love this

It's no secret that one of my favorite researchers, writers and storytellers is the lovely Brene Brown, who shares with us about the depths of shame, the reality of being in the arena and fighting the good fight of authenticity and compassion, and our own power to know and love ourselves.

I wanted to share with you Brene's own advice on how to cultivate vulnerability in your own life and who deserves to hear your story.

we need to talk

Supervisor: Hey, Katie, do you have time to chat this afternoon?

The words set off an immediate reaction. The equivalent of hearing your partner say, "We need to talk."

Me: Yeah, sure, of course!

Let the internal freak-out begin. Must keep a smile on my face. Don't let the anxiety show.

Supervisor: Half an hour or so?

Me: Perfect!

Perfect?!  Who am I kidding?  I just want to get it over with.  As I return to my office, I can almost hear my mind whirring with the possibilities.  Immediately, I fly into assumption-mode.  What did I do wrong?  Paperwork?  Did I cross a boundary?  Did I say something wrong?  My mind churns, as I try to think back on where I could have misstepped. 

This, by the way, has always been my first reaction, my first assumption.  What did I do wrong?  As a lifelong perfectionist, my reactions are steeped in shame.  I've become a pro at critical self-talk -- my arsenal full of personal flaws, at the ready for moments like these.  If something goes wrong, my first assumption is that that thing must be me.  Playing the self-blame game has become almost second-nature, damaging not only my relationship with myself but my relationships with those that I love.  Instead of opening up moments of conflict to become opportunities for authentic relational growth, it causes me to focus on my personal short-comings rather than the potential in strengthening my most valued connections.

But, as in all things, I am learning -- with the help of my partner, family and friends -- to transform that instinct for critical self-talk into some serious opportunities for self-love.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about one of the new books that I'm reading, The Happiness Project by author Gretchen Rubin -- who, utilizing wisdom from academics and philosophers alike, lived (and wrote about) a year of integrating different happiness practices in her life.  Last week, after visiting her (pretty fabulous) website, I signed up for her "Happier at Home: 21-Day Relationship Challenge."  Each day, Gretchen sends, via email, a different tip for integrating happiness practices into your relationship -- make sure you check them out, it's not too late to sign up!  The funny thing is that, while I am so inspired in learning new ways to love my partner, her tips are teaching me new ways to love myself!  Only five days into a three-week challenge, I am finding that each of her tips can be transformed into a practice of self-compassion.

Day One: Kiss in the morning, Kiss in the night. Ok, ok, it doesn't directly translate, but the practice of showing yourself and your loved ones affection, does.  Why not use this moment to listen to your body and show it some serious love?  Take a bath, go for a run, take a yoga class.  How do you show your body appreciation and love?

Day Two: Give gold stars.  You make it a habit to verbally affirm those around you, whether they are family, friends or co-workers.  Why not turn it around on yourself?  Take this moment to appreciate one of your strengths.  Say it out loud if you want to -- you need to hear it.

Day Three: Make the positive argument.  One of the first lessons in fair fighting is to never make broad generalizations.  Finding yourself speaking some critical self-talk?  Use this moment to turn it around.  Instead of listening to your internal self-critic as it speaks to your weakness, take this moment to instead focus on what makes you strong.

Day Four: Under-react to a problem.  Ok, so we all screw up, we all have moments of stress or anxiety.  Don't ignore or minimize the responsibilities that you have, but take this moment to breathe and "under-react," facing your stressors or that screw-up from a place of peace and calm.

Day Five: Give warm greetings and farewells. So... I had a harder time applying this directly.  But I realized that, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I rarely take the time to kindly greet myself and speak kindness to my body.  Speak some love -- what do you appreciate about your body?

What about YOU?!  How do you find opportunities to cultivate self-compassion?!

By the way, as it usually happens, my talk with my supervisor had nothing to do with any mistakes that I made.  My critical self-talk and search for flaws was just my shame speaking.

beautiful, adored, true.



As this week began, I was certain that I knew what I was going to be blogging about for today's post. 

In moving to Flagstaff, I had made a commitment to wellness and had, for the first few months, carved out a sacred daily ritual, dedicated to healthy eating, daily exercise and soaking up every bit of emotional and spiritual inspiration that I could.  Blessed with the temporary gift of unemployment, I had all the time in the world to dedicate to this new passion.  I felt stronger, empowered. 

