Morning Reflection: Interstitial (in the middle of)

Interstitial (in the middle of).

My sweet wife Holly had an amazing grandma. Kind, sweet, incredible at baking (no kidding) and very wise. One of her favorite sayings, which has been quoted endlessly during our marriage is this: “there’s always room for ice cream, because it melts and fills in all the nooks and crannies”.

And while, it’s very true, it really got me thinking about how life is really what happens ‘in the middle of everything big’.

And how the middle is where the magic really is.

Because the middle is where we tend to spend most of our lives. Even if you’re living an incredible life of travel and events, chances are that most of your time is spent in doing the every day, the ‘mundane’, the usual.

For most of us, the usual is here and now, where we remember good things of the past, and dream of good things in the future.

But the valley between the peaks is where we tend to live.

That’s where the good things happen though, and where we can create some amazing memories if we focus on it. As a family, we have had some amazing things happen, yet most of our time is spent as a family just being ‘together’.

It’s a wonderful thing to get to the end of the day, and realize that once again we are all just hanging out. No predetermined event, no special planning or discussion, just the five of us (four plus dog) simply taking joy and happiness in the presence of each other.

Which is where the middle gets really special.

For Holly and me, being married 23 years might seem like a long time, and yet for us, it often feels like we are just beginning.

While we enjoy many things together, the greatest times of our relationship are the quite ones, like at the end of the day when we just lay together in bed and talk, or when we drive into the mountains together, talking less, and feeling more. We’ll hold hands as we drive, and without language express our love and appreciation for each other.

The middle can become magical if you let it.

As a parent, the middle has given me some of the greatest chances to encounter the spirit of the two amazing men who we have been blessed to raise. Chance discussions in the car on the way to the store have yielded greater depth than any pre-planned conversation.

Listening to them talk after an evening out with friends has provided teaching opportunities that no amount of scheduling could have accomplished.

If you can’t find a sense of peace in the middle (the valley) you’ll never truly learn to enjoy the peaks.

You’re going to spend far more of your time in the middle than you will outside of it, so you better get on with making it the best it can be.

Once you come to see the middle for what it truly is, and treat it as such, then you’ll come to understand why the quietest of lives can yield incredibly joy and happiness in the absence of great wealth or comforts.

The middle is always where the magic is, if you just look with the intent to find it.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Afraid of Your Own Shadow

Afraid of Your Own Shadow.

I remember as a young child hearing that phrase. It was usually used to describe someone who for some reason was timid, or who didn’t live up to some ill-defined and misunderstood concept of what being ‘courageous’ was.

It was never meant kindly, nor respectfully. And yet, in my life, some of the bravest people I know are those who are afraid of their shadow.

And I mean that in both aspects.

Because there are some people, who have been so traumatized by the events of their life, that they are stuck in a perpetual hell of trying not to sustain further hurt and damage.

These are those who deserve our kindness, and our understanding, even when they can be difficult to be around, because every day they are forced to confront a world that seems nothing like kindness to them.

An then, there are others who are afraid of the shadow inside of them.

Because the shadow doesn’t have to mean darkness from outside. Carl Jung, the great psychologist, used the concept of ‘The Shadow’ to describe the darker aspects of our nature, the ones that if left unchecked can cause damage to ourselves, and devastation to those around us. Yet paradoxically, those shadow elements are also necessary to our long term survival.

Not having access to your internal shadow can leave you prey to those who have no control over their own.

For many years, I have suppressed some of the shadow elements of my soul. I did this out of a desire to blend in, and in realization that there were parts of my psyche that were not kind to others.

I thought I was being a good person, keeping all of that locked away inside of me, keeping others safe from my harsh words and unkind attitude.

And it was a foolish thing to do.

Because we can’t fully exist in life without bringing our shadow into our world, and taming it so that it can work with us. Too many people who have suffered some trauma as a child struggle to find a voice for themselves in the world, and in doing so become silent in the face of those who would mistreat them and use them cruelly and unkindly.

Locking away our shadow leaves us only half present to look after ourselves.

So over the last few months, I’ve been listening a little more to my shadow. When he tells me that someone is being unkind, I allow him to give me the strength to face that person calmly, rather than backing away out of fear of what would happen in my shadow got loose.

I’ve also allowed him to focus more on myself and my family, rather than feeling like I owed my presence and attention to the world.

That’s not to say that I’m being selfish, rather that I’m finding a balance between myself and everyone else.

And in allowing my shadow to work for me, although under careful control and regulation, I’m finding a greater understanding to the scripture that states that ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand’, because as I tried to be divided as a person, I had no solid foundation upon which to stand in the world.

As I work now to blend the darkness and the light within me, I find a greater strength and understanding as well as a truer sense of authenticity and integrity. And it’s helping me to become more of the person I have always wanted to be.

So now, even though I’m still somewhat afraid of my shadow, I am letting him help me in the areas that he can.

And it is making a difference.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection:

The Kindness Equation.

The fascinating thing about love, is that we leave our obsession and fascination with numbers behind. You know it’s love when you stop worrying about the counting, and instead are focused on what you can give, rather than what you will receive.

Because in the equations of humanity, filled with ‘quid pro quo’ and ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’, the concepts of love and kindness invite us to put down our desire for self, and truly step into a place of worrying about others.

And not being so caught up with ourselves.

In my life, I’ve been privileged to see incredible acts of kindness, as well as some pretty despicable acts of greed and selfishness.

As I’ve meditated on the lessons that these examples have bestowed upon me, I realized that although kindness is another emotion that invites us to let go of our need for an accounting, there is a very basic math behind the emotions that drive us to experience and express kindness.

That equation goes something like this… Kindness is the importance of others over self, when the self is in an emotional place to be able to give.

Because when I’ve thought about the times in my life when I have felt and acted upon kindness, it has always been when I have felt ‘enough’ in myself.

Conversely, the times when I have acted without kindness (thankfully they are becoming fewer and fewer as I grow) are times when I have felt ‘less than enough’ in myself, and have in some way felt the need to make myself more.

