By Gabrielle Bernstein on February 3, 2012
Let’s face it: Sometimes romantic relationships can be totally nightmarish instead of wonderful. While there are a lot of reasons romance can be tough, most of the time the chaos begins within.
As a student and teacher of the metaphysical text A Course in Miracles, I’ve come to understand how our ego (fear mind) wreaks havoc in the romantic arena. The Course guides us to see how we project our fear and neuroses onto our current partners–and it shines light on how we seek completion and self-worth in the arms of another.
Let’s demystify the ways the ego gets to work in romance–here are some of the big illusions that can really take us down.
Diggin’ Up the Past
Many people carry disastrous relationship experiences from the past into the present moment. Holding on to anger from your last relationship inevitably transfers negative vibes to the next one. This anger sabotages the possibility of creating a healthy new relationship, keeping you rooted in your history instead of the now.
Future Tripping
Do you envision walking down the aisle after just one date? If so, trust that you’re not alone. The ego loves to future trip when it comes to romance. When the ego runs your romantic life, it’s easy to get caught up in the belief that you’re unsafe without a romantic partner. This mentality hooks you into future tripping, because without that future plan you feel incomplete. The result? It puts tons of pressure on your partner … and makes you seem like a major head case for planning that far ahead.
McSpecial with a Side of Fries
I’m gonna be blunt here: When your source of happiness is another human being, you’re totally screwed. The ego convinces you that all the love you need is in one “special” person. This is what the Course calls a “special love relationship.” This kind of relationship isn’t like your other relationships–you come to believe you need this one special person to feel whole. The special love relationship is exclusive, and it makes that one person better than you and everyone else.
But the ego doesn’t stop there. It convinces you that you can’t live without this “special” partner, which is the root cause of codependency. This fear-based thinking leads you to do whatever it takes to make that special person happy so that they don’t leave. You become inauthentic and subservient so that you don’t lose your special relationship. You put the needs of others in front of your own and deny your true feelings. And it’s all done in the name of special love.
Sound familiar? I bet it does. Romantic relationships are the ego’s playground, and nine times out of ten our ego will turn the chance of romantic bliss into a freakin’ horrorshow by feeding us illusions.
The first step towards clearing the ego’s chaotic perception of romance is to become brutally honest about how you dig up the past, future trip and make partners special. Looking at your ego head-on is a powerful way to weaken its grip.
A Course in Miracles teaches us that relationships are opportunities for awesome spiritual growth. Rather than get all heady about what went wrong in the past, let’s focus on what you can change today. Outlined below are key principles that will help guide you to release fear in romance and cultivate more love in your life.
No One is Sent to Anyone by Accident
A Course in Miracles teaches us that there are “no chance encounters.” All encounters offer us the opportunity to transform fear to love and create a miracle. Accept that relationships are assignments to learn and grow. This new attitude will allow you to begin to appreciate the partner who brings up all your funky issues–because you’ll know the learning that is available to you.
Special ain’t so special
Ask yourself whom you have made special. It’s likely that the same lucky person is also the person you attack most in your mind. Special love makes us neurotic, controlling, and insecure. We think we love our special partner, but really we fear them and hate them for not calling back or doing what we want them to do. We feel so beholden to this special partner because the ego makes us believe that we’re missing something and that we can only feel complete in the arms of someone else. Set yourself free from your special illusions by simply recognizing whom you have made special. When you recognize this ego chaos, you diminish its power. You can see the ego in action and choose to begin the process of letting it go.
The Invisible Matchmaker
A beautiful practice that A Course in Miracles suggests is that we turn our relationships over to the care of our inner guide. When we consciously allow our ego to run our romantic life, we stay stuck in nasty patterns. Invite the spirit of love to guide your perceptions. Simply say: “Spirit, Inner Guide, God [whatever you wish], I invite you to take these fears from me. Help me release my romantic fears from the past and my need to control the future. Clear space for fearless love.”
MediDATE
Another major tool for releasing romantic fears is to begin a meditation practice. Begin your MediDATING practice with an awesome forgiveness meditation:
Sit comfortably in a quiet space.
Breathe deeply in your nose and out your mouth.
In your mind’s eye invite your partner into your meditation.
(It can be someone you’re currently in a relationship with or someone from your past. It can even be someone you’ve dreamed of being with.)
Hold a vision in your mind of this person standing before you.
As you breathe in envision a ball of golden light growing in your heart.
On the exhale extend this light to your partner.
On the inhale breathe in the light.
On the exhale extend the light.
