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What’s All This, Then?

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

Orson Welles
director, actor and producer

Honestly, this blog is supposed to be funny, but sometimes it’s hard to get there.

I am a cancer survivor. You cannot imagine how good it feels to write that. This blog was established to help me document my journey, process my experiences and, ultimately, inch away from thinking of myself as a cancer patient and towards being a mindful, peaceful and accepting (that’s a tough one!) creature on this Earth. Be warned, some of my posts are self-indulgent and unnecessarily wordy; I have much respect for anyone willing to slog through them.

Right now, this blog is anonymous: I need to stumble through my feelings, complain when I feel like it and be blunt when necessary — and I need a safe space to do it without fear of judgmental glances. While my goal is to keep this light-hearted, I realize that I have the pleasure of being a survivor and chuckling about my cancer experience; there are many who are not granted that opportunity. Writing this blog is a privilege.

Cancer sucks. It’s an indiscriminate spectre that has haunted the lives of practically everyone at some point, whether relatives, friends or ourselves. For me, cancer cannot pass into faded memory quickly enough, but at the same time, I am infernally curious about the disease and how it has changed me.

So here are my facts:

In early 2017, I was diagnosed with triple-positive (estrogen+, progesterone+ and HER2+) breast cancer. The lump was 1.6cm in diameter, removed at the end of March, along with three sentinel lymph nodes that were revealed to be unaffected. Chemotherapy (Taxotere & carboplatin) started a month later and lasted the entire summer, 6 hefty courses, one every three weeks; adjuvant therapy (Herceptin, a monoclonal antibody) also started at this time, but went for 17 courses, ending in April 2018. Daily radiation treatment lasted six weeks through autumn of 2017. A 3-D mammogram in February 2018 showed nothing, in a good way. That marked my first year without the tumor.

I wish I’d been able to write in 2017, but my head wasn’t there. I was not processing, I was existing and enduring. After my final Herceptin infusion, my port was removed and I turned around to see what had happened. It took several months of writing before I tossed out my first post in September 2018, privately at first, and then, “Hello, world!”

It’s going to be a bumpy, unpolished ride. Bear with me.

Tell Me a Story: Suppressing Anxious Thoughts

(Title image: Photo by Jonas Jacobsson on Unsplash)

Nine years ago this month when I found out that I had breast cancer, the news hit me hard and felt so raw that I had nowhere to seek emotional shelter. The information was so in-my-face. There was no way to escape it, no way to “un-know” it.

While there were things I needed to deal with immediately, the sense of dread was overwhelming at times and I wished I could push it away. Even after going through surgery, chemo, radiation, there was a constant foreboding that lingered, a trauma that continued to terrify as I learned to deal with the uncertainty of the future. The anxiety was worst in the early morning hours.

At that point, I couldn’t even repress the feelings I was having, they were so strong. Mindfulness taught that I should allow all the feelings to pass through me. I struggled with that but kept at it. After all, I thought, isn’t that sort of suppression cautioned against, with the concern that feelings and thoughts that were pushed away would resurface in some other detrimental way?

That belief has been challenged by research on the experiences of those affected by the November 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris. Tracking survivors using MRI technology and psychological assessments, the researchers discovered that part of recovery from such a traumatic experience included the ability to suppress intrusive thoughts. The memories can still be accessed but do not overwhelm the patient, easing the burden of PTSD. (A National Public Radio story on the event and research is available here.)

My solution to intrusive thoughts is to create a story-based “safe space”.
(Photo by Kourosh Qaffari on Unsplash)

I found this reassuring. Part of the way that I have dealt with stressful situations that might have otherwise overwhelmed me is by creating mental distance between them and myself. While I have found meditation to be ideal, of course, sitting and allowing all the feelings to pass through me at a time that those feelings might still be very intense is not, for me, a winning strategy.

I have had success, however, in creating a story-like safe space for myself to retreat into, as if I’m writing a novel complete with a variety of characters. The theme is pleasant, perhaps romantic, even humorous. The scenes that play out are of my own choosing and if I find myself shifting into something more “realistic” (i.e., stress-inducing) I remember that this is my creation and that the story can be whatever I want it to be.

