Why Do We So Easily Put Ourselves Down? When We Feel Tenderness for Ourselves and Others It Gives Us The Ability to be Fully Present in Our Lives

Too often, I judge myself negatively or put myself down. So many of us seem to feel this nowadays. I read a statistic from The Cybersmile Foundation saying that 9 out of 10 young people view themselves negatively. I’m not of the GenZ or Cyber generations, yet I still can do this. Why is that? Usually, I become aware of it when it happens and know to not let myself get kidnapped by such thoughts and hopefully let it go. But why does it arise so easily?

 

I’ve also been very aware lately how we get something, or enjoy something, live something, like a vacation, a compliment, an achievement, a fright, or a kiss, and then it’s gone. Something we’ve looked forward to is there and then it’s passed, merely a memory. We can try to hang on to or prolong a moment, but a moment is too quick to grasp. I imagine this is something we all share.

 

And I think these two experiences are related, although I didn’t realize it at first.

 

When I was a child, I had the unusual thought that I might be the Messiah– or maybe that I should be. Not a Divine figure, as in the New Testament; not an Ideal King from the lineage of King David who would establish justice and universal peace on earth, as in the Old Testament. But someone anointed to stand up for a just and good God, or for what is just and good; or someone ready to suffer to bring about a better world. This was partly from parental expectations, but even more from hearing about the holocaust. I couldn’t understand how a purportedly good, just, all knowing and powerful God could allow such a thing. To my young mind, He clearly needed a champion.

 

When in my late twenties or thirties, I remembered I had had this notion and wrote a story about it called The Boy Who Thought He Was the Messiah. The writing helped me see and understand a powerful and impossible expectation lingering in my psyche.

 

Of course, when I was young, I had a very childish notion of God. I thought of Him, Them, or It in a very spatial way. He was The Man or the Being Upstairs looking down on us all. And even though I had never met Him, at least not face to face, or not clearly, I was very curious. And I wondered what it could be like to be so different from everyone and everything else, so above us all, and to know so much. I felt that He must be so lonely.

 

I had also watched all these movies and read heroic novels, and I wanted to be heroic, or to live at least one moment, one moment where I was a hero, for God or justice. I wanted a moment of perfect clarity about who I was. Wouldn’t that be something? To live a moment that was so full, so real and profound? It took years to realize that was quite an expectation to live up to. I was set up early for disappointment and for judging myself negatively.

 

We expect ourselves to be something that’s definitive, delineated from others; that stands out in some way. And that persists. Something beyond not only our body, but beyond our sensations, emotions, memories, maybe beyond our mind. A soul, maybe. Yet, all these change; they can’t be the “who” that we look for. Clearly the sensations we feel, the emotions, the thoughts and other content streaming through our mind is always changing. They’re there, right there, and then gone. We can’t find something other than consciousness, maybe, that has or that experiences all of these. But the nature of consciousness is perpetual change. Looking for a self beyond the moment-by-moment reality can hide what’s true.

 

Our culture pushes this distorted expectation, emphasizing the material, what we accumulate, what separates us from others over what unites us. And with social media, and the constant comparisons with others, how they look, what they’ve done, how many friends they have, this just makes it difficult to notice and value what’s true in ourselves.

 

So, by expecting that we ourselves are a thing that can be defined and delineated, that persists, we expect something impossible. It creates an unreal expectation of who we should be. And this leads us to feel, in the words of Buddhist philosopher David Loy, lacking in some way. Wrong. Unattractive. Unlovable. No one can always be good, knowing, or courageous.

 

So, what do we do?…

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

Overcoming A Fear of Awareness

In these times, how much awareness can you allow yourself? Too much awareness can feel alarming.

 

Recently, a friend told me mindfulness does not work for him. He has asthma and the last thing he wants to do is focus on his breath. Asthma can be so frightening and painful. But focusing on the breath is only one possible point of focus for mindfulness practice. There is a whole universe to focus on.

 

You can focus on something that is easy or enjoyable for you to think about, like the feel of your hands resting in your lap, or your butt touching the chair as you sit in it, or your feet resting on the floor. Or noticing whatever sensation is arising in your body or thought in your mind.  You can focus on an image of your favorite tree or what it means to have a favorite or to be favored. You can focus on an image of a clear and open sky or what it feels like to have an open mind. You can focus on what arises in you when you think of a particular person, or what happens inside you when you are in love.

 

Instead of focusing on awareness of the breath, for example, you might examine your response to simply being aware in that particular moment. What is the quality of your awareness now? Is it jittery or calm, tired or deep? When you have painful memories, you not only fear the object remembered—you fear the feeling that accompanies the memory. You fear fear. Whatever it is that has caused pain in the past is not the primary cause of your suffering. The response to the memory is the primary cause. So make your response your focal point.

 

Fear is both an emotion that can save your life or turn you away from it. It can shake you, but a shaken being either opens its eyes wider or closes them, depending on how vigorous the vibration and how you interpret it.

 

When anything is too frightening or difficult to focus on, you can shift your focus to analyzing the components of the emotion. You then shift your mind from being fearful to being analytical. Notice where in your body you feel what you feel. Notice if any sensations or thoughts arise. Notice how the feelings come and go. Certain thoughts might increase the fear, while others, or the absence of thought, might quiet the fear.

 

When you think you can’t do something, and fear or self-doubt is doing the thinking instead of more rational appraisal, practice how to shift from “I can’t,” or “I am not open to this,” to being open. Bring up in your mind the sense of “I can,” and the sense of open observation. Ask yourself: Was there ever a time that I felt I could overcome any obstacle? Was there ever a time that I openly examined some object, person, or idea? What did it feel like to openly observe or think about something? Or: What does it mean, and what does it feel like, to be courageous and able to face whatever arises in your life?

 

Mindfulness means clear observation, or moment-by-moment awareness of whatever arises for you. It is about letting things be whatever they are so you can know whatever is there. It is to treat your own thoughts, perceptions and feelings as valuable sources of learning. Thus, to say mindfulness does not work for you is to say observation does not work for you, or knowing your own mind or world does not work for you.

 

A Mindfulness Practice:

 

Sit up in a chair in a comfortable and stable position, in a place that feels safe for you. Close your eyes now or in a minute or so, or let your eyes rest on the floor a few feet in front of you. Place your attention on your feet resting on the floor. Feel how heavy or light your feet feel, how hot or cold.  You might sense your feet gently expanding, and then contracting, pressing against your shoes or socks, then letting go, relaxing, just resting where they are.

 

And then let come to mind an image or memory of a courageous action, maybe one of your own, or one you witnessed or read about. What was the courageous act? Who did it? What made it courageous?

 

Think about what courage means to you. Does courage have to be dramatic, like in some movies? Or can it be something simple, like sticking up for someone, speaking out, or doing something you never did before?

 

What does it feel like to be courageous? Imagine feeling courageous. Imagine feeling that you could face whatever it is that arises in your life. Just sit for a moment with the feeling of courage.

 

You can practice this exercise on your own or with others. You can record yourself slowly reading the above as a script and then play it back for yourself. If you’re a teacher or a parent, after researching and practicing this and other mindfulness techniques on an ongoing basis, you can lead your students or children in the practice.

 

This exercise is a simple form of mindfulness combined with inquiry. It can help you be more aware of your thoughts and feelings, of how your mind works, and how to more deeply engage with and enjoy the world. I hope it works for you.