Chances are good that there are one or two things that really make your blood boil. Some triggers cause fight or flight reactions. Let’s talk about the ones that cause fight, in particular, because fight is a really misunderstood phenomenon. It looks like anger, but is actually acute distress that is based in fear. 

My own biggest trigger is disrespectful behavior. I can become very adamant, very quickly, that people should not, and will not, be treated with anything less than basic decency. This isn’t social justice on my part—I think that would show up a bit calmer, honestly—this is trauma trigger. I know because I get into fight. How can you tell the difference between genuine anger and fight, you ask? Anger is used to bring others into compliance with the social contract, it is usually based in self-esteem. Our anger says, “I don’t deserve to be treated this way, and I want you to know I won’t passively accept it. Should you not shape up, our relationship is threatened.” But it has a rational undertone—it is telling the other person you do not consent. Fight is a fear response. Fight wants only to survive the day, so if it can intimidate, surprise, fluster or leave the other speechless, that’s fair game. Fight is gloves-off, and it runs the show.  

You might have milder triggers—around feeling controlled, or people who won’t pull their weight, perhaps blatant entitlement is hard to swallow. They might not get you into full fight mode, but they are hard for you to step away from and consistently prickle you under the skin. We all want to move away from a tendency toward fight reaction, we all want to be “better” versions of ourselves. The question is how.

The reason a trigger gets stored in us is to prevent the bad thing from happening again. Our nervous system needs reassurance that we are truly safe, and our emotional body needs to work through what happened in the first place. Our culture will throw a lot of shade at anger-like responses so we tend to go underground with this work. Having a reliable fight response carries shame, whereas having a flight response elicits compassion and offers of help. You can work on it on your own, though.

First, figure out how these behaviors hurt you in the past. Understand the wound you are trying so hard to avoid. I’ve seen disrespectful behavior do a lot of damage to people’s sense of self and sense of safety, and so my nervous system treats it the same way it would treat physical threats—with a no-tolerance policy. If I go back, I can look at the situations that caused the trigger, and the damage they created.  

Second, find compassion for your younger self. A sense of injustice is usually part of a lingering fight response. Perhaps you were a kid and couldn’t defend yourself, perhaps you were a young adult and didn’t have the ego strength to prevent the bad thing from happening. Either way, you were hurt, and needed comfort—comfort that you didn’t get. Notice that you are safe now, but you are not healed.

Third, make a plan for how you will handle the trigger when it comes up. I like mantras and action plans, but do what works for you. My go-to with disrespect is 1) Recite the mantra “You are reacting to your old wound, not this person in front of you,” and 2) Leave the situation as soon as possible. I do not give into the strong desire to serve others a tongue-lashing. I do not berate myself, either.  

Fourth, find a time to feel the grief and fear. When blatant disrespect happens in my world, it actually brings up a lot of unprocessed emotions like helplessness and sadness. In counseling programs they teach that emotions show up like a bullseye with anger on the outside, fear, sadness and love in concentric circles underneath. Anger is easiest to access, but love is at the core. When I make time later in the day to comfort that younger version of myself, to cry for her, I work through some of what causes the trigger. I also use this time to make meaning of what happened, of why suffering exists in the world, and how I’m supposed to hold it.

Taking those four steps each time the trigger arises tends to diminish it over time, but it will take time.  The average human has a lot of behaviors that are consistent but are unexamined. We call the lot of them our personality. But we can change, if we want. Carrying shame about a trigger response doesn’t have to be a foregone conclusion. The piece that is missing is compassion for ourselves. We will never be able to change that suffering has always existed in the world, but you can love yourself enough to heal your response to it.

About the Author: Laura Zwisler is a Licensed Professional Counselor and the owner of Lafayette Couples Counseling.  She specializes in relational therapy and men’s work.  Her practice reflects a deep belief that through corrective relational experiences we can heal traumas, get needs met, and fulfill our greatest potential.  In addition to counseling, Laura supervises interns at People House, leads workshops and trainings, and writes about the human experience.  If you are interested in working with Laura, please visit: https://www.lafayettecouplescounseling.com/ or email her at: laura@lafayttecouplescounseling.com.    

This definition and experience of responsibility doesn’t just come from our personal and societal lineage, it also comes from our own experience and patterning. These assumptions and rules of engagement might just be the things that keep us from a successful and enjoyable life. 

Imagine that you have been taught your whole life to be kind and put others’ needs first. This condition can come with the assumption that if you’re kind enough and take care of others enough, one day you’ll get what you want. For example, let’s say you’re in a relationship that you’re starting to resent because you feel taken advantage of and neglected, and one morning your partner says to you, “Let me take care of the chores and cook you breakfast so you can relax and do something you enjoy.” Because of your conditioning of responsibility you reflexively deny this suggestion and carry on being “kind” and putting your partner’s needs first. Now in this moment this feels like the right thing to do because this conditioning has kept you safe in knowing who you are and how to act. But you are blind to the fact that your behaviors and patterning are creating the resentment you are starting to feel.  

How do you experience this moment for what it is and actually get to receive the reciprocal care-taking and enjoyment with your partner? 

Presence – It’s not just a trend, it’s a superpower. 

This is where presence comes into play. 

When you cultivate the ability to be in this moment you free yourself from the story that you carry with you, from the narrative that infects all of your experiences. 

Our ability to be present is a huge determining factor for the outcomes and experiences in our life. And presence isn’t only the Zen Buddhist master sitting on a rock at one with the universe. Presence is simply our ability to be with what is without all the meanings and stories we place upon the moment. 

In our culture, responsibility means doing what’s expected. To take the moment we’re living in and abstract it into an imagined construct that most often doesn’t even come from what we want, but comes from what we’ve been told is the responsible way to be. 