It doesn’t have to reflect real life. It can be as improbable as I want. This is one place where I have complete autonomy in determining what movie plays out in front of me.

This serves as a needed break from my stressors. Technically, I am not “repressing” anxious thoughts, I am dealing with them in the same way that someone might read a delightful story before bedtime, except that I decide what the story is about. And if I wake in the middle of the night, I can sink back into my self-spun tale, knowing that when I need to deal with all the tough stuff in my life, it’ll be there waiting for me.

But not right now.

Showing Self-Mercy

(Title image: Photo by Melanie Stander on Unsplash)

My oncologist keeps telling me that I’m too hard on myself.

This has been something he’s repeated for the nine years that I’ve known him. He says this when I express my frustration with not being as strong or resilient as I used to be. When I complain that I can’t lift as much weight and get injured more easily.

“Relax,” he tells me. But I have a desperate drive that pushes me, as if I’m fearful of stopping or even just slowing down. As if I’m going to sink if I rest for a while.

It’s not just my workouts in which I feel this. It’s also apparent in my professional life which, I admit, did not head down the path that I was expecting it to, and cancer didn’t help. Now, at a time in my life when I’m supposed to be winding down and enjoying a retirement coming in the not-so-distant future…no, I tell myself there’s still so much more to do to get myself to a point where I can finally rest.

Yes, this would be me. No excuses.
(Photo by Jordan Whitfield on Unsplash)

Well, I needed to get that off my chest. As you can image, this kind of mentality has some downsides.

I was reminded of that when, last week, I was again invited to present during an event in which I’ve participated for the past two years. It’s one that I spend about four months practicing for.

The first time in 2024 I was mildly anxious but everything went very well. I couldn’t wait to do it again in 2025.

But last year was really tough for me. I was grieving the death of my father, dealing with weird migraine auras, working on a professional certification that I felt insufficiently prepared for and trying to juggle some major financial changes in my life. I didn’t have the same amount of time to prepare and, consumed by self-doubt, I allowed anxiety to creep in.

No, wait. That’s a lie.

Anxiety didn’t “creep in”, it hit me like a tidal wave. Preparing for an event that should have been amazingly positive and allowed me to showcase my expertise instead kept me up at night. It made me miserable. I obsessed over preparations and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

My presentation came and went well enough. But the experience left me feeling wounded.

Like I said, 2025 was a difficult year with major changes in my life. It stayed difficult up until the last days of December, when I finally had a chance to decompress and enjoy where I was in the present moment.

But when I recently received the invite to once again participate in this year’s event, I felt a familiar undercurrent of panic and despair. And that elicited shame.

First, I tried not to think about it. But that didn’t work well and my anxiety grew. I really wished that I could find an excuse to skip this year but I couldn’t turn it down—that would be “giving up” which would have left me defeated.

Or would it have?

Cutting myself some slack after a lifetime of beating myself up feels like the way I expect these kittens feel.
(Photo by Chirag Bhardwaj on Unsplash)

I have spent so much of my life doing things “for my own good”. When it comes to exercise, that is a very good thing indeed. But what about when doing something genuinely results in anxiety and dread? I had a long track record of pushing through those situations. Over and over again, I would barrel headlong into them, figuring that the more I did things like this, the more comfortable I would get with them. Although it didn’t always work like that. Sometimes, all it did was allow anxiety around it to build even more, painted with self-criticism for feeling that way.

But what if, instead of beating myself up, I took a breath and showed myself some grace? Just this once?

I poked at the possibility of declining the opportunity to present this year, just to test out how I would feel about it. And it immediately felt like a relief. All that anxiety fell away and I saw all the other things I could spend my time doing that I would otherwise put off because practicing required so much mental energy. I made the decision to listen to what my brain and body were yelling at me.

“For Pete’s sake…!“

This wasn’t a cop-out. This was giving my worn-out self a little love. I need more of that.