Usually, unfortunately, by denying someone something I could have given them.

And I don’t mean that in a monetary sense, although that has happened, but more in a sense of giving someone the words or the space that they needed in a time when they felt less than ‘enough’.

Maybe it was giving them the kindness of allowing them the space to share their opinion without fear that I would insert my own over theirs (because I was feeling the need to be right, rather than the opportunity to be present).

Sadly, there are many more examples I could show you.

But understanding the equation of kindness has helped me realize that for someone to act unkindly towards me really means that they are feeling ‘less than’ in some area of themselves.

For whatever reason, whatever sadness haunts their soul, they have chosen to react and restrict their ability to be kind, in some need to fill up a part of their soul that has either a trickle, or a gaping wound.

And if I am feeling ‘enough’ about myself, I can exercise kindness by refusing to allow their behavior towards me to affect how I feel about them. Because really, the way we react towards others is the ultimate expression of how we feel about ourselves.

And the funny thing about kindness, the thing that really makes me smile, is that when I remember to exist and act from a place of kindness, I am in fact extending it to also to myself.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: The Space in Which to Feel our Deepest Pain

The Space in Which to Feel our Deepest Pain.

She’s incredible. If you were to meet her, you’d never understand the depth of the emotions that she’s feeling.

Most of us, almost all of us, would have crumpled to the floor with the weight of all that she carries, yet 99% of the time she smiles, serves others, and carries herself with a grace and composure that is beyond my understanding.

I stand in awe of her.

Yet when she entered my office earlier this week, it wasn’t 99% of the time. As she laid on a therapy table, you could hear her weeping gently over the sound of the rollers and the vibration.

As the timer concluded, and the table fell silent, she arose from her rest, and with tears running down her face, she took a tissue from the counter and asked one simple question that has moved me more than any other asked in my office.

“Why is it that I always start to cry when I come in here?”

In her own inimitable way, my sweet wife, who runs our front desk, simply looked back at the woman holding a tissue to her face, and simply answered her with “because you know you can”.

I stopped, and tried to hold back my own emotions, as my sympathy for this woman who carries so much mingled with a deep sense of gratitude that we are, in some small way, holding a space of kindness in a world that seems so bereft of it.

I walked forward, and held her as she cried.

The hardest part was knowing that there is almost nothing we can do to help, except extend our love and be there in any way that we can. The burden she carries, as time ticks forward, will only get heavier.

In the coming months, she will live through an event that at this time seems as inevitable as it is heart-wrenching. Although many stand ready to assist and uplift her, there is nothing that any of us can do to stop that which will come to pass.

Except hold her, and hold a space for her to cry.

As I took her back into the room for treatment, she sat quietly and we talked for a while. With a voice strong despite her tears she spoke to me, and I did my best to help her. I offered my thoughts, and asked her gentle questions.

In our brief time together, we spoke of the things that she is doing to prepare, and I asked her quietly about how she was looking after herself.

Because someone who is so totally focused on the needs of others has a tendency to neglect the needs of herself.

Our conversation moved gently through the things that are in place for the events of the future, and suggestions of things that may yet prove of worth.

She was gently weeping as she left my office, but I hope that in some small way, our conversation, and more importantly the space in which she felt safe to cry, were of help to her in a time that can feel so helpless.

Because sometimes, there’s nothing we can do, except be there in the darkness with someone, and help them to feel less alone, and give them a place to freely feel that which they are feeling, knowing that instead of judgment, they will receive love; instead of condemnation, they will receive understanding; and that instead of platitudes, they can be held in silence.

And given a gentle place to feel.

(In case you’re wondering, I did ask her if it was okay to write about this, and being the amazing person that she is, she willingly gave her consent. Like I told you, she incredible).

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Here and Only Now

Here and Only Now.

It’s a fragile thing, this life we live. Every day, we’re surrounded by the possibilities of triumph and tragedy, success and sadness.

Most of the time, we exist in denial of the precarious state of our world, our health, our relationships and our lives. We lie to ourselves, believing we have time enough to do what we want, to experience what we want, to live the life we’ve always wanted.

That’s the worst lie imaginable, and we tell it to ourselves all the time.

On Sunday, the world of sports lost a superstar and his daughter, but also 7 other people who all awoke that morning with no idea that they were experiencing their last sunrise, maybe their last cup of coffee.

Their lives were suddenly and tragically over, for some of them before they had really begun. There was no time to say the things that they needed to say, because suddenly time was taken from them.

There’s no guarantee of our next heartbeat, ever.

Last year, a wonderful patient of mine lost her battle with cancer. In her mid 70’s yet appearing much younger, she was a force to be reckoned with, until she wasn’t.

I have a friend who is experiencing what will probably be his last few months after a courageous and hard fought battle, and another friend who’s wife has a diagnosis that could give her 3 years, or twenty.

Sometimes it just breaks my heart.

And it reminds me that every morning, I need to be grateful for the good fortune of waking up that day, and that I should not just get through, but strive to take every opportunity to experience new things, and to tell the people in my life just how much they mean to me.

To try to find forgiveness and understanding in my heart for those for whom I struggle with unkind feelings, and to point my soul in a kinder, more harmonious direction.

Because when it comes down to it, seeking for peace and joy in life is all we really have.

We spend so much time worrying about things that don’t matter at all. We waste our time in comparison with the ‘pack’ on social media, rather than telling our loved ones what they mean to us. We extend more mercy to others than we do to ourselves, and in doing so we rob ourselves of the wonder and joy that is present in every breath, in every heartbeat.

Because happiness, and joy, come from within, and are independent of what is without.

When we can let go of all of our attachments to our fears and our needs, focusing instead on the wondrous majesty of all that is around us, we can find life and purpose in every breath.

If we can train our minds to see the good and find the positives in every situation, we can live a life that truly fills us with joy and purpose regardless of what goes on around us.

Only then, will we really know what it means to be alive.

