Seems like everyone is an introvert now. But maybe that's not so healthy...

Suddenly it’s cool to be an introvert. Susan Cain’s 2013 TED talk about the power of introversion has racked up more than 14 million views, her book on the same theme is a New York Times bestseller, and now memes and even T-shirts about detesting other people are popping up everywhere. Who knew that declaring an aversion to human company could be such a popular statement? 

I’ve talked a lot on this blog about being an introvert, and why I jealously guard my private time. I’ve explained how small talk leaves me tongue-tied and how parties feel confronting for me (that post here). I’ve theorised that my introversion is linked to my deep sensitivity – which, of course, is part and parcel of being a healer and intuitive. But a few weeks ago I read a New York Times article asserting that some people are now using introversion – which seems to have become a badge of honour – as an excuse to be anti-social. That’s not a social condition, it’s laziness. 

I’ve realised I tend to do this too. 

I have a theory that, for some, claiming to be an introvert – is simply the desire for a bit of time out. We’re being slammed with a barrage of information 24/7 , and have less time to ourselves than ever before, so saying we don’t like socialising might be one way of trying to validate our intrinsic need for more quiet time. That has nothing to do with shyness and everything to do with feeling like we have to justify relaxation time (as if it were an indulgence). So it’s not a case of: ‘I don’t want to go to that engagement party because being around other people is draining and provoking for me’, it’s more: ‘I don’t want to go because I’ve had no time to myself this week and Saturday night is my only chance to get it’. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But for me, I’ve realised I need to be careful to make sure that preferring my own company doesn’t become the norm. Because in limiting my interactions with people, I limit my ability to grow, learn and give.

Actively avoiding gatherings where there will be a large crowd, or where I will be expected to network, has become a habit for me. I know such events will make me uncomfortable, so I try to dodge them. Of course it’s smart to protect my physical energy and to be discerning about how I spent what little downtime I have. But here’s the problem, summarised so brilliantly in the NY Times article: if we are constantly retreating into our shells, we aren’t connecting with each other. That’s a problem because, as Hugh Mackay asserts in his book Beyond Belief – How We Find Meaning, With Or Without Religion, human beings are hardwired for connection. We crave human contact and a sense of belonging, which help bring meaning to our existence. It’s also a problem because, from a spiritual perspective, we are here to help each other (which also brings meaning to our existence, BTW). In refusing to sit in company with other people, we are swatting away the gentle beckoning finger of the Universe inviting us to offer support to another. We also cut ourselves off from support from others (because even when everything in your life is going swimmingly, you still need to feel supported). Being a hermit holds a certain appeal, but the alone zone is a space to rest, not to reside.

When the New York Times journo asked Susan Cain (of the aforementioned TED talk and book) if, by choosing to read a book in the car while their kids are at a school function, self-indulgent introverts were actually just being rude – she laughingly agreed, saying sometimes “you have to consider the other person’s point of view instead of getting wrapped up in your own discomfort”.

Standing around in a bar talking about the weather (or in New Zealand, where I grew up, rugby – which, bafflingly, seems to hold endless fascination for almost everyone) isn’t exactly beneficial to anyone in a larger sense. But those awkward small conversations can be the gateway to slightly larger interactions where people do have an opportunity to express themselves. You may not necessarily be able to offer practical assistance to someone complaining about the sleep deprivation their seven-month-old son is inadvertently causing, but in listening to their struggle you are offering emotional support. I believe that the greatest desire of every person is to be seen, heard and understood. We facilitate this by bearing witness to each other’s experiences and struggles, without judgement or unsought advice. This is the simplest way we can show up for each other. As the saying goes, the greatest problem with our communications is that we listen to reply instead of listening to understand. 