A Trolley Meditation

(Photo by miguel pela-yo_ou_voce on Unsplash)

To be clear, this doesn’t have to be a mediation specifically for a trolley ride. It would work on a train, bus, car or any other moving vehicle. I take the trolley regularly and love how meditative the ride can be, so that’s where I use it.

While I work remotely for the majority of the week, some days I commute to my office, now further away due to our recent move. I get a ride in, but coming home means an hour on trolleys in addition to a long walk from the station.

At the time that I leave for home, the afternoon commute is in full swing. I often don’t get a seat on the first leg of my trip, so I stand, holding on to the bars interspersed throughout the car.

My height gives me a good view of the window. Now, if I allow my gaze to fuzz a bit, staring straight out into the distance, the passing landscape becomes a blur.

But this view can also serve as a beautiful way to drop into the ‘here and now’, and also train yourself to let go of the past. As the landscape passes before me, I mentally drop a “plumb line” into it, fixing my gaze every second or so on an object in the passing view, so that for a blink of an eye, my focus is maintained and follows it. Then I let it go, dropping another imaginary plumb, and I fix my gaze onto another spot on the fleeting landscape, again staying with it for about a second before releasing it and focusing on yet another point.

In the blur of constant movement, focus on the present moment.
(Photo by hannah cauhepe on Unsplash)

If the scenery very close to the trolley moves too quickly and I tire of the rapid changes, I can cast my gaze a little further away from the trolley where things are passing less frenetically.

Sometimes I switch between points closer by and those further away.

The idea is to allow yourself to let go of the point that you’re looking at, to not get captured by it. The moving vehicle, certainly, prevents that from happening to a great extent, but we also train ourselves to break the gaze and move on.

Why Is This Important?

Imagine that your day is like this: lots of stress, perhaps a lot of work, frustrating interactions with others, so much brain clutter. Can you take a big step back to observe the flow of life, understanding that annoyances comes and go, allowing them to pass by? Just as on the moving vehicle, everything passes and new views appear, so do our emotions and situations. This simple practice reminds us that when times are difficult, we can find solance in knowing that it won’t be forever.

I love this meditation. It combines a return to the present moment with letting go and moving on. What could be better?

Getting Deep: Harvard’s Meditation Research Program

(Title image: Photo by TONG KBP on Unsplash)

I was delighted to learn that there is a Meditation Research Program at Mass General Hospital, associated with Harvard Medical School. I’m sharing the link to their research in this post because it seems pretty amazing

The program is run by Dr. Matthew Sacchet, an Associate Professor in Psychiatry at Harvard Medical School. Recall that Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, at the UMass Medical School, brought mindfulness to the clinical mainstream with his Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) program, which initially was designed to help patients deal with the pain and stress of illness. At Harvard/Mass General, Sacchet takes this work further by focusing on a scientific study of advanced meditative states.

My meditation takes place in informal spaces.
(Photo by bahareh moradian on Unsplash)

So, just to be clear: I am a simple meditator, with a focus on mindfulness. I revel in the grounding that it gives me when life gets stressful. It offers a sense of confidence that I can, in fact, handle the stuff that comes my way as long as I allow it to, something that hasn’t always been the case. Meditation has given me a self-awareness that slows down the world around me and makes things feel less out-of-control.

However, after almost a decade of meditation, I would not call myself an “advanced” meditator. And, yes, I’m anal enough to have never skipped a day, which, it could be argued, kind of misses the point of mindfulness. I am confident in my abilities to sit quietly but possibly need to lighten up about giving myself the grace to miss a session (trust me, I won’t).

Still, I love being able to sit in my room and feel a connection to all the other human beings around the world who are meditating at the same time. I am also acutely interested in the way that deeper states of meditation can positively affect us.

But I’m no meditating monk; my average day’s meditation generally ranges from about 10 minutes to an hour and a half, max.

