes up in less extreme situations, too. Sometimes a relationship is toxic. You’ll know if you’re in one because you’ll be exhausted. There are people in the world who are truly incapable of empathy. They aren’t bad people, they are just not able to extend themselves and imagine what you must be feeling, or recognize the impact of their choices or actions. There’s something called Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), and there are sociopaths, and then there are all kinds of people who are not dealing with real clinical, psychological issues, but are just experiencing life solely as it applies to them. You can send people like this compassion from afar, and hope they get the help or the lessons they need, but you won’t change them. If you try, you’ll get hurt. You can forgive people, but that doesn’t mean you need to have them in your life. Some people don’t belong there. Taking care of yourself always comes first. It has to; if you allow yourself to be abused life becomes very dark indeed. It takes so much energy to manage all your pain and frustration, you won’t have much left for anyone or anything else. Jack Kornfield on this, “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.” Love is not pain. Loving someone in pain hurts. Be kind to yourself. Sending you so much love, Ally

Watch out for Selfish Cider

whenyouwelcomeA number of years ago, a close friend of mine was dating a man in the “spiritual community.” I have to admit, the first time I met him I got a bad vibe. He seemed arrogant and pretentious, and I was worried for my friend. But as you do in those cases, I kept my mouth shut and hoped for the best. Telling your friend you don’t dig the guy she’s mooning over is a recipe for trouble, and a great way to alienate someone who’s probably going to need to lean on you in the not too distant future. Plus, it was only a dinner, and I was hoping I was wrong. Maybe he’d been nervous, or didn’t do well in social situations. Maybe there was a whole side of him she was seeing that I couldn’t have glimpsed in such a short meeting.

About six months later, he went to an ashram. She called me a few times from Chicago, saying she had an intuition that something was off. He happened to be passing through L.A. on his way back home, and she asked me to have lunch with him, which I agreed to do. At lunch, he told me he had “connected” with a woman at the ashram, and had a deep, spiritual experience. When I asked him if he meant he’d had sex with her, he laughed and said, “Yes, if you need to be so crass about it.” When I asked him how he thought my friend was going to feel, given that they were in a monogamous relationship, he said he was a “mysterious and enigmatic creature”, and that he’d had to “honor the truth of what he was feeling.”

This was not, and is not, the only time I’ve encountered this kind of thinking amongst those who talk about being on “the path”, and it’s one of the things that gets me fired up. “Honoring your truth” doesn’t mean you’re justified in doing anything you want, it means you acknowledge what you’re feeling and communicate it when necessary. You sit with the feelings without acting on them, especially if doing so will hurt other people. If it turns out your feelings are an expression of a deeper truth, then you make changes so that you’re free to act on what’s pulling you, whether it’s another person, a new job, or a different way of being, but you act with compassion and consciousness. Sometimes it means you understand it’s just not something worth doing, that the cost will be too great.

Sitting with your feelings without acting on them is a sign of emotional and spiritual maturity. It’s a recognition that you are not your feelings, that feelings are not facts, or as the beautiful Pema Chodron puts it, “You are the sky; everything else is just the weather.” Lots of emotions feel overpowering, especially rage, jealousy, lust and despair. But you don’t have to be ruled by those feelings, and you really can’t be if you’re trying to live your life in a conscious way. I get sad about this, because I think many people who are seeking some healing run into this kind of thinking and either follow it, or are turned off by it (as am I). It’s twisting a beautiful practice into something ugly, and it’s a good reminder to be discerning about where you look for healing and guidance if you need some, and not to think one stinky apple ruins all the cider! Sending you a ton of love, as always, Ally Hamilton

Own It, or It Will Own You

pastacceptedWhen I was seventeen, I started dating a guy who was 37. I’ll let you take a minute with that if you need one. My first boyfriend, who was, and is, an awesome person, had left for college on the other side of the country, and as irrational as it was, I felt abandoned. I cried my heart out the night he left, and if you read this blog regularly, you’ll know what I mean when I say somewhere inside myself it was as if I was looking through my parents’ closets again and realizing all the corduroys and men’s shoes and denim jackets were gone. He left me, that’s all I could feel. Enter way older man. With roses and phone calls and a total full-court press. I wanted nothing more than to be distracted from my broken heart, even though my sweet boyfriend was calling every day, and talking about Christmas break. Something inside me had shut down to him. He couldn’t reach me anymore. I broke his heart and my own in one sweep. Not that it would have worked out. We were too young and if it hadn’t been college and my inability to trust that a person who leaves might actually come back, it would have been something else. But it was what it was, and this older guy came at me with his attention and his confidence and his power, with his charisma and private plane rides to his place in the Hamptons. With his boat and his cars and his trips whisking me away to St. Barts. Also, my parents are nineteen years apart. Coincidence? Um, no.

I ended up in one of the most painful relationships of my life for three formative years. I was convinced I was in love with him the way you’re convinced of everything at seventeen, but in retrospect I was simply trying to rewrite history. I was hooked, and I went for a devastating ride. My parents individually tried to talk me out of it, but I knew everything then, and they knew nothing. This wasn’t like their relationship, this was different. And I was going to change this guy who had always had trouble being faithful to anyone, who was emotionally distant once he had me, who was scheduled from the moment the alarm went off at 6am, to the moment his eyes closed around midnight. When I would talk to him about wanting some quality time, he would tell me I was lucky to be living in a high rise and heading to the Hamptons on the weekends. But I knew, even then, all the sparkly fancy stuff, all the toys in the world, don’t make up for a lack of connection. I thought eventually he’d see that, he’d see me. I was going to be such an amazing girlfriend, he’d never need to look anywhere else, and in time he’d appreciate what he had. Because of course, other than being in college, I had nothing of my own going on yet. I didn’t know who I was, or what made me happy (getting his attention made me “happy” when I could do it, but it wasn’t really happiness, it was just a fix. He does love me! He does see me!) And there were other women, and times I sat on the floor of his apartment, sobbing like a four year old because I knew, although I couldn’t prove it, until the one time I did. He wasn’t a bad person, just running from his own demons, in pain, and spilling that pain all over the place. I played out so much history with him, when I look back on it, it’s almost remarkable one person could have embodied so many qualities that pushed my buttons and left me feeling raw to my core. I got an early, thorough, heartbreaking crash course in, “The Past is the Past, You Cannot Rewrite It, But You Can Make Yourself Sick Trying.” When it ended, it was painful, brutal and very hard to manage at twenty. It was like re-living every painful thing that had ever happened in my life in Technicolor. I was in my Junior year at college, and while my friends were going to parties and pulling all-nighters, I was struggling just to get out of bed in the morning. He begged me to come back, but he had broken me of the notion that the past can be fixed. I wouldn’t have put it like that at the time, but I understood going back was not an option. All I’d done was make my present unbearable. I walked around in a fog like an accident victim for the better part of a year. I had allowed, created and participated in my own suffering, and the loss of time I could never have back. Not that I regret it, because I learned so much about myself, and I learned it at warp speed. It was the catalyst that set me on the path toward healing, and eventually landed me in a yoga class.

