Tara Cousineau, PhD

Clinical Psychologist, Kindness Warrior

courage

The Inner Critic Deserves Some Respect

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I have the pleasure of teaching a 10-week workshop series to college students, Overcoming Perfectionism through Self-Compassion. All told, 10-12 hours is not much time. Yet spread over two-and-half months, continuity is cultivated just by showing up. Certain ideas begin to sink in. Originally, I based the series on The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown, because I love the 10 guideposts for wholehearted living she delineated.  I threw in some skills from my book, The Kindness Cure, and a few meditations from Making Friends with Yourself, a lovely curriculum based on mindful self compassion practices. I borrowed some concepts from Tal Ben-Shahar’s book, The Pursuit of Perfect. (All good resources for those working on recovering from unhealthy perfectionism). It’s been a mashup of sorts.

My goal was simply to begin a discussion about the tight hold that unhealthy perfectionism can have, how to understand its purpose without self-judgment, and ways to rejigger one’s perception and nervous system for greater acceptance, calm and wellbeing. We need to shine a light on our fears of failure and rejection to offset the false lure of perfectionistic behavior. Every week a core group of undergraduates and grads arrived ranging in age from 19 to 45; and others popped in from time to time, making for lively intergenerational discussion. (Perfectionism is persistent.)

Unhealthy perfectionism is also rather exhausting. We all fall into this trap to some extent because our culture highly values ratings and rankings. Brené Brown’s definition is super helpful to ignite a conversation, especially in a population of high achieving students who are chronically hustling for success and approval.

Here’s what Brown writes in The Gifts of Imperfection:

Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best.  

Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth.  

Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is a 20-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us, when in fact it’s a thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight.

Are you onboard yet? Any notion of “Oh shit. That’s me. I’m definitely hustling for worthiness.”  Wait, there’s more.

Perfectionism is not self-improvement.

Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance (grades, manners, rule-following, people-pleasing, appearance, sports). Somewhere along the way, we adopt this dangerous and debilitating belief system:  I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect.

And perhaps my favorite point: 

Healthy striving is self-focused—How can I improve? 

Perfectionism is other-focused—What will they think?

One of the first things that students are invited to notice is their negative mind loop. After all, each of us has a chorus of naysayers and judges constantly pointing out every perceived weakness or flaw. Sometimes the voice tells you to quit before even getting started. Yes, that imposter syndrome can keep you playing small. This of course can be ruinous if you close off your gifts, talents, interests, or passions. Often students will refrain from taking risks out of some particular fear, causing enormous stress and unnecessary suffering. (See article on the negativity bias).  

Observing the dialog is a first step in extracting oneself from self-flagellation. When you tune in to your inner narrative, often there is surprise, if not shock, at how demeaning or demanding these voices are.  (Tune in for 10 minutes and write down the words or stream of consciousness.)

We’re all pretty good scriptwriters, actors, producers and directors of our own mental movies. It’s pretty impressive, really. It’s quite a skill set albeit for the wrong use.  Here’s the thing:

We can recruit our imagination for our benefit or for harm. 

In my work with college students it has been useful, and actually fun, to name the inner critic. I even have a third chair in my office for it to join us. My willing students are very creative. For instance:

  • One young woman realized her inner voice was like the character “Monica”, on the show Friends. ….pretty tightly wound up about every detail.  Her inner Monica would pipe up whenever she felt out of control with school work, and she’d find every excuse to tidy up or fix something.
  • Another student realized that his compulsion to join every opportunity or club in order to “optimize his resume” – was really about a fear of missing that one key experience that just might hit the jackpot… for getting that coveted internship or job at Goldman Sachs. He was chronically exhausted. He called his inner critic, FOMO.
  • One of my favorites is from a student who realized that her perfectionism, which caused her an almost paralyzing anxiety, including an inability to let herself to socialize or have any fun was, as she put it – “robbing her of joy.” She called her inner critic “Mooch.”

Think about it, whether it’s an inner bully, or a Judge Judy, or a Nagging Ned, what might the voice be protecting you from? 