So today, I ask you just to be here, and now. I know that you have worries, but worrying is like pulling pain from the future for something that may never come to pass.

I know that you have desires, but focusing on things of the future can obstruct your vision of all that is around you today.

Today, just be here, now, and breathe, finding wonder in that.

Just be here, now.

(If this post has helped you today, I would humbly ask that you consider sharing it, so that it can help others. Thank you.)

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Why Do You Want To Be?

Why Do You Want To Be?

She waved her arms at me, almost yelling at me to stop. I haven’t known her for all too long, but that behavior seemed to be a little out of character for her (although she does wave her arms a lot 🙂 ).

That fact that 20+ people were watching made it even more fascinating, because there’s nothing like trying to explain yourself in front of a (virtual) room full of people, and realizing that what you just did was exactly what she was expecting you to do.

No, she’s not a crazy person. She’s actually one of the smartest people I know, and I know some pretty impressive people.

Not that she would necessarily own that description. She’d probably laugh. Not out of any need to self deprecate, but because she’s pretty balanced in her soul, which is why she’s so good at helping other people get their head in the right place.

She’d just say that she was trying to help, and needed me to stop talking so she could point out where my problem was.

Which I did, and she did.

A little back and forth followed, and in the 3 days since that exchange, I’ve been thinking a lot about what she said to me, because it’s exactly the kind of thing I would have said to someone I was working with.

I would have done it a little differently, because we each have our own style, but the concept that she was teaching me was one I already could see in others around me.

But not in myself.

Because when it comes to ourselves, we’ve got so many emotional linkages to our stories that we rarely stop ourselves to analyze exactly what it is we’re doing or saying. We’re too busy “be’ing” a certain way, believing a specific thing, that it takes an incredible amount of practice to catch ourselves in the middle of our statements, and go deeper to understand what we are actually saying.

But because she’s good at what she does, she helped point me in the direction of where I want to be…

Not where I want to go, or do, but who I want to be. The difference there is critical, because as she’s been teaching me recently, I’m the kind of person who has to believe I am, before I’m going to go and do.

I don’t just do things, because to me, the actions I take speak about who I am, and if I don’t feel like I am that person, then to ‘do’ the things, without being the person, would be a lie.

And I try so very hard not to do that anymore.

But that becomes a problem if I actually believe a lie that I told myself about who I am, and who I have to be in order to do a certain thing. Most of us are walking around with a belief or two inside of our heads that is stopping us from doing what it is we really want to do, and some of us have a LOT more than we should.

So we don’t ‘do’ what it is we want to do and could do, and that feeds back into the BElief that we are not the person who could do that.

A feedback loop that goes on and on – until we find some way to break it.

Which is what I’ve been trying to do these last 2 years with this work, both for me, and for you.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Beautiful

Beautiful.

She’s not what you’d immediately think of when you hear the word. Her hair, once probably blonde and shiny, has worn silver and calmer over time. Her skin bears the ravages of the years, wrinkles framing character and maturity in a never ending kidnapping of the signs and symptoms of youth.

Her eyes, that once may have sparkled with joy and laughter now show a depth of emotion that transcends the mundane, the germane.

She is nothing like I was told she was going to be.

Her manner of speech was inflected by the language of her childhood home, yet her fluency in my tongue was remarkable. Some of her mannerisms were expected, others were a surprise.

The strength of her soul was as that of the steel that never tarnishes, never dulls. She returned every question with an answer that showed her wisdom, hard fought and even harder won over a lifetime of battles that most of us would never understand.

Because she’s lived a life that hopefully none of us will ever experience.

If I were to tell you her story, you would sit in wonder, and a great deal of compassion. For even the greatest of hearts would have been turned cold by the fortunes and vicissitudes of her travail.

Yet in the midst of horrors, she has found kindness, and in the presence of demons, she found a way to live within the angels of her better nature.

She is a force to be reckoned with.

And yet I found nothing but joy in her presence, and a sense of wonder at her courage and tenacity. Yes, she is not one to suffer fools gladly, because she has seen the catastrophe of the foolish and the unkind.

She takes her time to warm up to you, and I think she trusts very few people with her truth, but in our dialogue I sensed no evasion, no dissembling. She was just herself, and there was an incredible beauty in that.

For so few of us really ever are just who we are.

And although her physical presence was not impressive, the power and courage of her soul were more beautiful to me than anything. A human being, tried in the furnace of affliction, still having the courage to be totally real and honest about who she is, unwilling to allow the opinions of others to bend or break her spirit, her energy, her soul.

In her quiet careful way, she shouted her truth from the rooftops.

As I sat and listened to my new friend for the first time, I was struck by the majesty and wonder that is the consciousness that makes us who we are.

As she spoke of the hardships that she had held silent within her for so many years, she wasn’t pleading for pity, nor seeking to glorify her ego in a recitation of all that she had survived.

Not for her the vain fallacy of the opinion of others.

What made her beautiful was that she is simply and utterly who she is.

No more, no less,

And she is wonderful.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection--Healing: One on One with The Child

(Part 3 of Storm-Child)

As they sit at the table, these 3 separate parts of my soul, I am struck with the realization of just how young the child seems to be.

I don’t have a lot of memories of my earlier years, and what I do have aren’t ones I like to revisit too often, but I’m guessing that he knows my life at around 5-6 years old. He seems very overwhelmed by the things he’s experiencing, and it’s like he’s afraid to grow any older.

Which is a feeling I can certainly relate to.

He seems very worried about doing things wrong, as though he’s going to be punished for any infraction at a far greater level than his mistake/offence would deserve.

And while I can’t say for certain, it seems like he doesn’t feel like he has anyone who will protect him, because he doesn’t seem inclined to run to anybody for comfort, or security.

He’s just sitting there, waiting for the next crisis, the next evolution of dread.

And it occurs to me that he has so very little space in which to explore who he is, and experiment with his life in a way that has good boundaries and defined barriers to keep him in and the world out.