Continue inhaling and exhaling until all you see is light.
Whatever your relationship status–whether you’re married, single or dating–taking these steps can be truly transformative. Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, so take this opportunity to release romantic fears and clear space for more love.
Want more powerful romance tips and meditations? Join me on Feb. 8 on LiveStream Video or in New York at ABC’s Deepak Homebase for my MediDATING launch lecture. Get all the details here: www.gabbyb.tv/mediDATE.
Photo credit: Darwin Bell
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By Leslie Carr Psy.D. on February 1, 2012
“Sometimes, late at night, I’m visited by dread and shame. I lie in bed and think of somebody else’s life. I imagine the love that they’re getting and the relief that comes from being really known. The private pleasures they share. The friends they have and the pressures they don’t. Their sense of importance. The satisfactions of their work. I imagine how fulfilled they are, and how rich their life is. In these moments, I feel empty and wanting.”
– The character Amy, in HBO’s “Enlightened”
Recently it’s come to my attention, with various people and in totally coincidental ways, that a lot of people are really struggling right now with the belief that Other People’s Lives are somehow better or more gratifying than their own. Both in my personal as well as my professional life, I’m getting the consistent feedback that some people are seeing the lives of others from a distance – whether on Facebook, Twitter or in the real world – and then filling in the blanks in such a way that they assume that those lives are glamorous, satisfying and problem-free.
The tendency to think this way is far from new, but in the age of social networking, it seems to have really amped itself up. I have friends, for example – wonderful friends with good lives – who are veering away from Facebook more and more because other people’s status updates are filling them with jealousy, as well as with the belief that their own lives are boring by comparison. As a therapist, it seems to me that this kind of thinking is not only mistaken, but that it has the potential to be psychologically damaging.
At the risk of sounding like I’m stating the obvious here: People do not, generally speaking, post pictures of themselves online when they’re crying or in an argument. They don’t post status updates about their grief, their humiliations or their low self-esteem. No, people (especially on Facebook) show us want they want us to see. Sometimes that’s intentional and deliberately crafted, but it also sometimes happens simply because people aren’t naturally inclined to post about the hard parts of their lives. That doesn’t mean that the hard parts don’t exist though! Moreover, while it may be hard to imagine, what we often underestimate when we think this way is that other people sometimes make these assumptions about us.
A couple of months ago, a client of mine came into session wanting to talk about an internal reaction that she had to a woman she’d seen walking up the street near my office. Evidently this woman was beautiful and well-dressed, and this prompted my very lovely client to make all sorts of assumptions about her. This woman had money; she was happy; she “had it all together” and “didn’t have any problems.” The funny thing about this, for me, is that this client is a very attractive and talented young woman, and she possesses many enviable attributes. I also happen to know that while there are things that have happened and are happening in her life that bring her pain, she talks about them with almost no one other than me, so I can all but guarantee that other people sometimes have the same reaction to her that she had to this woman. What’s perhaps even wilder is that this isn’t the only example of this kind of exchange that I’ve had in my clinical work recently. I’ve had several patients over the course of the past couple of months who have expressed this sentiment – that they have problems, but that other people don’t – when I have felt very sure that other people perceive them similarly.
Perhaps it’s the benefit of being a therapist, or the fact that I’ve had the privilege of knowing a number of people with seemingly charmed lives who have trusted me enough to show me the mold in their mental basements, but I just don’t buy into this notion that anybody’s life is perfect. We all have our baggage. We all suffer. Sadly, it’s the very nature of life. We only serve to make ourselves feel bad if we go around thinking that we have problems and that other people don’t.
If you ever find yourself thinking this way in the future, try to keep this one thought in mind: You never know what you don’t know about somebody else’s life. If it helps, think about some of the secrets that you keep closest to the vest (the things you’ve probably assumed that most other people don’t experience), and think about how many people you’ve told those secrets to. How many people DON’T know about some of the hardest aspects of your life? When you feel really down, do you Facebook about it? I’m guessing you don’t. So please, for Pete’s sake, don’t ever assume that other people don’t have problems.
For more information about this author, please visit, visit www.lesliecarr.com.
Photo credit: Carmela Alvarado
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By Guest Blogger on January 24, 2012
We’ve all had those moments where our minds go on a scary adventure to fear. It’s the “fear mind” that resembles a monkey with rabies and tends to be rather abusive and pessimistic. It says things like: “You can’t do that”; “Who do you think you are?”; “Ewww, gross, you have cellulite on your ass when you move like that in bed!” It’s really like a mind bully, except that bully is a part of our psyche. Not YOU necessarily, but part of the way our minds work as humans. Sooo … we best get to learn how to work with the rabies monkey “fear mind.”