It’s probably the usual (and very human) suspects:  failure, rejection, or shame. 

It’s there as a signal and as an invitation to notice and befriend it, and perhaps even to silence it — turn down the volume — and assure it that “Hey, I’ve got this,” or “I’m going to try something different this time,” such as practicing to be less harsh — and even kind — when facing failure, rejection or shame. Tal Ben-Shahar advises us to “practice failure.”  I say fail forward with self-compassion and empathy. Over time you’ll learn that you are stronger than you think you are. 

There is resistance, I assure you, in embracing failure. That’s why — in addition to cultivating a thick skin — it is essential to have a soft heart. 

How? As you may suspect, we also harbor a kind and gentle voice. We need to give it more air time. In fact, it deserves a principal role in our inner theater. As with learning anything new, this requires practice to develop a counter narrative.  It also requires allies, like the students who showed up in my group.

You can create messages of kindness to meditate on and repeat, which calms your body and nurtures goodwill toward yourself. This goes for guys too. This is not a girly thing. It’s essential to care for or “coach” the parts of yourself that are scared, vulnerable and critical, as if these unwanted aspects are friends in need. Treat yourself like you would a loved one, friend or buddy.  

The instructions for creating these mini-scripts are simple:

  1. Be clear. 
  2. Be authentic and true to your experience
  3. Use a kind tone.

Whenever you need bolstering, you can craft a message by asking yourself: “What do I need to feel calm in my body?” or “How can I bring caring (or kindness or grit or courage) to this moment?” 

The answers are typically universal human needs:  belonging, connection, encouragement, love, patience, protection, respect, tolerance, validation, and well-being. 

Here are some self-kindness kickstarters:

I am strong. I’ve got this. 

I hold myself gently.  

I love myself just as I am.  

I trust in myself.  

I am here for me, I am here for you. 

I am enough.  

Even though this feels hard, I will be kind toward myself.  

I am beginning to feel love and kindness expand. 

I will be okay. 

This [fear] will pass. 

Your self-compassion statements can change over time. It is wise to try them on for size, even if at first a statement may not fit or feels awkward. In this case, a wise inner voice might say, “This is how you take care of yourself. It may take some getting used to!”

While the inner critic deserves acknowledgement, it doesn’t belong on center stage. It has a bit part to play once you notice the motivation it has in stopping you from being hurt or rejected.  These inner characters do not like to be demoted to a cameo appearance, so beware of push back. 

The wise voice, however, deserves center stage. The wise voice also doesn’t want you to be in pain or distress but it has a different approach than the inner critic. It helps you take in the goodness of who you really are and treat yourself with care and respect. Allow it to have airtime throughout the day.  After all, practice makes progress. 

Check out my The Little Deck of Kindfulness as a great kickstarter for cultivating a kind and courageous inner voice.

Resources:

Facing Fears. Diving In.

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Sometimes I consider myself a late bloomer no matter what decade of life I am in. Recently, I tried my hat at stage storytelling. If you are familiar with The Moth, you will have some sense. But I was recently inspired at work. A few months ago I worked with several graduate students, who I consider our future leaders, innovators, and helpers. (Our hope!)  Each were terrified of making mistakes, or of being judged, or of not being perfect. They were worried about public humiliation and imposter syndrome. (We are immersed in a culture of ratings and rankings, so who isn’t?)

I coached them to get out there and speak, to try Toastmasters or storytelling, as a kind of “exposure therapy” or skills building to overcome their fears. Otherwise, if they don’t then WE are missing out on their bright lights. Because sharing their wisdom is a service to humanity. When they realized it’s not so much about them at all, but rather about channeling their gifts, a new recognition set in. It’s flipping the script of the inner critic. The ego can step aside and their message can shine through. Of course, this isn’t so easy at first. It takes practice to befriend a familiar voice of fear and to calm the nerves. 

In reality, it takes courage and self-compassion… and at least one person who has your back.

