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Why didn’t she invite me to the get-together?… She’s excluding me.

Why would he make that comment? … He’s trying to control me.

My mother always held me back as a kid … She didn’t want me to succeed.

These kinds of thoughts are always part of the default record playing through the ruminating mind, as my Zen teacher used to call it. Some call it the ego. A rabbi friend calls it “the program.” He never really provided a working definition of it, but if all the fears, insecurities, doubts and paranoia running through our system got all twisted up together, put in a mixer and then got squeezed out like a sausage, that would be the program. Only… it chatters, non-stop, like a hyper toddler.

Its only antidote is awareness.

In Yoga, the program would be considered part of the negative mind—our default channel. The others are the positive and neutral minds. But it takes more effort to get those channels to work properly. While it might be tempting to say that the positive mind is the preferred state of being, in reality the desired state is the neutral mind. This is what is meant by awareness.

Awareness; More Easily Said than Done—

Why is it so challenging to get out of the default negative program? And why does that have to be “the default?” According to some theories in psychology, it is because holding on is easier than letting go. In other words, holding on to negative thoughts and experiences, such as those mentioned at the top of the article, is easier than telling a different story or even better… no story at all.

But… WHY?

–  Because sometimes we hold on due to the fact that whatever it was, it was too much for us, and so we suppress the emotions involved, whether that event was simply a comment that someone made, or a physical act of abuse… We don’t process it properly and so we never really move on. In this vein, holding on is a self-protection mechanism.

–  Because sometimes, rather than the inward trajectory of suppression, the self-protection mechanism and paranoia takes the outwardly-directed form of blame. And now the old story has become our identity. We get sympathy from telling our story. It’s the victim’s gold-plated glory.

–  Because we want to toil with it. It’s as if we actually enjoy the old story… we want to somehow shape it into a more satisfying conclusion… we want to make sense out of it… Just like in movies, we want a problem to wrestle with, to gnaw on, like a dog with a bone. We want to work it out. After all, that’s the ego’s job description—it solves problems. It’s what it does. It’s “the fixer.” So, it will create a problem, if none exist.

Thus, the self-protection mechanism, in whatever form it takes, continues on.

Either way, we all got used to protecting ourselves at a very young age, when we lacked  better coping “tools” (and our parents and teachers likely lacked them, too), and editing our stories takes practice. Processing our emotions takes even more work.

Enter Yoga—

This is where Yoga, prayer, meditation and nature come in—to remind us who we really are. That we are not the ego, that we are not “the program.” We are not the fear or the envy or the paranoia. We see the good because God sees the good. We are God. So, we see and feel as He/She does. We forgive as He/She does. We lead with the heart because that is where God lives. The heart doesn’t think those negative things. The heart just is… right here, right now. And so, in coming into the heart space, all of the anguish vanishes, just like that.

This was always the purpose of religion… to reconnect us with who we really are. Because we forget. And historically, religion (literally “to connect to God”) took many forms, including the veneration and celebration of nature. It was not always an oppressive, institutionalized giant obsessed with rituals, trite notions of confession and the forbidding of premarital sex. It was simply the name given to any practice which brought you into a state of connection… It’s the meaning of Yoga, too—to connect. To become one with the divinity that lies within. The true meaning of holy… to become whole.

Namaste; The Divine Within—

In short… How does realizing who I really am beneath the program, heal me?

Because the heart doesn’t try to understand the “WHYS.”

It doesn’t try to make sense out of it or resolve it.

It doesn’t concern itself with the story.

And so… How do we get to the essence of who I really am? What is the right way? Is there a right way?

There are as many right ways as there are ways of being broken. A walk through nature can be as powerful as a walk through the church doors. Singing is as therapeutic as painting is for a painter, or surfing for a surfer. Because these things silence the chatter in the mind and bring us back into the body, and thus, into the here and now.

But, just to push into this a little bit more… is there a common denominator?

I think there is, and it comes down to the feeling of acceptance that lies within the heart, and the simultaneous release of any opposition to whatever the present moment offers.

In Taoism, it’s found in the application of wu wei — non-resistance. In Christian prayer, it’s found in the act of surrender to Christ. The Law of Attraction calls it alignment. No matter what we call it or what tradition we find it in, it’s the body, heart and spirit saying YES AND THANK YOU to the universe. The true meaning of the bow.

What does that look like to you? Laughter? Tears? Dancing? Whatever works…

“It’s nothing but a single word: Yes! … ‘I accept whatever you give, and I give whatever you take.’” ~Mother Teresa

Note: I originally published this article on awaken.com

I like to tape inspirational messages to my dresser mirror. One of them reads “What’s around the bend?” I remember writing that one down at some point within the timeline of my divorce, when I was watching a lot of Abraham Hicks videos on YouTube. I like the mystery it implies. There’s something better coming… We just don’t know what it is, so get excited!