I share this with you because people do it all the time. They walk around with raw pain on the inside. Then they meet a person they’re attracted to, the hormones take over, and they feel healed. At peace. But of course, without work, without soul-searching and sitting with the pain and opening to it, without accepting everything about yourself, it’s a temporary salve and nothing more. When the party’s over and reality starts creeping back in, any pain that was there before will be there again. You can push it down, run from it, deny it, and try to numb it out, but if you do, your pain owns you. It owns you. And as a result, you will hurt yourself, and everyone around you. You won’t mean to do that, but it’s inevitable. People in pain hurt people. The path to healing is not another person, or shiny stuff. It’s an inward trek you have to take alone. The only question is how long you’re going to wait. Some people never set out. They just act out. And then one day they die. Life does not have to be mostly painful with tiny breaks of light based on circumstance. Life can be beautiful even when it’s painful if you open to it. There’s something excruciatingly gorgeous in being with things as they are. Your pain will only own you if you run from it. If you turn and face it, if you allow it and accept it, the chains fall off. Wishing that for you so much if you’re shackled, and sending you love, Ally

Love Doesn’t Hurt You

Love-doesnt-hurt-you-ALove requires your vulnerability, your trust, and your understanding that you may be hurt. And to be clear, people who know how to love may also hurt you, not intentionally, but simply because people are always changing and growing, and sometimes a partnership that worked well at one time doesn’t anymore. Even in those cases, love is not hurting you. The loss of it is. Or the destruction of it.

We want to say this is forever and I will love you exactly like this for the rest of my days, but the truth is, no one can promise that. People can promise to try with everything they’ve got to dig deep and fight for the relationship when necessary, and to nurture it and treasure it, and treat it as the incredible gift it is. They can promise to keep seeing you with fresh eyes every day, to keep opening to you as you change and grow, and to do everything they can to support your growth and your full expansion and your inner yes,  but that’s the most you can hope for or expect, and that’s the most you can offer, too. And that’s a lot.

I get emails from people on a fairly regular basis and they go something like, “Everyone I’ve been with has cheated on me, so now I believe everyone cheats.” Or, “Everyone I’ve been with has left me, so I think everyone leaves.” No, the people you’ve been picking cheat and leave, that’s the story to examine. Because we always know. We may not want to know, but somewhere down deep, the alarm goes off, and we listen, or we barrel forward, anyway. I dated a guy once and we were maybe a month in, and he told me he had a guy friend crashing with him one night. I can’t explain it, but I knew in my gut something was off. I knew enough that I walked my dog over to his house in the rain, even though I felt crazy doing it, and even though I was worried he might see me, and watched him walk into his building holding hands with the guy. I watched the lights go on inside his house, and then I watched them go off. And it wasn’t the gender that was painful. Dishonesty is the thing. Without trust there’s no relationship.

If you notice patterns in your romantic life, like you keep overriding your intuition and end up getting hurt, take a good, unflinching look at what’s happening within you. Do you feel some deep shame, like you aren’t worthy of love? Do you have a belief system you’re subconsciously trying to validate, as in, “Everyone leaves, so I’ll keep picking people who seem likely to leave, that way my beliefs are held up and even though it hurts, the world makes sense this way and I can keep clinging to my story”? Are you living in the fear of what it would mean to really let go, to really open up, to allow someone to see you and hold you and accept you as you really are, and not just as you wish to be perceived? How long do you want to do that, exactly? Because you can repeat the cycle again and again, and blame this person or that person, but if you really want to know the truth, you are just breaking your own heart. You are, no one else. And you’re doing that by deflection.

When you keep picking people who seem likely to let you down, even when all the intuitive alarm bells are going off, you are choosing a ride into a brick wall. You’re getting on the train, you’re buying the ticket, and you’re taking a ride on the track marked “Reckless.” Because how many times do you think you can be careless with your heart before it starts to harden? Two? Three? Seven? If you want to love, you’re going to have to be a bada$$. It’s not an undertaking for the fearful, so if you’re feeding your fears, have a seat and let the trains whiz by you, because if you jump on, it’s not going to be pretty. Sit on the bench until you recognize, with every bit of your being, how insanely special you are. How many gifts you bring to the table, how much depth and empathy and patience and kindness exists within you, ready to be shared. How much joy. Then get on the train, but only if it’s on the track marked “Potential”, and open up to love, even though you may be hurt.