We teach what we need to learn, right? I realized that I had to do the same. I had to walk the talk. I went to a magical Writer’s Romp retreat with Suzanne Kingsbury, where I had to get vulnerable and share my writing by reading it aloud in a safe place (in a tent). She is the creator of Gateless Writing, a judgment-free and wholehearted approach to writing. Like Brené Brown tells: you only share your stories with the people who have earned the right to hear them. I took one brave friend with me. My approach is to take a few steps forward, building upon skills and experience, rather than jumping right in and hoping for the best. It’s like inflicting yourself with kind, small exposures. In my field of psychology it’s called “titrating” (or expanding the “window of tolerance”) and in education it’s called “scaffolding.” It might also be a kind of inoculation.

Gateless Writer’s Romp: Releasing the Inner Critic (as represented by the dinosaur pinata)

So after that romp experience I mustered up the courage to share with strangers, but again in a safe space. I signed up for a few storytelling workshops at MassMouth.org.

The scary part is the last day of the 3-session workshop. It’s like a recital and these “tellings” are held at Club Passim in Harvard Square. You invite your friends and family. You share a 6-minute story. I’ve done this twice now. The first story was about me and a former psychiatric patient singing a Frank Sinatra love song at a holiday party (he never knew that the song he picked had been my wedding song). The other was the moment I knew I’d become some sort of therapist after a humiliating encounter with an evil 6th grade math teacher.

I’m starting small and having some fun. The first time I lost my place but I recovered. I didn’t pee in my pants or walk off stage. I survived. Really, what is there to lose? I’m stepping onto a small stage with a friendly audience (with food and drinks) who are rootin’ for me and the other “tellers.” 

I’m taking a dose of my own medicine. 

  • 21 Days of Kindfulness – Get daily notes to your inbox for just three weeks — which is about the time it takes for a new habit to take root. I invite you to kickstart kindness in your life and share with a friend. It’s free. 
  • A Little Deck of Kindfulness is here (see image above). Cultivate more kindness and compassion for oneself and for others. Order now! (in continental USA).


Finding the Awe in You

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When I was 20 years old and in crisis, I climbed Mt. Kenya with a group of wayward young adults in an outdoor leadership program (that I saved up for by waiting tables and cleaning motel rooms one summer). Essentially, I had to get as far away from home and Africa seemed like a good enough distance.  

The head guides, a young married couple, gave us some basic instructions and reprimanded those of us who snuck in toilet paper in backpacks. We hiked up slowly in order to acclimate yet quickly discerned the complainers in the bunch. Once at the top, we were randomly put into teams for the first venture of getting back down to basecamp and voted for who would lead each team. (Anyone with camping experience?)

It turned out I was on the losing team. We got very lost. We didn’t follow the map; we had boiling blisters from unbroken hiking boots; our bodies hurt; we froze at night and overheated during the day. Over two days we fought, cried and laughed. It was both painful and exhilarating. It seemed like I was in some kind of paradise conjured from my imagination, but it was real.  Avatar had yet to be conceived and filmed. This was some secret spot on planet earth and I was a mere creature in it. I understood the true meaning of awe.  

awe

Noun [aw]

an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful.

The other two teams, who quickly found their way down the straight dirt path in a half day, missed the beauty of the ravines, a surprise encounter with a baby elephant, the glorious flowers, bamboo thickets, the fragrance, and dappled light.  It was one of the most formative and spiritual experiences in my life.

There are no straight lines if you want to grow your soul. It does help to have a guide and some basic tools, but more often than not the wise guide is inside of you. You are it.

There are no straight lines if you want to grow your soul.

Climbing that mountain may be a cliché for life or an overused metaphor. But that’s because it’s apt. I literally had to climb a 17K foot mountain to see the simple truth: I was ok after all. More than ok. I was stronger than I had believed.

We don’t have to go anywhere at all to discover this humbling truth. But sometimes we need to go great distances within ourselves to get perspective. And sometimes we have to begin all over again. And again.

That takes courage and patience.