A few weeks ago, I began in a new position working for a local non-profit working with families in crisis. Honestly, I love it.  Beyond the true blessing of employment, it is challenging, heart-breaking, inspiring, educational and impactful.  Most days, I drive home inspired to learn more, connect deeply, and engage with everyone I meet in a more authentic way.

However, after months of creating daily rituals, I was jolted by the reality that my routine would completely change.  No longer would I have those long afternoons to read.  No longer could I wake up and workout.  No longer could I count on the basic daily rituals that I had fallen so deeply in love with. As my honey can attest, it was a bit of an emotional speed-bump for me, as I tested the waters of this new reality, missing my most beloved routines and forced to create new ones.  I could not figure out how to get past the loss of my much-loved routines and rituals, could not figure out how to move forward and create new habits.

This past weekend, after weeks of unhealthy, convenience-based eating and a complete lack of exercise, I hit a low point.  I found myself staring at my body in the mirror, thinking thoughts that I would not think about my worst enemies (not that I have any), and feeling like a true failure.  Where I had once felt strong and empowered, I now held tightly to the soft skin on my sides, feeling disgusted and discouraged.  My sweetheart held me, whispering softly that he wished that I loved myself as much as he did.

As the days passed and I slowly climbed out of that darkeness, struggling to remember my worth, I thought that I would be writing today about failure, redemption, starting over.

But then...

Victoria's Secret reminded me that I am beautiful, worthy, whole.

Let me explain.

Until Wednesday night, I had never seen the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.  Honestly, I'm not sure that I even really knew that it existed until a few weeks ago, when my sweetheart and I were talking about one of his classroom discussions.  Many of the women had expressed how deeply affected they were each year when watching the VS Fashion Show, the skantily-clad and unrealistically skinny models convincing them year after year that they were less-than-enough, unworthy in comparison to our society's vision of perfection.  As the event approached, I saw similar sentiments expressed through social networks, Facebook statuses and tweets of women preparing themselves for the self-esteem smack-down they expected to receive.

And so, it was with a true psychological interest that I tuned in.  I am not sure what I expected to experience, but all I could think, the models strutting down the runway, was this...

I am beautiful. The women on TV, they too are beautiful. But my worth is not defined by their proportions. Watching the models, decked out in angel wings and lacy lingerie, I was remind that I am real, I am whole. When my sweetheart wraps his arms around me, love-handles and all, it is not my measurements that define his love.  While it's nice to hear, I don't need anyone else to remind me of my worth. My body, while cushioned and curvy, is beautiful, real, authentically me.  And to wish that I was anyone else is to deny that I am beautiful, adored, true.

"love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
and brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember,
this is important:
you are worth more than who you f*ck
you are worth more than a waistline
you are worth more than any naked body could proclaim
in the shadows, more than a man's whim
or your father's mistake
you are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4
you are no less valuable as a 32A than a 36C,
your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood;
wisdom."

 

-mary lambert, i know girls (bodylove) -

today, i am grateful for...

Nestled neatly on his desk, amongst the papers, pens and picture frames, my sweetheart keeps a daily calendar.  A beloved Christmas present from my dad, the calendar contains daily quotes from NBC's "The Office."  The other day, as we were flipping through the previous weeks' moments of pure Office hilarity, we hit upon this gem.  Now, to be totally honest, I have no idea what happened here or what episode it's from, but something in the interaction spoke deeply to me. 

I have a dirty little secret (other than the 15 mini candy bar wrappers I threw away in the dumpster this morning... whoops, did I just share that?!).  Sometimes, I seriously suck at communicating.  

Just two days ago, over dinner, my honey and I experienced our own little version of Pam and Oscar's conversation (...in this case, I'd be Oscar).  Here's how it played out (the short version... the long version is a sad and drawn-out mess of communication dysfunction, on my part).  

I am overwhelmed.  Don't say anything.  I am stressed.  Don't say anything.  Phone rings, texts beep, remember I had forgotten to send an email, overwhelming feeling increases.  Don't say anything.  Honey asks for a favor, I say yes.  Still don't say anything.  Go oddly quiet.  Honey knowingly asks what is wrong.  I explode in a snotty mess of tears.  He asks me to share, patiently waiting while I work through the spectrum of emotions.  I blame, accuse, collapse and finally admit... he wraps his arms around me.  I sob, forcing out the words: "I don't know how to share."  

