A Hub of My Favorite Resources

I spent many, many, many years saying YES to everyone and everything, for the simple reason that I wanted to make everyone happy. Why did I want to make everyone happy? Because I wanted everyone to like me, and I was afraid that if I ever turned anybody down, they would be disappointed, and they wouldn't like me as much. But guess what happened when I finally learned how to start saying NO to people? You'll never guess. Here's what happened: People were disappointed and, indeed, they did not like me as much! Ha! Holy shit, it was totally TRUE! All that I had ever feared would happen came to pass — people didn't like it, and I had fewer friends. (Or rather I had fewer "friends", I should say.) Which makes perfect sense, because, hey, let's be honest, I also hate it when people tell me NO, and when I don't get what I want. But am I in the business of giving every human being on earth everything that they want all the time? Is that a wise business to even be in? Has that ever been a successful business model for anyone? (It's actually not, you guys. I know this, because I seriously tried it for decades. Here's what happens: Your life explodes, you lose your mind, and then everyone ends up pissed off at you, anyhow.) So set your own course. Stay true to yourself and love yourself and be a responsible steward of your own life…and then enjoy the people who still remain around you — those who still want to know you, and still want to love you, and still want be part of your life, even when you are standing in your own truth, and maybe not exhaustively giving everyone every single thing they ever wanted anymore. As for the rest of them? Bless them and forget about them and let them go…and say a prayer that they will someday learn to love themselves just as much as you are slowly learning to love yourself.

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice –

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do –

determined to save

the only life you could save.

my brain and

heart divorced

a decade ago

over who was

to blame about

how big of a mess

I have become

eventually,

they couldn't be

in the same room

with each other

now my head and heart

share custody of me

I stay with my brain

during the week

and my heart

gets me on weekends

they never speak to one another

- instead, they give me

the same note to pass

to each other every week

and their notes they

send to one another always

says the same thing:

"This is all your fault"

on Sundays

my heart complains

about how my

head has let me down

in the past

and on Wednesday

my head lists all

of the times my

heart has screwed

things up for me

in the future

they blame each

other for the

state of my life

there's been a lot

of yelling - and crying

so,

lately, I've been

spending a lot of

time with my gut

who serves as my

unofficial therapist

most nights, I sneak out of the

window in my ribcage

and slide down my spine

and collapse on my

gut's plush leather chair

that's always open for me

~ and I just sit sit sit sit

until the sun comes up

last evening,

my gut asked me

if I was having a hard

time being caught

between my heart

and my head

I nodded

I said I didn't know

if I could live with

either of them anymore

"my heart is always sad about

something that happened yesterday

while my head is always worried

about something that may happen tomorrow,"

I lamented

my gut squeezed my hand

"I just can't live with

my mistakes of the past

or my anxiety about the future,"

I sighed

my gut smiled and said:

"in that case,

you should

go stay with your

lungs for a while,"

I was confused

- the look on my face gave it away

"if you are exhausted about

your heart's obsession with

the fixed past and your mind's focus

on the uncertain future

your lungs are the perfect place for you

there is no yesterday in your lungs

there is no tomorrow there either

there is only now

there is only inhale

there is only exhale

there is only this moment

there is only breath

and in that breath

you can rest while your

heart and head work

their relationship out."

this morning,

while my brain

was busy reading

tea leaves

and while my

heart was staring

at old photographs

I packed a little

bag and walked

to the door of

my lungs

before I could even knock

she opened the door

with a smile and as

a gust of air embraced me

she said

"what took you so long?"

At the center of ourselves, at the very center of our body and our soul, lives the heart. When we allow ourselves to stay in the flow of our feelings - feeling sadness when it reaches out like a child in the dark, feeling jealousy when it pricks the sides of the eyes, feeling anger when it scalds like lava, feeling joy when it hums and laughs - the heart remains open and fully alive, and anxiety is edged to the outer rims.

But more often than not, we plug up our hearts like a cork in a bottle. We do this because we learned early in life, from a culture that doesn’t have the faintest clue how to guide its members through big and difficult feelings, to shut down. And when we shut down and cork up the heart enough, the energy system of feelings is often forced to go upward, into the head in the form of thoughts. This is when people often find their way to healing; when the habit of intrusive thoughts has taken hold to such a degree that the person feels imprisoned by their own mind.

There is a book called The Blue Zones, which shares seven regions in the world where more people than usual live to be over 100 years old.

In the summer of 2021, I visited one of those regions: the Nicoya Peninsula in Costa Rica. I was excited to experience this special place firsthand.

As my mom and I drove down the one-lane, winding roads from Tamarindo to Nosara, green was everywhere. Yes, it was rainy season, but there is no getting away from nature in Costa Rica. It envelops you. The pace of life is slower, simpler. When you sit down to eat at a restaurant, the food is somehow fresher, healthier. For these reasons alone, it isn’t hard to imagine why longer lives are lived on the Nicoya Peninsula.

But something that’s not so readily observed by visiting Nicoya is the strong sense of faith present in all blue zones.

My favorite example in the book is a woman named Panchita. She is 100-years-old with an 80-year-old son. She still clears bush with her machete.

Another of Panchita’s sons was killed in a fight when he was 20-years-old and, still, Panchita manages to tell researchers, “I am a blessed woman today.” Author Dan Buettner writes, “Panchita’s faith was amazing.” She had an “unwavering belief that no matter how bad things got, God would take care of everything.”

Researchers share many factors that contribute to longevity in Nicoya: staying active, having a strong work ethic and sense of family, eating more local foods, being less concerned with money, being flexible, and less stress.

But the factor I love most is the connection between faith and longevity. Most centenarians “go through life with the peaceful certitude that someone is looking out for them” even when times feel hard.

I love this so much because we, in the United State of America, are part of a culture that glamorizes independence, instilling the belief that we should be able to do everything on our own and for ourselves.

Can you feel the weight of that? The weight of making every choice and outcome your responsibility? And the loneliness? I sure have.

I don’t care if you have faith in God, the universe, a higher power, your partner, your family or your friends. That's not the point. The point is the importance of letting yourself feel supported by any of these. The importance of feeling supported by life. The importance of not believing you have to do it all on your own.

Asking for help. Receiving support. Leaning on something.

Maybe you feel that support praying. Maybe you feel that support calling a friend and connecting over coffee. Maybe you feel that support going outside, closing your eyes and filling your lungs with fresh air.

Maybe I get to be part of that support for you in our therapeutic container.

After reading The Blue Zones, the centenarians taught me we’re not here to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. We can give some of it to God. Our community. The trees.