Do it anyway. Love is the most liberating experience in the world. The process of figuring out how to dive in may be painful and full of false starts, but love itself will never hurt you. The complicated, confused, very human people who are also trying to open to it may, but send them love, too. Because every experience teaches us something about who we are, what lights us up, what we want and don’t want, and how to keep going inside to open up to more of that love we all possess. Sending you some right now, Ally Hamilton

Be You.

beyourselfemersonThere are few things more painful or lonely in this life than feeling you should be something other than who you are. That ought to be the simplest and most obvious truth, but we live in a world where we are taught to conform. To fall in line, to get with the program, to buck up and fly right, to sit down and shut up. We are taught that there’s a system, and the way it works is that you figure out what you want to “do” (What do you want to be when you grow up? Wouldn’t it be cool if our kids said, “happy”, “fulfilled”, “at peace”, “of service”, “fired up”??) and you go to school for it and you follow the rules and earn a degree and get a job, and hopefully you’ve picked something where you can make $$$money, so you can buy a nice house and a fast car and meet the right person and have a family (a mother, father and at least one kid. But what if you can’t have kids? What if you don’t want kids, or your ideas about domestic bliss are different? What if you like other women? Or men? What if you don’t look like all the people on billboards and television commercials and the covers of magazines? Where’s the road map for you? There isn’t one. What’s the message? Get in line or live on the outskirts, shunned and ignored, or sometimes disdained or condemned or mistreated. But it’s nuts, because the road map everyone else is following leads straight into the hole, too) and go on cruises and retire when you’re 65. Or 67. Or maybe never because, oops, we spent all the money because we’ve been taught to consume, consume, consume. The Consumption Beast is never satisfied. Ever. The system has a big, gaping hole in it, and the hole can never be filled. The hole is called, “What the hell is this? I’m doing everything right and I’m miserable. I guess I’ll try buying bigger better stuff. I guess I must suck. I guess I’m not skinny enough or buff enough or smart enough or something enough to get it together.” The hole is a lie, but you can get stuck in there for a good, long while.

When I was in college I worked in a restaurant with a young guy named Daniel. He was 19 when I met him, just a little older than I was, and had moved to NYC to pursue acting, and also because he was gay and his parents didn’t want him in their house anymore. It breaks my heart to write that, all these years later, having children of my own. He made me laugh with his sharp wit and his detailed notes about what guys like and do not like, and what I should watch out for…and I shared not much of anything useful with him in that regard. But we would stay up late, and sometimes he would cry, even though he knew he was where he needed to be. His parents had sent him for hypnosis to cure him of his “issue” as they called it when he still lived at home, and sometimes he’d laugh about it, but underneath that laughter there was so much raw pain. Rejection is one of the worst feelings there is. And to be rejected by those we need to love us, those we should be able to expect to love us and accept us and celebrate us and embrace us for all we are, that is true heartache. If you want to be at peace, happy, fulfilled, of service, fired up, then you are going to have to be this very amazing, incredible, one-of-a-kind thing called, yourSELF. Seriously. And it is not easy. It means you have to forge your own path and figure out what feels right for you, and stick to it even if it somehow disappoints the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. You’re going to have to deal with feeling like you must be crazy (you’re not), and walking your path, anyway. You may have to face rejection from those who brought you into this world. You may endure times when you feel very, very alone.

It happens even if those close to us do love us and see us and treasure us. There’s still societal pressure to look right and act right and feel right, but this “right” is a crazy notion. Are we really all supposed to look the same? Are all women meant to starve themselves so they can fit into size zero jeans? And be sweet and kind and nurturing, but never ever get angry, or have a real opinion, or speak up and fight for anything? Are all men supposed to be buff and strong and powerful with money and all the answers and no fear, and no need to stop and ask for directions, and no permission to cry in public, or anywhere else, really, and Come, Jane. Cave, here. WTF?! Can we not take a collective deep breath and throw our heads back and laugh at this pure insanity? Human beings are gorgeous and complicated and full of longing and beauty and joy and confusion and curiosity and total bullsh&t sometimes. Human beings can be cruel and indifferent and self-absorbed, but we can also be kind and full of compassion and tenderness. I’m saying human beings, men, women, we will all feel the full spectrum of emotions. If there’s one thing that’s common to all of us, it’s the need for connection. For understanding. For yes, I see you. I see you there, reading on your laptop or iPad or Smartphone. I see you in your loneliness and pain and hope and questioning and fear and paralysis and bright, shining light. I see you in your darkness and anger and frustration and doubt and shame. I see you as you question whether you’re enough, and also as you realize that you are. I see all of that because it exists in me, also, as it exists in every single person you’re going to encounter today. Be you. Be you. Be you. It’s the only way you can shine. Your light is needed. Sending you so much love. Ally

You Do the Driving

heartpemaWhen I was in college I had a roommate for one semester, I’ll call her Jane. I didn’t know her, we were just placed in a room together. Jane liked boys. A lot. I walked in on Jane with so many different Tarzans, we finally devised a system. Not that Jane was ever troubled if I showed up in the middle of her eggs being scrambled, I just found it awkward. And Jane was annoyed by the fact that I found it awkward. When I wasn’t interrupting something, I’d come back to our room and find sweaters of mine thrown in a corner, sometimes stained, or I’d go looking for a pair of shoes only to discover Jane must be wearing them. She was catty, and cold, and never had a kind word to say about anyone. Not that she talked to me much. I tried to get to know her, but she really wasn’t open to that, nor did she have any other girlfriends. If I saw her on campus, she was almost always with a group of guys, and might acknowledge me with a look, but not usually. One morning I walked into our tiny shared kitchen and howled because I stepped on a shard of broken glass. Jane had knocked over a vase, and simply thrown a towel over the mess. Finally, frustrated and done, I requested a new roommate. The paperwork took a few weeks, and in the meantime I’d decided to move off campus the following semester. One afternoon after I knew my days with Jane were coming to an end, I walked in to find her alone in her bed. She looked awful, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glassy and she was groaning. She had the kind of flu where you just want to dig a hole and bury yourself ’til it’s over. Her fever was incredibly high, but she refused to let me take her to the nurse. So I went to the store and bought soup and juice and bread for toast, and came back and made her a little lunch. I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on her forehead, and Jane started crying. Not just a tear or two streaming down her face, but the kind of crying that sounds more like keening. Primal, deep wailing. I was stunned, but I just held onto her until she quieted. It turned out Jane’s mom had left when she was a baby, and never looked back. Her dad had raised her but he wasn’t the most emotional guy. No one had ever made her soup before. I wish I could say this was the beginning of a close and lasting friendship, or tell you that I still know Jane and that all is well with her. But that moment with the soup was all there was, because the next day Jane was back to her dismissive ways. In fact, she was even more hostile. When I packed up my things before winter break, I left Jane a card with my new phone number and a note that said she could always call me for any reason. I never heard from her, but I think about her a lot. Especially when I meet someone who’s challenging to be around, or whose behavior is difficult to understand. Everyone has pain, everyone is struggling with something.

