Brigid Lowry - A Year of Loving Kindness to Myself: & Other Essays

This book is dedicated to my dear friends and lovely family.

All your pretty dresses wont save you.

You cant wriggle out of it.

The suffering of this floating world

will continue to present itself.

Just keep on being the Buddha,

white flowers in your open arms.

I dedicate the coming year to the practice of loving kindness to myself. Why?

Because my childhood was pretty shit.

Because I cant be kind to anyone else until I learn how to be kind to myself.

Because I do not know how to be kind to myself. No-one taught me. As a child, my parents did not model loving kindness. They were too busy drinking.

Because Im unhappy and Ive gleaned enough insight to see that much of my unhappiness is self-created.

Because, as Anne Lamott says, life is amazing, but also weird and hard.

Because the Dalai Lama says kindness is his religion and I want to feel like his smile, at least some of the time.

Sometimes she is very loud. The witchy voice, the one who says: They didnt text you back because they dont like you. Your hair looks awful. You shouldnt have said that. Your appetites are dangerous. Nothing you do will ever be good enough. Do not be the way you are.

Thinking this way leads down a dark bleak road to nowhere good. I am so tired of being a prisoner in a self-created cage of Me-Not-Okay.

Its summer, a time of swimming, ice-cream, music, the languid pleasures of the season.

What will this year bring? Can I learn a new way to be?

Summer holidays are over. People are returning from wherever theyve been. School begins. Its very hot. Rude drivers, cranky kids, hassled parents.

Im miserable about the ending of my relationship. My mind keeps chewing away at the past, processing who did what, trying to make sense of it, but it cant be solved this way. It was what it was. Now it is over. I notice myself trying to fill the emptiness with plans and activities.

Its an old pattern for me, hurrying into the future. Slowing down and fully inhabiting this moment is a lifetime challenge.

Youre up and down like a botfly, my father-in-law would tease.

Youve always got a list and you never stay long, a friend accused.

I am not alone in this behaviour. Its common, because the imaginary Better Next Bit is such a seductive fantasy, especially when the present moment is confronting.

Why is it so hard to just stop and relax? Sally Kempton suggests that the egos addiction to busyness has, at its core, a terror of its own emptiness.

Always being busy can become relentless, meaningless. No time to know anything fully, no time to savour the immediate. Our culture has led us to believe that doing and achieving more is betterbut rising rates of stress, anxiety, depression, heart disease and cancer are not a good sign. Its important to take responsibility for our own mental health and wellbeing, not just for ourselves but for those who love us, and for the society we live in.

Not just for me, but for my grandchildren and my community, I commit to living in a healthy way, gently, creatively and with merriment.

I am practising doing one less thing, rather than one more thing. Im trying to do each thing fully instead of juggling three things at once. I am learning to love and respect my body and not push on regardless.

Practising like this helps me stay connected with the simplicity and richness of the moment. Slowing down to the speed of now sounds easy but it takes effort, actually. Its not so hard when it is a beautiful here and now and were feeling good, though even then we may miss the true taste of the moment if were not in touch with it long enough to savour it. As for being present with the more difficult emotions, it may seem counterintuitive but it is a wise thing to do. Being true to our humanity, to our shabby corners and dark places, can be deeply healing. Human weather comes and goes, no problem, when we relax enough to let it.

Zen teacher Ross Bolleter teaches a helpful practice called The Five Ring Circus of Now, which is good to do anytime, with a spirit of adventure.

Begin by taking an upright posture, relaxing into the body. Start to notice the breath, simple and easy. When you feel steady with that, include sounds. If you get lost, return to the breath. Expand the attention to include breath, sound, and sensation in the body: the itchy knee, tension in the belly, whatever is rolling. When you get lost, return to the breath. Widen the attention to include how you are feeling: tired, sad, calm, whatever mood is present for you. Getting lost, return to the breath. Finally, include thoughts. Notice thoughts arise but leave them alone, gently letting them come and go. This is a wonderful method for resting easy in the moment, right where you are.

Sunday. I leave it until the last minute to go somewhere Id planned to go. When the time arrives, Im exhausted. Its hard to abandon the idea of going and surrender to the reality of being too tired.

I make a cup of tea instead, and sit to enjoy it. Or thats the plan. Instead I hear the voice. The crippling one that blames, shames, negates and catastrophises.

You should have gone. Why didnt you go earlier in the week? You dont measure up. You cant get things together. Youre not coping.

I refuse to accept this analysis of the situation. What a squandering, to spend the evening torturing myself about resting up. Its new to me to really listen to my energy level and act accordingly. I cant do everything. I dont have to explain myself to anybody, or justify my decision. It is my right to say no to something, and not guilt myself about it.

What is loving kindness to myself, really? It is stopping before I get exhausted, buying myself a favourite food when Im feeling low, listening to things that nourish and inspire me, yoga for a sore back, a book beside the bed.

This is it, right now, the good bit, the only bit, I tell myself. Just do your best, one foot in front of the other, and take your time.