He, of course, knows this already.

Don't get me wrong, most days, I'm on my communication game.  My honey and I work in unison, opening up, growing in loving honesty, cultivating gratitude for one another and our partnership.  We are 3 steps ahead, seeing potential problems, sharing with vulnerability.  I catch my partner's pass, respond with compassion, see where our relationship needs to grow and make it happen.  

But some days... I am not.  And, to be totally honest, the same can be said of my partner.  We fumble.  We miss a pass.  Or worse... there are days when we don't even show up for the game.  It's on days like this that we have to revisit the game tape and figure out where we went wrong.

It's days like this when I am grateful for the gift of forgiveness.

I am deeply inspired by my friends and family who are using this month leading up to Thanksgiving as a time to cultivate gratitude.  Whether it's through pictures on Instagram, statuses on Facebook, or the fundamental act of cultivating gratitude in real-time (hint, hint, life-changing stuff), I am encouraged, enlivened and inspired by the life-giving fruits of appreciation and thanksgiving.  As Brene Brown writes, "Practicing gratitude is how we acknowledge that there's enough and that we're enough."

Today, I am grateful for the deeply personal gift of forgiveness.  I am grateful for a partnership where commitment, compassion and trust encourage us through the sometimes messy work of growing in relationship with one another.  I am grateful for my relationships with family and friends, created on the foundation of unconditional love and open to growth and change.  I am so thankful for their continual love, support and strength.  Especially on those days that I don't show up as my best self... and even on those days that I do.

What about you, my dear friends?  What are you grateful for today?

numb the dark and you numb the light

Happy November, my dear friends!

I can't believe that it's already here, though the rows upon rows of Christmas decorations and toys are telling me that it's so (not that I'm one to complain... I am obsessed with the holiday season, something that I'm sure will be obvious in the coming weeks)!  

I pray that you all are safe and sound wherever you are -- I am sending love to all of you who experienced the wrath of Hurricane Sandy this past week, and I hope that you are warm and rested in your corner of the world.

For me, with each new month comes reflection.  I don't know what it is about the passing of each month, but something about the arrival of a new one reminds me to check my priorities, restructure my goals and recommit to my purpose.  It's as if the turning of that calendar page is a sobering reminder of the importance of mindfulness, somehow speaking deeply into my heart... don't let this experience pass you by, live in the present, be mindful of each day, each passing moment.

If you've been following along, you know that one of my recent literary goldmines has been the book Daring Greatly, by Brene Brown.  While I usually inhale a new book (like the one I finished yesterday while recovering from a sore throat in bed), this particular gem has had me working through it slowly.  It has so much goodness, so much meat to it, that I just want to savor every bite.  With each page, I am inspired and emboldened, not to mention soothed by the realization that my neuroses are quite normal.

To be completely honest... warning: moment of vulnerability here... while I attempt to keep a mask of cool, calm and control (gotta love that alliteration!), I am, sometimes (more frequently than I would like to be), a total ball of neurotic, anxious energy, albeit a very pretty and well-groomed one.  My insecure thoughts like to run away with themselves, jumping from presumed weakness to weakness with glee, leaving me (and, let's be honest, my sweetheart) with a blubbering mess of anxiety and shame.  Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds.

And, from what I've learned... while it might differ in degree or particular neuroses... I'm not alone.  We may not all dissolve into tears at the end of an anxiety-producing day, or be victim to the disease of overanalysis, but our anxieties, our shame-filled insecurites... well, they're pretty universal.  And, we all work through these painful pieces of vulnerability differently.  Some of us exercise.  Others of us eat.  Some of us direct that anxiety onto our partners, fearful of speaking the words of vulnerability.  Some of us are proactive, recognizing our patterns and creating boundaries to manage them in advance.  Some of us hide in perfectionism, while many protect ourselves by desperately guarding ourselves against that pain and limiting our joy, as well.  The list goes on...

