life

Transportable Tranquility

Take My Hand by by Kristin Clark Taylor
by Kristin Clark Taylor
Take My Hand | March 13th, 2023

DEAR KRISTIN: My employer has notified me that working from home is no longer an option. Like many people, I am now working in the office again, full-time. After two years of working from home, I’d established a peaceful, productive work-life rhythm.

Now, suddenly, I’m back to sharing (and spreading) germs in a shared office environment. Back to inane water cooler conversations. Back to being stuck in a four-door metal box on the freeway for three hours every day.

My concentration and productivity levels have dropped and my inner peace has been severely compromised ... at least until the moment I walk through my door at the end of each day. As if all this weren’t enough, I’m now grappling with feelings of resentment, too, because I feel like my “mojo” has been messed with. Any words of wisdom? -- BACK TO WORK

DEAR BACK TO WORK: Yes, sister, I’d love to share some words of experiential wisdom -- with emphasis on the word “experiential,” because the advice I share with my readers comes from the depths of my own human experience. This is kitchen table talk.

Let’s start with the blessings that are hiding within the dark folds of your dilemma, because there are always blessings to be found. You write that your “mojo has been messed with.” It has indeed ... but it’s only been messed with. You haven’t lost it altogether. It’s still there, inside of you.

Consider it a blessing that you have become so intimately familiar with the texture of your own tranquility; you know its nooks and crannies. You know what it feels like to have it, which means you also know what it feels like not to have it ... which should tell you that there are steps you can take to get it back.

Here are a few super-simple ideas I can suggest that might help you adjust to being back at work. They’ve certainly worked for me at different points in my own working life:

Close the Curtains: When you arrive at your office in the morning, close the door -- then close your eyes! My own mama used to call this simple act of shutting your eyes “closing the curtains.”

Pull down the shades of your brain for a minute or two and allow yourself the luxury of both a respite and a reset. We often forget that the simple act of seeing, absorbing, and processing everything around us -- optically, anyway -- requires an extraordinary amount of neural and psychic energy. By closing these curtains for a moment -- by creating these purposeful pockets of peace -- we apply a healing balm to our brains; a spiritual salve. Remember that your eyes are your curtains! And these curtains belong to you and you alone! When to open and close them is totally up to you!

Speak Up: I must have missed the memo that said martyrdom is mandatory in the workplace. I’m glad I missed it, too, ‘cause it’s hogwash.

If you’re experiencing emotional discomfort or imbalance in your place of work, speak the heck up. And I don’t mean grousing about it under your breath or whispering about it conspiratorially with your co-workers around the water cooler -- you yourself brought up the “inane water cooler conversations.” That’s not what I’m talking about when I say “speak up.”

When I say “speak up,” I’m talking about creating an intentional opportunity to communicate with your supervisor and/or an HR rep who can hear you personally and professionally, then offer assistance. Employee Assistance Plans are there for a reason: to assist employees. If you work in a smaller office, sit down with your supervisor, one-on-one -- not just with the intention to let off steam (although that’s definitely important), but to engage in an impactful, solution-driven discussion that will bring about positive results.

Business owners, C-suite execs, and front-line managers in even the smallest companies are beginning to understand that happy, well-adjusted employees -- employees who feel like they’re being seen, heard, understood, and valued -- are the same employees who will be engaged and productive in the workplace. It’s important for everyone to work collaboratively.

Above all, don’t suffer in silence. Remember that mental health and martyrdom cannot -- and should not -- co-exist. Speak up.

Your “mojo” lives within you. You write that you don’t feel any sense of tranquility until you return home from work at the end of the day. Be careful with this.

While it’s certainly a fine and wonderful thing that your home showers you with such solace and serenity, keep in mind that inner peace does not necessarily emanate from the four walls of any one space. Tranquility lives within you. Within me. Within all of us. We don’t have to walk through a door to find ourselves in its presence; we don’t need to go anywhere to get to it, necessarily, because it travels with us; it rests within our core. That’s why it’s called “inner peace.”