But when we do that we miss the moment, our heart, and our ability to feel fulfilled and expressed. We stay in the reactivity of our story and the expected reality we project, and it often leads to disappointment, suffering and limitations that harden and isolate us even more. 

True responsibility actually resides in the word itself. 

Response-ability. 

Your ability to respond instead of react. To see and hear clearly what is actually going on and take the appropriate action. 

And presence gives you this ability.   

Let’s take parenting as an example here. You were brought up to be polite and not make a fuss. When you did you experienced loss of love from your parents and that was painful, so you continued the behaviors that kept you in their good graces. 

Now you’re grown and are raising your own child. You’ve done some work on yourself and you don’t want to raise your kids the way you were raised. But then you’re in a grocery store with your kid, just trying to make a quick stop, and your kid starts bothering strangers and acting silly. 

You feel a well of worry and terror come up in your body because that was never safe for you as a kid. Those feelings in your body make you want to snatch your kid up, control their body and behavior and get out of that store immediately. And if you aren’t present, that’s exactly what you’ll do. 

But, if you are present, you get to witness those old stories coming through your body, take a breath,  and then choose a different path to acknowledge your child, meet their tiny developing body’s needs and redirect to get what you need done. And that’s truly the response-able thing to do, actually responding to the moment and not just reacting based on the old story you’ve carried with you of ‘how to be responsible’.

About the Author: Phannie has a long career of being a movement artist, movement and embodiment educator and creator. During her career as a professional dancer, studio owner, and company founder, she spent her time uncovering what is true and real in this world. Originally used as tools to create content for performances with strong messaging about the human experience, she created the embodiment teachings and methodology of the Radical Love Movement. 

Phannie has dedicated her life to authentic expression and understanding how consciousness works. She now has alchemical structure to support others in discovery and application of their authentic selves expressed through the body.

I talk about Internal Family Systems (IFS) a lot because it works. It is more than a therapy model; it is a compassionate lens for understanding your inner world. Once you start to see your emotions, behaviors, and thoughts as different parts of you, each trying to help in its own way, everything begins to shift. It becomes less about fixing yourself and more about getting to know yourself.

Before IFS, I spent years trying to manage or silence the parts of me that felt anxious, overwhelmed, or insecure. I thought those feelings were signs of weakness or failure. Through IFS, I began to realize that those parts were not the problem. They were protectors, each one trying to keep me safe in the best way it knew how. They were creative, loyal, and persistent, even when their strategies were outdated. The moment I understood that, my relationship with myself changed completely.

Anxiety, depression, addiction, and self-sabotage are not proof that something is wrong with you. They are signals from parts of you that have been working overtime to protect something tender and sacred inside. When those parts finally feel acknowledged and appreciated, they begin to relax. Healing unfolds not because we force it to happen, but because the system starts to trust that it is safe enough to heal.

You Are Made of Parts, and That Is Normal

IFS begins with a simple but powerful truth: we are all made up of parts. These parts carry different emotions, memories, and strategies for surviving. Some are confident and capable, others are afraid, angry, or ashamed. They are not flaws; they are facets of your internal world, each one serving a purpose.

Symptoms that seem like problems are often protectors doing their jobs a little too well. Anxiety might come from vigilant parts that are scanning for danger, believing that constant alertness will keep you safe. Depression may come from exhausted parts that shut everything down to protect you from pain. Addiction often comes from firefighter parts that rush in to soothe unbearable feelings, using whatever escape they can find.

Even when parts seem to fight each other, like one pushing forward while another holds back, they are not enemies. They are simply working from different stories about what you need to stay safe. What looks like resistance or sabotage is often an inner disagreement about how to protect you.

Healing through Curiosity and Compassion

IFS invites us to become curious rather than critical. When we ask a part, “What are you trying to do for me?” the answer is rarely harmful. Even extreme parts are acting out of love and loyalty, trying to protect you in the only way they know.

The healing process is not about eliminating parts, but unburdening them. When we meet our protectors with compassion and curiosity, they begin to trust that they are not alone. Over time, they soften. They begin to hand back the heavy roles they have carried for so long. The anxious part can rest. The inner critic can take a breath. The protector who learned to numb can finally feel safe enough to stop running.

Real healing happens when we stop fighting our inner world and start listening to it. Every symptom, every reaction, every coping mechanism is a message from within. The more we listen, the more we remember that nothing inside us is truly against us.

You are not broken. You are brilliantly designed, layered, and adaptive. Every part of you has been working tirelessly to protect you, even when it looks messy from the outside. Healing is not about becoming someone new. It is about remembering who you already are beneath the protection.

So the next time you feel anxious, sad, or stuck, try asking yourself, “What part of me is speaking right now?” Then listen. You might be surprised at how wise your system already is. Every part belongs, and every part holds a piece of your wholeness.

About the Author: Laura Hogzett MA is a Licensed Professional Counselor who blends clinical expertise with soul-centered healing. Trained in Internal Family Systems (IFS) and EMDR, Laura helps individuals navigate trauma, self-doubt, and disconnection by reconnecting them to the wisdom and love within.  Inspired by shamanic traditions and rooted in the belief that healing happens when we bring compassion to every part of ourselves. 

Drawing from both psychological insight and intuitive guidance, she supports others in returning to self-love, empowerment, and wholeness.  Laura’s mission is to help others awaken to their innate worth and multidimensional nature—with grace, humor, and radical compassion.

The Buddha made understanding this very simple, though he did it in the context of reincarnation. He spoke of consequences as karma, which simply means, cause and effect. Skillful actions will land you in future lives that will be prosperous and spiritually fulfilling; unskillful actions, into miserable, spiritually challenging ones. A famous story about this features a murderer the Buddha inspired to take up the robe and vows. The man began practicing intensely and became peaceful, kind, caring, generous. However, when out collecting alms one day a few years later, he was caught by locals who severely beat him. Even then, the man remained centered on his Buddhist practice. When he returned, the other monks were confused why this would happen now when the man was so serene. The Buddha replied something along the lines of, “it was karma from a previous life.” (I grossly paraphrase.)