When you feel as though someone is “driving you crazy”, understand they can only do that if you let them. Checking in with yourself when you’re feeling enraged, frustrated, trapped, or shut down with someone is really essential. Sometimes a complete stranger “drives you crazy” by the way they’re driving. Or talking loudly on their cellphone in a cafe. Or not holding a door open, or letting you merge on the freeway. Sometimes it’s someone you like who isn’t responding the way you wish they would. The story that matters is always the story of your participation. What about the situation is triggering you? Why, for example, would you allow the driving habits of a stranger, no matter how annoying they might be, rob you of your own peace? Or affect your blood pressure, or the way you’re driving, or what you’re doing with your own middle finger? What is the real source of the anger or insecurity or lack of trust this person is tapping that already exists within you, and did long before s/he came into the picture? If you’re really tweaked, consider whether it’s old stuff. Are you feeling powerless? Rejected? Abandoned? Repeating a pattern of interaction that feels awful and very familiar at the same time? This is the way challenging people can become some of our best teachers. The potential for growth and greater understanding about who you are and where you’re at is always available. If someone cuts you off on the freeway and you feel a surge of heat rush to your face, you really ought to be yelling, “Thank you!” and not, “F&ck you!” out the window, because they just helped you release and explore some of the rage that was already within you. Next time you’re dreading hanging out with that person who drives you up and down a wall, see if you can turn it into an experiment to see if you can drive instead. They can do and say anything at all, and you will still drive your own car, peacefully and mindfully, slowing down whenever you need to hop out and explore the terrain. Sending you love, and wishes for a peaceful ride without the use of your “traffic finger” 😉 Ally

Changed but Not Reduced

changednotreducedSome things will never be okay. I think it’s really important to grasp this. Some losses are so devastating the only hope is just to find a way to hold the pain in your heart and manage to put one foot in front of the other. To trust that the searing hot red of it will subside to a dull ache. You may have experienced this in your own life, to one degree or another. The loss of your innocence. The loss of a loved one. The temporary loss of your dignity. There are times I wonder how people are doing it. All the parents who lost children at Sandy Hook Elementary, for example. Those families are still dealing with a sudden, recent, violent loss that is so knifing, so brutal, I can only hope they all had at least one other child. Otherwise I don’t know how you get up in the morning. What motivates you to take a shower, or eat, or do anything, really, when you have to live with the reality that your child’s last moments were spent in terror, and you were not there. I know this is hard to think about, but it’s real. There’s no amount of healing or positive thinking or belief in the idea that “everything happens for a reason” that will ever make that okay for any of those families, or for anyone, anywhere who loses a cherished person through a violent act. Cancer is violent. So are heart attacks. Drones. If you want your spiritual practice to hold you up and get you through, you cannot turn your eyes away from the painful truths. You have to be able to hold it all. Otherwise you’re living in a state where you can only receive the light. And that’s simply not real. Life is full of incredible joy and incredible heartache.

A year ago, Jennifer Pastiloff told me about a friend of hers who’s little boy was dying of Tay Sachs disease. I started reading her blog, Little Seal, and I can tell you as a mother, it broke my heart nine million different ways. I never made it through a single post without bawling. She has a book coming out, “The Still Point of the Turning World” which I have no doubt will be devastatingly gorgeous. You can pre-order the book on Amazon, or you can simply hold Emily Rapp in your thoughts, because yesterday, Ronan left his little body. For his mother and his father, and all the people close to him, that will never be okay. Knowing him and loving him will always be a gift, but losing him slowly and then finally, will never be okay. A friend of mine watched his father die of a heart attack right in front of him when he was eight years old, and that has never been, and will never be okay. For my cousin and his wife who lost their six year-old son to brain cancer 25 years ago, it will never be okay. I think the acceptance of that truth is the doorway that makes it possible to move forward. Expecting to be okay with that kind of loss keeps you stuck and disappointed in yourself when it doesn’t happen. But not being okay with something doesn’t mean it has to reduce you. It can inspire incredible compassion. It can expand you, make you greater than. People in pain like that are usually the ones who take action. Who stand up. Who draw attention to a problem we all need to hold in our hands. Life cannot be wrapped up in neat little sound-bytes. It’s too messy and inexplicable and excruciatingly beautiful for that. It takes a softness and a vulnerability and a willingness to weep if you want to be awake to the realities of this experience of being human. If you want to receive every single day as the gift it is. If you want to live every moment fully. And I surely hope you do. Because this life IS beautiful, even with all its pain. The pain opens you if you let it. Sending you so much love, Ally

Happy Valentine’s Day to YOU

romeoOh, romantic love. We do such a number on ourselves. If only I could find that “right” person who’d complete me, then I’d be happy! I just need to lose ten pounds. Or live in a different house and make more money. Or have bigger biceps or boobs. Or a smaller a$$. Or something. I need to smell differently, or grow more or less hair. I need to say funny stuff, or be smarter, or get online. There’s a party happening somewhere, I just need to get my sh&t together so I get the invite. Then I’ll meet my soul-mate, and all my fears and insecurities, shame, doubt, rage, guilt, and pain will be magically washed away and we can sail off into the sunset, happily ever after! That’s how all the movies and fairy-tales end, right? HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Here’s the thing. I hope you’re with someone, or you meet someone who can really see you, and love you in a way that makes you feel free to be your most authentic self. I hope you have someone to curl up with at the end of the day, to laugh with and talk to, and lean on when times are tough. And if you do, I hope you celebrate each other every day. But even if you find that, or you already have, it’s not a magic bullet. Any healing you have to do will not suddenly disappear. It will for the first three months while the hormones are raging, but if you aren’t happy to begin with, no one else can solve that for you. And you don’t have to wait until you meet someone to start working on that. In fact, two unhappy, lost people coming together are not very likely to build something that lasts unless they work their a$$es off and want it all the way, and even then, it’s not going to be a sail into the sunset. But two people who know themselves well, who are fulfilled and inspired individually have a shot at something incredible. If you’re not with someone who’s buying you chocolate today, it can be a day about loving yourself well. Honoring and cherishing and celebrating yourself.