He seems to be carrying a weight on his shoulders far heavier than someone his age should have to bear. While it in some way ages him, he also seems to be bowed down under that burden, as though he has no one who will help him carry it.

Which is I guess where I come in.

Because my role here, with the young child, is to help him break the emotional linkages that he has, in his inexperience and immaturity, created to help him understand and function in his world.

He suspects every action to precipitate an argument, every error to produce excoriation, and every breath could lead to a beating.

And what he needs to understand is that there is grace, mercy and kindness in this world.

Because when he grows up with these same emotional patterns, he’s going to find ways to interpret every situation as a danger, every unfortunate event as a punishment, and every desire he has as selfishness, because he knows that his family has little, and asking for something can cause another of the fights he so desperately tries to drown out each night with a pillow over his ears.

In some ways, that young boy, that poor child, is so afraid of everything that living seems only a preface to dying, and he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His lack of connection takes from him a foundation, so that he is blown to and fro by chance and the cruel disposition of the human condition.

His lack of anyone to talk with means he will internalize the falsehoods of his interpretations, and never bring them into the light of friendship and kindly understanding.

His lack of someone to protect him will make him distrust everyone, and a child who cannot trust has no basis for joy in the world.

So as I talk with this young boy, this trauma-trapped remnant of my soul, I have to encourage him to trust where he does not believe, talk where he would rather be silent, and become while he would rather be still.

Because his feelings have carried my soul into heartache, and I have to bring us both out of that.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Hypocrite

Hypocrite.

Do you ever feel like one? If not, I envy you. Because no matter how hard I try to change, no matter the hours spent in meditation, writing, thinking and pondering, there’s still so many parts of me that are flawed, so many things I still want to change.

There are days when I feel like writing this work is more about me showing you how not to be, not to think, not to feel.

Days when I just feel like an imposter.

And it’s easy to get to a point where it feels like I’m just banging my head against a wall. Sometimes, when I’m lost in the moment (which is not the same as mindfulness or being present) I lose all sense of perspective of growth, of the progress that I’ve made, and see only the flaws and inconsistencies that plague me. There are times when I feel like a huge fraud.

Which is why I try to be honest in the ways that I feel.

And that can be hard sometimes. Part of me would rather hide away, becoming a hermit somewhere and not being seen by the world.

When I see people who live a very simple life, out in the wilds of nowhere, there’s a part of me that gets very jealous (while the other part of me wonders of they get decent broadband speeds and if Amazon still delivers in 2 days :) ).

But for me, hiding from the world would bring stagnation, and a never ending sense of avoidance.

Because no matter how frustrating life can be, the only way I can see to live it is by living it. Looking time square in the face, and going for it again and again.

Sure we’re going to mess up, but that’s a part of the equation. Some of the greatest moments of growth in my life have come out of the darkest points of failure.

Which is part of the reason I’m still writing.

Every experience we have can be one of growth if we are looking for the lesson, and if we are humble and open enough to receive it.

Do you struggle with that, because I know I do.

If I look back at all the lessons I’ve missed, or failed to learn on the first opportunity because I was too prideful, too angry or too ungrateful, I can become despondent and depressed at all the time I’ve wasted.

Or I can be grateful that life kept giving me the lesson until I finally learned it.

So even on the days where I feel like a hypocrite, and that I’m failing at so many things, I keep telling myself that I have come so very far from where I was. Twelve or thirteen years ago I was a very different person.

Proud, arrogant, impressed with myself much more than I had any reason to be, and so very busy trying to be something I wasn’t, to cover up the person I felt I really was.

Turns out, both of those viewpoints were wrong, but I was too busy, and too afraid, to listen to my soul.

So now, I’m trying to be honest with myself, and with those around me. Not that I have lied about things, more that I had held back things that I should have said, truths I should have shared.

The longer I live, the more convinced I am that the truth, carefully and kindly presented in combination with humility and awareness, is the greatest healing force on this world or any other.

Because the truth can set us free, although it usually hurts getting there.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection--Healing: The Three

(This is a continuation from Storm-Child, published on 1-8-2020)

At the dinner party in my mind, there are 3 facets to my soul, represented by the timid and scared child, the angry tired old man, and the wordless beast who is here very much under sufferance.

As they sit at the table, the tension between them is palpable, and very real. None of them want to be here, as they fear greatly the reason I have brought them to this place.

For each of them must die to live in the others, three becoming one.

Quite rightly, they fear this. They sense that they might find a long awaited sense of peace and completion together, but they know not how to give up their sense of identity and integrate as one.

To them it seems like an unendurable form of agony, to allow themselves to fall away into something different, and since none of them have any experience with the peace and happiness that awaits them, they are reluctant to sacrifice that which they know, for that which they have no concept of.

Especially when that sacrifice seems infinite and eternal.

The way forward for each of them is different. For the child, he needs the wisdom of the old man, and the courage and power of the beast. The old man needs the time that the child has, and the ability to act in spite of his exhaustion that is present in the beast.

The remedy for the beast is much different, for he needs the wisdom of the old man, and the innocence and kindness present in the child, but until he has had his chance to rage, he will accept neither.

Clearly, the melding of the three into One is not going to be fun, and it is not going to be easy.

Each of them require a very particular space. For the child, the space is to explore and experiment, gaining wisdom and courage in the absence of the berating vitriol supplied by the old man, and the threat he fears from possessing the strength of the beast.

The space required by the old man would give him an opportunity to grieve that which he feels like he has lost, and the courage to again see the world with a sense of wonder and possibility like the little child does.

The beast…. His space is very different.

Because he can’t have what he wants, which is the space to rage, to scream, to revenge himself and to confront all perceived threats with force, with anger, with destruction.

He can’t get that, because the cost would be too high to all four of us, and because the other 3 of us (the child, the old man and the consciousness that is me) have some understanding that his way would never bring us peace.

So the beast has to be given a space to rage, but only in a limited realm, and in a very controlled way.

Each of them in some way has to try, to risk, to experience and to win and lose, so that they might gain a sense of completion and wisdom, and by doing so learn to call upon the talents of each other.

