by Russ Harris
For now, my aim is solely to heighten your awareness. So what I invite you to do is this: as you go about your day, notice when and where the three P’s occur. For example, after the death of a loved one, many of us experience all three P’s at the funeral. At times, we are very engaged in the ceremony (presence); at times, our words and actions are loaded with purpose; and at times we are grateful for the kindness and love of others (privilege). So whatever you are grappling with in your life, notice when these moments happen.
When and where are you fully present and engaged in what you are doing? When and where are you aligned with purpose and doing what truly matters to you? When and where do you experience a sense of privilege: embracing and appreciating life as it is in this moment?
Also notice how you help to create these moments and how they contribute to your life. This simple act of noticing can make a vast difference. It might not seem like much, but as we shall see, it forms the very foundation of inner fulfilment.
PART 2
HOLD YOURSELF KINDLY
Chapter 3
A CARING HAND
When reality slaps you hard and leaves you reeling, what do you want from the people you love? Most of us want pretty much the same thing. We want to know there is someone there for us: someone who truly cares about us; someone who takes the time to understand us; someone who recognises our pain and appreciates how badly we are suffering; someone who will make the time to be with us and allow us to share our true feelings, without expecting us to cheer up or put on a brave face and pretend everything is okay; someone who will support us, treat us kindly and offer to help; someone who demonstrates through their actions that we are not alone.
What we generally find, when we face a big reality gap, is that some people respond to our pain very well, in ways such as those listed above but, alas, there are many who do not. Think about the last time something incredibly painful, hurtful or stressful happened in your life. What kind of responses did you get that made you feel truly cared for, supported, accepted and understood? Below are a few responses that would meet these criteria for most people. (Keep in mind, we are all individuals, and different situations require different responses; not everyone wants to be treated in the same way, and there is no one response that is appropriate for all situations under all circumstances.)
• Giving you a hug, embrace or a cuddle.
• Holding your hand.
• Placing an arm around you.
• Validating your pain: ‘This must be so hard for you’ or ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through’ or ‘I can see you’re in terrible pain’.
• Saying nothing, just sitting with you and allowing you to be.
• In some circumstances, such as a painful loss, they may hold you while you cry, or even cry with you.
• Offering support: ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
• Asking how you feel.
• Sharing their own reactions: ‘I’m so sorry’ or ‘I’m so angry’ or ‘I feel so helpless. I wish there was something I could do’ or even ‘I don’t know what to say’.
• Creating space for your pain: ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ or ‘It’s okay to cry’ or ‘We don’t have to talk. I’m happy just to sit here with you’.
• Giving support unconditionally, such as making dinner for you, or taking care of your kids, or helping you out with your daily tasks.
• Making the effort to actually come and visit you, and spend some time with you in person.
• Genuinely listening, as you tell them about what you’re going through.
• Saying something like, ‘I’m here for you’ and genuinely meaning it.
These sorts of responses all send the same message: I’m here for you, I care about you, I accept you, I understand you, I see you’re in pain, and I want to help. There are many, many ways of delivering this message, some more eloquent than others. For example, when my son was first diagnosed, my pain was almost unbearable and one of the most wonderful responses came from my best friend, Johnny. Now Johnny’s a very down-to-earth sort of guy, so when he caught up with me, a few days after the diagnosis, he gave me a big strong hug and said, ‘You poor f***er! You must be feeling so f***ing shit!’ These are hardly poetic words, but they were said with such warmth and kindness, they touched me far deeper than the most eloquent of poems ever could.
However, truly compassionate responses can be quite rare. This is largely because people often just don’t know how to respond — society hasn’t taught us what to do. Quite commonly, you will encounter people doing some of the following (and if we’re honest, almost all of us have said and done things like this at times — I know I have!):
• Quoting proverbs at you: ‘Plenty more fish in the sea’, ‘Time heals all wounds’, ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’.
• Telling you to ‘think positively’.
• Asking about your situation, but then quickly changing the subject.
• Giving advice: ‘What you should do is this’, ‘Have you thought about doing such and such?’
• Trumping your pain: ‘Oh yes, I’ve been through this many a time myself. Here’s what worked for me.’
• Telling you to get over it: ‘Build a bridge’, ‘Move on’, ‘Let it go’, ‘Isn’t it time you got over this?’
• Discounting your feelings: ‘No use crying over spilt milk’, ‘It’s not that bad’, ‘Cheer up!’, ‘Stiff upper lip’.
• Telling you your thoughts are irrational, or that you do too much negative thinking.
• Trivialising or diminishing your pain: ‘Put into perspective, there are kids starving in Africa . . .’
• Trying to distract you from your pain: ‘Let’s get drunk!’ ‘Let’s go out and have some fun’, ‘Let’s eat some chocolate’, ‘Let’s watch a movie’.
• Not coming to visit or spend time with you, or even actively avoiding you.
• Playing ‘Mr Fix-it’: coming up with all sorts of helpful solutions for your problem.