It’s the same thing with self-compassion, a skill I practice and teach.  Being kind to oneself can be unchartered territory at first. But with guidance, a spirit of adventure, and emerging faith and goodwill, self-compassion reveals the beauty that has been there all along, calluses and all.

Matters in Kind 

  • Check out the Greater Good Science Center Awe Quiz. Awe is a relatively new area of study. Awe has been linked to kindness, humility, focus and better health.
  • Read Chapter 17, The Naturalness of Being, in my book The Kindness Cure.

 

Photo Credits:

Cagatay Orhan

Tim Foster

Astonish Yourself: Find Common Ground

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I have been snowbound these past weeks with Nor’easter storm No.3 behind me and No. 4 predicted for next week. The ides of March. All around me is a wet, heavy blanket of snow. I yearn for some color. Not the color of mud, either, which surely is the next palette.

As I was rummaging around to clean my home office space from the vestiges of writing The Kindness Cure, a postcard tumbled out of a pile of papers. A plain white postcard. White!

But in black type was a well known quote from Rumi:

Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field, meet me there.

I paused and looked out the window.

A message from beyond, I thought. This random incident might be what SQuire Rushnell calls a god wink, “An event or personal experience, often identified as coincidence, so astonishing that it could only have come from divine origin.”  He suggests that unexpected or delightful experiences aren’t coincidental at all, but somehow are evidence that the universe is conspiring in your favor. As a glass-half-full kind of gal, the idea of god winks is sort of up my alley.  

I considered the Rumi quote a god wink — the kind to awaken me from a spell. It caused me to pause and be still for a little while.  What or who might I meet in the middle of a vast field? What is happening right now in the world that asks us to venture forth into uncertainty? Parkland, Florida. Syria. Primary elections. Community service. Oh, the fields we can find ourselves in if we are willing to wander there. If we can muster the courage.

There is a story in my book that comes to mind, in a chapter called “Radical Acceptance.”  It’s a story of a mom who learns, through a painful unfolding, that her child is transgender. The story is about a brief exchange she had with a longtime friend, another mother, who pitied her. She was stumbling in a field ripe for compassion yet without a language for it among her circle of friends. That was yet to come. She told me: “I’m not trying to convince anyone to accept my kid, but if you look at us as human beings, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. We all really want the same things at the end of the day. We want our kids to be happy and healthy and productive members of society. That’s not different for me. I know in my heart if I didn’t accept my child, my kid would be dead. I don’t know of any parent who would choose that over clinging to beliefs. Common ground is there if people want to see it.”

The field. Common ground. Possibility.

Of course, the fallen postcard may not have been “astonishing” really.  Curious, I looked up the definition:

 

astonishing

adjective  as·ton·ish·ing  \ ə-ˈstä-ni-shiŋ \

:causing a feeling of great surprise or wonder : surprising – an astonishing discovery

 

That we might be open to moments of wonder, however it falls before us  — is an opportunity to see something in a new way or accept things as they are. Sometimes we need reminders.

Your kindred spirit,

;D

Tara

Behold the poke of the tulip leaves! A sprig of spring.

Check out a few of my recent guest posts and please share with your friends! The world can always use more kindness. Let’s spread the word.

Please be sure to  follow me on social media and like/follow my Facebook author page. Sharing is caring!

Photo by Paul Green on Unsplash

Photo By Tara Cousineau 2018

Picking Oneself Up: Rising Strong

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Gum Boots in Rain Dreamstime (c) dreamstime

Watching Brené Brown talk on stage, in real time, reminds me of why I have been drinking the vulnerability Kool-Aid these last few years. Her latest book, Rising Strong: The Reckoning, The Rumble, The Revolution may be her most personal telling of her work, her family and her life. (God love her husband Steve.)

Rising-Strong Book ImageAt the Musical Hall in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, a small intimate amphitheater, Brené Brown walks on stage, “Hello Portsmouth!”

We cheered when she strolled on stage in her vintage jeans and booties.

“You know I’m an introvert, don’t you? But this is my kind of theatre.”

