Plus That: Embodied Intention, Part 3

Embodied Intention in 3 Parts! This is Part 3 of a 3-part series of prompts that invite you to connect to an intention for the new year in your body. You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

The past couple of weeks, we’ve been exploring embodied intention. While resolutions are goal- and results-oriented, an embodied intention is sensation and process-centered.

In wellness culture, sometimes embodiment is connected only to the pleasurable, gauzy, sweet sensations. And while it is part of embodiment to actually feel the water on your skin in the shower and taste the grapefruit in your breakfast, embodiment is not only that. When I practice embodiment, I mean to inhabit all the sensations and feelings as much as I can.

Given this “all the feels” approach, in the first two weeks of this series, we connected to More That and Less This. More That is the sensation of YES; those things we want to continue. Less This is the sensation of No which shows us what we want to stop.

This week, we’re adding in: Plus That. Plus That may be a feeling or experience that you once had but have lost. Plus That may be something that you’ve heard about but not experienced yourself. Plus That may be represented by your One Word for the year or another intention that you’ve set.

Here’s a writing prompt to help you connect with what you want to remember or discover.

Plus That.

You remind me of something. Something that I used to feel myself
Something that I used to feel
Like a heartbeat racing
Like a new beginning
You remind me of something else
Something that I used to feel
Something like what I've been missing

~ Emily King, Remind Me

After getting clear on what you want more of and what you're ready to let go of, what then? What's missing? What do you want to add in?

It may be, like in Emily King's song, something you used to feel that you've been missing. Or it may be something you've heard about but haven't experienced (or don't remember experiencing).

Here's where a One Word or other intention-setting practice can help us connect to the feeling we want to fold into our days. The invitation is to consider what you're missing and you want to add in and then make a list of as many ways as you can imagine that you could connect to that feeling. There's just no telling what life will dish up, and if we think broadly about the feeling we're after, the more ways we'll be able to embody our intention.

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Feeling all the feels is an essential part of embodiment and living in a mindful, intuitive way. Glennon Doyle talks about her experience in embodiment in her recent interview on the Ten Percent Happier podcast – it was one of the best conversations about the topic I’ve heard.

Embodied intention is a choice to feel all of it: the Yes, the No and the Plus. Whether you use a One Word or come at it another way, embodying what we want to create and experience is a change to enrich not just the whole year but all the moments in it.

‘Crastination: Pro- or Pre- ?

Procrastination. It’s defined as “putting off intentionally and habitually or putting off intentionally the doing of something that should be done” and we all have some kind of experience with it.

My favorite procrastinator, Tim Urban wrote a classic 2013 post on why procrastinators procrastinate that’s funny and smart and full of goofy stick figure cartoons. Even if you’ve read it before, it’s absolutely worth reading again. He also gave an excellent TED Talk on the same subject.

Tim Urban’s classic piece on procrastination

As intelligent and hilarious as he is, I’ll tell you the truth: listening to Urban talk about his procrastination makes my stomach hurt. He writes,

I would do [papers] the night before, until I realized I could just do them through the night, and I did that until I realized I could actually start them in the early morning on the day they were due. This behavior reached caricature levels when I was unable to start writing my 90-page senior thesis until 72 hours before it was due….

Just reading this makes me want to put my head down. The stress of even thinking about leaving everything to the very last minute nauseates me.

Procrastination, to state the obvious, is a form of avoidance. There is a task that we don’t want to do and the solution for a procrastinator is to just not do it – sometimes not until the last possible moment.

I am decidedly not a procrastinator. I’ve actually been a little proud about this for most of my life. I am someone who faces the sticky tasks right away. I am someone who works on what needs doing as soon as I can. I, unlike Tim Urban, am someone who turned in my senior thesis three weeks early.

Yes, that’s me with a puffed up chest and a slow, wise nod.

I thought I am not someone who avoids things.

Until I heard an interview with Adam Grant, professor at the Wharton School of Business specializing in organizational psychology. In his conversation about perfectionism on Ten Percent Happier, Dr. Grant talks about how a fear of not being perfect can lead to avoidance.

Adam Grant interviewed on Ten Percent Happier

Which confused me since I would have said I wrassle with perfectionism (it was why I was listening to the podcast), but I don’t procrastinate. Avoidance isn’t my thing.

Then Dr. Grant shared that he is not a procrastinator but that his avoidance is precrastination. Wait, what? Precrastination is the act of completing tasks as soon as possible even if it costs extra effort or the quality of the outcome deteriorates.

Avoidance, it turns out, comes in lots of flavors. Procrastination is just one of them. Another way of avoiding is to precrastinate, to rush to completion, to check it off the list.

I immediately saw myself in this. Me, the Queen of Get’ ‘er Done (see the aforementioned senior thesis). The Mistress of Delayed Gratification (a kid who ate my least favorite Halloween candy first). The Champ of Knocking it Out Lickety Split...was actually my own kind of avoidance.

