Self-compassion is something we often lack in the modern, western world, where individuality and achievement are considered so important. Many of us grow up, and grow older, with the deeply held belief that in order to be loveable, valuable, and worthwhile as human beings we must be better than average (in at least a few areas, and sometimes in all!). This places us in an impossible situation, since by definition of the word "average," it is not possible for most people to be better than average! We have a choice then about which internal voices to cultivate most strongly-- the voices that tell us we're no good because we are imperfect, ordinary, or even less than average in some ways -- or the voices that offer comfort, friendliness, and acceptance even with our imperfections.
I think of the affection I feel for my cat Bromley, who I adopted from the Oregon Humane Society about three weeks ago. He has experienced worse luck than average, having been "dumped" at the Humane Society with no note to let anyone know about why he was deserted by his previous human companion(s). At the shelter, he was so traumatized that he would not eat anything and needed to be force-fed. He likely survived only because a kind "foster mom" took him into her home, providing a quiet and safe space -- and there he stayed, slowly emerging from his frozen, traumatized state until I met him there. At our first meeting, he hid inside a cat bed and would not look at me, so I had only the word of the foster mom that he had any ability to connect at all.
Bromley is thought to be between 10 and 11 years of age, so he is older than average and is more likely to have (expensive) health problems and not grace my life for as long as a younger cat would. He is shyer than average, so it is taking him a long time to make his way out of the closet I set up for him with a comfortable blanket and cat bed. He is average in his appearance -- a typical-looking orange tabby. I could have adopted a cat who was younger, could relate to me more quickly, and was more physically beautiful and decorative. Yet... here is Bromley, who is worthy of a forever home not because he is above average, but because he is a sentient, living being who has been abandoned and is deserving of kindness.
If I were to try to cajole or force Bromley out of the closet, that would only activate his fight-flight system and he would stay inside longer, or even come to fear me. So what I do is speak to him calmly, invite him with my tone of voice, and my energy to expand his world. I provide him with fresh water, nourishment, a large box of kitty litter, places to climb, and a window to look out of. I incline toward him with caring, gentleness, and friendly intentions.
This is how it is to begin to practice self-compassion. We can consider the possibility that we are worthy of love, care, and safety regardless of our worldly achievements, regardless of whether we are above or below average in a given trait, and regardless of what difficult things we have heard about ourselves or experienced when growing up. We can incline toward ourselves with caring, gentleness, and friendly intentions. We can invite a sense of safety and connection. We cannot force the feeling of safety and well-being, however, we can invite it with practices such as comforting self-touch, gentle words towards ourselves, and lovingkindness meditation focused on the self.
Intention is a large part of an expanded sense of safety and loving, yet more than intention is needed. For Bromley. my providing him with practical things -- like soft blankets in the closet and the offerings of fresh food and water - are three-dimensional acts of care that set the basic conditions for comfort and safety and back up my intentions with actions. So it is with nurturing ourselves. In addition to inclining toward ourselves with goodwill, we can also set some real-world conditions of self-care. This real-world component will look different for each of us. For example, for one person it might look like adding a new activity to the schedule that is pleasurable or interesting, while for another it might mean setting aside an activity or two in favor of more rest and unstructured time.
Bromley is responding to both the kind intentions and the real-world actions by spending a little more time out of the closet every day in my presence. In the last couple of days, he has even sat next to me, touched noses, and allowed me to stroke his belly. His inherent playfulness is beginning to show itself. Our journey of positive connection is underway.
The bigger challenge for me is this: To what degree can I treat myself
with the same patience, and kind regard that I naturally feel for my new
feline friend? This is much more difficult! Like Bromley, I am not
young, and I am somewhat shy -- I don't "shine" socially. I am
not above average in appearance and possibly not in any other attribute that is
highly valued by my culture. Might I still have the ability to love
myself, to sit with myself in friendliness, acceptance, and kind regard?
Sometimes I think it would be more possible to sprout wings and fly. And
yet... as I cultivate skills for self-compassion. I sit with myself
sometimes. I speak to myself kindly and let myself know that I am here
even in moments of difficulty. I let myself know that I am not the only
one in the world who suffers inside, who is imperfect, experiences difficulty, and doesn't have all the correct answers. And like my dear cat Bromley, I
begin to experience more safety and spaciousness in my life. Slowly,
slowly.