Yet, I have no doubt that small or large, Brené Brown can captivate her audience precisely because she is so honest and personable. We might as well be sharing New England crab cakes together. As such, I refer to her as Brené, and not Dr. Brown, even though it’s not an easy name to type.

Brené began with a recent experience (not the Speedo story, told achingly in her book). “You know it’s been a crazy few years for me, right?”

“Of course we do, Brené!” We wanted to shout with a mix of awe and envy.

She began to tell a story about how overwhelmed she became this past summer prior to the launch of her new book and other ventures in courage.

Brené describes one particular evening drowning in paperwork that was strewn across the dining room table. Her husband, a pediatrician, arrived after a long workday and headed straight for the fridge. He was rummaging around for something, a cold cut slice perhaps, and quietly complained over the lack food. It’s a mundane moment that most of us can relate to. Who hasn’t heard the familiar “Isn’t there anything to eat in this house?” But it was her reaction to her poor husband that had the crowd roaring with laughter. She began to describe the wild eruption of crazy thoughts and feelings she was having as her internal siren belted out, “You’re a bad wife. You’re a bad mother!” This culminated in demanding her hubby to fess up on just what exactly he was saying.

“I’m hungry.”

I’ve read Rising Strong twice,: once for pleasure and again to study the teachings. As an extension of Daring Greatly, her last bestseller, Rising Strong tackles the tough question of what happens in the arenas of life, in those raw moments and enduring aftermath of failure, disappointment, or heartbreak. She writes:

While vulnerability is the birthplace of many of the fulfilling experiences we long for – love, belonging, joy, creativity and trust – to name a few – the process of regaining our emotional footing in the midst of struggle is where our courage is tested and our values are forged. Rising strong after a fall is how we cultivate wholeheartedness in our lives; it’s the process that teaches us the most about who we are.

The stories, the ones we tell ourselves over an over, tend to be the ones that keep us small, disappointed, angry or sad. It’s these personal narratives that Brené tackles head on. It’s how we can change the ending to those stories that lie at the heart of this book.

I’ve been practicing two of the skills with some unsuspecting guinea pigs: my family.

Stealing a page from Annie Lamott, Brené refers to “the shitty first draft” (SFD) when trying to make sense of a difficult story. It starts with a prompt: “The story I’m making up is…”

I love this strategy because it is about owning one’s crazy drama before blaming or shaming someone else.

For example, with my 17-year-old daughter I have found myself saying statements like:

The story I’m making up is that when I don’t’ hear from you for a few hours and it’s after curfew, that either your phone is on silent, you fell asleep watching a movie, or you are dead on the side of the road somewhere. So while I trust your judgment on most things, when it’s close to midnight my mind freaks out. I don’t like being in that place.

This leaves rooms for her to say, “I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t watching the time and I didn’t want to text you while driving.“

To which I can say, “Well, I’d appreciate if you safely pull over and call or text me next time. “ And so on.

I know it’s working because recently she had to tell me about a very upsetting exchange with a mean girl.

“Mom, I have something to tell you and don’t say anything until I’m done speaking.” (She knows me too well.)

She owned her story, what went through her mind, what she imagined I might say about it, and how she thought she could deal with it on her own. Admittedly, I sat on my hands and held my breath, but was impressed with her working things out. I refrained from knocking the door down at the girl’s house to give her mother a piece of my mind.

Another skill that Brené describes in her own stories and what I call the generosity query is: What’s the most generous thought I can have about this person/situation?

For instance, when a school bus driver flipped me the bird as he cut in front of my car (while I too had kids in tow) I paused before returning the gesture in kind: “Wow, that bus driver is having a really bad day, isn’t he? I bet those kids are really getting to him.”

On the deeper struggles – of failure, heartbreak or loss – Rising Strong holds our hand. The process is deep. It means squirming in the mud of the arena for a bit (long enough to feel the feelings and work them through) . It’s about vulnerability and courage, yes, but the process is also about grit. It’s about sticking with a hard process even though it’s really, really hard. It nets out to a brave story.