I still find it to be an inspiring reminder to refrain from getting sucked into the mud marsh of whatever life challenge may be sabotaging your moment. Since it is often the past that pulls us down and out of the purity of now, a reminder like this works as a counterpoint… a sort of “levity,” or lightness, to the “gravity” of our own ruminations.

During that chapter of my life, this little question, written on a blank flashcard, helped me get through the stress that is part of so many divorces… made still worse by the barrage of legal complexities that often feel overwhelming, woefully complex and interminable.

Having stayed too long in a situation that had become unhealthy, the little message also helped me take the first step into the long overdo event. Like so many others who remain in unhappy situations due to various fears revolving around the loss of security, comfort and familiarity, it took a push. That decisive push can come from anywhere… and it can be as small as an innocuous comment or as big as an act of abuse.

The Sticky Mind—

As it turns out, that’s how the mind works… its default go-to is the past because that is what it knows through direct experience. That’s what is familiar.

And that’s why it’s often so hard to let it go. Our mind can only “see” what we are about to “lose.” It can’t see what we are about to gain, or in other words, what is around the bend. Whether it’s a breakup, or a lost job, or a move… the mind will focus on the loss and what we’re leaving behind because it has a hard time envisioning what may be on the other side. It can’t imagine the new life ahead because it hasn’t registered in its bank of lived experience yet.

It’s a bit like an addiction. As one of my spiritual teachers used to say, “you’re just spinning the old story.” And that’s how dependency works… We stay hooked on a behavior even when that behavior is no good for us and no longer brings us anything healthy or truly joyful.

Why would we continue spinning stuff in our heads if it doesn’t feel good? Why would we stay in a situation, physically, even after that situation has become dysfunctional? That’s where it gets interesting… and even more like an addiction. As addiction recovery specialists explain, people often use drugs or alcohol to keep from feeling bad, rather than for their pleasurable effects. It’s a way to stay a bit numb to life.

And there’s also existential fear. The loss of anything is a palpable reminder of our own impermanence. We know it intellectually. But on a guttural level, it seems impossible that we are subject to the laws of change, like everything else. And the anxiety it causes takes the form of clinging… clinging to anything that gives us a semblance of security, familiarity and constancy.

And so, dropping our story (that keeps us trapped physically) is like dropping an addiction — one that we hold onto to prevent coming face to face with loss and with time, itself. So, we’d rather not. The problem is, we are not bringing ourselves anything good with this paralyzing strategy.

Replace the Old with Something Better—

The first step out is to find something to “replace” the old story with. This goes back to the Yoga Sutras, which explain that the best way to change a habit is to replace it with a better one. I have found that one of the most practical, on the spot remedies is to simply shift our perspective… and it’s got to be simple, otherwise we won’t do it.

Shifting into a spirit of curiosity about what’s to come serves as an enticing replacement. It is somewhat like an affirmation, in that it works by re-habituating our thought patterns. But unlike the objection that is sometimes put toward the use of affirmations—that they are not believable—this profound but straightforward question “what’s around the bend?” is simple enough, so that our inner skeptic won’t reject it for being too far-fetched.

There’s nothing to disbelieve. It’s just an intriguing suggestion. And as soon as we begin tofeel better, reality itself feels better and the whole things begins to feed upon itself, like a self-propelled system. In short, we come to see a new reality, and we naturally shift into an uplifted state as new beliefs continue to follow from our new experiences.

You might be wondering… but isn’t this a future thought?… What’s around the bend? Aren’t we supposed to stay present?

Whatever we give attention to, will thrive. So, daily attention to exciting propositions brings a new sense of playfulness into our lives, in real time. We’re playing with possibility. And it makes life more exciting… NOW. The very idea of potential imbues the the present moment with a captivating sparkle of possibility.

In the final episode of The Kominsky Method, acting coach “Sandy,” played by Michael Douglas, confides in his ex wife “Roz,” played by Kathleen Turner:

Sandy: Hey, can I tell you a secret?

Roz: Will I have to lie on the witness stand?

Sandy: I’ve lived my life with a broken heart.

Roz: I don’t understand.

Sandy: When I was a kid, I didn’t dream about being an acting coach. I dreamed I was going to be an actor. When that didn’t happen, I convinced myself that teaching is what I was meant to do. And that it was actually better than my silly childhood dream.