One place that is often ignored when we talk about “fear mind” is sex. We talk about our fear to find love, our fear to take risks and start our own business or get a new job; but when it comes to sex, we might as well be Puritans living in the 1800s churning butter. All funky feelings arise and suddenly Harvard scientists, leading psychologists and researchers become like fifth-grade students — uncomfortable, anxious and avoidant. I say, let’s address it. Let’s walk through the fears, not around them.
Have you ever felt embarrassed before having sex or during sex? Sex is one of our most taboo vulnerable spots. In our Western society and in many societies cross culturally, we have seen an overemphasis on vulgar sexuality, and sexualizing products and even children to sell products. However, the sacred in sex is null and void. What is the sacred in sex? The sacred is accepting all of our sexual selves as beautiful and as something to be explored. Throughout our history, sex has become dirty and has been tainted with this virgin archetype of we must only enjoy pleasure if married. Yet these mixed messages really mess with us, and we don’t have a safe space to truly connect with our sexual selves — with how we feel with our own being as sexual and how we feel with a lover in bed. These anxieties are normal and, once processed, become a key to unlock the door to true intimacy with yourself and with your lover.
Shame arises from this guilt that we are doing something wrong, with our insecurities and our self-esteem with our body, with the lack of knowledge around sexuality and the permission culturally, from our parents, from our books, to say it’s OK, it’s beautiful and it’s sacred to explore your entire sexual self, to let go and be free. This shame causes sadness, lack of intimacy and a block, as we are sexual beings and it’s part of our health to have healthy and fun sex lives.
So how can we alchemize this shame into fiery intimacy? Here are three keys that I have found successful with my clients.
The Goddess Cures:
1. Take time to explore you (god/goddess time).
2. Read about sacred sexuality, tantra; inform yourself on the sacred nature of sex and begin to become conscious around your own sexual self — the insecurities, the fantasies, etc. (Google is genius; use it.)
3. Create a ritual before you have sex either with yourself (masturbation) or with your partner/lover. Light some candles and incense, play relaxing music, and remember to breathe and take it slow.
Christine Gutierrez is a mind-body psychotherapist and holistic health expert. She is the founder of Sacred Space NYC, a holistic healing+bodywork collective, and Cosmic Life, an online hub that features content from Christine and other experts, as well as resources, products, and services.
Photo credit: Jerry Wong
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By Christiane Northrup MD on January 20, 2012
An excerpt from “The Wisdom of Menopause” by Dr. Christiane Northrup:
As a woman in midlife today, I am part of a growing population that is an unprecedented 48.5 million strong in the United States alone. This group is no longer invisible and silent, but a force to be reckoned with — educated, vocal, sophisticated in our knowledge of medical science, and determined to take control of our own health. Think about it: more than 48 million women, all undergoing the same sort of circuitry update at the same time. By virtue of our sheer numbers, as well as our social and economic influence, we are powerful — and potentially dangerous to any institution built upon the status quo. Baby boom women (those born between 1946 and 1964) are now the most affluent and influential group in the world. It’s clear that the world is changing, willingly or otherwise, right along with us. And in many instances, it’s changing for the better.
It’s no accident that the current movement of psychospiritual healing is composed largely of women in their thirties, forties, fifties and sixties. We are awakening en masse and beginning to deliver a much-needed message of health, hope and healing to the world.
My personal experience, now shared by millions of others, tells me that the perimenopausal lifting of the hormonal veil — the monthly cycle of reproductive hormones that tends to keep us focused on the needs and feelings of others — can be both liberating and unsettling. The midlife rate of marital separation, divorce and vocational change confirms this. I, for one, had always envisioned myself married to the same man for life, the two of us growing old together. This ideal had always been one of my most cherished dreams. At midlife I, like thousands of others, had to give up my fantasies of how I thought my life would be. I had to face, head-on, the old adage about how hard it is to lose what you never really had. It means giving up all your illusions, and it is very difficult. But for me the issue was larger than where and with whom I would grow old. It was a warning, coming from deep within my spirit, that said, “Grow … or die.” Those were my choices. I chose to grow.
For most women, identity and self-esteem are generated by our associations and relationships. This is true even for women who hold high-powered jobs and for women who have chosen not to marry. Men, by contrast, usually get most of their identity and self-esteem from the outer world — the job, the income, the accomplishments, the accolades. For both genders, this pattern often changes at midlife.