So, karma can have a long cycle. With consequences, it can be more immediate. I noticed this in Manhattan, riding in taxis. Before I began practicing, I would simply get into a cab and tell the driver my destination. No chit-chat, no acknowledgement of the driver’s humanity. Once I started on the path, I began getting into taxis and saying, “hi, how are you?” And with that small change, I noticed the drivers became more conscientious, more relaxed and more receptive to questions or any route alterations I had. One driver even gave me a free ride when I explained I’d forgotten my wallet. (I took his address and sent him cash.) Taxi rides became much more easeful. I found a direct correlation between my attitude and theirs.

Whether you call it karma or consequences I’ll venture to say that it is actually the only way we truly learn. Again, it is another concept the Buddha taught, ehipassiko, “come and see for yourself.” The Buddha did not teach a belief system, he taught ethics. He replaced the old system of ritual — burning incense, sacrificing animals to gods to ensure fortune; to one of — “you reap what you sow.” The point is, he said anyone can begin to learn how to chose different actions given the consequences. The Dhammapada begins with this very teaching, “Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think. Suffering follows an evil thought as the wheels of a cart follow the oxen that draw it. … Joy follows a pure thought like a shadow that never leaves.” We constantly live through karma and consequences, the key point is to discern between unskillful (evil) and skillful (joyful) actions and choose the skillful ones.

There is, however, just one little glitch with experiencing karma and consequences. It can hurt. The Little League team loses the game because of errors and no hits and leaves the field despondent. Being told my job performance is sub-par (a true story) becomes a shame spiral. However, the Buddha offered a straightforward way to skillfully approach these situations, so as not to produce more karma to work out later — and that is, to be with the hurt in the present moment, and learn from it. Instead, what often happens is we come up with ways to soften the blow, and in the worst case, ignore it all together. This means we never learn, we perpetuate the belief that we are too fragile to get hurt. Eventually, people, places, and objects start to be excluded from our experience … and our world gets smaller and smaller.

This leads to a narrow life, and high sensitivity. We no longer allow ourselves to encounter situations which challenge our beliefs, projections, status quo. Only that which doesn’t piss me off will I interact with. In such a state, learning stops, and so does growth. While the Buddha taught so many concepts, when questioned, he said he only taught one thing, “suffering and the end of suffering.” Which does not mean that the causes and conditions for suffering stop. What changes is the internal response to such causes and conditions. The team still loses games; the performance review is still bad. The hurt is still there, it’s just that now it is information from which to learn. Maybe the team gets a different coach, or practices every day. In my job example, I took a long drive and then asked a friend for help, and I followed the friend’s advice (I did keep the job, only to quit when I could fully embrace the spiritual path).

Unlike what commercials, self-help books, and oftentimes, friends and family recommend, the skillful action with karma and consequences is to meet them head on, with as much compassion as possible, and enough clarity to see the lesson. Only, we often interpret “life’s lessons” as punishments, as if some superior entity is testing us, or toying with us. Unfortunately, this is a fairly negative projection, one that has been cultivated over millennia by various cultures and religious beliefs and perpetuated in the commercialism of most societies. On the other hand, how I see karma is value neutral. I do this, this happens. No moral judgement whatsoever. When something “bad” happens in my life, it is not personal. Well, maybe personal in a sense that I am reaping karma I sowed at some point. But it isn’t here to make me feel bad. It is here to guide me further along the path.

This is how suffering ends. I no longer perpetuate the painful events by grousing about them, and retelling the story ad nauseam. Instead, on my path, I have learned to broaden my perspective to see 1) how this one incident is not the whole of my life, 2) how looking at it objectively could benefit me and others, and 3) how choosing a different behavior leads to less consequences in the future.

And then, there are times I have to be the one to hold another accountable, to dole out the consequences. My younger-self belief that saying “no” had to be done from anger or resentment, has ripened into a realization that love is very good at saying no. Kindness can draw a razor sharp boundary with nary a scratch. It’s not that I vow to stop hurting people as much as I vow to have integrity, clarity, strength and compassion if I know my skillful actions might be taken as painful. Acknowledging that when I say “no” could hurt someone, I want to do it as respectfully as I can. Which means, it might be done with a hug, or it might be done five feet away, through a fence, with a BFF holding my hand. While many might call this “tough” love, that is not what I would call it. Compassion would be the word I would choose.

In the end, I have no idea what might be painful to others. And I have no idea what might help them on the path. I am still learning to discern what is most beneficial to me. How can I possible know what might be beneficial to someone else? This was brought home to me when I first started my journey. I would hear all these great teachings and then say to my teacher, “oh yeah, I have to share that with so-and-so; they could really benefit from it.” Until one day she said, “here’s the person those teachings will most help,” as she pointed at me. Ah, the Buddha strikes again. His reputed final words were, “be a lamp unto yourself,” or “work with care on your own realization.” It wasn’t until I tried hundreds of times to tell people what I thought would help them, and to have them either ignore it, laugh it off, or point blank tell me to mind my own business, did I realize the reason those teachings resonated so much because they were for my benefit, and mine alone.

It is only through incorporating the teachings into my own life that I can even discern how to skillfully speak and act in the world, recognizing that such words and deeds might feel painful for another. My hope, as the Buddha offered, is that such speech and action is at its core, beneficial. And that, from my experience is a rare gift.