Research shows that precrastination is a perhaps surprisingly common approach to all kinds of tasks. You might grab the first parking spot you find at the grocery store even if it means schlepping your bags further. You might spend a lot of time doing less-important, less-impactful tasks because you want to cross stuff off your list. You might go with the first idea you have even if thinking about it more or working on it longer would give you a better result.

Check. Check. And check.

I know that some of the best creative work I’ve done – in the movement studio, at my art table, and in my writing -- is when I’ve given myself time to think about and hone the project rather than rushing to completion.

So whether you are a procrastinator or precrastinator, notice when you are putting off doing something or rushing to do something.

Ask yourself, am I NOT doing something because

(a) I am avoiding or

(b) because I know that letting it percolate will give a better outcome?

Am I DOING something because

(a) I want to get it over with and check the box or

(b) because I know that working on it now will produce something better?

Most of us avoid things that feel unpleasant or potentially unpleasant. It’s completely normal and understandable and is unlikely to give you the best results. Instead, look to the underlying motivation. Check out what your tendencies are. Know your flavor of ‘crastination and make choices from there.

Broccoli Lies

Once upon a time, I was a lay leader at the Charlottesville Unitarian Universalist church. It was the custom then for the minister to take summers off from preaching and in their stead, the lay leaders took turns giving the Sunday sermons.

I loved doing it. I loved telling stories, inviting inquiry, and being part of a community of kindness. The first time, though, was a rocky mess.

My first sermon was called The Lies We Tell Ourselves and in it I offered a few common ways we stop ourselves, talk ourselves out of what we want to do, and generally get in our own way unnecessarily. Since many of these lies fly under the radar, I suggested that by supporting and encouraging each other, we could dissolve them and let them go.

Just before I stood up to speak, the congregation sang a one of my favorite hymns. Music is my kryptonite. The hymn hit me right in the feels; I got teary and my throat went tight.

These are, not surprisingly, suboptimal conditions for speaking in public.

I delivered the whole thing in a raggedy, almost-but-not-quite-crying voice. I was flushed with emotion and embarrassment and sweat. I hardly remember any of it.

Despite the minor trauma of the experience, one of the Lies I shared in the sermon has stuck with me for more than 20 years: The Broccoli Lie.

A Broccoli Lie is something that we think we don’t like and yet we’ve stuck with out of habit or fear. Maybe you had some boiled broccoli when you were 5 and it tasted bad to you. Now you’re 45 and you still won’t touch those green trees. Because once bitten, 40 years shy, right? But what if you got curious and tried it roasted or in a salad or with cheese?

It’s not just about food, of course, it could be about anything that we’ve written off for ourselves based on limited experience, fear, and habit. It could be your knee jerk reaction to anything: playing games, going to parties, having sex a different way, wearing lipstick...anything.

Busting a Broccoli Lie is about curiosity, not recklessness. If you’re allergic to shellfish, don’t eat it. If you’ve been in a traumatic situation, make choices that keep you safe physically and emotionally. This is not about throwing ourselves into things that are bad for us but rather getting curious about the many things we all do or don’t do just because that’s the way we do or don’t do them.

Recently, on the Ten Percent Happier podcast, Dan Harris talked with Robin Roberts about optimism and our internal dialog. One of her suggestions was to notice how we talk to ourselves and check out if any of that dialog is simply out of habit. “I never get what I want” or “I’m not smart or creative” or “I don’t wear shorts,” might be an old 8-track tape that is running simply because you’ve never thought to switch it out.

How to Know If You’re Telling A Broccoli Lie

1. Slow down.

   If someone suggests something (or you have a thought about something) and you have a quick automatic response — either NO or YES — slow down. Pause. Breathe. Notice any sensations in your body. Get curious about whether your answer is a habit.

2. What’s underneath?

   From this curious state, ask yourself what’s under the surface of your answer. What’s the story you’re telling? Is it really a hard NO or YES or is this your well-worn pattern? (Read about a time when I uncovered an old story that was driving my actions here!)

3. Is there another way?

   Maybe you find that your answer really is a hard NO or YES that feels right and true. If so, that’s great information and good to know. If not, if the underpinnings of your response feel a little less clear, ask yourself if there is another way of approaching the situation. Could you just go to the party for 30 minutes? Could you wear long shorts? Could you put some cheese on that broccoli?

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The thing about Broccoli Lies is that they are often so old that we don’t even realize we’re telling them to ourselves. We just get in the Broccoli Situation and default to what we’ve always thought, said, or done. It takes some courage and awareness to face the Broccoli. It is an endeavor that asks for gentleness, curiosity, and compassion and one that can deliver expanded experiences, new connections, and the chance to rewrite our story.

[AND if you are ever giving a sermon (or a toast or a presentation), talk to Kate Bennis (and read her newsletter). She is a genius for helping us speak authentically and effectively.]

The Magic Words of Empathy: This Sucks

Half way through a month-long hiking and biking adventure with my beloved Frank, I broke my foot.