My Story, in Brief

He was pulling the words right out of my own heart. But my parallel had to do with my unfulfilled childhood dream of singing. I never dared to describe it as a “heartbreak.” But in hearing that dialogue, I knew it was the right word. Because that’s what it felt like. In my book, Buddha in the Classroom, I tell the story of how, as a child, I would convince my mother that I was sick enough to stay home from school, so that I could sing along with all my favorite records, especially Elton John, Carly Simon, and Carole King (I’m a child of the 70s). I convinced her to sign me up for singing lessons and later joined the school choir. The rock band I formed with my drummer boyfriend in high school, would be my last go-round with singing… for a few decades, anyway.

As a young adult, I came to feel that I could not sing and simply stopped. But I was that mother who lived the dream through her kid… like those football dads who never got to play, so they live it out through their sons. And live the dream I did… through years of schlepping to violin camp, sax lessons, Guitar Center for new guitars and amps… and best of all, music in the house all the time. He always knew he could leave it anytime he wanted, but as destiny would have it, he took to it naturally.

The Road Not Taken Isn’t Good or Bad

Despite my little pity party with Michael Douglas, I have discovered that the road not taken gives us “juice.” It gives us a kind of useful frustration, even though that word gets a bad rap—as in the expression, “he’s a frustrated actor” (or, fill in the blank). This frustration can provide the impetus to channel that creative energy into everything we do. In other words, we can put that spirit into other endeavors, which imbues them with vigor and meaning.

I have also found that the myriad heartbreaks and “unfulfilled” areas of our lives, gifts us with a sweet sense of melancholy that makes us richer, as humans. But the kind of melancholy I speak of is not sadness or unhappiness or depression. It’s rather like a color… a wonderful hue in the prism of life. It gives us depth. It gives us empathy and sensitivity.

With some irony, it is that same sensitivity that enables me to feel music deeply and relate to others with a kind of profound compassion that wouldn’t be there if I had no understanding of heartbreak.

I would even say that the emotions that are often dismissed as “undesirable” are the salt in the stew of our character.

Spiritual therapist Linda Nardelli speaks of the importance of welcoming all emotions… “when I welcome my clients’ full range of emotions and see them as a whole, they often rationalize their feelings as not being spiritual or advanced. They’ve ascribed to the path of evolution and believe that they have to be beyond human to be spiritual. They perceive their humanity as being a bad thing.”

“It’s important to welcome your emotions. What’s wrong with frustration, shame, fear?” ~Linda Nardelli

Going Even Deeper

We grow up being told that if we chase our dreams and passions, we’ll live happily ever after. We are told to go after all the material goodies, including recognition, accolades and all the various symbols of success. Nowhere are we told about the space in the middle of dreams and disappointment. The space in between yearning and loss. A wise teacher once told me that “anxiety, heartbreak and tenderness mark the in between state.” But no one ever wants to go there.

What would happen if we found the courage to explore the in between? To feel what it really feels like there? This is the land where the spiritual warriors live. It’s where we become tender and where compassion wells up of its own accord, to take the place of bitterness, so that loss no longer feels like loss, but rather, like love.

It Doesn’t Have To Be Your Profession

What does it matter if it’s “what you do?” All the better if not! So as not to become corrupted by “work stuff,” like deadlines, evaluations, and worries about performance. As a hobby, it stays sweet, and never becomes odious.

My best friend was one of the “lucky” ones who was able to make a profession out of dancing. She once shared with me the common experience among the cast members of a famous musical she took part in. Far from reveling in prideful accomplishment for having been part of one of the longest running shows, they ended up physically and mentally jaded. Across the board. Many were dancing on old injuries and were scarcely able to find the motivation to go on stage night after night. Yet somehow, they managed to put themselves into their costumes and glissade onto the stage one more time because it was how they made their living.

It is the same motivation that gets most of the world to work every day.

When something becomes a job it often becomes burdensome. Think of the ancient Greek myth about Sisyphus. He is condemned by the guards to push a giant boulder uphill, over and over, all day long, even as it continuously rolls to the bottom of its own weight as soon as he gets it to the top. The gods understood the futility of wasted labor, so it was the perfect wicked punishment. In retelling the story, the French philosopher Camus likens the absurdity of the task to the predicament of every single one of us, who must push our rocks in our own way… as we struggle to meet deadlines, deal with coworkers and bosses and solve the problems that are part and parcel of any workday, anywhere.

But, when something is done purely out of love, without the label of work tagged onto it, and without the heaviness of deadlines hanging over it, it can be a joyful retreat.