Each of them has something to bring to the table, something to offer the others, but each of them needs their time in the sun also, feeling if not vindicated, then at least heard, if not free, then at least noticed.

And my role, my journey, and my only pathway to the peace that I crave, is to guide them all through this process, balancing their needs and their desires in a dance that will not be easy, but has no option but to succeed.

For I have lived too long fractured into the four of us, and desire the rest I sense as the separates become whole.

And the journey of my soul is far from over.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Defy the Definitions

Suppose I asked you to talk in front of 10,000 people tomorrow, for about 15 minutes, on any subject that you wanted. Could you do it? Does the idea get you excited, or fill you full of dread?

Since public speaking is often rated as the number one fear, I’m guessing there are some of you right now who are coming down off of an adrenaline spike.

Because you don’t believe you could do it.
Or maybe skydiving, jumping from a perfectly good aircraft at 13,000 feet and trusting your life to a parachute packed by someone who you’ve never met before.

You’ll be strapped to a person you met a few minutes ago, and you’ll be falling towards this beautiful earth at a speed that would kill you should you land without the chute opening.

Do you think you are someone who would enjoy that?

In both of those cases, even though you’ve probably never been in those situations, you’ve already defined your concept of the event by your reactions to the thoughts rather than the experiences.

In truth, some of you might get through those 15 minutes on the stage, and find out that you are really good at it, or might stand there on the ground after jumping and realize you’ve found a new addiction that will be something you do for the rest of your life.

But because you never saw yourself as someone who could do that, or would like that, you never did.

And it gets worse when we start to look at the person you think you could be, because the definitions of who you are can be dangerous, but the definitions of who you could become, and what you deserve, can be deadly.

Since belief is linked to imagination, which is linked to intention, your beliefs about how the universe works, and what is has in store for you can literally shape your reality.

So now what you believe can kill you (figuratively, and sometimes literally).

I have a wonderful friend, who believes that she has done something so terrible that she will never be happy again, because she doesn’t deserve to be so.

If I were to tell you her ‘crime’ (and no, it wasn’t a criminal act), and explain the circumstances that led to her actions, you would probably find it in your heart to have a great deal of compassion for her.

Which is more than she can find for herself.

I will tell you that she is a good woman, and like all of us, she is human. But now, devoid of the belief that she is worthy of being happy, she will go through her life believing accepting less than she could have, because her definition of herself as a ‘bad person’ means that she has to be punished.

Not only at a quantum intention level, but at a personal psychological, her belief will determine her reality, but it will not be what it could be.

Her definition will determine her reality.

As I look into my heart, at a level deeper than I have ever gone before I , find that I too am beset by dangerous definitions of my soul. They have held me back, and stolen years of joy and service from me.

And although it scares me to my very core to do so, I am challenging those definitions, and breaking down those beliefs.

Because there is work to do, and I feel I must do it.

And I wonder, what have you determined for yourself that is holding you back, and how might you break through into the person you’ve always wanted to be.

And how might I help you with that.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: The Ego That Stole My Space

I had a conversation with a friend the other day that moved me. I love her, but that day she was kind of getting on my nerves. I know that her words were meant to be kind, because she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.

In fact, she is probably one of the kindest and most genuine people I’ve ever known. But that day…. well that wasn’t exactly a day where she was on her best form.

But the good thing was she could sense it, and wasn’t afraid to ask questions.

We had been talking about a situation that was affecting me, one in which I have a significant amount of training and expertise. In her desire to do good, she was trying to interject her ‘truth’ (belief) into my analysis of the situation.

Most days I can understand and appreciate that her motives are well-intentioned, but since I had a pretty significant headache, hadn’t slept much, was stressed out by current circumstances and generally having kind of a rough day, I wasn’t able to modulate my irritation as well as I would have liked. She could see it and so she asked me how she could have handled the situation better.

I love that about her – she’s never one to shy away from the deep conversations.

So we discussed our relative interpretations of the situation, and I while I didn’t do a great job of explaining how I felt (because sleep deprivation tends to take the edge off my game) I was able to help her understand that her ‘rampant enthusiasm’ for helping sometimes gets in the way of the other person feeling heard and appreciated.

She accepted my explanation, we hugged, and she went on with her day, as I did mine.

But it really got me thinking, and a day later Holly and I were talking about another situation, and a truth crystallized upon me from the intersection between the two circumstances. It helped me realize what was really going on, and I wish I had been able to explain it to my friend so much better.

The understanding I gained helped me see where I have made so many mistakes in the past, and will hopefully help me to be a kinder person going forwards.

Because my friend’s ego (her desire to have her truth heard and accepted) was taking over the ‘space’ I needed (to be heard and allowed to have my own understanding).

And I came to understand that ‘holding space’ for someone really means the suspension of our ego, our judgment, our truth and our reality. When we ‘hold space’ for another, we are granting unto them the opportunity to be themselves, and find their own truths.

While we might feel inclined at the time to offer a suggestion, that really needs to be in the form of a question rather than a statement, and the question needs only to be asked once.

As my friend kept trying to get me to accept her truth (out of a sincere desire to help) her ego (her desire) was taking up the space I needed to feel accepted/appreciated and to find my own truths.

Have I done this? Oh so many times. One time I lost a coaching client because in my desire to help (my ego) I was essentially pushing her further than she was ready to go. I could have presented the same options to her with a much greater emphasis on her choice, rather than my opinion, and only suggested it once.

While she feels like her coaching experience with me was very valuable, and was appreciative of my time and assistance, I now understand that I took up the space that she needed, and I didn’t serve her as well as I could have.

And I shudder to think of how many times I have done that in the past.

The ultimate humility we can show in any situation is to let others be themselves. If we accept the premise that humility is to think ‘less ABOUT ourselves, not less OF ourselves’, then we can see how the truly humble can always hold a space for those around them, because they feel no need to interject their truths onto others, because it’s never going to be about themselves.