Women begin to direct more of their energies toward the world outside of home and family, which may suddenly appear as a great, inviting, untapped resource for exploration, creative expression and self-esteem. Meanwhile, men of the same age — who may be undergoing a midlife crisis of their own — are often feeling world-weary; they’re ready to retire, curl up and escape the battles of the workplace. They may feel their priorities shifting inward, toward home, hearth and family.
It’s an ironic transposition: The man is beginning to look to relationships for his “juice”; the woman is feeling biologically primed to explore the outer world. In married couples, this often produces profound role shifts. In the best of all worlds, the man retires or cuts back on work, becoming the chief cook and bottle washer at home, and providing emotional and practical support for his wife’s new interests. She, in turn, goes out into the world to start a business, get an education or do whatever her heart dictates. If their relationship is adaptable and resilient, they adjust to their new roles. Some are so energized by their newfound freedom and passion that they fall in love all over again. If a woman’s partner is not willing to grow, however, he (or she) may become jealous of her success and independence, and put pressure on her to continue to care for him as she has always done. He may even get physically sick, often in the form of heart disease and/or clinically dangerous high blood pressure. It’s important to note that this is not a conscious or willful act; he’s simply responding to the promptings of our lopsided culture.
A woman often finds herself in the difficult position, then, of having to choose between returning to the role of caretaker to nurture her husband at the expense of her own needs and pursuing her own creative passions. It’s an old story, common to women in many cultures, not just our own. The woman in menopause, who is becoming the queen of herself, finds herself at a crossroads of life, torn between the old way she has always known and a new way she has just begun to dream of. A voice from the old way (in many cases it’s her husband’s voice) begs her to stay in place — “Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.” But from the new path another voice beckons, imploring her to explore aspects of herself that have been dormant during her years of caring for others and focusing on their needs. She’s preparing to give birth to herself and, as many women already know, the birth process cannot be halted without consequences.
Caring for others and pursuing unexplored personal passions are not necessarily mutually exclusive choices, but our culture makes them seem so, always supporting the former at the expense of the latter. This is part of what makes the midlife transformation so much of a challenge — as I know only too well.
Excerpted with permission from The Wisdom of Menopause, by Christiane Northrup, M.D. (Random House, 2012).
Click here to read another excerpt from “The Wisdom of Menopause.”
This information is not intended to treat, diagnose, cure or prevent any disease. All material in this article is provided for educational purposes only. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health care provider with any questions you have regarding a medical condition, and before undertaking any diet, exercise or other health program.
© Christiane Northrup, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.
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By Guest Blogger on January 5, 2012
Six weeks ago, totally out of the blue, I was diagnosed with incurable metastatic bone disease. My spine and pelvis were apparently riddled with tumors that were the cause of my recent backache. At 38 and as the active mother of two very young children, I had put it down to a pulled muscle from making up the top bunk bed. I’m an elementary school teacher, too, so I have loads of opportunities to pull weird muscles chasing (or dancing with) kids. And loads of reasons for “forgetting” about them, expecting them to go away of their own accord.
Within minutes, my husband and I were wondering: “How the hell do we tell the children this?” Our two are ages 7 and 4, utterly incredible (of course) and really close to us. We have always made a point out of being honest with our kids, even about the difficult stuff, but somehow this one seemed insurmountable. So we did a lot of soul-searching and rehearsal. Literally. Practiced being the kids hearing bits of information and putting two and two together to make 42. Making sense out of the fragments we had was almost impossible for us, let alone for my little boy, whose tiny hands still stroke my cheek to wake me in the morning. It took a while, but we came up with a plan.
The fact that we only had a partial diagnosis initially was helpful, because it enabled us to stagger the news we shared. This allowed the children to process the information in little bits and think of questions. Realistically, they followed our lead and were calm, factual and positive, because we were.
At first, we just explained what would affect them: that we had to cancel our family vacation this summer because the doctors wanted to try and work out why my back wasn’t getting better. As we always flew to the States for the summer, this would be their first in England, and we’d try to do lots of fun things closer to home. They were devastated about cancelling the trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s but quickly understood that we’d go next summer and that perhaps they could come to us soon.
A few days later, while we were all curled up reading books, we stopped to explain that the doctors had discovered that there was a disease in my backbones that had started somewhere else in my body, but we didn’t know where yet. We were clear that no one had given it to me and no one could catch it from me. As kids are so drilled about “Coughs and sneezes spread diseases,” we thought this last bit was particularly important.