About the Author: Beth Hinnen came to the spiritual path from the corporate world. After experiencing impermanence and greed, she left to study Yoga and has over 1,000 hours in Yoga teacher training, and ended up specializing in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, spiritual scripture that closely aligns with Buddhism. From there, she studied Zen Buddhism for over ten years, including in-person, month-long monastic retreats, until she earned certification, in January, 2023, as a Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach. Currently, Beth is a co-leader of the IMCD Council, and on the Teachers Collective, as administrator. She hosts a Meetup group called Yoga Meets Buddhism, and for the past three years, has held an online Dharma Wednesdays class that discusses the Yoga Sutras while also bringing in Buddhist teachings, along with Sufi poets, Christianity, Judaism and other spiritual paths that reinforce the words of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral Yoga where Beth studied. “The truth is one, the paths are many.” More information about Beth is at www.samayaco.org.

You want answers. Why do I keep doing this? Why won’t she change? How can I figure out who I’m supposed to be? You suspect The Universe knows the answers, but you don’t know how to extract them. Perhaps there is a wheel we can spin.

This reality hits home for me every day when I sit across from people who think I know the answers. I don’t. People tell their therapists their dreams, their growth edges, their fears, in hopes that the act of putting it out there will get them a seat at the table. As long as you tell me what you want to be accountable for, I’m happy to keep a chair open for you.

Recently, I needed to work on my own change. As a fitness instructor once said, “If it doesn’t challenge you it won’t change you.” Me, sitting at home, therapizing myself didn’t challenge me. It didn’t even move the needle. What would challenge me was to go to therapy. My god, did I have a lot of excuses why not to go. I spend all day talking to people, so I don’t want to do it on my own time. I don’t like other therapists- they won’t do it the way I’d do it. And on and on. Needless to say, one day, I got the courage and I put in my ante. Would you believe it? I adore the new therapist. She’s helping so much. I’m getting unstuck.  

This tool isn’t just for therapy, though. Want to quit your job but you’re afraid of a few months of unemployment? Lots of people in this position try to line up their next gig while they try to transition out of the old one. Pretty sure The Universe is wise to this ol’ Indiana Jones switch-out-the-golden-idol-for-a-bag-of-sand trick. Doesn’t count. You have to sacrifice something of value. You have to bleed a little. Quit the job, face the scarcity, only then the new door opens.

Some lessons are harder for us to learn. Sometimes we have to go a year before we find a new relationship worth taking a risk on. Sometimes we have to give up great opportunities, our pride or our worn out coping strategies in order for the slot to land on triple cherries. Truth is, you don’t need that fun but unnecessary trip, your pride, or even your coping strategies. An ante is something of value, but not something you can’t live without. It cuts, but it’s not fatal.

So how do you know what to ante? Dig deep, you know what it is. What do you not want to face? I didn’t want to get off my high horse about other therapists. I didn’t want to acknowledge that they could see things about my life that I can’t see myself. I felt like admitting that would be to admit I’m a hack. Really it’s just revealing that I’m human. Turns out, perfectionism is a coping strategy I can live without, especially when I’m hurting and I need help. Lesson learned. 

If you’re stuck, you’re not in the game. Of course you’re not winning because you’ve got nothing on the line to win. Is it scary? Yes. Do it anyway. Do it scared. Or just sit and watch until you get up the courage to play. We’ve all been there, too. If you need a nudge, I like this one: dream. Allow yourself to imagine a life where you’re unstuck. Plan the logistics. Feel the ease in your chest. And when you’re ready, reach into your pocket, grab a coin, and ante up.

About the Author: Laura Zwisler is a Licensed Professional Counselor and the owner of Lafayette Couples Counseling.  She specializes in relational therapy and men’s work.  Her practice reflects a deep belief that through corrective relational experiences we can heal traumas, get needs met, and fulfill our greatest potential.  In addition to counseling, Laura supervises interns at People House, leads workshops and trainings, and writes about the human experience.  If you are interested in working with Laura, please visit: https://www.lafayettecouplescounseling.com/ or email her at: laura@lafayttecouplescounseling.com.    

            On the other hand, it could be a true dark-night-of-the-soul, gut-wrenching experience that calls into question a person’s very existence. Up is down, down is up, and the whole world is an out of control merry-go-round that seems to be spinning so fast everything is being thrown off of it only to land in … oblivion.

            Enter some kind of light, some glimpse of a horizon, or an opening or easing of the heart. Perhaps someone says something that makes sense not logically but intuitively. Or perhaps a person reads a passage that resonates on a deeper level with only a soft “hmmmm,” or “aaahhhhh,” that follows.

            It makes sense then, as Richard Rohr writes, “All spiritual knowledge is recognition, not cognition.” This is profound. It means, to me, that we can’t think our way into a spiritual path. Rather, we feel or sense our way in. We are called to it on a frequency we’ve never before been tuned into. And yet, we recognize it as something deep … earth-shattering … even mystical … while at the same time, making perfect sense.

            Such is the beginning of the spiritual path. And because, most likely, we didn’t think about it, didn’t declare to the world “and now, I embark on the spiritual path!” (well, maybe we said that but it is highly likely it was well past the time we took the first wobbly step), instead, what probably happened is we had some kind of realization (hence, realization as a term meaning enlightenment, and indeed, it is an enlightened moment when we step on the path) that a different way of being is needed, or more so, being sought. And so we come to the first paradox. We can’t think our way out of spiritual despondency. We experience our way out of it. In some ways, we are like the baby grasping at near-by objects that are fuzzy and unknown until we find one we can hold onto.

            Which may feel awkward, especially in this age where we automatically turn to “experts” on the internet to “figure out” what or where to go next. Instead, when we embark on the spiritual path we find that no one can tell us what will work for us. There are a lot of fingers pointing to moons (see my blog by that name), and even worse, said moons can end up being a lot of dead ends. Which isn’t, paradoxically, a bad thing.

            A dead end, or a hard stop, forces us to turn around and pursue a more viable option. In the intellectual world, there are few if any hard stops as the mind can come up with reason upon reason to “keep going,” “just one more corner to turn,” or “put just a bit more effort in.” We can drop down some rabbit holes that are endless, and I have definitely traveled the far length of quite a few.