Don’t misunderstand: It is a blessing indeed to have a special space in your life that brings you peace and serenity. I myself am fortunate to have many such spaces in my own life -- and the reason I have them is because I have chosen to create them.

But when I enter these special spaces, I do so with the awareness that what makes these spaces special isn’t the four walls that hold me, but the tranquility that moves within me while I’m there. The place is important, certainly, but the source of my tranquility is most important of all. In my own life, the source of my tranquility comes from my higher power -- and I am able to receive energy from my higher power wherever I go, no matter which room I’m in!

Again, I congratulate you for having a special space. All of us should have one -- and if we don’t, we should create one! These spaces can be elaborately constructed or, as I like to call them, “spontaneous sanctuaries of peace” -- meaning you create them on the fly. When you’re at work, sometimes spontaneity and imagination are required.

Let me share an example from my own workplace life some time ago: For many years, my “spontaneous sanctuary of peace” happened to be a very, very small powder room in the West Wing of the White House. As a White House staffer, I did what I had to do to make sure my tranquility toolbox was always full (which required a bit of imagination), and this West Wing powder room was as good a place as any other.

Before I’d walk into the Oval Office to brief the President of the United States, I’d always make a prayer pit stop in that powder room, even if it just meant closing my eyes momentarily or even kneeling for a second to ask for the calm and the confidence I needed.

I’ll admit that kneeling in that small space was quite a challenge -- particularly when I was in the latter stages of my second pregnancy, which I was at that time -- but I managed to make it work. And my prayers were always different: Sometimes I’d ask for strength, clarity and grace. Other times I’d simply ask that my water not break all over the beautiful Oval Office carpet. Often, I wouldn’t ask for anything: I’d simply listen to the sound of stillness and grace swirling around me. The simple act of creating these purposeful pockets of peace always filled me with a sense of energy and renewal.

Looking back on it now, the fact that I could transform my workplace into a place of tranquility made my years in the White House some of the happiest, most fulfilling years in my life. I created the tranquility and wore it around my shoulders like a comfortable cloak.

You can create a cloak of comfort too, sister.

Wear your cloak to work every day, with comfort and grace.

life

New Year, New Goal: To Be Happy

Take My Hand by by Kristin Clark Taylor
by Kristin Clark Taylor
Take My Hand | March 6th, 2023

DEAR KRISTIN: 2022 was an absolute bear. Lots of loss. Lots of pain. I know it might sound a bit strange to write to an advice columnist without seeking specific advice, but I guess it speaks to the kind of dilemma I’m facing. I don’t need advice for one specific problem. I’m looking for guidance on how to find happiness in the most expansive sense. I’m tired of being sad. Stepping into 2023, my No. 1 goal is to find happiness. Can you suggest a roadmap to help get me there? Sincerely -- WEARY

DEAR WEARY: The roadmap I will offer you is the one you already have: It’s the roadmap where you live your life one moment at a time. It’s the roadmap where you move in one direction at a time. It’s the roadmap where you stand at the solid center of each and every emotion you experience -- even if that emotion is raw, raggedy, and razor-sharp -- and you embrace that doggone thing with the authenticity and fervor it deserves.

I feel your pain, Beloved. I feel your sense of loss and weariness. But I also hope you can feel what I’m offering you: In addition to my empathy, I’m offering you my love. My support. My warm embrace. Let these things lift you up and settle you down.

My goal in writing this new advice column, in fact, is to have my words wrap themselves around your shoulders like a comfortable cloak, and to extend a comforting hand of gentle guidance and grace. (Hence the name of the column, “Take my Hand.”)

That’s what I’m asking you to do right now. I’m asking you to take my outstretched hand and let’s see where we can go together. I don’t want to push you towards a ready-made solution or prod you towards a prescriptive edict: I just want you to take my hand so you can step into this New Year vitally aware that all you have living inside of you -- the inner wisdom and the emotional clarity -- is all you’ll really need. It just needs to be awakened and activated.

So take my hand, sweet sister, and indulge me for a moment while I share some of my own ideas about this headlong rush towards happiness.

I’ll start with a question: Why do we create such a hoopla about happiness?