• Saying they want to help, but not following up.
• Listening impatiently.
• ‘Putting up’ with or tolerating your distress, but not truly accepting it.
• Reassuring you: ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see’, ‘It’s not as bad as you think’, ‘You’ll get through this’. (Note: Many people see reassurance as a compassionate act — and it can be at times — but the problem is, it easily puts the ‘reassurer’ in a ‘one up’ position, like a parent reassuring a young child.)
• Giving you factual information related to the issue, and/or strategies to deal with it, without first asking about how you feel.
• Trying to minimise your pain: ‘You’ll look back on this and laugh’, ‘A year from now, this will be a distant memory’.
• Insulting you: ‘You’re making a big deal out of nothing’, ‘Take it like a man’, ‘Grow up!’
• Blaming you: ‘You brought this on yourself’, ‘If you hadn’t done X, Y and Z, then this would never have happened’, ‘I warned you this would happen’.
• Ignoring you.
While some responses on the second list are rude or offensive, most of them are genuine attempts to help. However, most of us, when we are on the receiving end of such responses, are likely to feel hurt, irritated, rejected, invalidated, unappreciated, misunderstood or offended. For example, when my son was diagnosed, someone said to me, ‘God gives special children to special parents.’ I was furious. Although this person was coming from a good place, genuinely trying to say something helpful, they spoke way too soon; they had not first made an attempt to acknowledge or recognise or empathise with my pain. Because of this, I had no sense that they understood what I was going through, and I did not feel supported or cared for. It sounded to me like a glib comment, devoid of understanding and compassion — and deep down, underneath my fury, I was actually very hurt and very sad.
Clearly some of those responses
in list two, such as constructive problem solving and practical advice, can actually be very helpful — but only if they come at the right time and if they are preceded by caring and empathy. For example, all my books are dotted with well-known quotes and, at the right time, these quotes are generally uplifting and inspiring. However, if they are the first thing you say to someone who has just been slapped by reality, you will come across as uncaring or offensive. Suppose that a person you love greatly has just died and the very first thing someone says to you is, ‘Well, what does not kill you makes you stronger!’ or ‘Those things that hurt also instruct!’ How would you feel?
As a general rule, a compassionate response, such as those on the first list, must come before anything else. If someone leaps in with advice, proverbs, positive thinking or action plans, without first demonstrating their compassion, we are likely to feel upset, annoyed, offended, hurt or irritated — often without quite realising why.
When we are hurting, most of us want to feel understood, accepted and cared for before we are ready to start looking for solutions or strategies, or new ways of thinking about a situation. After we feel understood, accepted and cared for, we may then be grateful for some of those responses on list two. But obviously not for the offensive ones — when someone blames us, or minimises our problems, or tells us that we should be stronger, naturally we will feel even worse.
Now here are some questions for you to reflect on:
• Who is the one human being in your life who can always be there for you, in any moment, no matter what happens?
• Who is the one human being who can understand, validate and empathise with your pain, better than anyone else on the planet?
• Who is the one human being who can truly know just how much you are suffering?
You are.
So, you are in a unique position. No matter how tough things get in your life, you are always there; even if no one else is available, you are; and you can always do something to help (even if your mind says you can’t).
Building a good relationship with ourselves is essential for inner fulfilment, especially when we run into a large reality gap. Unfortunately, this does not come naturally. Most of us are not too good at accepting, appreciating, nurturing, supporting, encouraging and being compassionate towards ourselves. Far more commonly, we beat ourselves up, judge ourselves harshly or neglect and give up on ourselves. And sadly, when we encounter those big reality gaps, we tend to rush straight to strategies from the second list above, rather than choosing compassionate responses from the first one. Check this out for yourself: read through both lists again and estimate how often you respond to yourself from list two, as opposed to list one.
***
Now suppose for a moment, you could change this relationship with yourself; that you could become your own best friend. (Your mind may say this sounds corny or impossible, but if you take a leap of faith and keep reading, you’ll eventually see that it’s neither. For now, just let your mind have its say.) Once you learn how to do this, you’re in a wonderful position. Why? Because wherever you go, whatever you do, no matter how big the reality gap you encounter, your ‘best friend’ will be there to support you: to be compassionate when you’re suffering, understanding when you get it wrong, and encouraging when you lose heart.
Finding Self-compassion
At the end of Casablanca, Humphrey Bogart mutters the classic line, ‘Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.’ And when we first start to learn about self-compassion, it is the beginning of a beautiful relationship with ourselves. The word ‘compassion’ is derived from two ancient Latin words: com meaning ‘together’ and pati meaning ‘suffering’. Thus ‘compassion’ literally means ‘suffering together’. However, these days the meaning is more complex: it means noticing the suffering of others, with a spirit of kindness and caring, and a genuine desire to help, give or support.
