Compassion. Our theme for October is Cultivating Compassion, and I am trying to think of ways I can actually cultivate that. Most times we think that having compassion for others is what is meant here—and it can be that also—but what about when we need to have compassion for ourselves? Like, maybe giving ourselves a little grace when we respond a bit sharper than we should, or when our first reaction isn’t quite as loving as we try to be. Just because we occasionally don’t live up to our own standards doesn’t mean we should beat ourselves up about it. That is always a very important place to begin because we need to be in a good space ourselves before we can take care of others. That can be so hard to remember though, since we are often moving at light speed trying to be all the things for all the people. How do we cultivate compassion within ourselves and for ourselves?
One of my practices involves creating a peaceful and meditative space where I can sit quietly and identify what I need: Is it a day off, a problem needing a solution, a health concern, assistance with a project? Or maybe I just need to say aloud the things weighing on my heart—and with all that is happening around us these days that can be a huge weight. I can light a candle, sitting in silence as I clear my mind and heart, meditating and practicing mindfulness and empathy by this small act of kindness toward myself. Self-compassion is hard, for sure, but prioritizing our own emotional health is a critical step in being a loving and compassionate person out in the world. This world desperately needs that.
I am practicing self-love daily. Practicing is the key word here because I still feel uncomfortable at times, but I keep at it. Gently. Remember the words of poet Andrea Gibson:
Try Softer
Honor wherever you are,
Whether the door to your life
Has blown off its hinges,
Or you find the simplest joy
Sitting on a patch of winter sun
On that corner of the carpet
Where you love to stretch.
Try softer, not harder—
Giving yourself a safe place
To land your attention, resting
In this threshold moment
Through which wind, snow
And light all enter alike.

Peace,
Lori