Then I got out a chocolate bar called an Aero (I’m sure there must be some equivalent in the States; it’s chocolate-filled with bubbles but smooth on the outside). I explained that a bone is a bit like the chocolate bar. The outside looks smooth and hard, but when you look inside, it’s made up of little bubbles.
“If the bubbles were bigger, how would it taste?”
“Not so chocolatey.”
“Would it be stronger or more crumbly if the bubbles were bigger?”
“It would break more, or bits would cave in.”
So then, of course, we explained that my bone was like the bar, but in places there were bigger bubbles growing because of the disease. That was making the bones delicate and painful. Then they got to eat the bar, but I wasn’t allowed any.
“But Mummy loves chocolate!” my daughter protested. We went on to explain that there were certain foods that would make my back worse, and some that would make it better. Simply speaking, white foods were out, and rainbow foods were in — especially green foods. We listed all the white foods we could think of: sugar, milk, ice cream, flour, rice, pasta, mashed potatoes, white sauce. Then we went into the kitchen and introduced other things I could have instead: agave, almond milk, wild rice or spelt, yams. No decent alternative to béchamel sauce yet. They loved tasting everything and made their preference clear (agave=yum, wheatgrass= yeurgh!).
As my juicing and vegan diet reached into our days, they became engaged with exploring all sorts of flavors. The spiralizer is a great favorite, and they love the carrot-zucchini spaghetti — who wouldn’t? We grow a lot of our own produce, so juice inventions have become a daily game. Beet, black currant and red grape; watercress and kiwi; carrot, pineapple and ginger; spinach and apple were all quickly popular (actually, only I liked the watercress and kiwi one, but I like it enough for everyone else put together!). We tried to juice like colors together to keep the end product bright and appealing; that really helped. The children felt empowered to help be a part of my healing through diet and are learning a lot about what goes into their own bodies as a result.
Our chickens love the pulp, so the kids are delighted to give the vitamins to them, too.
We still hadn’t used the word “cancer” yet because we didn’t know whether they had any prior knowledge of the word, and we certainly didn’t want to confuse the issue when we were still trying to build their understanding of what we were facing. But now it was time.
I had a few biopsies taken, and the nurse put stars over the incisions so that the kids would be proud of me. They were, and they kindly kissed each spot better just as I would have done for them! When the results came through, we got both children into the big bed with us and explained that Mummy’s disease had a starting place now, and a name. The name was “cancer;” had they heard of that before? Our daughter, who’s 7, had heard about it but didn’t know anything about it. Our son looked blank.
We explained that there are hundreds of types of cancer, and everyone’s story is different. If they saw or heard anything about cancer, they could ask us, but they shouldn’t think it was anything to do with my story just because it shared the same name. We felt this was particularly important because children could easily say, “My Grandma died of cancer” or “Cancer makes your hair fall out,” and we wanted information to come from us, not the playground. This conversation was something we had anguished over, but they heard it and then said “OK. Can we read some books now?”
Throughout these weeks, they have had very few questions. But they also have had very little anxiety. I think striking the balance between pace and pitch is so important. Small chunks of information spread several days apart helped them process and feel part of the learning curve along with us. We are empowered in the face of this diagnosis and are riding the tsunami rather than swept away by it. They are along for the ride, too.
Last week, I had radiotherapy. Beforehand, we talked about cough syrup. Who likes cough syrup? No one, right? It makes you feel horrid and sticky, and your mouth is all weird. Yuck! But then after a while, your cough’s gone, and you can go back to sleep and get well. So my medicine was going to be a bit like that. It would make me feel worse for a while and then better. Except that my “worse” would last a few days, even a week or so. But then my “better” would last longer, too. I wouldn’t have to take so many pills for the pain, and I’d be able to do more yoga and dancing with them again. Everyone’s a winner!
Now it’s September, and I’m not going back to teaching yet. The children are delighted that I’ll be walking them to school in the mornings, and I’ve let my friends at the school gates know that these times are CFC (cancer-free-conversation) times. Even when they’re just trying to show they care, it’s not the time. Walking to school is when my kids deserve my attention.
My cancer is omniscient but not a source of fear or anxiety for any of us. We will embrace this challenge like any other: as a loving, honest family unit. Talking often and openly.
Emily Evison is taking a year off from life as usual to create an anti-cancer lifestyle after her unexpected diagnosis. She lives in rural England with her husband, two children, six chickens and cat. They garden, craft, make music, play games and love life.
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