Category Archives: mindfulness

Talismans of Love

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Barack Obama carries around charms in his pockets. People give him things when they meet him–little tokens, trinkets, you might say–offered with admiration and meaning, to feel connected. What would we expect a world leader to do with such bits and pieces? He keeps them in a bowl and every day picks a handful to tuck close, to remind him, he says, of why he does what he does. He writes about it in the memoir of his first term, A Promised Land, which I cannot recommend highly enough. What does it say about a man of such high status, who intentionally holds the well wishes of regular people on his person every day? I see it as profound humility and groundedness; I admire it and aspire to cultivate such qualities myself.

What talismans of love do you carry, visible and not?

My senior year of high school, after volleyball season ended, I started wearing one of my mom’s rings from her teen years. When it broke I replaced it with another gold band, another gift from a family member. When I started med school and had some money, I bought an intentional replacement, one with a bamboo motif, signifying my Chinese family roots. Now I also see it as a symbol of strength and flexibility, two practices I value highly, and which Ma exemplifies. I still wear my ‘one breath’ ring, and upgraded to a more solid yin-yang band. Like my wedding rings, these pieces stay on 24/7; if you find me down, you will still/already know some things about me.

When I travel, I wear a necklace with four pendants: Son’s and Daughter’s birthstones, and each of their passions. When Son left for college I got him a keychain admonishing, “Have Fun, Be Safe, Make Good Decisions, Call Your Mother.” He left it at home, but when I text him ‘HaFuBeSaMaGoDe’ he knows what I mean. It’s a shortcut. A reminder. A way to stay connected across time and distance.

Rosaries, malas, crosses, heirlooms. Poems, paper scraps, letters.
Wedding rings. Tattoos.

Symbols. Representations. Expressions, signals. This is what matters to me, the talismans say. We feel seen when someone notices, acknowledges, and admires, reminded again of our choice to mark ourselves. The objects and signs communicate visually, tactilely, beyond what speech can convey. It’s almost visceral.

Comfort. Power. Hope. Agency. Meaningful objects remind us of our core values, direction, and purpose. We get to choose our symbols’ meaning. It may or may not matter whether/how others understand them; they are for ourselves and those with whom we bond over shared significance. We rub, clench, kiss, and hold them, often in the hardest, lowest times of our lives.

What if we try harder to notice and admire one another’s talismans? Get curious and ask the bearers to share their stories, and practice kind, reverent presence with it? How might that make things just a little better?

Acceptance Is Not Always Joyous, Turns Out

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*Cosmic laughter* and some tears… HOW FASCINATING!

I wrote my last post on the liberation of acceptance in a state of sincere joy and revelation; I still stand by the whole piece. And, the last ten days have humbled me with my own premise. I have struggled for a good 20 years to negotiate, reconcile, and yes, accept, certain hard realities in my life. Looking back, I’ve come a long way, suffering much less now from self-induced frustration and rage than at the turn of the millenium. Ten days ago I honestly thought I had come to that joyous place of whole-hearted acceptance and creativity, looking ahead and feeling ready to charge forward and invent my new way of being and doing.

And I was ready–in my thinking mind. This happens sometimes, that I understand a concept in my newly evolved, analytical brain, express it eloquently in words, and think I’m done (see ‘self-delusion’ in the last post). I can observe patterns and understand logically that certain things will not change. I can create strategies to suffer less by changing my rational expectations. I can plan to take alternative action in the future when I encounter typical and recurrent friction. I can think my way to practical solutions and cognitive peace.

I don’t realize the gap. Then my feeling mind catches up and catches me off guard, knocking me on my ass for a while. Turns out acceptance occurs in layers.

“When I accept the thing, I can put it down, let it be.” Writing this, I had forgotten that while carrying the intellectual burden of the thing I don’t accept, I hold with it an unrealistic hope, an emotional investment, in the thing being other than it is. The latter is not rational; it’s qualitative, limbic, and drives my thoughts and behavior from a place that has no capacity for language. So when I truly, honestly put the thing down, I experience a deep and ineffable sense of grief at letting go–abandoning–my sentimental hope and investment, unrealistic as they were.

I even wrote about it! “Anger, jealousy, self-loathing, grief, sadness, conflict, …: Allow it.” This is where the cosmic laughter chortles now–allowing grief and sadness means feeling them, DUH! Seriously, is avoidance of that discomfort the basis for all of my non-acceptance this whole time? I’m not sure, but even if it is, I don’t judge myself for it. Discomfort aversion is a fundamental survival reflex, the impulse for which originates in deeper, even more primitive parts of the brain than the limbic system. And I imagine that the epiphany I describe in this post is still nowhere near the last stop on my train ride of self-discovery and -education. It’s an important waystation, though.