Yes, that’s where the reckoning, the rumble and the revolution will lead us.

*   *   *

Disclosure: I am a certified Daring Way™ Method Facilitator, based on the work of Dr. Brené Brown.

Checkout the Rising Strong Manifesto.

Rising Strong Manifesto image

Photo credits:
©2015 Dreamstime
©2015 Brene Brown

One Big Boston Group Hug

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Baby Chic with Egg Shell 123RF Stock Photo

Patriots Day.

Easter Monday.

She was born on a Good Friday.

My daughter turned 14 on Marathon Monday in Boston. Every year her birthday also falls on a school vacation week. As she’s gotten older, this reality has gone from the anticipation of egg hunts to disappointment when all her friends are away. Not to mention that last year we were in a surreal citywide lock down after the bombings.

So, this year was special indeed. We spent it at the Boston Marathon.

Redemption. Forgiveness. Compassion. It was all there. We could have opted out. High security. Large crowds. Nervous peeps. But we chose to participate. And am I ever so happy we did.

IMG_5106

We had five young teen girls in tow. We scored a spot in Kenmore Square, between mile 25 and 26. My older daughter was at Hereford Street with her friends – just at the turn of the finish line – with a mom who cried every time a wheelchair team passed by.

I think there are relatively few experiences in life that makes an impression like a community coming together with compassionate purpose. Over 32K runners and a million strong along the sidelines from Hopkinton to Boston, all cheering like mad. You could feel the energy and good will. For me, it restored faith in the greater good of humanity.

I thought about the work in compassionate conversations. Dr. Andrew Newberg and Mark Robert Waldman, whose work I can’t put down, describes the way we communicate with one another can fundamentally change the brain. I thought, “Whoa, what kind of ‘neural resonance’ might be happening along the Boston Marathon route?”

They write that, “kindness builds cooperation and cooperation builds a better brain.” Let’s hope we sprouted a few more compassionate circuits by witnessing this race!

Even more so, the outpouring of support represented for me meaning making at the societal level. When people stand up for what they believe in, life has purpose. Nobody knows what the personal values of the people on either side of us might be, but it brought them to the marathon.

Newberg and Waldman write: “Even though everyone has a unique set of values – running the spectrum from highly idealistic principles like truth, integrity and growth, to highly interpersonal values like love, family and friendship – when people openly share their values with each other, they come together and express mutual support.”

With Boston Strong slogans everywhere, there was certainly a sense of camaraderie. But more than that there was a resilient sense of respect, awe and love – it was ten people deep on both sides of a 26.2 mile stretch.

I believe the 2014 Boston Marathon will leave an impression of a lifetime on my daughters. We saw the elite runners, the dad of one girl in our tween entourage and scores of people from all walks of life and all abilities. A blind man. A pregnant woman. Survivors from last year’s bombing in wheelchairs. The National Guard in combat boots. Team Hoyt. The runners for the foundation created in memory of little Martin Richard, MR8. Runners from Germany, Mexico, Chicago, and San Diego, Canada. Thousands upon thousands of runners and many more spectators. Truly Impressive.

And then the next day, my newly minted 14-year-old ran 3 miles across town.

 

* * *

7 Reasons Why I’m Hooked on Daring Greatly By Brené Brown

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 (or why I am diehard fan of her work)

DW_HeavyQuoteImages5

Every once in a while along the meandering paths of life, there comes a moment, maybe a chance meeting, a work of art, a dream, an intuitive hit, a relationship, a journey to a new land, or some hard work that pays off – that becomes a deeply transformative experience. As I get older, these moments read like post it notes or chapter titles across the timeline in my mind. 2013 was the year I turned 48.  It was my year of Awakening.

A Reiki teacher recently told me that 48 is a significant number; in fact, she said that every 12 years of life an alignment takes place. I think she is right. By age 12 I knew my life calling was to be a therapist after a significant incident; at 24 I met my husband; at 36 I had my second daughter and moved to a new, but very old New England home; 48 was a soulful year with a trip to Malaysia and Bali with my daughter Sophie. I met with various teachers, thought leaders, and healers of different stripes and colors, over the course of the year. I also received a huge innovation grant from the National Institutes of Health. It was incredible.