Whatever is happening in your life, I wanted to be sure you received at least one Valentine today. So you don’t forget. There are 7 billion people in the world, and only one you. Just one. And not even taking in all your gifts and quirks, your smile and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy or surprised, just because there is only one of you, you’re inherently amazing. Unique. Full of the particular potential to express and reflect back all the love around you through your own gorgeous lens. We all belong to each other. We really do. So you’re never alone. You’re already my Valentine. I love you and am happy you’re here. I’d shove chocolate through your computer screen if I could! Happy Valentine’s Day! Ally

Choose Love

gratitudeMy dad left the week after my grandmother left for real. I was not yet five, and my parents had been keeping up appearances on her behalf as she battled cancer. The day she died was sunny, and I was not allowed to see her. My dad and my aunt and mostly my awesome cousins took turns walking me around the outside of the hospital where I picked little orange berries off what I now believe were European Mountain Ash trees. Funny the things you remember. I didn’t really understand what was happening. How could I? I’d grown up with my Nanny, summers at the Jersey Shore, the smell of the boardwalk which still brings me back, pitchers of Lipton’s Iced Tea, and fresh tomatoes on a vine in her backyard. The feeling of her fingertips as she traced circles around my face to help me fall asleep. Her boyfriend, Lou, riding the Tea Cups with me ’til he threw up, because love does that to you, also. Running on the beach with my cousins, the damp of saltwater in my hair and on my skin. Sand crabs and sea gulls. How could I understand I’d never again feel the warmth of her arms around me as she crushed my face against her?

A week later I woke up one morning and my mom, still reeling and heartbroken from the loss of her own mother, told me my dad didn’t live with us anymore. I couldn’t wrap my head around that, and went to look in his dresser. Empty. No more man’s shoes in the closets, no more corduroys and denim shirts and wigs on styrofoam heads because it was the 70’s and my dad was an actor and sometimes he pretended to have hair. But he’d left his blue and red robe, the one that matched my mom’s, so he had to come back for that. I was sure of it. Funny the things you remember.

Years later, my oldest cousin and his beautiful wife enduring the worst loss possible, and a hospital room decorated with Garfield because their son loved Garfield and love does that to you, too. The very worst day of my life, which was only a drop in the ocean compared to theirs, a tiny coffin, way too small, and one thought, over and over, “No. Not this.” My cousins, who dunked me in the pool over and over again in Bermuda, even though I’d broken my thumb and had a cast all the way up my arm. My cousins who played games with me and loved on me and tickled me and taught me about family. I wanted to pick my cousin up and bring him back to that pool, before all of it and say, dunk me. Dunk me again, and throw your head back and laugh, and remember joy, somehow. Love will strip you down and leave you bare and humbled at your own arrogance and your own fragility. The arrogance of thinking you had any power in any of it, any control over anything, as if routines could stop the growth of a tumor you didn’t even know was there. Tuesdays we go to soccer. Wednesdays we go to the grocery store. As if Wednesday means anything. Love means something. The power of your heart to celebrate a person. A six year old boy, a fifty-eight year old woman, your dad who called you “Princess’ and “Angel” and lived somewhere else now. In a new apartment with a floor he painted like a jungle so you’d be delighted when you walked in. But also a little scared because what is this new life? Where did the old one go? Aren’t we always wondering that? If everything is in a constant state of change, aren’t we always letting go of something and opening to something else, something new?

Life is full of big love if you allow yourself to feel it, and if you do, you will experience profound loss at one time or another, but you will also experience joy that feels like the sun is shining from the very center of your heart. Everything living is in flux, so to love fully means to be brave and completely vulnerable. You have to be strong to love, and you have to be soft. Brave enough to be soft. You cannot control the tides of the ocean anymore than you can control the number of years you get with anyone you love. Every single day is gifted to each of us, and we receive the gift or we do not. We stay in bed with the blinds drawn and distract ourselves all day, or we celebrate the people around us and honor our own ability to do that. That’s the only power we have. Healing is not some light state in which you skip through fields and feel like singing. Healing is holding every single thing that has happened in your hands and saying yes, I accept that too. That happened and it slayed me. That happened and it terrified me. That happened and it enraged me. And I am still here and I get to choose love. It means recognizing that all people are flawed and all people will make mistakes, and most people are doing the very best they can with where they’re at and what they’ve got to work with, and it means letting go of the story. It’s just a story, they’re just details. Every single person is going to suffer, no one can save anyone from that. Some people will suffer more than others. Terrible, incomprehensible, heart-wrenching events will befall people, and everyone else will suffer the usual awful amount. Why? I don’t know and neither does anyone else for sure, but I can tell you there’s some beauty in it. There’s something about pain that opens us and gives us depth and understanding and compassion and the ability to be grateful for all the love and all the incredible beauty and all the gifts. People will leave and people will die and your heart will break one million ways, but still, this life is excruciatingly beautiful. Human beings with all their complexity and nonsense and joy are just incredibly amazing most of the time. Open to all of it. Let those things go that are not serving you. Keep saying yes to the experience of being alive and awake and able to love with your heart wide open. It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think? Sending you love, Ally

Stay on the Ship and Right It, or Take the Lifeboat Marked “Truth”

courageLately I’ve received the same email from about twelve completely unrelated people, some male, some female, all riding in the same ship. The ship is called This Relationship is Going Down. I’ve been on that ship a few times, and the ride is awful. It makes you sick enough to find yourself throwing up over the rail, wind whipping your hair back, saltwater and truth stinging your eyes simultaneously. There’s no time to catch your breath, the waves just keep coming, and all you can do is hold on and look for the horizon until you decide it’s time to get in the lifeboat and start rowing.