And I’m so grateful to my dear friend, whose willingness to go deeper and listen kindly to my terrible attempts at an explanation were the catalyst for this new and greater understanding.

May we all find the humility we need to accept others as they are, and hold space for them to discover who they are becoming.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection--Healing: Storm-Child

Healing: Storm-Child

A few years ago, under the counsel of one of the wisest and kindest men I’ve ever known, I undertook a thought exercise to attempt to find some structure within my soul.

He invited me to imagine a scenario where I was hosting a dinner party for each of the separate parts of me, and to do my best to describe each of them in great detail.

As you can imagine, this is a strange yet powerful exercise.

In my meditations, I created the vision of a round table, with several chairs. There were no walls, just light receding into darkness, and a white tablecloth contrasting with the black chairs.

The light came only from a few candles on the table. There were no place settings, just glasses of water. After creating the vision, I breathed gently, awaiting the guests who I was hoping would arrive.

And three of them came.

The first was a small child. Maybe 5-6 years of age. He moved timidly, as though afraid to be there, and afraid of how his presence would be treated. He took his place at the table quietly, hesitantly, and waited with his eyes darting to and fro, his movements rapid, his posture sunken.

It was like he was trying to take up as little space as possible, and was scared that his very existence would result in his expulsion.

And I knew him as me.

The second guest at the table was slower to arrive. An older man, he seemed tired, exhausted. His clothes looked as if they had been laundered a million times, yet somehow his weariness and frustrations had been baked into the very garments he wore.

He seemed angry, but without the energy to express it any other way than to shout at the child. Every move, every breath, seemingly every thought that the child had was in one way or another subject to the judgment of the man.

His words were vicious, cutting, cruel. He was the personification of the antithesis of mercy.

And I recognized him as the voice that my childhood had installed in my soul.

And then the third entity arrived. He entered from the darkness, every movement controlled, but barely suppressing the rage inside of him. He flowed into the chair, precise, determined and radiating a desire to destroy all in front of him.

I sensed that his presence here was an anathema to him, that being called against his will was an insult of the highest order. He stared at me with eyes full of anger, his face a snarl of repressed pain and loathing. No words escaped his tongue, as if to speak would be to open the floodgates of all he held back, all he kept within.

And I gently nodded my head to the shadow inside of me.

As the three of them sat there, I was overwhelmed with a flood of emotion. I could see the pain of the child, and his fear and helplessness that had breathed life into the shadow.

I could feel the weariness of the old man, and yet I knew that his voice had to be silenced, until he could be taught to speak words of balance, coda of kindness, principles of peace and understanding.

For the child has to grow into the man, taking his place against the voice, and somehow integrating the shadow into his persona, so that he might have the power that he needed to heal from the things he has seen and felt.

The shadow needed to be brought into alignment, so that he might protect the child within the bounds of kindness and humility that the child desired.

It was my role to bring these three together into my world, and find a peace between them, enabling the child to stand against the storms of his past, and face the storms present in his future.

And as you can probably surmise, the dinner party is far from over.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: The Deafening Sound Of What’s Missing

The Deafening Sound Of What’s Missing.

They sit across from me, and it’s hard to hear them. They’ve become so accustomed to it, so acclimated to the horrific roar that they don’t even notice it anymore.

It’s become their new normal, burned into their souls over a lifetime of day after day acquiescence to the small losses, the hurts and sadness, until they can’t remember what it felt like to live and breathe joy.

In spite of whatever problems they think they have, whatever particular wound of the day that they want to talk about, the truth is more terrible than they want to admit, or even have the perspective to see and hear.

Because when you’ve become accustomed to the sound of the warning siren, it no longer means anything to you anymore.

And the truth is, what you can’t hear can hurt you.

Because what I don’t see between them is affection, warmth, kindness and closeness. Their body language screams that these are two people, no longer one, who have at some point have drifted towards opposite edges of their particular highway, moving towards the same terminus without the simpatico required to make the journey worthwhile.

They both seem to want to find each other again, but they don’t seem to know how.

Being alive doesn’t mean that you’re living, it just means that you’re here. Breath without life, a terrible form of hell.

Neither of them seem to be hearing it though. They sit there, seemingly desperate to tell me why they are right and the other is wrong.

Surface concerns patching over the gaping hole at the core of them, trying to find a small sense of significance to stem the hurt they feel at the loss of the other. They’re both damaged, bleeding from their souls in a never ending hemorrhage of hope and happiness, love and laughter.

In truth, I think they both hear it, but they’re so afraid to talk about it, and that’s what’s killing them.

Because over the years, they’ve tried to pour kindness into each other, partially from a desire to not hurt a wounded soul that they love so deeply, and partially because they’ve always been taught that their needs didn’t matter.

From their words, I can tell that she feels like she has always been a secondary concern to him trying to deal with his trauma, and he feels like he is not longer loved and wanted because she is so scarred from hers.

It’s like a tango for two, based on loss, sadness, fear and longing.

And the soundtrack for this dance is the cascade of tears they cry silently, while each is desperate to hear the sound of what they need from the other.

I can see that each of them in their own way is trying, but their own wounds are drowning out that signals that they are trying to understand from each other. So they sit, together but apart, silent but screaming.

Trying to understand what they’ve lost, because they’re desperate to find it again.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: The Fallacy of the Perfect Teacher

Unless you’ve hidden under a rock for the last 40 years, you probably know who Yoda is. In the Star Wars universe, Yoda is a Jedi master, full of wisdom, knowledge and truth.

He’s held up as the epitome of all that is good, kind, benevolent and wonderful. In the fictional reality of Star Wars, there’s a place for the perfect, the un-blemished, the all-knowing.

Yet I’m here to tell you that sometimes, Yoda got it wrong – dead wrong!

Because he failed to see the potential for Anakin Skywalker to go completely off the rails, killing without mercy and destroying the Jedi as a force for good. He failed to identify Palpatine as a Sith Lord, until the evidence was so powerful everyone could see it.

And worst of all, Yoda sometimes taught concepts that have caused pain and suffering to people in our world.