Even the act of simply smiling at someone is immensely powerful on an energetic level. Mother Teresa said: “Every time you smile at someone it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” All the love-heart eye-emojis in the world sent from your living room won’t make someone feel as good as a RL smile does. (OK, I’ve just re-read that it sounds reeeeally cheesy... but you know what I mean, right?) The point is, we shine our brightest when we are around other people. Not when we are on the couch alone, sucking up our tea through a Tim-Tam straw (soz!). I want to continue to allow myself me time but I’m going to be tougher on myself when my urge to evade social occasions comes up. 

Much like Netflix, introversion in large doses is not necessarily good for me. Or anyone else, for that matter. 

Who’s to blame? Finding fault finds fault in us all

As we reeled from the news of the Brad and Angelina split last week, I noticed an interesting pattern about the way people processed this (arguably) major world event. A lot of people, I observed, had a similar way of assessing this relationship breakdown – an instant urge to look for someone to blame. I’m using the term ‘bad news’ loosely here since, really, a celebrity split isn’t something that has an impact on us. But I’ve realised this happens in situations close to home, too. When we hear about something happening to others and we’re scared (whether we admit it or not) that this could also happen to us, I’ve noticed that we have a tendency to label someone as the good guy and someone else as the bad guy.  

The reason I’m talking about Brad and Angelina on this blog, which is generally a celebrity-free zone, is because I’m interested in the barriers we sometimes erect against compassion and empathy. Overlooking the fact that we’re patently entering the judgment zone when we comment on celebrities (which is not exactly healthy), I think the way we respond to events in Hollywood says something about the way we respond to events in the real world.

The concept of blame first loomed large in my mind when a feminist blogger I follow on social media predicted that Angelina would likely be cast as the villain by society, since unfortunately – and unfairly – it’s still seen as a woman’s job to hold a marriage and a family together. To be honest I haven’t read enough about the split to know whether this has played out, but the idea of choosing a villain is a reasonable expectation. Remember when Brad and Jen split up? She was regarded as a cold-hearted, career-hungry woman who had refused to give him the kids he reportedly longed for – even though she had repeatedly said in interviews that she *did* want kids. Yet Brad, who had clearly fallen in love with another woman – which tends to spell disaster for a marriage, obvs – did not seem to be lumbered with much, if any, responsibility for that relationship’s fracture.

Looking back on when some of my friends separated from their partners, I’ve realised that although I didn’t get involved, in my mind I definitely took sides (not, however, with any gender bias). I apportioned blame to one party and sympathised with the other – even though I’m well aware that relationship breakdowns are always a two-way street. In some cases this was a show of support for the person I felt closest to, but in other times it was because I was making a judgment about who had let the other person down. Because I’m *such* a relationship expert, and other people’s relationships are totally my business (#sarcasm).

I’m no psychologist, but I feel like this is probably human nature. When we hear of something upsetting, we look for ways to understand it. If we can frame it in a familiar narrative – that of good vs evil – it’s easier for us to draw conclusions about what happened, and ultimately feel better about it. If we can blame someone, we can reassure ourselves that it won’t happen to us. Like this: My husband doesn’t have any female friends so that won’t happen to us. Or: I never tell anyone my PIN so that won’t happen to me. And, chillingly: I don’t walk alone at night so that won’t happen to me.  

My problem with this kind of ‘good guy/bad guy’ narrative is not so much that it smacks of self-righteousness, which is problematic in itself, but that it doesn’t allow space for compassion. If we’ve decided Angelina ‘deserved’ a divorce, then we’ve overlooked her pain. Because whether you are the one who instigates a split or not, the end of a romance is a bloody, bitter affair with waves of pain that knock you over long after the event. In labelling people like they are simply characters in a story, we erase their humanity.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking – Brad and Angelina are celebrities, it’s not like they’re people we know. But I have this nagging suspicion that the way we regard celebrities contains some truth about the way we regard the people around us.