But, in our society of crazy-busy, fill-every-moment, must-be-productive-ness, one of our most commonly used defenses is that of numbing.  We use food, substances, even daily distractions to avoid our pain, our naked vulnerability.  

Brene writes:

"... numbing vulnerability is especially debilitating because

it doesn't just deaden the pain of our difficult experiences;

numbing vulnerability also dulls our experiences of love, joy,

belonging, creativity, and empathy.

We can't selectively numb emotion.

Numb the dark and you numb the light."

While I was reading today, red holiday cup in hand and curled up in the comfy corner chair at my local Starbucks, I was struck with how deeply engrained our numbing-strategies are within our lives.  Brene speaks of it as a kind of addictive behavior, and while it may not be compulsive or chronic like addiction, our attempts to numb our vulnerability, shame, anxiety and disconnection are deep-seated and desperate.  We numb with comfort foods, that glass (or two or three) of wine after a long day, with pills.  It's so habitual that it's normalized, accepted, even suggested. But we've also learned to numb with the distractions around us -- the tv, the internet, our smartphones.  Instead of mindfulness, we've turned to mindless distractions, transforming what could be beautiful, relaxing or connecting -- your favorite tv show, fruitful conversation, long-distance connection -- into compulsion and desperation.  We lose track of time online instead of having that sometimes difficult conversation with our partner.  We choose social networks instead of spending quality time with our family.  We compulsively check our phones to the point of drowning out the social interaction around us.  We're so plugged in that we're tuned out.

"For me, it wasn't just the dance halls, cold beer, and Marlboro Lights 

of my youth that got so out of hand - it was banana bread, 

chips and queso, e-mail, work, staying busy, incessant worrying, planning, 

perfectionism, and anything else that could dull those agonizing 

and anxiety-fueled feelings of vulnerability."

-Brene Brown-

My habits of distraction are deeply engrained -- constantly checking my phone, my social networks, my email.  Sometimes, I miss out on conversation. Or a passing bit of beauty on a long drive. Sometimes, I use my favorite romcom to check out of life for a bit -- numbing my anxiety with the familiar actors and predictable story lines.  Other times, I use busyness to think about something else, anything else than the nagging anxiety. And I'm missing out on the tough, vulnerable, messy, and beautiful moments for growth and joy.  I am tired of the numbing distractions, the unconscious bingeing, the habits created out of a wounded desire to disconnect.

This month, I am intentionally practicing being plugged into life, unplugging my phone and computer (other than for studying purposes) after 9pm with a commitment to return only after breakfast the next morning.  On the other side of the world, I have a dear friend who is unplugging completely one day a week to reconnect and refresh.  What about you? Do you need to re-program how you eat? Or drink? How can you cultivate connection, practice self-compassion and explore vulnerability? Where have you numbed out?  I would love to create a community here where we can share and learn and grow together, because I know that I am learning so much from you.

Sending love your way.  Be kind to yourselves!

love thyself

"... we can only love others as much as we love ourselves."

Brene Brown, Daring Greatly

Everyday, at 5:00pm, my alarm goes off on my phone and blinks the word, "kindness."  More than just announcing the end of the classic work day, this little reminder is one of the ways that I actively work to love myself.  My youngest sister calls this my "say-something-nice" time -- a moment where the rest of the world freezes, and I take a split second to appreciate and honor who I am with the tiniest little inward expression of kindness.  God bless her little heart, she's jumped on the bandwagon, too, choosing to use my 5pm reminder to speak kindness to me.  Just the other day, while we were Skyping (what a beautiful, miraculous invention!), she said that she wanted to give me my compliment in advance, bringing me close to tears when she told me, "I love seeing you smile... oh, and you do a really good job cutting [the boyfriend's] hair."  

Which, by the way, I do.

The truth is that I have a habit of being my own worst critic.  Every tiny flaw, every little blemish, every moment of imperfection -- my instinct is to seize it and use it to further prove to myself that I am not enough.  Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not good enough... on and on.  And I know that I am not the only one.

