Living Your Convictions
I recently found myself thinking about activism. About the many ways we show up for what matters to us.
As I considered this, three memories arrived. Rapidly, as if they were part of my contemplation.
I have a lot of conversations with women each week. Almost without fail, whether in therapy or classes, someone refers to herself or something she’s done as selfish.
Not because she’s behaving selfishly. Not at all. It’s typically because she’s taking her own needs into account and acting upon them.
Resting instead of helping. Saying no to something she could technically squeeze in. Spending money on herself. Wanting time alone. Changing a plan because it no longer works for her. Admitting she’s tired. Asking herself what she wants before automatically considering what everyone else needs.
Somewhere along the way, it seems that self-consideration became confused with selfishness.
For many women, turning toward others comes naturally. And then culture, family, work, motherhood, relationships, and even spiritual teachings reinforce that orientation. Be generous. Be compassionate. Help. Serve. Be available. Consider how your choices affect others.
There is nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, it’s quite beautiful when care for others grows from genuine love and generosity rather than obligation or the belief that your own needs matter less.
Yet I’ve found that compassion is incomplete when it excludes the person offering it.
You are also someone worthy of your attention, care, and nurturing. Self-consideration isn’t the same as putting yourself above everyone else.
It is simply refusing to leave yourself out of the equation.
Before saying yes, you might notice whether you actually have the capacity to follow through.
Rather than automatically accommodating someone else’s preference, you might wonder what you prefer or what you need in that moment.
When you’re feeling tired, frightened, disappointed, overwhelmed, or hurting, you can offer yourself some of the tenderness you would instinctively extend to someone you love. Soothing yourself first often helps you recognize what, if anything, you may need from others.
Sometimes self-consideration is simply part of an ordinary day.
You pause long enough to check in and notice what might nourish you. Perhaps you want company or solitude. Movement or rest. Maybe an interesting opportunity comes along, and before committing, you consider whether there’s room for it in your life right now.
Checking in with yourself to explore your own needs and wants doesn’t require that you choose yourself instead of someone else. It simply allows you to include yourself in the consideration from the beginning.
Wisdom isn’t only knowing how to respond to the people and circumstances around you. It includes an honest relationship with your own capacity, needs, desires, limits, and well-being.
And perhaps this is where self consideration and compassion meet.
Compassion turns toward what is here with tenderness. Whether something arises within you or in the life of another, it is worthy of care. Your own suffering doesn’t become less deserving of compassion simply because it belongs to you.
And it isn’t only suffering that deserves your attention. Your longings, pleasures, and desires are part of your life too. So is your need for beauty, rest, play, movement, friendship, quiet, nourishment, stimulation, purpose, or simply an afternoon when nobody needs anything from you.
Considering yourself doesn’t diminish your care for others. It allows you to enter those relationships without leaving yourself behind.
When you include yourself within the field of your own care, your yes can genuinely mean yes. Your generosity can arise from nourishment rather than depletion. You can care deeply for another without compromising yourself in the process.
Self-consideration is larger than self-care. It enhances your capacity to be present, freeing you to participate more fully in life.
If you believe that life itself deserves tenderness, attention, nourishment, and care, then you can’t logically exclude this particular life simply because it happens to be yours.
You are also part of the life you are tending.
Perhaps that’s the art of self consideration. Not turning away from others, and not turning everything toward yourself.
It’s recognizing that you belong within the circle of your own compassion. That your well being is not separate from the well-being you wish for others.
And that a life lived with love and wisdom includes the life that is yours to live.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
I recently found myself thinking about activism. About the many ways we show up for what matters to us.
As I considered this, three memories arrived. Rapidly, as if they were part of my contemplation.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations.
Eight years ago, I traveled to Costa Rica for a week-long retreat centered around ayahuasca, breathwork, yoga, and deep inner exploration.
Like many people who are drawn to these experiences, I went seeking something.
The women who arrive in my world are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy.
more because they have a life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.