Because he once taught, “Do, or do not, there is no try”.

Which is total garbage, yet I can’t tell you the number of times that people have quoted that to me in a business setting, or in an attempt to be ‘motivational’. In the real world, trying is how we get to doing, but in the middle there may be a lot of trying and failing, before you eventually get to doing.

It’s not that the principle of what he was trying to communicate was wrong, rather that the application of that truth needs to be specified, and Yoda didn’t do it.

And people have doubled down on that, believing that there was no such thing as trying, only achieving. So when things went wrong after they tried, they believed that they were somehow doing something wrong, and they stopped trying, when in reality the trying WAS the way to get to doing/achieving, but there was going to be a lot of ‘not achieving’ along the way.

As good as he was, as profound as he could be, Yoda was still trying his best, and sometimes screwing it up.

Which IS how it works in the real world. In my work as a Coach, I’ve been privileged to help people in ways that have made their lives immeasurably better, and yet I’m one of the most flawed people I know.

In turn, I have been helped by people who have bequeathed unto me their knowledge, their wisdom, and their kindness, and yet if I examine their lives closely, I can see that areas in which they struggle, and fail.

And yet they still have incredible value to give to the world.

The teachers among us are always going to have their flaws, their weaknesses, their issues and their failings. They will still struggle to find their way, and live their path, in just the same ways that we will.

They may be further along on their journey, but they, like you and I, are still trying to walk a pathway day after day wherein they try to balance self with the world, principle with pragmatism and survival with compassion.

Those are they who are daily trying, and sometimes not ‘doing’.

And they have lessons to teach.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: The Sacrament of Self Responsibility

The Sacrament of Self Responsibility.

It’s that time of year, well, of two years actually, where the old blends with the new, and people make resolutions that they full intend to keep, only blow through most of them within a few days.

Been there, done that, and also made some that I kept. Yet of all the changes people make, there is one that will redefine every other choice that you can make.

It’s when you choose to be responsible to yourself.

‘What does that mean’ you ask, and you’re right to do so. Because what is said in those few words encompasses the secret to progressing further in your journey than you can possibly imagine.

Assuming responsibility to yourself for yourself means that you move into a mindset where you understand that you, and you alone, are responsible for your life.

Whenever, however, and with whomever you started.

It means that moment where you stop gazing at the outside world with a mixture of jealousy and frustration, anger and fear, and you instead go inward.

Leaving judgment by the wayside, and expectations at the door, you enter into a world far different than the one you left so very few moments ago. Instead of complaining, there is courage. Instead of self pity, there is self resolution.

Instead of expecting anyone else to help, you resolve deep in your soul that you will do whatever it takes to become the person you know you deserve to be.

And don’t get me wrong, I know it’s NOT easy. I spent way too many years of my life being filled with a sense of being owed something, a feeling that I had not been given a fair hand of cards.

And sure, if I looked around and only saw people who started at a difference place in the world, I could convince myself that I was owed something, that the universe was holding something back.

Which is two fallacies in one – that anyone owed me anything, and that comparison was ever going to bring me peace.

The only person I need to compare myself to is the me that I truly want to be.

And that’s hard, because when you accept full responsibility for your life, you’re doing away with all of the judgments that you’ve designed to uplift you, and to fortify your sense of significance in a universe that doesn’t care.

When you become fully responsible for yourself, that’s the moment when you understand that where you started, and even where you are, pale in comparison to where you want to be.

Knowing that you alone are the navigator at the helm of your soul.

Yes there are people who are cruel, but that doesn’t reduce your responsibility to yourself. Yes, there are situations that are hard, but that doesn’t reduce your responsibility to yourself.

Yes, the universe can be brutal, life can be so unfair, people can treat you like dirt, you may have found yourself in a difficult childhood, or been treated terribly by those who should have been better to you or a million and one other things that you could waste your time complaining about.

But that doesn't reduce your responsibility to yourself.

Because no one ever changed their life for the better by complaining, or by expecting someone else to pick up their load. In the end, in the cold, dark, miserable and lonely end, it’s always going to be about you. It always was, it always will be.

And until you accept the responsibility for yourself, you’re never going to progress into the person you have always wanted to be.

So this decade, this year, this month, this week, this day, this hour, this minute & this second, commit to making the one change that will make all the other changes possible.

Commit to the sacrament of the responsibility for yourself, and then get to work.

Who’ll knows where you’ll end up, but you know it won’t be here.

And it will be better.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Fireplace and Falling Snow

I love the quiet of a Sunday morning, especially when I’m the first one up, which happens almost every weekend since our family could never be described as ‘morning people’.

It was cold in the family room, and so I turned on our gas fireplace. Bewitched by the entrancing flames, I sat quietly, watching the gentle snow falling outside while I comforted myself in the warm air that came towards me.

It was one of those moments that was perfect.

As it has a tendency to do, my mind drifted in time, seeing in vision the people who first came to this land, imagining their struggles against the never-ending cold. Not for them was the convenience of gas and electric, nor insulation and walls.

They came by foot, by horseback, by wagon. They came with fortitude and strength, sometimes out of desire and other times out of desperation.

How cold and brutal their world looks to me.

Yet when I cast my mind into the future, I see a child looking back at me through a history course, marveling at how we managed to survive as a one-planet species, who had not yet developed star-drive technology, not conquered the diseases that are, for her, a thing of the distant past.

What would that child in the never-present tomorrow think of the chance to sit quietly, warming herself against the cold?

Assuming there is cold, on the planet on which she lives.

And I wonder if that person in the past, or the child in the future, found any different pathways to happiness than the ones we seek. Sitting there, warm and safe, I could have found happiness in the moment, had I trained myself to do so.

The person of the past would look at my life as blessed beyond measure, while the girl in the future could look at me as a primitive savage.

Yet for all of their visions, would they understand the simple truth that resounded to me strongly this morning?