It’s particularly awful if your kids are on the ship with you, I’ve been there, too. I’ve been there as a kid, watching my own parents’ ship go down, and I’ve been there as a mom. I’ve ridden the ride a few times in between. Never enjoyable. The storm rages when two people fight back the truth. That’s the part that makes everyone sick. I get emails from people who say the passion is gone, they’re living as roommates but maybe it’s okay because of the kids. For some people it might be okay. But if you’re sending me an email, you’re not one of them. Kids know everything. They know everything. They know if you have an email flirtation going on with someone. Not on a conscious level, but underneath. They feel it all. You may believe you’re shielding them from your storm but it’s a lie. They’re on the ship. It’s important to understand that.

Sometimes making a clean break is hard, whether you have kids or you don’t. Adding another person to the mix when your ship is going down with your partner is getting on a lifeboat with a hole in it. You’re going to end up in shark-infested waters, and those sharks will have names. Deceit. Despair. Dishonesty. They’ll sink their sharp teeth right into your heart. I understand if you’re in a desperately unhappy situation it’s very tempting to want to jump on the jet ski of a hot, enticing stranger who really doesn’t know you one iota. Hasn’t been through the mud with you, hasn’t seen you at your worst, doesn’t know your deepest fear or pain or shame or rage. It’s powerful to feel drawn by the pull of hormones and lust and someone who thinks you’re the most amazing person when your partner doesn’t see you anymore. But that’s a very messy way off the ship you’re on, and it will only make the ride worse for you and everyone else.

Deal with your truth, it’s going to out one way or another. If you have children, fight with every single thing you’ve got to save your relationship and right the ship. Get yourself back on course if at all possible. If it isn’t possible, honor the relationship and the fact that your spouse is the other, most important person in your child/ren’s life. But don’t hang onto the rail and keep throwing up. Love is not desperation. It’s not a constant struggle. It’s not ups and downs and pain and anguish and disappointment. It’s not. Not constantly, not always. It takes a tremendous amount of work and desire to steer a ship with another person. Both parties have to be willing and able. It’s okay if one person has to take over for awhile. There are always going to be storms, but in a healthy, loving relationship you and your partner will get busy grabbing buckets and dumping water over the side. You won’t be throwing up by yourself. That’s the beauty in partnership. Love is the most liberating thing there is when it’s pure. Be courageous. Take heart. Set sail if you need to, but make sure your lifeboat doesn’t have a hole in it. Sending you love as I always am, Ally

Are You in a Cage?

bytheoceanposterWhen I was 26 years old, I stopped into a pet store one day to buy dog food for a friend’s dog, and I saw this tiny, sickly puppy in the corner of an enormous cage. His brown, pink-rimmed eyes were huge in his tiny head, and he was shaking uncontrollably. And although I’d never seen it in a dog before, he had a runny nose. He was one of the most pitiful creatures I’d ever seen, and of course I fell in love on the spot. On the front of the cage there was a sign. They’d originally been asking $2500 for him, but then he’d been slashed to $2000. Then $1500, $1000. By the time I got there, they were asking $500. They sent him out the door with me for $250. Two days later I had him at the vet, who told me to take him back to the pet store. He had bacterial pneumonia, and the vet didn’t even want him in the office, because it’s highly contagious. I begged him even though he was adamant. Said I’d already fallen in love with my dog, and taking him back to the place that had neglected him wasn’t even an option. I think I even appealed to whatever it was within him that had inspired him to be a vet in the first place. I know I cried. He put my dog on intravenous antibiotics in the basement, in a cage between cardboard boxes full of puppy pads, and dog food, and Frontline. There was a leaky pipe nearby, and it was pretty dark down there. I know because I visited my dog every day for hours, for the 10 days he was there. The vet told me not to get my hopes up because he was almost definitely a lost cause, but I brought my dog home on the tenth day, and he was my best friend for the next ten years, until he died suddenly one morning, two weeks before I had my son.

Pretty frequently I get emails from people who are in the corner of a huge cage, shaking with a runny nose. Not literally, of course, because that would be weird. But metaphorically. Sometimes the cage is a relationship, or a job, or a way of thinking about themselves or the world. Whatever it is, they’re in there, shaking, as their light dims. Their belief in themselves dwindling like the price on the front of my dog’s cage. Sometimes the person says nothing is really wrong. The job is not bad. The partner is loving and kind. The way of thinking is what they were taught, and how they’ve always been. They think they must be crazy. But. There’s something inside them that’s saying no. No, life should not feel like a cage.

All kinds of things keep people shaking uncontrollably as their light dims. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Sometimes it feels like people are asking permission. Is it okay for me to go to the basement with the leaky pipe (because healing is lonely, dark, painful work) and heal what needs to be healed so I can get out of this cage and live a life where I get to breathe, and it doesn’t feel like there’s this huge weight on my chest, smothering my heart? And I mean, of course it is. If you don’t leave the cage, you die. Maybe not literally, but your spark dies, and you may as well be dead at that point. But, other people will be hurt. Yes, that sucks. That’s brutal, and it would be a beautiful thing if we could all live our truths and never cause anyone else pain. Except, I’ll tell you, I’ve learned and grown the most from the painful times in my life. We can never ever know what another person’s journey is supposed to look like. We can only manage our own, kindly, honestly, and with compassion. And if you don’t follow the road marked My Truth, your heart breaks and you lose the will to do much of anything.