While I love happiness as much as the next happy-hungry human, I believe that the emotion itself is drastically overrated ... or perhaps I should say that its constant pursuit has become something of an albatross around our collective necks.

Let me speak from the depths of my own human understanding: As I live each day of my life, I try to embrace every single emotion I experience in its own, full-throated authenticity -- even the ugly stuff.

Happiness -- as tantalizing and as toe-tingling as it is -- is but one emotion in a veritable sea of emotions. Sadness is another emotion. Heart-stopping fear, white-hot anger, foot-stomping disgust, all of these emotions (and so many more) comprise the ocean of emotions we experience as we live our lives. Each emotion has its own reason for being, and I try to give each one its own space ... within reason.

If I’m feeling a moment of anger, for instance, then doggone it, I’m gonna feel that anger for all it’s worth -- but then I must decide what to do with it. The choice belongs to me. Do I let it linger? Or do I push it back out into the deep water where it belongs? This choice is always mine: I can feel my anger, but I will not feed it. Feeding it gives it more power and permanence than it deserves.

Let’s also look at how you’ve worded things: You say, “My No. 1 goal in 2023 is to find happiness.”

Be careful with this.

Consider a bit more expansive an approach: If your only goal in 2023 is to find happiness, does this mean that when you are experiencing the fullness of all of your other emotions, you are falling short of your goal? Try not to fall into that trap. It’s a dangerous one.

I’m not saying that happiness isn’t important and that it shouldn’t be sought: It is and it should. But if you make the pursuit of happiness (or even happiness itself) your only goal, you are giving short shrift to your other emotions. Why not try letting each one of your emotions breathe and stretch out for a bit? Then when you’re done feeling them, serve them their eviction papers. Tell them to get to stepping. Kick them off your front porch.

This is not always easy to do with emotions, especially the darker, denser emotions. Lord knows I know.

Grief is a good example. Grief can get downright greedy if you let it, as can sadness, its close cousin. Both of these emotions -- sadness and grief -- can slip in and overstay their welcome. They’ll ring your doorbell, head straight up to the guest room, pull out the sofa bed, and settle in for the long haul unless you’re careful. They’ll hunker down in your heart and stay there for as long as you leave out the welcome mat. They’re sneaky and pervasive like that. Develop an exit plan for them before they get too comfortable.

I need to be careful here. I’m not saying we can just suddenly stop being sad by mere virtue of our decision to stop feeling sad. It ain’t that easy. Depression, for instance, is a clinical state that must be treated by a professional; it does not move out simply because you tell it to move out.

But what I am saying is that once I’ve decided that I’m in too deep and the waves have become too high, I must remind myself that I can reach for a life preserver. I do not need to experience my heavier emotions alone.

I can double up on my therapist visits, for instance, or sit down with a trusted friend, or seek solace and guidance from my pastor. We each have our own flotation devices -- and the fact that they exist at all is a wonderful reminder that we are not alone. None of us are alone. Neither are you.

Though you didn’t ask, I’m going to share this with you anyway because it has to do with the subject of goal-setting in the New Year -- specifically, with how I set my own:

As I step into 2023, my intention is not necessarily to be happy in every moment, but to be fully present in every moment. If happiness happens to arrive, amen and hallelujah. But if sadness or pain arrive, I’ll respect their presence as well, simply because I am human and this is what humans do: We experience emotions. This intention to be fully present in each and every emotion is not so much a goal as it a mindset; it is a way of being and breathing and cherishing and choosing.

From this place of open acceptance, my sense of contentment and connectivity grow even deeper. When I stand in full awareness of my emotions, a sense of enduring joy unfolds.

This is the stuff that sticks. This is the stuff that is sustainable; this is the stuff that flows through me constantly, like a river -- even when I am sad or lonely or confused. Unlike this emotion we call happiness, my contentment is not situational.

So as you open up your wide, beautiful umbrella of emotions in 2023, consider letting happiness be but one spoke under that umbrella. Heck, it can even be the strong, sturdy umbrella handle if you want it to be. Just don’t let your pursuit of happiness take up all of your space and energy.

Let awareness and acceptance be the river that runs through you.

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