Again.

A year and a half ago it was my left 5th metatarsal. This time it was my right. This break is often called “the dancer’s break” so I guess this makes me some kind of super amazing double dancer. Or something.

We were with my husband’s enormous midwestern family when it happened. I was dancing in the grass with my second family. The weather was beautiful, the music was about summer and freedom. I felt seen and appreciated by these glorious, much-loved people. Then I felt a tiny wobble in my foot, a little pop … and I knew.

My foot was not the only thing that broke. My heart broke, too. And my spirit. The recovery from the first break was long and arduous and I was juuuust feeling that I had my body, my strength and my full movement back … and then this. I hobbled out of the Minneapolis Urgent Care clinic in a boot and on crutches…crushed. I felt embarrassed. Ashamed. Discouraged. Disheartened. Disappointed. Dis-spirited.

When we got back to the house full of family, I couldn’t bear to face them. With tears prickling my eyes, I crutched my way to collect what I needed to start cancelling things. Frank went into the house and gathered everybody around.

Minnesotans, the ones I know anyway, are deeply kind people. They focus on the positive even when things are wretched and miserable. Like when it’s winter for the seventh month in a row. Or when you break your foot in the middle of your vacation. They want things to be OK. Oh yah, for sure, they love a silver lining, donchaknow.

Frank knew this. And he knew it was too soon for silver linings. So he gathered everybody around. I wasn’t there, of course, but I imagine he said something like this.

Susan broke her foot. She feels terrible about it. All she really needs right now is empathy. We’ve learned from her last break is that empathy never starts with the words “at least.” Even if you see the silver lining or want to remind her of all the positive things that are happening, it will not help to tell her that. The magic words of empathy are “this sucks.” It may not seem like that’s enough to say and you may want to fill up the space with trying to fix it for her but trust me, “this sucks” is all she needs right now.*

Meanwhile, I skulked back into the house and started cancelling everything. Every single part of that was painful.

As I sat in the kitchen, upending all the excitement of the trip and cancelling all my classes, people started filtering in. First, my actor nephew from L.A. gingerly approached and said, “Susan. I’m so sorry this happened. This sucks.” Then my gentle brother-in-law put his hand on my shoulder and said, “This just sucks, Susan. I’m sorry.” My niece and nephew generously welcomed us to stay some extra days at their beautiful home. One by one, my family acknowledged what happened and simply was with me in it.

One by one, this lovely family tenderly looked me in the eye and said, Yes, this is a crappy thing that happened and I wish for you that it hadn’t. They didn’t try to help me see how it really wasn’t that bad or question my judgement about dancing barefoot in the grass. They didn’t pretend it didn’t happen or make a joke. As they spoke the magic words of empathy, I found myself feeling less devastated. I felt supported, embraced, loved, included.

The last time I broke my foot, I got “at leasted” a lot. And it helped me. It strengthened my empathy muscles. I feel more skillful talking to and being with people in their suffering. I learned what feels like support and what feels like abandonment. And now that the break is on the other foot, sitting in a kitchen with my next few months stretching into a mess ahead of me, I feel the amazing healing power of “this sucks.”

• We are wise people but we did not come up with this on our own. We’ve learned most of what we know about empathy from Brené Brown and we stole “this sucks” from Dan Harris. If you’re not sure what the difference between sympathy and empathy is, or you find yourself itching to find a silver lining, check out their work here and here.

Recreation

In the past two weeks, I have done some recreating, let me tell you what.

In our little camper, my husband and I visited recreational parks, a recreational area and recreational trails.

We hiked up mountains and along boggy ponds (we saw a moose!). We sat in rivers and swam in lakes. In a big sunny field, we watched two beloveds commit to loving each other for the rest of their days. We read a bunch of brilliant books and listened to podcasts about everything from a therapeutic approach to healing trauma to the hilarious doings of John Mulaney and Mike Myers. I even made some art (above!).

We recreated.

Before we left, I would have said we were going on “vacation,” but as I kept seeing the word “recreation” to describe the places we visited, it got me thinking.

The word “vacation” is rooted in the Latin verb vacare which means to ‘be unoccupied.’ As in to vacate, to go away, to leave.

The word “recreation” means refreshment of strength and spirits and comes from the Latin verb recreare, ‘create again, renew’.

We were not “unoccupied.” We connected with Nature and ideas and people and each other. We didn’t vacate. We were created anew.

Part of me thought that we had to go away to do that but actually we can make the intentional choice for recreation wherever we are.

Now that we are home again, I am finding recreation that we don’t have to vacate to get. We can recreate wherever we are: have my tea on the porch, make time to walk with a friend, move to great music, eat a new dish, read (yet another) fabulous book.

Whatever your plans in the coming months, ask yourself, what would feel re-creational? Forget vacation and choose recreation. In these often painful and difficult times, we all need to find renewal.

Go away if you like. Be unoccupied if it feels good. Just remember that vacating is optional; regular recreation is not.