No one will ever thank you for your pity. No one deserves to be loved half-way, or even most of the way. Including you. The road marked My Truth is hardly ever well-paved and well-lit. You have to cut through the brush with no map, and the only thing you can really carry with you is belief in yourself. You won’t be stuck in the basement forever. But you do have to get out of the cage. Sending you love and a huge hug, Ally

Hold It All

beautifulpainWhen I was 12 years old a guy grabbed me on my way to ballet class. I was walking in the same door I’d walked in for years on West 83rd Street, with my hair in a bun, and my tights and leotard under my jeans, and this young guy walked in ahead of me. The door opened right onto a narrow, steep staircase. At the top of the stairs to the right was the ballet studio. I could hear the piano. I can tell you, even at 12, or maybe especially because I was still so young, I had a vibe. An intuition. I remember the feeling of something being off, and I probably did exactly what he’d hoped I would do. I passed him on the right and started racing up the stairs. But he grabbed me from behind and put one hand over my mouth and another between my legs and told me not to move and that he wasn’t going to hurt me. For a minute I froze. Panicked with the taste of tin in my mouth. Fear undiluted. His hand over my mouth as he started fumbling with his jeans, and all I heard, like an explosion inside my head was, “NO”. Not that I understood exactly what he was trying to do, just that animal part of me, of you, of all of us, that part knew. And then I bit his hand and screamed and threw my elbow into his ribs as hard as I could. He let me go immediately. I don’t believe he expected a fight. I faced him, still screaming, tears and adrenaline and a racing heart, and backed up the stairs, right hand, right foot, left hand, left foot, fast. I remember his face, and I remember being shocked that he looked as terrified as I felt. Eyes wide so I could see more white than anything. He took off down the stairs and when I saw he was out the door, I turned and raced/crawled up the remainder of the staircase as fast as I could. I busted into the office, hysterical, unable to speak, but the guys there, the dancers, they knew. I just pointed and they took off, and three girls who were in the company ran to me and held me until I could speak. Not that I could fully make sense of what had happened. They weren’t able to catch up to the guy, and I don’t know what happened to him.

I share this with you because it exists in this world, and because it happened. Clearly, it could have been a lot worse. I hope it was never worse for someone else who didn’t scream, or couldn’t fight. And I hope he found the help he desperately needed. I believe if someone had photographed my face and his as we stared at each other, they would have looked incredibly similar. I believe he was as shocked and sorry about what he’d done as I was. He looked like an animal with his leg caught in a trap. There are people who are deeply troubled, who need help but don’t get it. Because they fall through the cracks. Or are able to hide their pain from the people closest to them. Or maybe those people are in denial. I don’t know what his story was, but I’d be willing to bet it wasn’t a good one.

The reality is this world can be incredibly violent, but it can also be achingly beautiful. If you want to be awake, you have to hold it all. I’m not a fan of this amazing pressure to be positive every waking minute of the day. Not everything is positive and light. Some things will rip your heart right out of your body with no warning and no logic. People who demand that you be light every minute are running from their own shadow, and it’s only a matter of time before it bites them in the a$$. My thoughts did not create that experience, it was completely outside my frame of reference. There are people who would point to karma, or God’s plan, or everything happening for a reason. I don’t know about any of that for sure, and neither does anyone else. What I do know is that sometimes horrendous things happen to beautiful people. Maybe someday it will all make sense and maybe not. Until then, the truth is we live in a world with darkness, and incredible light. To deny one is to forsake the other. It’s not about being positive, it’s about being authentic. Open. Real, raw, vulnerable. It’s about understanding sometimes you will be so scared out of your mind you’ll crawl up a staircase backwards, not even fully knowing what you’re racing from. And sometimes you will be blinded and amazed by all the beauty, all the gifts you’ve been given, the taste of gratitude like sugarcane in your mouth, and the feeling of sunlight like it was poured directly into your heart. Don’t worry about being positive. Just be awake. Hold it all. Sending you love, for real. Ally

Truth

bigorsmallliesI know this can be a tough one to swallow, and I know lots of people will come back with questions about lying in order to spare someone else’s feelings. I think the bottom line is if you want to live authentically, if you want to live in a way that honors what is true for you, you really have to look at areas in your life where you might be lying to yourself, first. Because the most damaging lies we tell are the ones we tell to ourselves. And if you’re living a life where you accept as a necessity the “white lie”, there’s a good chance you’re chipping away at the feeling that you can trust yourself with the big stuff. Lying doesn’t feel good, even if you do it in the name of sparing someone else. It feeds and strengthens the idea you have of yourself that you’re not a truthful person. Nothing cures you of white lies faster than having children with big ears. And it makes you realize, if you hadn’t already, how ready you might be to bend the truth to spare someone else’s pain, or your own. But maybe in sparing someone the truth you’re also denying them an opportunity to grow. If the truth is something that’s nothing but hurtful, and it’s around a topic the other party cannot control or change, then it might be best left unsaid. I think the idea is truth or silence. Maybe it’s easier for you to tell the friend you’ve kept waiting at a restaurant that traffic was awful, instead of saying you didn’t leave yourself enough time because you were answering emails or on Facebook. And that underneath that, the real reason you’re late is you’re addicted to stress, and create scenarios that will ensure you’re feeling some on your way out the door. Sometimes we perpetuate something that doesn’t feel good, just because it feels familiar. And I realize that would be an unusual conversation starter, but if you blame it on traffic, you’ve just lied and stolen, because the time they were waiting is time they can’t have back. And you know it, even if they don’t, and you have to live with that uncomfortable feeling and disappointment in yourself. And I say this to you as someone who struggles with punctuality, and wants to excuse my difficulties around this issue by saying I have two small kids, and that it’s hard to get everyone wrangled and out the door on time. It is, but that’s not an excuse, that’s a reality that simply means I have to set out earlier to get where I’m going, and factor in enough time for unscheduled meltdowns, or someone’s sudden need to poop as we race out the door. It also means maybe all three beds don’t always need to be made, and the house doesn’t have to be “perfect” for me to close the door.

