“Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. …Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be. Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”

—“Patient Trust” by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Motherhood has served as a frequent catalyst for transformation in my life, particularly when paired with health problems. Perhaps this is because the two combined swirl great love and great suffering together, at times in a nearly indistinguishable dance. To love someone deeply is to become vulnerable to great suffering because their pain becomes our own and because of the potential for unspeakable loss. Richard Rohr often says great love and great suffering are the two primary avenues for transformation. Parenting is certainly not the only experience that encompasses love and suffering, nor is it superior to other equally transformative relationships and experiences. It is simply the one that stands out the most in my life.

Several years ago, one of my children developed a chronic, asthma-like cough that lasted for months after a bout with the flu. Her coughing fits took me (and my sister and parents) back to my childhood, when my sister had the same dry, chronic cough that accompanied her asthma attacks. I remembered my sister’s doctor visits and hospital stays for pneumonia, breathing treatments, allergy shots, and inhalers, as well as the panic that she later described feeling when she couldn’t get enough oxygen. Decades had passed since then, but each time my daughter started coughing and could hardly stop long enough to get a breath, my body remembered the tension in the atmosphere when my sister struggled to breathe all those years ago.

Amidst my daughter’s chest x-rays, medications, and appointments with the pediatrician, pulmonologist, and allergist, my anxiety intensified. I was living in that alternate reality we often meet in times of suffering where I couldn’t see an end or solution to the problem. None of the doctors could pinpoint the cause of her illness or give a specific diagnosis, and there were no easy or immediate solutions. For a time, I was tending towards despair while feeling guilty about my feelings and their potential to negatively impact my family.

During one of many appointments, I stood by as the pulmonologist administered a breathing test. My body felt my child’s panic when the mask was placed over her face. I struggled to remain present and calm.

Eventually, it was over. I had a few minutes alone while they took her to another room (for a reason I no longer remember). I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap, one thumb kneading the other hand.

It looks like you’re feeling anxious, one part of me said to another. I had been practicing noticing my feelings and mental state, without judgment or analysis, and tending my distress with compassion. To do this, I had to drop the commentary of my feelings about my feelings (“You shouldn’t feel anxious because…”). When the calm observer part of me named the feeling without any value statements, I became regulated enough to tune into my breathing and slow my exhales, my hand on my heart, sending compassion to the part of me that was overwhelmed. By the time my daughter returned to the room, I was able to share my calm nervous system with her and provide the reassuring, regulated presence that she needed.

Spiritual practices help us slow down and make space for deepening awareness so that we may be more fully and compassionately present to God, self, and others. Over time, spiritual practices can teach us to notice and distinguish between our emotions, which arise of their own accord in response to a given situation, and the running commentary we have about them. As we practice dropping the commentary, which may include judgment or even judgment about our judgment, we can offer ourselves and others the validation and support that helps emotions decrease in intensity and eventually, dissipate. The practice of noticing without judgment and tending whatever emotions arise transforms our relationships with God, self, and others.

Poetry

Unfiltered

The other night,
I was honored to bear witness
to the purest moment—
my little daughter came home
at bedtime
from playing at a friend’s house.
As soon as she entered the living room
where I sat,
I heard her quiet sniffles and whimpers.
As she drew closer, she suddenly
burst into whole-body sobs,
her little body shuddering as she wailed,
“I…WANT…MOMMYYYYY!”
I scooped her up into my lap,
rocking her back and forth
as she nestled her face into the crook of my neck
and rested her little hand on my chest,
just like she used to do when she was a baby.
I held her and tried offering language
to give the words she couldn’t articulate:
Oh no. You were missing Mommy?
And it’s dark outside
And you were feeing sad and missing Mommy.
She nodded, still sobbing,
and I envied her.
I put so much effort into helping myself and others
excavate the layers to try to access authentic feelings,
but hers are still right there,
at the surface,
unpracticed at covering up.
She reflected back to me
the little girl I once was,
must have been,
who could cry when she was sad
or scared
or overwhelmed
and seek comfort.
I carry that younger version of myself
everywhere I go, I know,
and I’m learning to pay her attention.
Living with people day in and day out
is the gift and discomfort
of real, raw emotions on display
in real time
because we can’t keep them sanitized
and at bay
24/7.
How beautiful to witness the sacredness
of my children as their real, unfiltered selves.
May I never forget to stand in awe
of this holy ground.

Practice: First and Second Arrows

Anxiety is not everyone’s go-to, but most of us have moments when we experience overwhelm (dysregulation) of one kind or another, often related to fear (or anxiety), anger (or resentment), or shame. Contemplative practices can help us grow in freedom, giving us a little more space between an activating event and our response. Instead of reacting, we can learn to be present to and tend our feelings before consciously choosing how we would like to respond.