            Which is why the paradox in spiritual practice can wake us up to the folly of the mind. Rather than the mind endlessly arguing that it is “either this … or that,” we can say “it’s … both.” Confusing? Yep. This is the premise of the koan. Such wisdom questions are meant to by-pass the logical mind to awaken spiritual curiosity. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” is a famous one. Don’t think about how one hand can clap … that’s an intellectual exercise. Instead, just consider how if one hand is moving in space without the backstop of another hand, what would that sound be? … Yes, … silence.

            In our fast-paced, technologically driven world, we often assume there is an answer for everything. And that there is only one answer. With a paradox, there can be one, two, three … a thousand, and they can even be in opposition to each other. Probably one of my most profound awakenings, realizations, was when I finally understood that being mad at someone didn’t mean I hated them, or that I had to sever my relationship with them. I could both be mad with them … and love them at the same time.

            It is this ability to hold two truths simultaneously that appears to be lacking in our current social and political environments. It is as if one fact is more relevant or important than another fact, even when both are accurate. I remember reading an article about a NYC liberal who moved upstate during the pandemic and ran off the road in a snow storm. A conservative neighbor showed up in a truck and pulled the car out. The liberal had the same kind of ah-ha moment I had — that it was possible to accept help from someone with diametrically opposed political beliefs, and to see how such beliefs did not stop the conservative from being helpful.

            In essence, political beliefs are just one part of the picture, not the whole. Neither had to base their actions on just one fact. Both were true. A human needed help, a human could help, and they had opposite political views. This is the very essence of seeing the whole of a person. This ability to hold the whole of our experience is for me exactly the spiritual path. Nisargadatta says it a bit differently:

Your problem is that you like one part of your dream and not another. Love all, or none of it, and stop complaining.

            This is classic Buddhism. We cling to what we like, and push away what we don’t. Nisargadatta is clear: Polarization is not the answer; complaining is not the answer. Perhaps another way I would paraphrase this is — embrace all, and live fully. Of course, Pema Chodron offers another option — approach all with tenderness, and drop the judgment. Most importantly, apply this to yourself first. Love all of you, and complaining ceases.

By Beth Hinnen, Certified Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher: Beth Hinnen came to the spiritual path from the corporate world. After experiencing impermanence and greed, she left to study Yoga and has over 1,000 hours in Yoga teacher training, and ended up specializing in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, spiritual scripture that closely aligns with Buddhism. From there, she studied Zen Buddhism for over ten years, including in-person, month-long monastic retreats, until she earned certification, in January, 2023, as a Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach. Currently, Beth is a co-leader of the IMCD Council, and on the Teachers Collective, as administrator. She hosts a Meetup group called Yoga Meets Buddhism, and for the past three years, has held an online Dharma Wednesdays class that discusses the Yoga Sutras while also bringing in Buddhist teachings, along with Sufi poets, Christianity, Judaism and other spiritual paths that reinforce the words of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral Yoga where Beth studied. “The truth is one, the paths are many.” More information about Beth is at www.samayaco.org.

What if this summer wasn’t about pushing harder, accepting that you’re suddenly “just too old and tired” to feel good, or pretending everything’s fine…
What if it was about coming back to life?

Not all at once. But gently, intentionally—step by step. Yes, getting professional help is always recommended, but in the meantime, or in conjunction with that help, here is a simple, 3-phase plan you can use to start rebuilding your energy, clarity, and joy in just 90 days.

Phase 1 (Weeks 1–3): Stabilize

Your goal: Feel steady and supported in your body and mind

• Sleep better: Add calming habits before bed—magnesium, less screen time, and deep breathing to help reset your nervous system.
• Hydrate + nourish: Fuel your body with whole foods and water. Eat to care for your future self, not to meet a standard based on weight or size.
• Get checked: If your stress has triggered fatigue, brain fog, or irregular sleep, consider a hormone check or wellness consult. Sometimes it’s not just stress—sometimes something more is going on that needs to be addressed.

Remember: Small shifts create momentum. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s building a stable foundation.

Phase 2 (Weeks 4–6): Reconnect

Your goal: Start feeling like yourself again

• Move daily: Walk. Stretch. Dance. Lift something heavy. Movement clears stress and brings you back online. Nothing fancy is required! 10-30 minutes is all it takes.
• Name the contrast: If you feel stuck, do something that feels freeing. If you feel weak, build strength. Let your actions reflect the version of you you’re becoming.
• Find Friends: Connecting with others is essential for mental health. Friendships aren’t built in a day, so have realistic expectations. Instead, make it a practice to smile, say hi, or connect with at least three people a day.

When you move your body, your mind follows. Confidence builds through action, so just keep moving!

Phase 3 (Weeks 7–9): Rebuild

Your goal: Reclaim joy, purpose, and connection

• Clear space: Let go of what drains you. Create space in your calendar, home, and head. Rearrange your furniture. Paint a wall. Get a new bedspread. Make it feel new!
• Connect with something new: Take a class, visit a museum, or explore a new part of the city. One weekly adventure that takes you out of your comfort zone can make a difference.
• Choose what matters: Rebuild your routines around what fuels you—nature, learning, service, quiet mornings, laughter.

You don’t have to go back to who you were. Let yourself evolve! You are becoming someone new, wiser, and more aligned.

Start Today—Because You Deserve to Feel Better Tomorrow

You don’t have to wait until everything’s perfect to begin. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need to take one small step—today. Because the sooner you start caring for yourself with intention, the sooner you’ll feel like you again. This isn’t about going back—it’s about rising forward. And in just 90 days, you can feel much more clear, calm, vibrant, and empowered.

You’ve been through enough. Now it’s time to rise!