I believe that in any situation of conflict or disharmony, no one person is wholly to blame. Consider this example. I have a friend who has been complaining for years about her unhappy marriage. While I totally understand her need to vent, her tirade of resentment is grating to listen to, and not only because it’s never-ending (and the fact that she has no family nor many close friends in Australia to talk to means I’m hearing it often). Her complaints focus only on the shortcomings of her partner, and wilfully overlooks her own culpability in marrying someone whose behaviour had been disappointing her long before they exchanged vows. By blaming him for her unhappiness, she doesn’t have to take ownership of her responsibility for not only expecting him to be someone other than who he was, but for continuing to accept a toxic home life (i.e. not leaving him). Sometimes playing the blame game is a way we hide. I’m not saying for a minute that she deserves to be unhappy – no one does – and of course no one really has any idea what actually goes on inside a relationship (which is another reason that passing judgment is unwise). My point is that finding fault in other people can keep us stuck.

I remember when I was made redundant (the first time round, for those of you familiar with my, ahem, “colourful” work history), an acquaintance remarked tersely that I really should have seen it coming, since the company had been in financial difficulties for a while. She was right… the writing was on the wall, and I should have tried harder to look for alternative work. But does that mean I deserved to lose my job and my final pay? Had I lost my right to feel aggrieved about the unfairness of this situation? Was I the bad guy? As is often true, this woman’s blame manoeuvre was more about her than it was about me. (That won’t happen to me because I’d notice if my company was going down the tubes and would quit.) Oh, the comfort of superiority!*

From a spiritual perspective, we’re here to be kind to each other. In an ideal world, this would mean we’re able to feel compassion for, and offer support to, anyone going through struggle such as divorce or job loss, regardless of who might have been at fault. But the reality is that every time we see someone suffering, we filter it through our own fears (we are all programmed, after all, to protect ourselves from pain). And where fear goes, judgment usually follows. I don’t really have any solutions for how to avoid falling into this trap, but I have resolved to look out for the blame game when I notice that pattern emerging in my little brain. This doesn’t mean I’d rush to comfort a man who cheated on a friend, to give an extreme example, but hopefully I’ll be less inclined to see situations as black and white. When we hold space for people to be flawed, but ultimately deserving of love, we foster tolerance for our own shortcomings and endorse our own worthiness, too.

Ideally, I’d like to do better at listening and supporting without judgment. Something to aim for, anyway.

*In the interests of fairness, I should declare that I’ve totally done shit like this to other people myself in the past. Ugh.

Angels 101: how to talk to your angels

The most common question I get asked after mentioning my work with angels is: “Do I have guardian angels?” The second question is: “Can I talk to them?”

The answer to both questions is yes. Which is fantastic, because it means we are never alone (yay). It also means we can access wisdom and knowledge to guide us through any challenge.

No matter who you are, what choices you’ve made or what your spiritual beliefs are, you have guardian angels assigned to you. Their job is to give you guidance and help you find peace in your life. BUT they can’t help you unless you ask them to. That’s because we all have free will – in other words, the right to make our own life choices. The angels can’t violate that (unless, of course, your life is in danger, and it’s not your time to pass on), so if you need help with something, you have to actually ask them.

So how do you speak to your angels? 

Some people choose to pray or meditate, but you don’t *have* to communicate in a formal way – you just need to express what is on your mind. You don’t even need to speak out loud – I often chat to my angels in my head.

Sometimes people think they shouldn’t bother their angels with requests that seem trivial. But your angels are there to help you – that’s their job. There’s really nothing too small or too big for them to tackle.

As well as your own guardian angels, there’s also an angel squad waiting in the wings (pun intended) to deal with specific sitches you might be facing. They have the power to help everyone at the same time, so don’t fear that you are taking them away from a more important task. Try talking to:

Archangel Raphael

He’s in charge of healing, so call upon him for physical or emotional health concerns. When you ask for his help, visualise emerald green light (that’s his colour) surrounding the part of your body or the situation that you want healed. BTW if you find the problem isn’t alleviated after calling on Raphael, that could be because it’s the symptom of a deeper emotional problem you need to address – for example, digestion problems are often to do with fears and stress; lower back is about financial stress (not feeling supported). 