We live in a society where we are never enough, and, despite the narcissistic leanings of our culture, the "love" that we may have for ourselves is oftentimes a mask for the shame, insecurity and fear of being "not enough."  We cake on our make-up, bulk up our muscles, and stroke our egos.  I think of our usage of social networks, the masks that we carefully reveal to the world, and the inner comparisons of our daily lives to others' "highlight reel."  Our "love" is the armor we put on when we don't believe that we are worthy of being loved, even by ourselves.  Even more than that, we are taught that to appreciate the deeply beautiful parts of ourselves is to break some fundamental societal rule.  Ask almost anyone and they will tell you ten things that they think are wrong with them before opening up with what is most right with them.  To appreciate our greatest qualities is an act of vulnerability, to do it in public a frightening rebellion against the norm.  We've confused humility with self-deprecation.  We somehow believe that loving others means denying ourselves the same compassion.  

There was a point, about a year ago, when I was just fed up, exhausted even, with how I treated myself.  I was my own bully.  It was heartbreaking and internally degrading.  But I felt tied to this pattern of self-deprecation, confused about how to truly love myself without being "in love" with myself.  There was something almost scary about entertaining the idea of loving who I was and an unhealthy comfort in the familiarity of the shame I experienced -- like opening that door to love would be more work, more pain.

And guess what?  I was right.  Opening that door sucked, in a way.  But it was worth the work, worth the pain in the discovery of unhealthy patterns and relationships, worth the painstaking unveiling of the greatest parts of who I am.  And it has left me with deep gratitude.  I am grateful for a remarkable therapist who inspired my "say-something-nice" reminders, which, by the way, began as a three-times-a-day practice.   I am grateful for the reminders from family and friends to be kind to myself.  And guess what else?  I am finding that I am grateful for who I am, as well.  

To truly love others, to be in whole, complete, vulnerable and compassionate relationship with others, requires that we first love ourselves.  When I actively practice self-love, my relationships with others are deepened.  It changes the way that I love my partner, my family, my closest friends.  And, hey, if that weren't enough, I'm just plain happier.  It's transformative.  In fact, studies show that self-compassion (which goes beyond the highly touted self-esteem) could be the "key to unlocking your true potential," as well as a barrier against anxiety.

As for me, my daily "say-something-nice" time is only one weapon in my arsenal of self-compassion.  How about you?  What weapons are in your arsenal? 

dare greatly

Happy Friday, my dearest friends!  

I can't begin to tell you how beautiful it is today here in our little mountain town -- Autumn has arrived!  The leaves are turning, the sky is clear and the air is deliciously crisp!   We're finally bundled in warm sweaters and blankets, drinking in all of the autumnal wonderfulness (not to mention my fair share of tea and Pumpkin Spice Lattes).

Photo credit: Kate Krueger

As I have mentioned before, one of the biggest blessings to arise from this blogging experience has been in reconnecting with old and very dear friends -- the kind where you can not talk or see each other for months or years and, in coming back together, can connect on an even deeper level.  I am truly honored and beyond grateful.  

One of these beautiful souls is a woman that I call my "heart twin" -- for many reasons beyond the fact that we were both born on the 27th of October (or, as my parents like to call it, 'the day that life began.').  I could go on and on about her lovely and compassionate heart (but she's heard it all from me before).  She, like me, is obsessed with books, and mentions of our favorites are regular occurrences in our emails.  This year, for our birthday, she sent me -- from almost 20,000 miles away -- a book that I have been beyond desperate to read: Daring Greatly, by one of my favorite researchers (and regular toliveboldly resource), Brene Brown.

While I have had the urge to just inhale the words (yes, it's that good), there is so much inspiration housed within the pages that I have been forcing myself to slow down, even reading some of the chapters twice while I underline and fill the margins with notes.  My mind is percolating with inspiration, and my heart is challenged by her call to vulnerability and authenticity.  

Instead of writing my usual post, I wanted to limit my words and share with you Brene's inspiration for Daring Greatly, by a man who was also, believe it or not, born on the 27th of October.  I have read it at least a dozen times and each time it speaks to me in a different way (oftentimes, moving me to tears).  I would love to hear your thoughts, my dearest friends, and hope that it inspires you, as well. Have a beautiful weekend, and remember to be kind to yourselves.

"The Man in the Arena"

"Citizenship in a Republic"

Theodore Roosevelt

April 23, 1910 * Paris, France 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out 

how the strong man stumbles, 

or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,

whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;

who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again.