Lora Cheadle is a former attorney turned betrayal recovery coach, inspirational speaker, and author of FLAUNT! Drop Your Cover and Reveal Your Smart, Sexy & Spiritual Self and It’s Not Burnout; It’s Betrayal: 5 Tools to FUEL UP and Thrive. She empowers women to rebuild confidence, self-trust, and joy after betrayal—on their own terms and in their own time. Discover more at www.LoraCheadle.com. 

Nevertheless, there we were in our 4th floor NYC apartment that faced another building and had only 2 hours of sun each day. I was coming out of the kitchen and he from the entryway and we stopped near each other in the living room. While I do not remember what he actually said, what the topic was, or even the general words, I do remember that I looked at him, saw him grinning with mirth and mischievousness and true to form, my mind leapt to anger … until the idea dropped in … “or laugh.” In that moment, it was instantly clear each was a viable option, one not better than the other, and each felt natural. I experienced the clarity of choice … the openness of mind that could lead to same old, same old … or to something new.

I chose to laugh. It was that simple. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had arisen and for the first time in probably a long time we connected and enjoyed the humor of his quirky observational abilities. Did it save our marriage? No. Alas, it was only one moment in a million others that were fraught with reaction, and not response. However, I did walk away from that encounter knowing, from my own direct experience, that when given the chance, I could take a beat and see a choice in how to respond.

This is an invaluable skill, indeed, it is what the Buddha pointed to as skillful action, one of the factors on the Eightfold Path. While the Zen monastery where I studied was short on scripture, it was long on practice, and while staying there, I went for extended periods without any immediate input from others. It was silent, talking only happened at specific times/places and I had a lot of chances to see how the mind conjectured all sorts of things like, how the monks were secretly partying in a hermitage while I cleaned the bathrooms. I can not say this was definitively not true (probably wasn’t), however, what I do know is that the torture my mind put me through by persisting in this thought was truly painful. And the only person it impacted? Me.

About midway through my monastery experience (which lasted several years), the phrase “wait … for … it,” dropped in. It became my mantra for many of my future stays. After all, there was no one to ask to confirm my worst suspicions when something did, or did not, happen. And even if I did ask, the typical response (and I do believe these were responses) was to point me, inward, an invitation for me to reflect on why I had leapt to such a conclusion. This was my practice for a long time, to find the space between an event and my mind’s typical reaction, to actually consider a myriad of other possible reasons something did or did not happen. In this way, I began to cultivate an openness of mind which could allow me to respond.

Which brings me to just the other day. While moving paint from one place to another, a can dropped and popped open, spilling the gorgeous blue color from my bathroom onto a multi-hued rug which, also had a similar blue in it along with beautiful tones of pinks, oranges and greens. I picked up the can as quickly as I could, and stood for a moment, just looking. This was the “wait for it,” the taking a beat without reacting. In Buddhist parlance, it was a moment of accepting “this is what is here right now.”

In such “catastrophe moments,” I can now recognize how the deep practice at the monastery built a foundation of clarity and openness of mind. I did not leap to anguish, recrimination, or shaming myself. I did recognize that it wasn’t the best idea to stack the cans on an unstable trolley (an example of discernment, more later). I did offer to my heart that the worst case scenario would be I’d have to purchase a new rug. Once I allowed myself to see that the main harm was a dent in my pocketbook, I stared at the pooling paint and let my mind play with different options of how to proceed. (Indeed, a very wise person I know relayed an old family wisdom to me, “If money can fix the problem, it’s not a problem.” Then, it’s just an issue with how we see money – another blog!). This ability to look at a situation without judgement is what I call discernment, an equanimous state of mind able to evaluate all angles without attachment to any single one, and choose appropriately. This is of huge help when wanting to respond, rather than react. Do this? my mind proposed. No. This? Nope. Perhaps this? Perhaps.

Now, I did say, the mind discerned. In the Dhammapada, the Buddha offers that a well-trained mind is more supportive than a loving parent. And an untrained mind is more harmful than an enemy. While the mind is often stuck in reaction, it can be trained to take a beat … wait for it … to discern and evaluate a situation, and be of invaluable help in responding. For me, this is the whole point of spiritual practice. Rather than the mind tanking me with objections, resistance and fears, I want it to be a supportive friend and mentor, a tool that can help me weigh options with clarity and kindness. It is, in essence, the tail I wag rather than it wagging me.

Back to the paint spill. I finally settled on a putty knife, disposable food container, a bowl of soapy water, a scrub brush, and the final, pièce de résistance, the Bissell Green Machine. As I performed each step, I noticed a slight tendency of the mind to pull toward despair and I would simply bring it back to the task at hand. When all was said and done, as I stood up and looked at the rug, I realized that the area with the spill now looked cleaner than the rest of the rug. The mind was completely surprised.

A quote from one of my online accounts is, “In the end, everything is good. If it’s not good, it’s not the end.” My blog on binge-watching discusses this ad nauseam. True equanimity in life is recognizing there is never any end. To lament over how things stand in this moment, is to believe that this moment lasts forever. It doesn’t. The nature of nature … is to change. The nature of humans, is to change. The nature of the universe, is to expand. The nature of the mind … well, again, it can get stuck in ruts of despair, grousing, catastrophizing, complacency, and a host of other states however, with practice, it can be trained to instead respond, be open, curious, kind, patient and more than anything, accepting.

Which leads to freedom. When we are free from fear, clinging, aversion, doubt, we become capable of encountering all the ills of the world without taking them personally. In this way, we can be of tremendous help and assistance. The Buddha was clear … he would not teach how to end suffering if he did not think people could do it. Building this confidence in our capacity to act skillfully, with compassion, and without judgement is something I wish for everyone. From such a place, rather than avoiding situations, conjecturing the worst about others and the world, or reacting from the well-worn grooves of the mind, we can instead respond, take a beat, wait … for … it — for more information, for clarifying details, for other options to present themselves. Such acceptance is far from complacency. It is the beginning of wisdom.