On the other hand, Dr. Sacchet is studying ‘master meditators’, such as the monks in question, in an effort to explore advanced meditation, which he defines as (from the program website) “deeper engagement with meditative practices that with time and mastery, produce refined states of mind and awareness…bliss states, insights into the mind, altruistic/compassionate mindsets and ultimately, enduring transformation.“

That’s quite an impressive list. At a time when I’m clawing my way back to longer meditation sessions after a stressful year of struggling with intrusive brain noise, this provides motivation to stay on the cushion for a little longer.

Interested in more?

Here’s a link to a short quiz that appeared in the Harvard Gazette that might surprise you about what researchers like Dr. Sacchet are learning about meditation.

Below is more about Dr. Sacchet and his work from MGH Psychiatry News:

Matthew Sacchet, PhD: Advanced Meditation Alters Consciousness and Our Basic Sense of Self (Scientific American)

And here’s the link to the Scientific American article that the above site references:
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/advanced-meditation-alters-consciousness-and-our-basic-sense-of-self/

Hacking My Brain

(Title image: Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash)

At the beginning of 2026, I had decided that I was going to take a break from doing certifications or complicated classes. That was because I kept pushing myself and figured it was time to take a break…

But then…I found out about a “hackathon” that involved machine learning and Python, a computer coding language that I do not know, and I decided I should enter and see if I could muddle my way through it.

I am a glutton for punishment.

To be clear, usually you don’t enter these kinds of competitions when you have no idea what’s going on, but I also don’t know what’s good for me, so I guess it evens out.

This is not Python code.
(Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash)

I convinced my husband (who does have some knowledge of Python) to enter along with me, and we managed to form a team with a PhD student in Computer Science, who fortuitously brought along her Siberian Husky. If we didn’t win the hackathon, at least we could rank highest in fur production.

But that’s not the point of this post.

Not only was this an excellent learning experience for understanding machine learning, it also taught me a few things about how my brain has changed.

  1. In order to comprehend a complicated concept, I need to see it written down. Preferably with visual aids.
  2. If I’m reading something while someone is speaking loudly, I will not understand the words I’m looking at.
  3. I have a 50% chance of remembering something new after learning it the first time. Wait…more like a 30% chance.
  4. Pushing my brain to learn something new and highly technical for eight hours is exhausting. I went home each day feeling like I’d been hit by a Zamboni.
This, I am told, is Python code.
(Photo by Veronica on Unsplash)

Sometime back, I’d read about an MRI study involving twins in which one twin was a cancer survivor and the other wasn’t. While there wasn’t a significant different in cognitive abilities between the twin siblings, a huge difference appeared when they were told to perform cognitive tasks during an MRI scan: the twin who had undergone cancer treatment was recruiting vastly more of their brain real estate than their sibling was to perform the tasks. Essentially, the cancer survivor’s brain was less efficient and needed to use more brain cells.

I thought about this study when I came home from the hackathon. My brain was so full that information was seeping out through my ears. Using so many neurons to try to learn highly technical stuff was quite a workout.

On a side note, I had made use of AI (artificial intelligence; in my case, an AI assistant called Claude) to explain the coding sequences we were using. What I found was that (1) AI was useful in explaining complicated concepts using simple language, and (2) no one’s going to lose their coding job to AI anytime soon because when I asked Claude to re-write my code it did an absolutely horrible job with no improvement over the original code, although Claude tried to convince me it was better. Hmph.

So for the time being, I’m stuck with using my own brain, imperfect as it may be.

Sweatin’ for Myokines [RESEARCH]

(Title image: Photo by Annemiek Smegen on Unsplash)

Following up on my “Exercise and Cancer Cells” post from September 2025, here is another paper by the same authors that was published this month that offers more evidence about the importance of exercise for cancer survivors.

This study by Bettariga et al. (2026, Med Sci Sports Exer) investigated what effect different types of exercise would have on the production of myokines in breast cancer survivors. Why myokines? Because myokines are chemicals released during a muscular contraction. Once in the bloodstream they have various effects on the human body, but the most important for our discussion is that some myokines have been shown to decrease the growth of cancer cells, although the mechanism by which they do that is still unclear.