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;

but who does actually strive to do the deeds;

who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions,

who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,

and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly..."

doing the work

"Problems do not go away.  They must be worked through or else they remain, forever a barrier to the growth and development of the spirit."

The Road Less Traveled

M. Scott Peck

This past week has been a particularly difficult one for blog writing. Each time I would sit down at my computer to begin the process of brainstorming, writing and editing (and re-writing and re-editing), I found myself without inspiration.  And, while I could easily chalk it up to writers block or just plain laziness, the truth is that it was just a plain old difficult week.

Since moving to Flagstaff, I have found myself full of energy, excited to create change, live boldly, and explore the world of wellness.  I have been writing, reading, working out and... very slowly... learning how to cook healthful foods.  I have been able to battle those tricky self-critical thoughts with joyful exuberance and hopeful optimism.  And, while I have still been working out on a daily basis and maintaining my healthy diet, this week has been... different.  I have had moments of complete self-doubt, exhaustion and total vulnerability, fighting an internal battle between fear and courage.  Part of me cried out to return to a boxed-in version of myself, to give up and give in to my familiar counterparts - guilt and shame.  The other part of me battled back, fighting tooth and nail to stay strong, remain confident and trust the process. 

In essence, I was doing the work.

I just recently finished (as in... today) the book that I have been reading for almost a month - The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck.  My gorgeous and brilliant sister, two years my junior and one of the most honest, authentic and passionate women I have ever known, has been (not so subtly) suggesting that I read the book for almost three years now.  My mother, a sponge for wisdom and knowledge, followed suit, urging me to borrow her well-loved copy of the book.  I am not sure why I fought the suggestion for so long, but I am certain that there was a wisdom to why I waited until this moment to finally open the pages.

As it was my mother's copy of the book, loved over, ragged and missing its cover, I took notes in my journal, copying down passages word for word that inspired me as I read.  In looking the passages over, the passage above struck a chord in me: problems do not go away.  Do the work.

Perhaps it was the emotional result of the past week or the conversations that I have had with friends over the course of the past few days, but, whatever it was, I am reminded that this lifelong journey of self-discovery, positive self-change and internal opening is one of work.  It is inevitably one of pain, grunting, and fighting. But joy is its reward.  As Peck says,

"Move out or grow in any dimension and pain as well as joy will be your reward.  A full life will be full of pain.  But the only alternative is not to live fully or not to live at all."

The growing pains are just that... painful.  The honest truth is that, whether we choose to look at them, our negative patterns, deep-seated anxieties, and familial/cultural issues play out in our relationships, even in the one that we have with ourselves.  Prior to leaving Seattle, I saw a therapist for almost three years, and I can't tell you how much I have grown from the challenge of therapy.  But, there is still so much work to be done, so many internal assumptions to be challenged and negative patterns to be explored.  And, through all of it, freedom to be found.

To be truly compassionate, to love deeply, to live fully and wholly, we have to do the work.  If you've been waiting to make a commitment to yourself, don't waste another minute.  The war is full of fear and heartache, but there is liberation and joy found, as well.  Know that you are not alone, that there are others along the way, battling alongside you, allies in the struggle.  You are courageous and worth the fight.  

"Courage is not in the absence of fear; it is in the making of action in spite of fear, the moving out against the resistance engendered by fear into the unknown and into the future."

The Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck

-----------------------------------------------------

On a personal note: If you are currently looking into finding a therapist, please do your research.  Look for reviews, ask trusted family/friends and get recommendations from your community.  Ask questions.  Not all therapists are created (trained) equal.  If you are in the Seattle metropolitan area, please do not hesitate to contact me for recommendations.

to love

While reading M. Scott Peck's book The Road Less Traveled (Why have I not read this book before?! Just goes to show you that my sister has some crazy wisdom - having recommended the book to me for the past three years...), I found this lovely and challenging reflection on how we love our partners.  I just knew that I had to share:

"The Prophet"

The Prophet of Kahlil Gabran, p. 15-16

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be like a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

with your whole heart

Oh. My. Goodness.  I just rewatched this for I think the 20th time (yes, it's THAT good) -- and I knew that I had to share it with you all.  Please, I beg you, carve 20 minutes out of your day to check this out! I would love to know your thoughts and reactions!