Soul Purpose Matters More Than Profession

My beloved teacher, Guru Singh, once spoke about the importance of getting in touch with your soul purpose. “Your soul purpose is not to be a lawyer or a doctor,” he said, “but your soul purpose can express itself by being a lawyer or a doctor or an actor or a teacher or a mother or whatever. Your soul purpose isn’t your profession, but rather, your soul purpose will be expressed through your intention in your profession.” (Lecture at Yoga West 2/5/13)

Through coaching, Michael Douglas’ character confronted his own unprocessed emotions and created a safe space for his students to do the same. As a teacher, I can relate to the therapeutic value inherent in the profession. I have long gathered that this is a big part of what my soul’s purpose has been…

But thanks in no small part to a stressful divorce, and a little encouragement from my friends, I finally started singing again. It is inconsequential that it is nothing more than a therapeutic hobby. And it’s okay that I’m just an okay singer. Many classics were sung by okay singers who thought they couldn’t sing.

Michael Douglas’ character finally gets his day in the sun. On the big screen. The fact that he won an award made for good story telling, but it too, would’ve been inconsequential if it were otherwise. And no matter that it’s the final chapter of his life. The time is just right when we are able to infuse it with love. And in return, it will bring us only joy.

It’s all part of The Road. A part of the soul’s purpose that isn’t even fully understood… yet.

What is your road not taken? And how might you travel that road, now?

I recently shared this Pema Chodron quote with my Yoga students, which, as someone who wanted so badly to be “cured” by spiritual practice, I hoped it would strike a chord with them, too:

“When people start to meditate or to work with any kind of spiritual discipline, they often think that somehow they’re going to improve, which is a sort of subtle aggression against who they really are. It’s a bit like saying, ‘If I jog, I’ll be a much better person.’ ‘ If I could only get a nicer house, I’d be a better person.’ ‘ If I could meditate and calm down, I’d be a better person.’ Or the scenario may be that they find fault with others; they might say, ‘If it weren’t for my husband, I’d have a perfect marriage.’ ‘If it weren’t for the fact that my boss and I can’t get on, my job would be just great.’ And ‘If it weren’t for my mind, my meditation would be excellent.’ But lovingkindness — maitri — toward ourselves doesn’t mean getting rid of anything. Maitri means that we can still be crazy after all these years. We can still be angry after all these years. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. The point is not to try to change ourselves. Meditation practice isn’t about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It’s about befriending who we are already. The ground of practice is you or me or whoever we are right now, just as we are.” ~Pema Chodron

It must have hit home with many seekers, who deeply resonate with the sense of defeat that tends to rise up alongside the demons that never seem to disappear for good. It is tempting to indulge in feelings of failure and inadequacy for continuing to feel the all-too-human feelings of angst, despite the sincerity of their spiritual practice. In other words, to continue to be perfectly imperfect, like every single human on this planet.

And in tandem with this call to love yourself, shadows and all, a student then asked me if it was necessary to experience a Dark Night of the Soul in order to awaken, spiritually.

I can only speak from my own experiences as a seeker, and consider myself to be a lifelong student, but with that said, I never thought of my own challenges as a “Dark Night,” as I never sank into the kind of despair that makes life feel unpleasurable. And I always considered myself to be a generally happy sort of person. But, we are complex creatures, and lurking behind the laughter is a kind of melancholic timbre that has likely colored my demeanor, the way the coastal fog renders the look and feel of Morro Bay. I never minded it, though. Quite the contrary, I came to see the familiar feeling like an old friend.

But it took a while for the relationship to settle into such copacetic intimacy and total acceptance. I remember the first instance of something like angst appearing after my biological father died, when I was a five year old girl. Shortly thereafter, I developed a fear of death that I was embarrassed to share with anyone.

When I began to experience panic attacks during my early college years, I suspected that traditional approaches in modern-day therapy would have limited reach. And they would have to reach deep, as this tendency seems to have a genetic inclination. My Jewish aunt used to joke when making light of her penchant for worry, “We’re just nervous people,” she’d say. But Jewish people are famous for falling on humor as a means of survival in a world that has been anything but kind. And it’s good practice to be able to laugh at yourself. Eckhart Tolle speaks of the ego-shattering capacity of laughter.

And so, my spiritual journey began. Although I never did “cure” my anxiety through spiritual practice, nor all the laughing that was always heard in my family home, what I did find was so much more beautiful than a cure. The things we’re not looking for are always better. Perhaps the universe knows best what we need. I now see the anxiety—or whatever it is that brings a person to seek—as merely a door that opens up to a world so rich and bounteous that the original “thing” becomes almost irrelevant.

It’s the kind of treasure that doesn’t reveal itself among everyday activities. It reminds me of that Irish story I used to tell my class about God being shy: The rabbits would wait until sundown to come out and frolic in the fields… because that’s when the farmers turned in for the day and the fields would become empty and quiet during that twilight pause just before sundown. Similarly, God waits until stillness abides in a seeker’s heart before revealing himself/herself.