Raphael is also associated with travel, so you can ask him to protect and guide your plane and aircrew, for example, when you’re on vacation. Whenever I’m driving long distances, I ask him to help me and the other drivers on the road to make good decisions.

Archangel Gabriel

This is the archangel associated with creativity and motivation. I ask Gabriel for help when I have writers’ block (for example, when I need a brilliant blog post idea!) and when I lack motivation to complete a task. Maybe you need inspiration for your son’s birthday cake. Maybe you’ve got an essay to write. Whatever your project, Gabriel’s your go-to angel.

Parking angels

Yep, there are angels to help you find carparks! You might wonder why angels would be interested in helping you with something so mundane, but remember that the angels’ job is to help you find peace. If someone could reserve a perfect carpark for you when you go out, wouldn’t that make your life more peaceful? Yes, yes it would. A warning: you do need to call upon the parking angels BEFORE you reach your destination (and ideally before you leave home), so they have time to make a space for you.

Archangel Michael

As the patron saint of police officers and emergency-service workers, Michael is associated with protection and security. I call upon him when I’m feeling physically vulnerable, such as if I’m home alone at night and fearing for my physical safety. I also regularly ask him to protect my home and possessions – especially if I’ve got cause for concern (such as when we had people coming through for an open home). He’s also associated with courage and strength, so I ask him to shore up my reserves of those on the reg.

Romance angels

They can help you find love, or enhance your romantic relationship. Call on them to manifest a meeting with your soulmate, help you strengthen your relationship or provide clarity about whether your partnership is serving you.

If you are single, keep in mind that asking the romance angels for help manifesting a new relationship does not mean Ryan Gosling is going to knock on your door tomorrow (soz!). Because relationships are such a fundamental part of the way we learn and grow as humans, there is often work we need to do to prepare ourselves for healthy relationships. In other words: results may not be instant. So if you have been asking the Universe for some time to bring your soulmate into your life and are feeling disappointed, it might be time to switch your strategy from asking for help to one of actively taking charge of the situation. This doesn’t mean you have to get ‘out there’ more, it means you need to look at what might be going on in your subconscious that’s blocking you from what you are trying to attract. If you’re constantly attracting partners who are not respectful or emotionally available, for example, that’s a sign you’ve got some healing to do before you’ll be able to attract the right partner. Read more about that here.

I know I’ve gone off on a tangent here, but I wanted to make it clear that – no matter what some spiritual people say – manifesting healthy relationships isn’t as simple as putting in an order and just remaining positive. If you ask for their help, the romance angels will work with you, but you’ll have to leave the timing up to them – and meet them halfway in terms of making sure you’re really, truly, ready for a healthy partnership. Above all, do not give up hope. There is always hope.

Read more about how we can inadvertently block ourselves from achieving our goals here.

The takeaway message:

Talk to your angels whenever you need help, and trust their answers. They can help you make better decisions and move forward in the direction of your dreams. Connecting with your angels is easy and incredibly reassuring. A good time to start that?  Yesterday. The second-best time? Today. 

I'll sit with you when you're hurting. And I won't try to fix you

A couple of months ago there was a story bouncing around the internet about a woman who’d created a series of greeting cards to send to someone going through cancer. What was unique about Emily McDowell's cards was their raw honesty. Instead of the trite, and frankly unhelpful, standard card messages, they said what someone suffering a life-altering illness really needed to hear. Stuff like: “Please let me be the first person to punch the next person who tells you everything happens for a reason” and “I wish I could take away your pain. Or at least, take away the people who compare it to the time their hampster died.” But my personal favourite was this one: “I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I didn't know what to say.” I like this because it beautifully captures the helplessness you feel when someone close to you is suffering, and you know there is nothing you can say or do to ease their pain.

I was reminded of this recently when I was spending time with a friend who is healing from a broken heart. Over the course of our conversation she ran the gamut of emotions from rage to disappointment to shame to grief. I wanted so badly to offer some advice or some truism that would help her find peace, even if temporarily, but I had nothing. But that’s not what she needed from me, anyway. It’s not up to me to fix the situation, my job is to be there and listen. Empathy is not a verb, it’s a heart space.