This past week I hunckered down, allowing the grief and sadness more openly, with more vulnerability. It felt like wallowing for a bit, if I’m honest. I journaled rivers of ink, forsaking my intended blogging schedule. I did a lot of escape and comfort reading (YAY, smutty romance!). I attended to the hard feelings gently, embracing them (at times as if I were hugging a cactus, but still). And it helped. The sadness and discomfort dissipated, and I soon felt lightness and relief, if not quite joy, on this side of it.

I sense now a slow shift, a reorientation. I am able today, at least partially, to show up differently to my reality, which feels new and different from even two weeks ago: less heavy, more fluid and flexible. I carry fewer rocks in my emotional rucksack now; made a cairn with them these last days. And yeah, I can feel some joy coming on.

The Joyous Liberation of Radical Acceptance

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Happy Happy 50th Birthday to me!

I’ve been 50 for over two weeks now and could not be happier about it! Do I obsess about my age? Maybe. But whatever, I’m having a great time and it’s all because I’ve lived long enough to acquire some wisdom, and may yet live a while longer to exercise it all. What a privilege and a joy.
Middle age. Awesome.
I’m like a vintage car now. If I wanna keep driving smoothly, I’ gotta invest in the maintenance. My value continues to grow, and I can revel in some positive attention I get for being my real, colorful, sparkly, strong, BOOBS OUT, middle aged self.

Why is aging so difficult to accept? Why do we resist so fiercely?

Maybe we equate acceptance with resignation? Is it a conventional fallacy, like if we admit that we are ‘old’ then by definition we are decrepit and obsolete, that only young people have value in and contribute to society?

Maybe it’s how we define ‘old’? Is 50 old? Is 30? 80? Is it a number, a mindset, a set of abilities? Does it matter?

Patients often ask me what they should expect to be able to do and not–usually physical things–based on their age. It’s impossible to answer, as each person is unique; and it’s not just about chronological age. It’s about what’s worth doing for each of us. What are your goals, how important are they to you, and what trade-offs are you willing and not willing to make to achieve them? What factors would alter these calculations? What are you willing to risk? What will you regret if you don’t get what you want, or hurt yourself (and/or others) in the pursuit?

What do you need to get to peace with your age, and the state of your body, mind, relationships, and life expectancy? Where can/do you still act with energy and power, despite new and cumulative constraints? What’s great about the now, and how can you maximize that, amplify and spread it?

Resist. Deny. Reject. Oppose. Deflect. Energy spent on these diversions is counterproductive, wasted. It keeps us tethered to exactly the thing we refuse to acknowledge. Opposition and denial are unidimensional and static. When I fight against an unwanted reality, it’s all I see, my sole focus–even as I actively deny it–how hilariously and tragically ironic. I show up tense, defensive, in fight or flight survival mode–often without knowing, or in metadenial–denial of my denial. I get nowhere and I’m all uhnappy about it. We are funny, we humans.

When I accept the thing, I can put it down, let it be. Even if I disagree with and dislike it, even if it causes me pain. Unburdened from carrying it (even as I deny carrying it), I can loosen my neck and shoulders, look up, breathe deeply and ask, “Okay, what now? What next?”
And here is where the magic happens.

Acceptance is dynamic. It liberates. When I stop denying, rejecting, and opposing, then I’m free to question, explore, discover, choose, invent, experiment, connect, and move.
Acceptance is the birthplace of possibility.

Anger, jealousy, self-loathing, grief, sadness, conflict, uncertainty, other people’s inexplicable behavior, your aging body: Allow it. Embrace it all. Hold it lightly and loosely or put it down, or just nod respectfully and leave it. We can choose this: to suffer less by simply accepting first. We get to decide then, consciously, what orientation to any reality is most consistent with our values, goals, joy, fulfillment, and peace. We do this by seeking the best questions instead of the usual ones. Make them open ended and relevant to you, now, here, as well as to your future best self. Talk things through with people who love you for who you are, who don’t judge, who accept you, whom you trust, and who will also hold you accountable.
Self-acceptance is fundamental and essential for a life of peace, and no less vital are true belonging and deep, honest communion with others.

OH I finally get it, I think! For so many years I have grappled with this paradoxical and counterintuitive idea that acceptance is the foundation of peace and change, and today I think I reached a new overlook on the climb. Acceptance is not resignation or wallowing; it is not tacit endorsement of what I don’t want. It is simply being with what is, including how I feel about, dispelling my self-delusions about the current reality. It is also understanding that that reality can and likely will change, and though I may not have control, I have agency: I can absolutely influence the direction of that change. And I don’t have to be grumpy and adversarial while I act–I can choose to do it all joyfully. How exciting! I am ready, let me at it!