For a long time I excused unhealthy decisions and patterns in my life by blaming other people. That’s a common way we lie to ourselves. Instead of doing the work to heal places within us that are raw and in need of our kind attention, we point fingers and stomp our feet and feed our sad stories and perpetuate our own suffering, and that of the people who love us. Your past does not have to define your present or your future. If you’re over 25 (and I’m being generous, because I think we could say 20, easily), you are now accountable for what you do. Even if things went terribly wrong when you were little, and you have a chronological list of reasons that explains why you are the way you are. You probably know people like that; I do, and I used to be one of them, so I recognize the tendency. People cling to stories of wrong-doing, ways they were hurt, or disappointed or mistreated, and tell you this is how they are, and these are the reasons why. Identification is step one, it’s not the end of the line. Recognizing your tendencies and triggers (or samskaras as we yogi/nis call them), is beautiful; it means you’re aware and awake and getting to know yourself. But leaving it at that is not courageous. You’re still here, right? That stuff you went through didn’t kill you then, and it’s not going to now, either. If old, old stuff is still dogging you then it isn’t healed yet. Denying it, repressing it, avoiding it, or numbing it out won’t work, and those are all forms of lying, of refusing to face reality as it is.

There’s an art to speaking the truth kindly and calmly, it takes practice. Starting to face your own areas of weakness with compassion and honesty is a great way to figure out how to do it for other people. Is it awful if I’m three to five minutes late when I meet a friend, when it used to be more like 15? Not by L.A. standards, but it’s still not where I want to be. Is it my mom’s fault because she was always late? Um, no. Hello? Seriously. Is my mom living in my house making me late? (And I love my mom to pieces, and to this day, my brother and I have insane amounts of fun doing impressions of my step-dad calling out, “Here we go!!” 30-60 minutes before anyone else in the house was ready, and heading out the door to wait in the car which he’d end up honking eventually). The point is, we all have our stuff. Our issues, our areas that are not easy to deal with or simple to conquer, even though from the outside a person might say, “What’s wrong with you? Just leave ten minutes earlier!” This old stuff requires time and intense effort and patience and compassion for yourself, as does your opinion about any truth you might share with anyone else. And the more you can be truthful in all areas of your life, including those places where you have work to do, the faster you’ll get through that stuff, and the better you’ll feel about yourself. Sending you love, with a heaping side of truth 😉 Ally

Feed the Love

ignorethingsIf you’re looking for inner peace, you want to be wide awake and aware of yourself as you move through your days. Accountable for the energy you’re spreading, pursuing what’s true for you, following that big yes. But one of the great benefits of quieting your mind and learning how to direct your energy, is deciding what you’re going to dwell upon, and what you’re going to ignore. Not everything requires or deserves your participation.

Sometimes people will do things that seem truly crazy from the outside. There are choices I make that would surely seem crazy to other people. We all have our quirks, and things that feel true for us. We have our outlooks and our ways of making sense of the world. We all have dark times when we make really poor choices. Sometimes people celebrate someone else’s poor choice because it makes them feel better about their own decisions, as in, “My life may not be perfect, but I’d never do THAT!” We are all going to blow it from time to time. The quest for perfection as a human being will rob you of joy.

Conversations that begin, “Can you believe what so-and-so did??” are not worth your attention. Participating in drama is a choice, as is allowing someone else’s actions to rob you of your peace. (Certain transgressions will throw anyone off their center, of course. I’m just talking about the stuff that has nothing whatsoever to do with you. And it could be argued that other people’s actions in general have very little to do with anyone else). The mind loves to obsess over situations that are painful or unresolved, that didn’t go the way we were hoping. Somebody said something to us in a particular way, or didn’t respond at all, and the mind gets hooked. Where’s that email? That phone call? And we start to spin. Dwelling on disappointment, or another person’s behavior, path, and actions will only make you feel sick. Focusing on everything that’s wrong in your life, and all the many ways you suck (you don’t) will only exhaust you and leave you depleted. You can’t manage another person’s path; it’s more than enough just to keep your own clean. If you find yourself hooked and spinning, see if you can un-snag your mind and bring it back to right here, right now. Taking a few deep breaths is a way of hitting the reset button. And if you can, refocus on your own path, and what you can do today to make the world around you a little brighter. More full of love. There’s so much beauty in the world, and you are innately part of that. You don’t want to miss that because you’re distracted by nonsense 🙂

Sending you some love right now, and wishing you a drama-free angst-free, gossip-free day!! Ally

Don’t Miss the Earthworms :)

ya-gratitude-kennedyThere are days when living in gratitude seems a suggestion completely lacking in compassion. If you’re grieving an unthinkable loss, for example, now is not the time for someone to advise you to be grateful, or to tell you some good will come out of it, or that everything happens for a reason even if you can’t comprehend what it could be. Times of heartbreak like that call for the people around you to show up and make you a meal, or help you wash your hair, or sit and cry with you. Words are useless.

Short of that, or of the stress that comes from not knowing where your next meal is coming from, or where you’re going to sleep tonight, gratitude is the path that opens your heart. Words can invoke feelings, they can be incredibly powerful, but action is the thing. Being awake so you can take in all the beauty around you, so that you don’t miss a thing, IS the thing. After I parked my car in front of the veterinarian’s office yesterday, my kids noticed I’d rolled over an earthworm as they were getting out of the car. Part of it was smooshed, the other larger part was wriggling around trying to squirm away. I pulled out my membership card to the local grocery store, and set free the living part of the earthworm. My kids’ eyes got huge. I admit I was tempted to tell them I have super powers, but I didn’t. The thing is, the tiniest stuff can be full of joy and wonder if you don’t miss it. If you aren’t racing or crazybusy or swamped or inundated or scheduled from the moment you open your eyes until the moment you close them at night. If you aren’t attached to your handheld device as if all the beauty in the world exists there.

Being grateful requires your presence, your full-body awareness that life doesn’t have a rollover plan for wasted moments. How can you be awed by the million different shades of green every time the sun hits a tree swaying in the breeze if you’re too busy to notice? How will your heart swell with love if you don’t see your kid looking up at you because you’re in a rush? I think there are a lot of people who get caught up in the words of the thing, but miss the thing itself. The moments and the smiles from strangers, the chances to hold a door open, or make someone’s day just by caring. Just by making eye contact. Gratitude is not for the half-there, half-asleep. There’s a lot of pain in this world, I won’t lie to you, but there is also the kind of beauty that can crack your heart wide open and leave you breathless. It would be such a shame to miss that, and all the smooshed earthworms, too. Sending you love, Ally