Indeed, my 48th year was a consolidation and a launch pad for my life’s work. I had already begun defining what I call the 5 Cs – compassion, commitment, connection, courage and confidence – as defining principles or core values of my work. And then the year unfolded in a remarkable way that affirmed all of these values.

Daring Greatly 1In 2013 I met and was taught by Rick Hanson, PhD (author of The Buddha’s Brain, and Hardwiring Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm and Confidence), Chris Germer PhD (author of The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion), Kristen Neff, PhD, (author of Self-Compassion: Stop Beating Yourself Up and Leave Insecurity Behind), and Brené Brown (author of Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead and The Gifts of Imperfection). Maybe it took a while to find my tribe. On the other hand, the Universe unfolds in its own way and its gifts appear when we need them or when we can finally see them.

I’ve named this year, 2014, the year of Super Radiance, which refers to a phenomenon when the energy of disparate, living things illuminate or resonate. It was a phrase that jumped out at me when I listened to Lynne McTaggart’s book, The Intention Experiment. 2014 is also significant according to numerologists as it adds up to 7  no matter how you cut it  (2014 = twenty + fourteen = 34; 3+4 = 7 or 2 + 0 +1 + 4 = 7). The number 7 represents wisdom and understanding and the word for 2014 is “trust.”  I’ll take that.

Today I reflect on the work of Dr. Brené Brown, researcher and storyteller, and founder of the Daring Way™ method, in which I am a certified candidate.

Daring Greatly Book 2A funny happened recently, when I was toting  around her most recent book, Daring Greatly. It had been a long wintery day, and when I came home I didn’t even bother to empty my satchel and take out my laptop and charge it for the night. When I awoke the next morning, to my horror my water bottle leaked. My entire bag was soaked. Brené’s book (the one she signed!) was ruined.  But miraculously, the pages mopped up the water and my Macbook remained dry. All my work and intellectual property lives in that device!

It took weeks for the book to dry out. The pages are now crinkled and smudged. I have not yet replaced it. I still leaf through it for words of wisdom as I incorporate the method in to my practice.

Turning the yellowed pages got me to think about the “seven” reasons I have found the work so transformational. For me, the Daring Way™ method:

  1. Affirms the work my previous teachers at Mclean Hospital, Harvard Medical School, where I interned ages ago, the thought leaders who founded the Stone Center at Wellesley College, and who bravely championed a new way of thinking about human connections: the Relational Model in women’s psychology,
  2. Provides a common, non-judgmental language to talk about some of the most difficult but timeless experiences of the human condition: shame and vulnerability,
  3. Demonstrates how vulnerability is the flip side of courage and how we need to step into our vulnerability in order to be brave and show up in our lives,
  4. Embraces empathy and compassion as the antidotes to shame,
  5. Allows us to talk about shame not as a dirty word but as a universal experience that often keeps us small, scared, disengaged, and armored,
  6. Honors mindfulness as both a skill and a way of being that enables self-kindness and compassion toward others and fosters courage from the inside out,
  7. Re-introduces the word “wholeheartedness” into our lexicon as an attribute people can develop and live by in their personal, family and work lives.

Daring Greatly Book 3What’s so beautiful about the Daring Way method is that Brené Brown’s work is based on thousands of interviews of men and women. Through people’s stories – their own words – she has illuminated the keys to why some people can live with – or overcome – the most difficult life experiences and still be able to thrive. That’s why it the work is so relatable. And it’s also why it is so hopeful.

We all can adopt practices of compassion and courage as a way of being in the world. In small ways or big ways. Every day.

 

 

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An Arrow Through the Heart: The Merida Makeover

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“Why? Why would they do that?” Lamented my 13-year-old daughter.