About the Author: Beth Hinnen came to the spiritual path from the corporate world. After experiencing impermanence and greed, she left to study Yoga and has over 1,000 hours in Yoga teacher training, and ended up specializing in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, spiritual scripture that closely aligns with Buddhism. From there, she studied Zen Buddhism for over ten years, including in-person, month-long monastic retreats, until she earned certification, in January, 2023, as a Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach. Currently, Beth is a co-leader of the IMCD Council, and on the Teachers Collective, as administrator. She hosts a Meetup group called Yoga Meets Buddhism, and for the past three years, has held an online Dharma Wednesdays class that discusses the Yoga Sutras while also bringing in Buddhist teachings, along with Sufi poets, Christianity, Judaism and other spiritual paths that reinforce the words of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral Yoga where Beth studied. “The truth is one, the paths are many.” More information about Beth is at www.samayaco.org.

One way forward is to rename this moment and change the story. Instead of “I was wrong,” perhaps it’s useful (if less satisfying to others seeking victory) to say, “It’s time to make a new decision based on new information.” That’s not weakness. That’s not flip-flopping or even embarrassing. That’s practical, resilient and generous. — Seth Godin

It’s the end of the holiday season, a time which can be magical, or completely and totally depressing. I lean toward the former, even amidst some of the most depressing years of my life. Because no matter what, I always had a sense of the inherent goodness in people underneath it all. Brief as my experience of it was growing up, I nevertheless clung to it like a life preserver. Which is probably why I’m a sucker for any narratives that expound on the redemption of a character, primary or otherwise, in a storyline. For the first half, two-thirds, even nine-tenths of the movie we follow along all the misguided actions of said character until finally, s/he sees them for the fruitless and vain actions that they are, and voila, said character steps into the wholeness of their True Nature, the authenticity of who they are, a beautiful, caring, kind, albeit messy, vulnerable and unpredictable human being.

Which is why one of my holiday rituals is watching the Alistair Sims version of “A Christmas Carol.” It has been said that a descendant of Dickens commented that this was the most authentic rendition of the book ever made. And indeed, having purchased the book, I find it’s easy to follow along with the movie, turning the pages and hearing the dialogue almost verbatim. That, along with the transformation of Scrooge, make this a must-see for me at least once a year. And truly, the most joyous scene of the entire movie is in the last five minutes when Scrooge suddenly realizes, he knows nothing (so Zen!), and starts bouncing around the room singing, “I don’t know anything!” Then he pauses, looks at an upholstered chair with arms, and says, “I’m going to stand on my head!” and plants his crown in the seat of the chair, holds onto the arms and kicks his legs up until the char woman screams, throws her apron over her face and runs out of the room.

In that moment of sheer delight, Scrooge chooses to do something wildly different, out of his normal habits. Coming from a place of not knowing, he easily drops any old perspectives of who he was, writes off the sunk costs of his miserly ways, and drops his commitment to being a bah-humbug. A few scenes later, he attends Christmas dinner at his nephew’s, and says to his niece-in-law, “can you forgive an old fool who didn’t have eyes to see?” And in that brief moment of egoistic pain of admitting error, he unleashes an entire future of freedom and lovingkindness for himself. Indeed, I can recast Marley’s dragging chains of money-grabbing financial tyranny, as my own chains of habits and beliefs that I drag around with me in the face of an ever-changing landscape of social and political mores. If instead, I come back to the truth of my humanity, if I take the courage to look at a chair and say, “I want to stand on my head!” what a different world this would be. Indeed, what makes me hunker down and close in on myself, forcing me to stick to something that used to work, longer than I’m comfortable with?

In Zen (and a multitude of other disciplines, including psychotherapy), it would be labeled “conditioning.” I was raised, as we all were, not just by families, but by neighborhoods, society-at-large, TV, marketing wizards, movies, commercials, you name it — I, you, all of us were told — groomed — how to act and move in the world at very young ages. And we more likely than not cling to those same patterns of behavior well into adulthood and often, straight into old age and death. Even if we are familiar with the tropism that “the only constant in the world is change,” we somehow seem to resist that at every turn. We want love to last, careers to continue on upward trajectories, friendships to glide along on a glass surface sea. Even more so, we want to pout, lash out, run away, hide in a corner, do the same things that kept us “safe” as kids into adulthood even when such behaviors aren’t effective anymore and may indeed, exacerbate the situation. Such craving for same old, same old (permanence in Buddhist lexicon) is what causes suffering. And in the worst case, insanity (doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results).

After all, what if babies never grew up, trees didn’t lose their leaves and bud again in the spring, or spring never ended, nor allergies? What if snow always fell, or never fell, and cats were always aloof, and children always crying? What if I always got a parking ticket on that one block, my iPhone 6 never became obsolete, and horror of horrors, I was still twenty five and full of anxiety, tension, depression, perfectionism, and frightened of my future prospects? When I really see impermanence as a chance to change outdated beliefs and habits, to embrace an attitude of softness and warmth and let go of the hard edge of tempered suspicion and anger, like Scrooge, I am filled with the glee of freedom to turn my world upside down. No longer do I have to be driven by fear, desperation, or worry. Instead, whether through meditation, therapy or Christmas ghosts, I can generously choose to behave differently and begin to operate from a place of patience, kindness and love.

Which leads to understanding, as hard as it may be to accept, that well-being is my nature, humanity’s nature. It is only from such a premise, I project, that the ghosts could do what they did in one night. If Scrooge had been completely evil down to his bones, I doubt he’d have been able to utterly change in less than six hours (90 minutes in screen time). What he had going for him is what the Buddha said we all have going for us, that we inherently are Buddha nature — compassionate, courageous, resilient, kind, caring, and a host of other wonderful attributes — we just don’t know it.