I have been particularly inspired by the work of Kristin Neff and Christopher Germer and took an intensive self-compassion course with them in November of 2013. If you think you might like to learn how to be more compassionate towards yourself, please see their website for Mindful Self Compassion at: http://www.centerformsc.org/. They and the teachers they train do both weekly and intensive self-compassion training in different parts of the U.S. and the world.
As I experience the clear benefits of self-compassion practice in my own life, I have become inspired to share the practices learned from Germer and Neff (as well as others) with people in my local community. In that spirit, I've begun developing and teaching self-compassion skills in the Portland area. If you are interested in future group or individual self-compassion work, please let me know via e-mail at beautifulwordstogether@gmail.com.
May you be happy, and healthy, and accompany yourself with kindness.
Ruth
I have been particularly inspired by the work of Kristin Neff and Christopher Germer and took an intensive self-compassion course with them in November of 2013. If you think you might like to learn how to be more compassionate towards yourself, please see their website for Mindful Self Compassion at: http://www.centerformsc.org/. They and the teachers they train do both weekly and intensive self-compassion training in different parts of the U.S. and the world.
As I experience the clear benefits of self-compassion practice in my own life, I have become inspired to share the practices learned from Germer and Neff (as well as others) with people in my local community. In that spirit, I've begun developing and teaching self-compassion skills in the Portland area. If you are interested in future group or individual self-compassion work, please let me know via e-mail at beautifulwordstogether@gmail.com.
May you be happy, and healthy, and accompany yourself with kindness.
Ruth
P.S. Close to a year has passed since I wrote the original post on Bromley. He long ago emerged from the closet, retreating back to it only when a complete stranger visits. He curls up by my side every night and is a master producer and bestower of purrs. He touches noses. He bats at the cat dancer from beneath the dining room chairs, and tears through my home, stopping to give me that "look" that invites me to chase him. He has such an excellent appetite it is hard to believe there was ever a time when he refused food. Bromley does not have the natural confidence of a theoretical cat who was blessed with a secure, forever home throughout life -- he will probably always be somewhat bashful and wary of strangers. These qualities are part of who he is -- part of his charm, uniqueness, and loveliness. When he feels safe, which is almost all the time these days, his kindness and ability to connect shine forth from his beautiful feline eyes. May he continue to be safe from inner and outer harm, healthy and strong, and filled with lovingkindness.
P.P.S. Several years have passed, and Bromley is now 15, with chronic kidney disease. I am doing what I can so that he lives happily as long as possible. We continue to be loving friends for one another, This will likely be his last summer, so I have trained him to walk with a leash and every day we venture outdoors together to experience the warmth and the smell of earth, plants, and other creatures who have left their intriguing scent trails. Today he lay on a pathway outside my front door, stretching out in the sun, orange fur shining and eyes half-closed. He takes in each moment of life's offerings, whether opening to the outdoor sun or sleeping curled into his favorite indoor cat bed. My beloved teacher.
P.P.P.S. In September of 2022, my dear feline companion leaped over the rainbow bridge close to his 17th birthday. He was a wonderful friend, pandemic buddy, teacher, trickster, chair-stealer, treat-guzzler, and all-around loveable and loving being. Over a period of a few days, Bromley seldom moved off the bed and seemed to be losing his balance and focus. He was still interested in food and made use of the litter, but his spirit and curiosity were much diminished. He stopped challenging me for the computer chair. He had waxed and waned for months and each time I became worried that "this was the end" he made a comeback. I had high hopes that his life energy would turn around again. But this time, he seemed to journey a little bit further away every day, and I felt the kindest thing I could do for him though it broke my heart was to let him go. A compassionate vet visited our home. Over the years, Bromley had lost his fear of visitors. He was comfortable with the vet, and accepted his favorite treats from her hand. My dear Bromley died at home, right next to me on our bed, hearing (for the millionth time) how much I loved him. Our goodbye was sweet and peaceful.
On his final day, I took him outside and he relaxed in the grass - thus, the photograph below. I also gave him lots of treats and napped with him until the veterinarian came by.
My home, and my life, will not be the same without my beloved Bromley, aka Broms, Brom-Brom, Bromerosity, the Brommer. I am so glad I was able to give a cat who was so frightened and lonely when I met him at 10, seven years of safety, love, and even a little bit of adventure. And he gave back so much in return. I am so thankful. Here is a photo of him, enjoying the late summer grass on his very last, sweet day in the world.
I will never forget you.