The study participants, all breast cancer survivors, were assigned to either strength (resistance) training or HIIT groups.
(Photo by Robert Stump on Unsplash)

This study compared resistance training against high-intensity interval training, or HIIT. For twelve weeks, twenty-eight breast cancer survivors engaged in either resistance training or HIIT, three days per week. Exercise was performed at moderate-to-high levels of intensity, which means that the participants were challenged by the activities.

At the end of the twelve weeks, regardless of which exercise group the subjects were in, the cancer-busting myokines circulating in their bloodstreams had increased by as much as 15%; both resistance training and HIIT were equally effective. Furthermore, when serum taken from the study participants was applied to metastatic (in this case, triple-negative) cancer cells in the lab, there was a 22-25% reduction in the growth of the cells.

These are excellent results. While the study group (28 participants) was quite small and additional research with a larger set of subjects should be done, the effect of exercise was striking.

As mentioned above, the exercise was medium-to-high intensity. What exactly this means for each individual will vary, as intensity is specific to the exerciser and depends a lot on their current fitness levels. For this study, none of the participants had exercised in the previous three months, so they weren’t gym rats to start out with. Their results were still significant.

Everyone has different abilities. Begin at your own starting point and take it from there.
(Photo by LOGAN WEAVER | @LGNWVR on Unsplash)

As I’ve said in previous posts, being diagnosed with cancer leaves you feeling out of control and powerless about your own body. It can feel like things are happening to you and there’s little you can do about it. This is one way that you can effect a positive change and improve your chances of recurrence-free survival, and it is something over which you have control.

The take-home message? There is a constantly-expanding body of scientific literature that supports maintaining as high a level of physical activity as you personally can, while still respecting the limitations that your body may have. Start slowly, increase intensity gradually, keep going…and don’t ever stop.

REFERENCES

Reader-Friendly Article:
Bettariga F (January 6, 2026) “How Exercise May Suppress Cancer Growth.” Active Voice|ACSM. https://acsm.org/active-voice-how-exercise-may-suppress-cancer-growth/

Research Study:
Full publication (Abstract available without journal access)
Bettariga F, Taaffe DR, Crespo-Garcia C, Clay TD, De Santi M, Baldelli G, Adhikari S, Gray ES, Galvão DA, Newton RU (2026) Effects of Resistance versus High-Intensity Interval Training on Myokines and Cancer Cell Suppression in Breast Cancer Survivors: A Randomized Trial. Med Sci Sports Exer, 58, 1-9.
https://journals.lww.com/acsm-msse/abstract/2026/01000/effects_of_resistance_versus_high_intensity.1.aspx
PubMed Listing
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/40903011/

It’s 2026 and We’re Safe

(Title image: Photo by BoliviaInteligente on Unsplash)

Not going to lie, the world may seem like an unstable place. While I am happy to say that I remain cancer-free, I am facing some unexpected threats that could drastically shift my everyday life. And I know that there are readers out there with similar experiences.

Therefore, this is a great time to remind ourselves of one calming truth: at this very moment, as you are reading this post, you are safe.

You might not feel safe. There may be news you’ve received that threatens your safety. There might be thoughts in your head that make you feel unsafe. But the reality is that you are safe…right now. And…right now.

At these finite points in time, as we notice them.

Here, where you are in this moment, is safe…even when your brain says otherwise.
(Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Unsplash)

What do I mean by safe? For me personally, “I am safe” has to do with the calm reality of the present moment as contrasted with past traumas and future fears. Where you are right now, even if you don’t “feel” safe, is physically safe.

Obviously, your mileage may vary, and if you’re currently falling off a cliff then you can claim that you are not safe. But 99.999999999% of us will not be reading a blog in mid-air.

Feel into where you are in space. Notice the weight of your body and how it makes contact with the surface on which you’re resting. Objectively, where are you? Can you hear the buzzing of kitchen appliances, the chirping of birds, the people speaking outside? Reaching outward with your senses, leave the brain noise behind.