Compassion for ourselves is essential for inner fulfilment; when reality slaps us around, we need all the kindness we can get. But for most of us, this is easier said than done. When we fail, or get rejected, or make mistakes; when we catch ourselves acting in ways we do not approve of; when we believe that we have contributed to our reality gap: then the mind’s natural tendency is to beat us up. It likes to pull out a big stick and give us a hiding; to kick us when we’re already down. It may tell us we’re not being strong enough, or we should be handling things better, or that others are far worse off than we are, so we really have nothing to complain about. It may tell us to get a grip, or sort ourselves out. It may even tell us that we’re pathetic, or we only have ourselves to blame for what has happened.
For example, when someone we love dies, the mind may blame us for not having loved them enough, or not having been there enough, or not having told them enough how much we loved them; and sometimes even for not having prevented their death! One of my clients even blamed himself for surviving a plane crash. His mind told him it was not fair that he had lived when twelve other passengers had died: a classic case of ‘survivor guilt’. (And when my son was diagnosed with autism, my mind blamed me for passing on faulty genes.)
Even if the mind doesn’t launch into a personal attack, it is often callous, cold and uncaring; and rather than help us cope, it crushes our spirit. It may tell us we can’t cope, or that life’s not worth living; or it may remind us, over and over, of just how unfairly life has treated us; or it may conjure up terrible fears about what’s to come. So if we can learn how to hold ourselves kindly, we’ll be much better off. We’ll have a sense of support, comfort and encouragement, which will make us much better equipped to handle the gap.
I’d like to give you a taste of self-compassion right now. I find that some men initially resist the following exercise because they think it is ‘girly’ or ‘weak’ or ‘touchy feely’. But once they get past those judgements and give it a go, they invariably find it helpful.
A Compassionate Hand
I invite you now to find a comfortable position, in which you are centred and alert. For example, if you’re seated in a chair, you could lean slightly forwards, straighten your back, drop your shoulders and press your feet gently on to the floor.
Now bring to mind a reality gap you are struggling with. Take a few moments to reflect on the nature of this gap: to remember what has happened, to consider how it is affecting you, and to think about how it might impact your future. And notice what difficult thoughts and feelings arise.
Now pick one of your hands and imagine it’s the hand of someone very kind and caring.
Place this hand, slowly and gently, on whichever part of your body hurts the most. Perhaps you feel the pain more in your chest, or perhaps in your head, neck or stomach? Wherever it is most intense, lay your hand there. (If you’re numb, lay your hand on the part that feels the numbest. If you’re feeling neither pain nor numbness, then simply rest your hand on the centre of your chest.)
Allow your hand to rest on you, lightly and gently; feel it against your skin or against your clothes. And feel the warmth flowing from your palm into your body. Now imagine your body softening around this pain: loosening up, softening up and making space. If you’re numb, then soften and loosen around that numbness. (And if you’re neither hurting nor numb, then imagine in any way you like, that in some magical sense your heart is opening.)
And hold your pain or numbness very gently. Hold it as if it is a crying baby, or a whimpering puppy, or a priceless work of art.
Infuse this gentle action with caring and warmth — as if you are reaching out to someone you care about.
Let the kindness flow from your fingers into your body.
Now use both of your hands in one kind gesture. Place one hand on your chest and the other on your stomach. Let them gently rest there, and hold yourself kindly. Take as long as you wish to sit in this manner, connecting with yourself, caring for yourself, contributing comfort and support.
Continue this for as little or as long
as you wish: five seconds or five minutes, it doesn’t matter. It’s the spirit of kindness that counts when you make this gesture, not the duration of it.
***
Most people find this exercise very soothing. It tends to centre them and bring comfort. So I encourage you to do it repeatedly throughout your day. (Obviously this wouldn’t go down well in the middle of a business meeting; it is best to keep this as something you do in private!) And if by some chance you didn’t get much out of it, please try it again, at least several more times. With repetition, you are likely to find it very helpful.
Also feel free to adapt or modify this exercise. For example, if you don’t like placing your hands as suggested above, you can substitute any gesture of kindness you prefer: rubbing your neck or shoulders, massaging your temples or your eyelids, gently stroking your forehead or arm.
This simple act of self-compassion can have a profound impact if you practise it often. Think of it as ‘emotional first aid’: the very first step you take when you are hurting.
The Two Elements
Self-compassion consists of two main elements and so far we’ve only looked at the first one: being kind to ourselves. In later chapters, we’ll explore self-kindness in more depth, but for now we’re going to focus on the second element: being present with our pain.
Now notice your mind’s reaction to the previous sentence. Is it saying something like: ‘But I don’t want to be present with my pain! I want to get away from it!’? If your mind has reacted this way, that’s to be expected; it reflects a common misunderstanding of presence. You see, presence (which you’ll recall is also known as ‘mindfulness’), involves a new way of responding to our pain; it dramatically lessens the impact of painful emotions and it liberates us from the smog of painful thoughts. And if you don’t have a clue what that means, I hope you’ll be patient, because over the next few chapters you’ll find out.