The anxiety… or the depression… or the addiction… or the trauma… or whatever it is that often leads a seeker to the magical portal is merely the siren that activates the longing. For me, when that door opened, a tear flowed down my left cheek and for the first time, I felt love. But not a romantic love. Not a love that has any object, at all. Just love.

And with time, I began to experience other profound shifts. For example, I began to trust myself, with regard to everything. I trusted my judgment, I trusted my intuition, I trusted my abilities. I trusted my authority to speak up… to take action, and when necessary, to walk away. Most of all, I trusted my heart to guide me in the right direction. This last one was big for a philosophy student who had been nurtured on critical thinking and over-analysis.

It would be untrue to say that the anxiety has completely disappeared, but through the years, the triggers began to lose some of their charge, and I began to coexist with them differently. The relationship with the anxiety felt more easygoing. Less antagonistic. There was less of a fight. I could often laugh at it rearing its crazy ol’ head, and say, “you again?” It was like two old buddies that knew how to push each other’s buttons, but no longer felt so offended by the wisecracks.

I came to see that when the anxiety flairs up, it’s an indicator that something is off within. And those gifts that arose by way of the seeking, supersede its significance in my life. And for that, I can say I love it.

I was asked to compile this list for a soon-to-be-launched website that will be similar to Goodreads and which will include my own book, The Buddha in the Classroom. These are my own top five spiritual reads! Thought I’d also share here. Enjoy! ~Donna

1.The Four Agreements ⎜ Don Miguel Ruiz

The Toltec wisdom in this classic is simply told, and immediate in its applicability. For example, the second Agreement reminds us to never take things personally. How much of our suffering comes from doing just that? These teachings bring our awareness to this tendency. And awareness, however basic, does the bulk of the heavy lifting when it comes to stepping out of old patterns that keep us from feeling at peace within.

2.The Wisdom of Insecurity ⎜ Alan Watts

In my own book, The Inspired Teacher (Originally The Buddha in the Classroom), I tell the story of my fortuitous and life changing first encounter with this book, while in my first year of college. Foreshadowing my career as a teacher of eastern philosophy, it lit the fire of my ongoing interest in Zen and had a profound impact on my personal journey into meditation. I sensed that the ironic title held some precious secret. I would discover, within its pages, the magic that happens when we learn to lean into the unknown, rather than fight against it. Indeed, the search for assuredness in life only seems to perpetuate the angst that is at the root of all the anxiety that characterizes the human condition… at least for many of us! Through letting go, we become more free.

3.The Divine Romance: Collected Talks and Essays on Realizing God in Daily Life ⎜Paramahansa Yogananda

This is part of an anthology of collected talks by the beloved Yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda, which also includes Man’s Eternal Quest and Journey to Self-Realization. They are what I keep in my own nightstand and what I open during times of trouble. And this one is my favorite of the three.

Paramahansa Yogananda is direct and loving in tone. This is the kind of book that doesn’t need to be read at once—you can open up to any page and find solace. The theme revolves around the importance of dropping the self-sabotaging bad habits that keep us from true joy.

4.Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind ⎜ Shunryu Suzuki

This may be the most loved and widely known book on Zen. Like the Paramahansa Yogananda selection I spoke of above, it is transcribed from a series of talks, and so, it has a direct and intimate feel. Like many Zen masters, Shunryu Suzuki speaks with humor and conveys deep wisdom through Koans and lighthearted parables. The relaxed tone reminds us that enlightenment isn’t meant to be complicated. It’s right here, but we miss it because we expect deep wisdom to come cloaked in armor and difficulties.

If you only read one book on Zen, let it be this one, as it covers everything from the basics of sitting to the notion of emptiness, and in a way that feels as effortless as a breeze.

5.Be Here Now ⎜ Ram Dass

When I first held this definitive item of the late sixties counterculture in my hands, I was delighted by the unconventional design of the whole thing, from the front cover through to the way the text is laid out… sometimes coming at you in spirals, carrying the whimsy and free spirit of its era. There was nothing else like it and there never has been. Technically published in 1971, it relays the atmosphere of change that was engendered by the events spanning the Vietnam era, including the general spiritual awakening which followed, and which Ram Dass (then Dr. Richard Alpert) helped inspire.

In a highly readable and artistic fashion, he shares the most essential messages from his own transformative experiences, spanning his journeys into psychedelia and later into life as a Yogi, following the life-changing meeting with his teacher, Neem Karoli Baba, in a stripped down, compelling and relevant way.