Sometimes the root of the problem is more about our ability to be present to any and all emotions that arise than the emotions, themselves. Our thoughts, feelings, and inner commentary around our emotional experience can deeply impact how we experience (or judge, minimize, or repress) uncomfortable feelings. Though unpleasant, sometimes our critical, shaming inner commentary seems more familiar and less threatening than exploring the tender feelings hiding underneath. While we can’t escape the pain of being human, we can learn how to stop adding to our own suffering with judgmental self-talk. We can increase our tolerance for being present to emotions by separating out the core emotion from the feelings we have about our emotional experience. Then, we can practice “dropping the commentary” we are telling ourselves about our emotions. This practice has a basis in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, or ACT, developed by Steven C. Hayes.

Therapist, researcher, and author Dr. Hillary L. McBride has an insightful guide book called Practices for Embodied Living: Experiencing the Wisdom of Your Body. (It serves as a companion to her book, The Wisdom of Your Body, which I also highly recommend). Practices for Embodied Living contains short, simple exercises for practicing embodiment and repairing our relationship with our bodies.

In one of the practices, called “First and Second Arrows,” McBride writes, “Life shoots the first arrow: we experience the pain of being human. We shoot the second arrow: we add to the pain by what we say, think, and feel about our human experience.” The two questions she poses for reflection are: “What are the first arrows I have experienced?” and “What does my second arrow look and sound like?” For example, in my reflection above, the first arrow would be seeing my daughter in physical and emotional distress and not knowing how to help. The second arrow sounds like, “I should know how to help my daughter. A better mother would be able to remain calm to help her daughter feel more at ease. I should be able to protect her from this suffering.”

As always, if you start to feel overwhelmed with the practice below, discontinue or modify it in a way that works for you, or consider seeking the support you need in order to continue. Every practice is not for every person or every moment, so trust your sense for whether this will be helpful to you or not.

Practice:

1. Settle: Find a comfortable position that will help you remain relaxed but alert. Take a few slow breaths, breathing in for four counts and out for six counts.

2. First arrow: Ask yourself Dr. McBride’s first question: “What are the first arrows I have experienced?” As you consider the first arrows that come to mind, notice which one most wants your attention. Which one seems the loudest in this moment? Imagine breathing compassion to any areas of your body that are tense. Consider placing a hand on your heart as you breathe slowly. Stay in this place as long as you need.

3. Second arrow: As you continue to be present to the first arrow that most wants your attention, notice any thoughts, feelings, self-talk, or body sensations that arise. Notice what your second arrow looks and sounds like. Thank the second arrow for the ways it has tried to protect you. Imagine sending compassion through the breath to the place in your body that you most associate with the second arrow. Continue holding a hand on your heart if you like. Stay here as long as you need.

4. Rest: Rest and notice God/love/compassion with you.

5. Discharge: If you have lingering tension or energy that seems to want movement, find a safe way to discharge that energy through movement. You can alternate shaking your hands and feet, go for a walk, dance, push your palms together as hard as you can, or practice tensing up all the muscles in your body and then releasing them with an exhale.

6. Reflect: You may want to take time now or later to reflect on this experience through prayer, journaling, or discussion with someone you trust. What was this experience like for you? What did you notice? Did anything surprise you? Do you have any new insights?

I would love to hear from you! What practices help you notice and tend the second arrow? If you tried the practice above, what was the experience like for you?

Leave a comment

Resources

These books have practices (somatic, spiritual, inquiry related to Internal Family Systems, and more) that can be used individually or in groups to help ground our bodies, tend our emotions, and calm our minds for clarity. These would be great to explore with a therapist, spiritual director, or book club. Do you see any here you connected with? Are there any additional resources you would recommend?

• My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem (somatic practices)

• Practices for Embodied Living by Hillary L. McBride (somatic practices)

• The Wild Land Within by Lisa Colón DeLay | SparkMyMuse (spiritual practices)

• Mindful Silence by Phileena Heuertz (spiritual practices)

• No Bad Parts by Richard C. Schwartz (Internal Family Systems practices)

• Sacred Self-Care by Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes (self-care practices)

Save the Date

I’m excited to partner with Spiritual Ministries Institute for an in-person workshop on Spiritual Practices and the Enneagram in Dallas, Texas! Below is a description of the event from the SMI website. Tickets are available for purchase here.

From SMI’s website: While the contemplative life teaches us to pay attention, the Enneagram illuminates how our energy follows our attention. Once we notice where our attention and energy naturally go, we can choose to disrupt unhelpful patterns and find freedom. Join us as Lindsay leads an interactive experience with brief teachings on the Enneagram and spiritual practices, providing opportunities to experience practices tailored to your Enneagram type. Arriving with a basic understanding of the Enneagram and what type you lead with would be beneficial.

Spiritual Direction

The work of noticing, tending, and discerning a response is part of what we do in spiritual direction. If you would like a compassionate companion for your journey of growth in freedom, healing, and flourishing, I would be honored to do this work with you. I am also available to facilitate groups in this work. For more information on spiritual direction and/or to schedule a free introductory Zoom call, click here or email me.

Blessing

May you develop a habit of noticing your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors with courage and honesty bathed in compassion. May you lead with curiosity and compassion with yourself and others. When the tenderness of a wound feels overwhelming, may you find gentle spaces and relationships that will honor your pain and contribute to your healing and wholeness.

Be well, friends.

Lindsay O’Connor, Spiritual Director & IEA Accredited Professional