“I am safe” works as a soothing affirmation. Pair it with diaphagmatic breaths, nice deep ones into the belly (“belly breathing”) to reinforce the action of the vagus nerve in activating the parasympathetic (“rest and digest”) nervous system.

As you do this, slow everything down. I often employ the imagery of forming a “pearl” around myself and establishing a safe zone inside. Imagine that you’re blowing a bubble that surrounds you, with a slightly frosted appearance. As it forms, you can still see what taking is place outside it, but there is space between you and the rest of the world. Gone is the “in your face” feeling of rawness.

Feeling into your body is a quick way to ground yourself in what’s happening now.
(Photo by Merri J on Unsplash)

Rub your hands together and notice the sensations in your palms. Scrunch your toes and then stretch them out.

In or out, you decide. You have the option of reaching outward with your senses, or if you prefer, bringing your attention inward into your body. Or alternate between the two. Always noticing what is happening now.

The important thing here is that I’m not suggesting that nothing bad will ever happen or that what took place in the past doesn’t matter and can’t hold sway over you. Those are rose-colored views that are unrealistic and dismissive. What I *am* saying, and again, this is how I interpret this concept, is that you can check in at any given moment and notice that you are currently not in the maws of death, even if your brain is trying to convince you that you are.

Here. Grounded in this seat. You are safe.

Happy 2026!

What Do I Want, Really?

(Title image: Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash)

A few days before Christmas I was listening to a radio interview with a therapist who was discussing the conflicted feelings that many people might have around the end-of-year holidays.

According to social media and advertisements and whatnot, we’re supposed to feel jolly and festive and full of holiday spirit. But that’s not necessarily the case. Not only can this time of the year feel oppressive with numerous responsibilities (gift buying, preparing elaborate meals, dealing with visitors), the expectations for what this season should look like don’t often match the reality of our actual experiences.

The ho-ho-holidays are not always as jolly as we expect them to be.
(Photo by Al Elmes on Unsplash)

So the therapist was saying that he has is clients ask themselves a couple of questions. The first question is something along the lines of “what kind of a holiday do I want to have?” This is often the holiday that we feel we should be having, the commercialized holiday where every decoration shines brightly, every meal is delicious and every gift is exactly what the recipient truly wanted.

But the second question is “what kind of a holiday do I want to have, really?” This query cuts to the quick—what matters the most to me?

The two questions may have very different answers.

I believe that these are excellent questions to ask. They allow us to step back and truly consider what this time of the year means to us once we remove the bright lights and flashy wrapping paper.

How does the future look?
(Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash)

We can apply that same perspective to our expectations as we head into the New Year. Perhaps it’s time to forgo the usual canned list of resolutions, shake off the voices in our heads and ask the “really?” question.

This is the question that releases the perfectionist pressures that we’ve been carrying with us and instead encourages introspection. It allows us to be honest with ourselves. Sometimes what we really want is not the new car or the promotion; sometimes it’s a sense of peace or stability.

If this seems too vague, then try imagining that it’s now December of 2026 and you’re looking back on the year. How would you like to be able to describe the twelve months you experienced? How do you want to feel? And consider what needs to happen in order for you to feel that way? Are there changes you need to make?

The more clearly you can envision this, the easier it can be to create a path to head there. Take time to feel into this. Write it down and then refer to your notes on a weekly basis.

The year 2026 is just around the corner. What do you want it to be like…really?

Advent 2025: So What Did We Learn?

(Title image: Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)

Yesterday was officially the last Sunday of Advent 2025. Today brings me closer to the end of a difficult year. Ehhh, maybe the end of a difficult eighteen months, given that my dad passed away in July of 2024 and I’ve been dodging tough stuff since then. Change is hard and there was a lot of it.

But after all that, here we are. This reminds me of those “things will turn out okay” adages. Sure, in retrospect you can look back at the maze that you picked your way through and see the clear path. But that’s not what it looks like at the start. It’s a series of twisting turns with no guarantees that you’ll get to where you hope to be by the end, and that you won’t suffer in the process.

