Permission to Feel - Marc Brackett, Ph.D. (Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence)

Website

Podcast / YouTube

Strategies when you are feeling overwhelmed / out of control (emotion regulation):

1. Mindful breathing
2. Forward-looking strategies
3. Attention-shifting strategies
4. Cognitive-reframing strategies
5. Meta-moment

Mindful breathing: "helps us calm the body and mind so we can be fully present and less reactive or overwhelmed by what's happening around us"

Forward-looking strategies: "anticipate something [that] will cause an unwanted emotion and either steer clear of it or modify our physical environment"

Attention-shifting strategies: "we can temper the impact of emotions by diverting our attention away from its source... turning on the TV, walking away from a stressful encounter, or repeating a positive phrase to ourselves."

Cognitive-reframing strategies: "analyze whatever's triggering an emotional experience and then find a new way of seeing it--essentially, transforming our perception of reality as a way of mastering it."

Meta-moment: "a tool that helps us act as our best selves would, as opposed to reacting (and overreacting) to emotional situations."

Judith's question: "What if I were 5% better than I am?"

Me: The poster about "dealing with a problem" on our door

Me: Brene Brown podcast on space between stimulus and response (quote attributed to Viktor Frankl)

"In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down." (poem) - Andrea Gibson

Whenever I spend the day crying,
my friends tell me I look high. Good grief,

they finally understand me.
Even when the arena is empty, I thank god

for the shots I miss. If you ever catch me
only thanking god for the shots I make,

remind me - I’m not thanking god. Remind me
all my prayers were answered

the moment I started praying
for what I already have.

Jenny says when people ask if she’s out of the woods,
she tells them she’ll never be out of the woods,

says there is something lovely about the woods.
I know how to build a survival shelter

from fallen tree branches, packed mud,
and pulled moss. I could survive forever

on death alone. Wasn’t it death that taught me
to stop measuring my lifespan by length,

but by width? Do you know how many beautiful things
can be seen in a single second? How you can blow up

a second like a balloon and fit infinity inside of it?
I’m infinite, I know, but I still have a measly wrinkle

collection compared to my end goal. I would love
to be a before picture, I think, as I look in the mirror

and mistake my head for the moon. My dark
thoughts are almost always 238,856 miles away

from me believing them. I love this life,
I whisper into my doctor’s stethoscope

so she can hear my heart. My heart, an heirloom
I didn’t inherit until I thought I could die.

Why did I go so long believing I owed the world
my disappointment? Why did I want to take

the world by storm when I could have taken it
by sunshine, by rosewater, by the cactus flowers

on the side of the road where I broke down?
I’m not about to waste more time

spinning stories about how much time
I’m owed, but there is a man

who is usually here, who isn’t today.
I don’t know if he’s still alive. I just know

his wife was made of so much hope
she looked like a firework above his chair.

Will the afterlife be harder if I remember
the people I love, or forget them?

Either way, please let me remember.

Andrea Gibson

Learning from Trees (poem) - Grace Butcher

If we could,
like the trees,
practice dying,
do it every year
just as something we do—
like going on vacation
or celebrating birthdays,
it would become
as easy a part of us
as our hair or clothing.

Someone would show us how
to lie down and fade away
as if in deepest meditation,
and we would learn
about the fine dark emptiness,
both knowing it and not knowing it,
and coming back would be irrelevant.

Whatever it is the trees know
when they stand undone,
surprisingly intricate,
we need to know also
so we can allow
that last thing
to happen to us
as if it were only
any ordinary thing,

leaves and lives
falling away,
the spirit, complex,
waiting in the fine darkness
to learn which way
it will go.

Reincarnation

 Today's sermon is about reincarnation, and it's got me thinking about the limits of redefining oneself, starting a new chapter, and how much you pull your old habits of thinking with you. Nature / nurture / karma. 

The older I get, the more I think about change.

Grumpiness

Trying to have patience with my grumpy set point. I have so much to be grateful for, so I bristle at myself when I start the day - pretty much every day - feeling the bah humbug of it all.

My family knows to tread softly around me before the first coffee. My exuberant morning husband knows to warn of coming in hot. 

This summer has been the first time in years that I've been able to wake, get ready, and head to work without taking a kid somewhere first. There are many days there are no words until after 8 am! So great!

I thought maybe I'd age out. Get to be one of those retirees that tweets with the birds in the morning, singing as the coffee drips.