Yes, it’s another sad Disney tale. You see, I showed her the Merida makeover. Merida is the gutsy girl in Brave with bow and arrow, who stands up to her parents with typical teen rants, challenges cultural traditions, and seeks great adventure. If you don’t know this Disney princess, she’s one of the few, who from the get go, shows gumption. She came as a relief to many moms, including myself, to have a female character with wit, confidence, self-reliance… and also empathy.

movies-princess-merida-before-after
(c) Disney/Pixar

I had been at my desk when Josie bobbed in from the school bus. I was looking at the before and after images of Merida that A Mighty Girl posted. A Mighty Girl did a mighty thing by creating a Change.org petition last week to challenge Disney’s leadership on their decision to glamorize Merida for her induction into the Princess Collection.  As of today – in a matter of days –  the petition solicited about 125,000 signatures.*

Josie peeked over my shoulder to take a closer look the makeover. She squinted, pulled her head back, leaned back in for scrutiny. “She’s looks ugly!” she exclaimed. “I want to sign the petition, too!”

Later, I read what Peggy Orenstein had to say on this latest Disney transgression, author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter.  She’s tired of it all.  Can’t blame her. So am I.  On her blog post she goes through the makeovers of the various Disney princesses and it’s not pretty.

But I’ve come to realize that the media and retail industries will simply be giving moms plenty of teachable moments with our daughters and sons when it comes to media literacy and how unrealistic beauty ideals in our culture affect us.

My husband is in the brand strategy business and I updated him at dinner on the Merida controversy. What is Disney thinking? His view was dispassionate. Having been an art director in NYC, traveled the unforgiving ranks to creative director only to become an entrepreneur and consultant, he painted the corporate picture for us.

“Somebody sent a memo to give Merida a makeover for an event or promotion. Some unsuspecting art director follows the instructions, offers some versions, sends the redesigns back up the line. A brand manager picks one set of  the new Merida he likes, and in a matter of seconds it’s a done deal.”  In other words, there was little thought to the meaning of the change (or the consequence), and there was certainly no checking in with FANS.  Like seriously? Don’t they know that we have a generation of empowered co-creators?!

Disney is trying to sell product. It’s as simple as that. But it seems they really need to take a hard look at their decisions, rash or otherwise. Disney lost their compass on this one.  Wasn’t the intent of Brave to offer a new story for girls? Let’s hope the petition to “Keep Merida Brave” changes their minds.

You’d think this could be a pretty useful case study for understanding your customer. But the likelihood that this would reach the Harvard Business School case studies is probably slim. Something like this is not going to put a dent in Disney stock or shift their corporate core values. But the sad truth is that many consumers are pretty numb to what they are being sold and many moms and dads might not even have noticed the Merida makeover once it hit packaging. After all, the Disney’s princesses start to look rather …similar.

MissRepresentation.org is trying to raise awareness of media limiting portrayal of girls and women, not only with their film but with their #NotBuyingIt twitter campaign and upcoming app. It will take grass roots efforts like A Mighty Girl and MissRep, and the cadre of girls empowerment initiatives, to not only raise awareness but to help consumers raise their voices.

Josie is just hitting that vulnerable place where looks matters so much (it’s 7th grade after all). In anticipation of her all-girls gymnastics banquet, the buzz the past month has been all about their dresses, hair and shoes. Of course, their outfits are then vetted by each other via Instragram. This is not about boys at all. They are glamming it up for a girls’ night out that will last about 3 hours where they dance themselves silly in bare feet.To avoid the potential tears if she doesn’t quite meet her mind’s eye on the day of the event, we practiced the hair-do last night with a curling wand… a contraption I have no experience with. It comes with a glove to avoid burning fingers. We figured it out with trial and error and she became pretty deft at it within an hour. Ironically, her hair looked just the new Merida.

In this makeover nation I asked Josie what if anything, in her opinion, Disney could change about the original Merida – even for the better.  Her answer:

Nothing.

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*UPDATE:  The Change.org campaign to Keep Merida Brave was a success in part. Disney will keep the original Merida on its website, but the fight is far from over.