Ahhhh, the view from the end comes with a satisfying release of stress.
(Photo by Matt Botsford on Unsplash)

No doubt, it’s much nicer being at the end point and having the luxury of saying, “yep, I survived that.” Reminds me of my last chemo infusion or radiation treatment. The hard stuff is over and now we coast to the finish line.

With the last Sunday of Advent, I finally exhale. My thrice-hourly bells (from the Plum Village app) not only remind me to take a deep breath, they make clear that in between those breaths my breathing has been shallow. The realization that I put an imaginary checkmark beside my deep breath (like, “ok, I did my duty”) but then often return to being a spaced-out mess…hmmm, that’s quite humbling.

In the context of mindfulness, we speak of “remembering” and “being awake” to this life. I spend so much time skittering around like a caffeinated squirrel on an ice rink that it seems I need to be taken by the hand and brought back to my senses. The good news is, the present is a very calming place to be because it’s uncomplicated. You only need to deal with that singular point in time that is “right now”.

So this past Advent was a reminder to myself not to get caught up in what’s coming up, not to wallow in what I should have done differently in the past but to pay attention to where I am.

Ok, What Now?

In the interest of riding the groundswell that I’ve established, I’m going to jump on a free course from Deer Park Monastery’s website called Essential Practices of Mindful Living (https://courses.deerparkmonastery.org/c/essential-practices-of-mindful-living). After pressuring myself with time-intensive certifications over the past years, this is a pleasant change. The online course is self-paced (i.e., no rush, no stress) and teaches topics with which I’m already familiar…but I’m a believer in repetition. Practice, practice, practice

So why am I talking about it now and not on New Year’s Day, as is customary? Because I’ve learned that the best time to start strengthening a habit is now. Not at some arbitrary point in the future (like a certain holiday), but right now.

Onward!

Advent 2025: Refusing Good Cheer

(Title image: Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash)

If you’re following my Advent experience, you’ll know that I had a teensy bit of trouble getting into the swing of things as far as reenergizing my mindfulness practice was concerned. But as I mentioned in my last post, the trick was regular and frequent (3x an hour) reminders to stop, take a breath and return to the present.

This strategy worked so well that these thrice-hourly breaks opened the door for gratitude to seep in. The extra-deep breath slowed everything down and made it easier to notice how “okay” things were around me.

That’s a reminder that I think we all need. So innocently, in casual conversations, I mentioned to friends how I found this Advent practice to be particularly uplifting because it allowed me some time and space, even if only a sliver, to realize there was so much good stuff going on.

And, ok, since I had such a positive experience with my deep breath and gratitude, I (gently) encouraged others to try it.

Psst! It’s that gratitude thing again.
(Photo by Thiago Rocha on Unsplash)

Well, just like unsolicited advice is wont to do, I didn’t get the greatest reaction to what I felt was simply finding light when things feel dark. Many people that I know have worries and hardships and things-to-be-angry-about, and sometimes, when difficulties abound…let’s just say that there’s not a lot of enthusiasm for making yourself feel better.

[Note: I am not suggesting “everything is 100% awesome” toxic positivity! This is about finding little things to appreciate.]

I think it’s very human to resist gratitude at times, especially when you feel you’ve been wronged and might believe that letting go of hurt and anger is like “letting the other side win”, so to speak.

But it is interesting to ponder how we can stubbornly cling to feelings of hurt and agitation if we convince ourselves that making ourselves miserable is how we further our cause. As if nurturing your discontent makes you more focused in fighting for your way. But I’m not convinced that this is beneficial; all it does is increase your stress levels, which introduces physical and emotional repercussions.

Instead, in allowing ourselves to soften and appreciate the good around us, we can lift our spirits. By calming ourselves and creating space, we think more clearly, respond more appropriately and ultimately are more productive.

There’s a lot think about this week—I am amazed at the difference that one little breath timer has made, and I’m so grateful for it.