Or … maybe we do and it only feels awkward, uncomfortable, egotistical to admit it. This is not what is reflected in popular culture. Popular culture wants us to be perfect from an external standpoint, the right partner, career, house, car, kids, pet, wardrobe, watch, etc. In fact, we have very little time to turn inward to experience what is there. Practically nothing in our lives encourages us to pause for a moment, to see how we view something, an event, a person, a tree, and even more reprehensible, how we feel about such things. Because if we did, we might touch into something that is deeper and more real than the swirling, impermanent externality of life that comes and goes, and to which commercialism fuels such superficiality.

This is what the ghosts presented to Scrooge, a chance to touch his past, present and future to really experience it for what is was … to remind him of the goodness that got gilded over with greed, hatred and delusion. Seeing his pain as he watches his lonely boyhood, failed romance, and trite relationship with BFF, Marley, makes him realize what he’s given up, or really, deeply suppressed, in order to have power and money. And that is … connection … with other wonderful, caring, messy, vulnerable human beings. Which makes the ending perfect. Scrooge doesn’t give up worldly life to atone for his miserly ways, he actually becomes an active and engaged citizen and spends his money on Tiny Tim’s health, on increasing the salaries of his employees, and becoming “as good a friend … as good a man as the good, old city knew.”

And in the movie’s penultimate scene, after he raises Bob Cratchit’s salary Scrooge says, “I’m so happy. … I have no right to be so happy, … and I just can’t help it!” and throws his pen into the air and giggles. He names what I project we’ve all felt at one time or another — that we don’t deserve to feel so happy. Except, when we truly recognize our goodness, we can’t suppress it. It’s no longer about deserving or not; it’s about being who we authentically are — practical, resilient and yes, generous. We reach past the superfluous layers of identity to embrace our Buddha Nature, and from there, we share that with others. If we want, we can make amends for poor behavior and apologize, or we can simply say, ”ah, there is a new way I can be, and I choose this going forward.”

And so it is my wish for 2025, that all those reading these words:

May you tap into your inherent goodness;
May you find the courage to pivot and embrace resiliency;
May you be open to new information that leads to freedom and caring;
And may you feel happy, really happy, knowing this is your True Nature.

About the Author: Beth Hinnen came to the spiritual path from the corporate world. After experiencing impermanence and greed, she left to study Yoga and has over 1,000 hours in Yoga teacher training, and ended up specializing in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, spiritual scripture that closely aligns with Buddhism. From there, she studied Zen Buddhism for over ten years, including in-person, month-long monastic retreats, until she earned certification, in January, 2023, as a Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach. Currently, Beth is a co-leader of the IMCD Council, and on the Teachers Collective, as administrator. She hosts a Meetup group called Yoga Meets Buddhism, and for the past three years, has held an online Dharma Wednesdays class that discusses the Yoga Sutras while also bringing in Buddhist teachings, along with Sufi poets, Christianity, Judaism and other spiritual paths that reinforce the words of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral Yoga where Beth studied. “The truth is one, the paths are many.” More information about Beth is at www.samayaco.org.

If you’ve been keeping up with my blog, you know my work focuses on sex and relationships. But here’s the thing: the way we do one thing is often the way we do everything. So, this topic isn’t limited to romantic relationships. It applies just as much to friendships, jobs, situationships, or even casual encounters.

What comes to mind when you think about moving on? Is it a feeling of loss? A sense of liberation? Perhaps a bittersweet mix of grief and release? The truth is, there are countless ways to interpret moving on, each one deeply personal.

When I reflect on moving on, I’m often conflicted. There’s the excitement of new possibilities, but also the sadness of leaving something behind. Sometimes it’s someone or something I admire. Other times, it’s the painful realization that I’ve lost—whether it’s something I loved or a part of myself.

We are, all of us, a collection. A collection of experiences, stories, feelings, and sensations. These elements are like the instruments in an orchestra, creating the haunting, sad, and beautiful music that is our life. And like any song, every moment eventually comes to an end. This isn’t a pessimistic view—it’s a reminder of life’s transient beauty. The constant ebb and flow of life brings us knowledge and growth. 

That knowledge reassures us that bad relationships will end and difficult times will pass. At the same time, it reminds us to cherish the love we have just a little more deeply. This awareness can also enrich our intimacy and deepen our shared sexual and emotional connections.

Every person you meet has something to teach you. Every obstacle has the potential to make you stronger. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. When I look in my own rearview mirror, I’m proud. Proud of what I’ve learned. Proud of the strength I’ve discovered in myself. But let’s be real: when we’re faced with a new lesson, it’s natural to think, Haven’t I learned enough? Why does this have to hurt so much?

If that resonates with you, know that I see you. I’ve been there. Looking back in the mirror, you might see devastation, pain, and hurt. That perspective is valid. But I encourage you to also see the person who endured. Someone who is wiser and stronger for what they’ve been through. As you look back, try to send forgiveness and love—to the situation, to the people involved, and most importantly, to yourself.

In the end, what objects in the rearview mirror truly look like depends on how you choose to see them. So, look back when you need to, but don’t forget to also look forward. What’s ahead just might surprise you.

About the Author: Rick Garcia (he/him) is the owner of Cannabased Coaching & Wellness. Rick started his career in the healing arts as a licensed massage therapist in 2005. Looking for a shift he transitioned to HIV prevention and has worked in sexual health for 11 years. Realizing the gap in sexual health and sexual fulfillment Rick became a certified sex coach and sexologist so that he could help people explore their ideal sexual self while remaining as safe as possible. His sex coaching services are holistic and combine elements such as talk, somatic exercises, the MEBES model, cannabis and a variety of other modalities. When his wellness center opened he decided to have another arm available for massage therapy. To learn more about Rick’s services please visit www.cannabasedcoachingandwellness.com or contact him at cannabasedcoachingandwellness@gmail.com.