Liz Gilbert wrote a beautiful and moving post a few months ago about the despair she felt after another mass

One of Emily McDowell's beautiful cards.

shooting in the US, and how she attempted to turn that sadness into hope on a micro scale: “When the world starts to feel overwhelming in its sorrows, I always ask myself to look around me – to narrow down my focus – and to notice somebody who is nearby me, who is suffering. I can’t help the millions, but maybe I can help one. Life is hard; there is always someone going through great pain. I tell myself: Go sit with that person today for a while. Don’t try to solve their life, or answer for God [as to why it has happened], or offer dismissive ‘reasons’, or try fix the whole world. Just say, ‘I don’t know. But I will sit with you through this.’ Turn your overflow of sorrow into love.”

When you don’t know what to say or do, it’s tempting to either rush in with solutions or platitudes, or to just back away completely. Don’t do that. Lean in. Sit beside them and listen. That’s how you show love. That’s how you say ‘I hate that you’re suffering and I can’t change that but I will bear witness to your pain and hold your hand when you need me.’ What people need when their world is broken is the warmth of human connection. That is the one thing you CAN do.

I'm very sorry for your loss. How can I help?

In February I wrote a letter to a Canadian woman I had never met. I had seen an appeal on social media by the woman’s daughter asking people around the world to send letters of hope and well wishes to her mother who was nearing the end of her struggle with pancreatic cancer. Because I do volunteer work at rest homes I have seen how much a simple handwritten letter means to people who are suffering and feeling alone, so I put pen to paper.

Sadly, a fortnight ago I found a message in my ‘other’ inbox on Facebook (which I seldom check) from this lovely woman’s daughter, letting me know her mother had passed away the day before my letter arrived. She attached a photo of a wall (see below) covered with letters from around the world, and said that it had brought her some comfort to know that so many people cared so much.

Once I got over my annoyance that it had taken me three days to post my letter (!) I realised that a beautiful thing had happened in this Ontario town. In a time of immense pain, this lady was able to derive a small measure of peace from small but powerful acts of kindness by complete strangers. It was a heartwarming thing to bear witness to, as well as to have participated in, in a very tiny way. Of course, no wall of letters can protect her from the unrelenting ferocity of grief but perhaps this visible reminder of the power of hope can provide fleeting moments of shelter.

This got me thinking about the ways we can help people as they grieve. I’m not talking about strangers here, I’m talking about the people we care about. It’s heart-wrenching watching someone dear to you in absolute agony over the loss of someone dear to them. What do you say? It’s hard not to fall into well-meaning but ultimately useless clichés: “Let me know if there’s anything I can do”; “Call me if you ever want to talk”; or the woefully inadequate: “time heals all wounds…” It’s so difficult to know what you can do that will actually help.

There are Cheryl Strayed quotes for these situations, as there are for every emotional quandary. A man wrote to Cheryl (aka ‘Dear Sugar’) asking for advice on how to support his partner as she grieved the death of her mother. Nothing he did seemed to help, he wrote, and it was tearing him to pieces seeing her in so much pain. Cheryl’s response explained that we have a tendency to want to rush in and offer advice or practical solutions when someone we care about is suffering. But what counts, she says, is not *how* we show up for that person, it’s simply that we *do* show up for them, again and again and again. We keep in contact. We let them cry. We listen. What comes from our heart is more important than what comes from our mouth. Anyway, that’s what I took from Cheryl’s response. Here’s what she actually wrote: “It feels lame because we like to think we can solve things. It feels insufficient because there is nothing we can actually do to change what’s horribly true. But compassion isn’t about solutions. It’s about giving all the love that you’ve got.”

Yes, it is. Thanks, Cheryl.

 

The 'letter wall'.

PS: On a lighter note, I got chocolate smeared all over my keyboard in the process of writing this post. Totally worth it. Happy Easter, everyone.