That happiness, in its truest form, is a choice that we make every moment. Although I am blessed to have an incredible wife, two amazing children, and a wonderful if eternally hungry dog, I struggle finding happiness in moments of peace like the one I found myself in this morning.

This is not new, nor is it surprising to me, but there are times when I wish I could be fully immersed in the moment, and forget both the past and the future.

And just be here, now.

If you, like me, struggle with being present in your moments of peace, I encourage you to sit quietly, day after day, and try to listen to the deep quiet voice inside you that speaks from a place of fear and desire, from both your past and your future.

The longer you listen, the greater will become your skill at listening, and the deeper you’ll be able to go.

Because the answers you seek are deep inside of you, if only we will have ears to hear, and hearts willing to understand. Peace can be found in any moment, either by being fully present, or by quieting the voices that would draw your peace away.

By whichever path you choose, may you find your own way to peace.

And find joy therein.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection: Wherever You Are in The World

My wife and I sat quietly in front of our ornament tree on the evening of the 24th. I call it an ornament tree because this year we had two trees.

One is our long serving artificial tree, with branches just perfectly placed to display some of our eclectic, quirky ornaments, and the other a real tree with just white LED lights and stars on it. The difference between the two is significant, and yet both are beautiful.

Just like all of us.

I love the Christmas season, because as a people, we seem to focus on giving rather than getting, serving rather than receiving. For one small part of the year, we seem to ascend to the better angels of our nature, and become the people that we aspire to be.

We are less prone to anger, more likely to embrace. We share our love more freely, with a greater openness and sincerity.

Kindness becomes our watchword, and love our first resort.

And it’s beautiful. As Holly and I snuggled up in front of our tree, her emotions were very much at the surface. That evening we’d attended a religious service, and she found herself moved beyond words as the pastor welded the words of his scriptures with the teachings of Mr. Rogers, proving to us all that kindness is not the province of any religion, and that goodness can be found in all neighborhoods.

She wept openly, and I held her.

Over this past year, we’ve undergone some changes as a family, a business, a marriage, and as friends. It’s been a tough year, and yet through it all her heart has become more open, her love more pure and kind.

I’ve seen her weep with frustration at the struggles of others where she has felt powerless to help, and I’ve seen her give of herself in ways that I’ve never seen before.

It’s been a humbling privilege to share my life with her this year even more than ever.

As her vision has become less encumbered with judgment and sadness, she has taught me so many different lessons. From a woman who didn’t love dogs, she now donates to the animal shelter and would adopt them all if she could.

As someone who struggles with the depths of her feelings, she now cries more openly, loves more deeply gives more kindly.

As her heart has opened, so has her vision of the world.

As we sat there, in front of our tree, she snuggled tightly into me, and whispered softly “we are so blessed”. I listened to her talk about the good things she sees in the world, and in our lives, and I was touched beyond words.

In the years we have been married she has taught me so many things, and yet her first Christmas gift to me this year was one of helping me see things through her eyes, in her mind, within her soul.

And it was beautiful.

Wherever you are in the world today, however difficult your trials, I hope the words I have written this last year have helped you to see things just a little bit differently, and struggle just a little bit less.

For as my wife’s emotions testified on the evening before Christmas day, there is an incredible goodness in the world, and it’s there for us if we can but look for it with a different heart and a kinder soul.

As a people, we are good. As a world, it is beautiful.

As a life, it is incredible.

Whoever and wherever you are, please know that I am grateful for your presence in my life, and I wish you the best in this season and the year to come. I will do my best to serve you, and find new ways to help you.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings

Morning Reflection--Healing: The Desire to Run and Hide

Healing: The Desire to Run and Hide.

I made a new friend this week. She initially found this work through an acquaintance, and then our paths crossed in another online universe and we became friends. She’s somebody who I am in awe of, both because of her professional achievements as well as her honesty and openness as a human being.

And although I’m excited to engage in a new friendship, I find myself facing (yet again) the same feelings that have pursued me for so long now.

A deep and profound desire to run and hide.

I know where it comes from. I also know that since I began this new phase of my journey a couple of months ago, I’ve been experiencing that desire at a level that has surprised me, and so I’ve cut myself off from many people who mean a lot to me.

Partially because I’ve needed time and space to focus on the things I need to do, but also because I have a deeper sense of shame and sorrow now, seeing all that I truly am as if for the first time.

And I don’t want anyone to see me the way I see myself.

Which I know at a logical level is not how they see me, but at an emotional level, that’s the way I feel. I’m caught between this strange collision of a desire to hide from the world, and a desire to take my place in it to do what I feel I can do to help.

I am coming to understand that I have gifts that allow me to help others in a way that is meaningful and profound, but to do so means I have to allow myself to be seen by many more people than I currently am.

Which make me really uncomfortable.

So why I am open to a new friendship when I’m doing just about everything I can to avoid others? Partly it’s because this new friend is someone who I think will understand me, and partly because I get the strangest instinct that she will, in some way completely unknown to her, be good for me.

Sometimes you find people who will, just by virtue of being themselves, show unto you a part of your path that you never understood before. It’s not that you require anything of them, rather that the example of who they are breathes life into a part of you that was waiting.

And since I’m trying to trust my gut more, and live more authentically, I’m going to venture into this new friendship against my desire to hide from the world.

Because it’s only by doing that things ever change for the better. Our universe is proof that everything left untouched devolves into chaos, and so no matter how much we might want to avoid something, there are just some things that you’re eventually going to end up having to do if you ever want to experience a sense of peace in your life.

So instead of saying ‘it’s go time’, I’m realizing that it’s ‘do time’.

Part of healing is rest, part of healing is reflecting, part of healing is silence…. But a huge part of healing is doing the things that will take you from where you are now, and help you find that place where your healing will lead you.

A place that is better than the one you healed from, a place where you can be the person you know you can be. A place where you can give out of the abundance of the lessons you have learned.

So in order to find my way there, I have to be visible both to the people I need to touch, and also the people who will guide me just by being themselves.

I sense that my journey will require both, and neither opportunity will show up unless I do.

— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings