Self-Compassion is the New Black

One sure benefit of teaching mindfulness is the ongoing responsibility to practice what one preaches.  Hence the class, "Dread to Joy:  Self-Compassion During the Holidays."  This ensures that I will actually read the books and research articles on self-compassion, get real familiar with the material, practice the exercises myself, plan the class, see what sticks.

The three components of self-compassion, as defined by Dr. Kristin Neff, are:

• Mindfulness
• Common Humanity
• Self-Kindness

One of the more interesting pieces in this little offshoot of western science's ongoing "discovery" of mindfulness practices is the contrast of self-compassion with self-esteem.  Self-esteem is out.  Self-compassion is in.

Self-esteem is based on beliefs of fixed traits.  Which requires protecting this self, this ego.

Whereas self-compassion is looking at ourselves as work-in-progress.  "Common Humanity" is key to this.  Our own experience of suffering, or making mistakes is one that connects us to others.  First Noble Truth kinda stuff.

Self-kindness is actually doing kindness to ourselves.  This might be offering ourselves empathy; speaking to ourselves with a warm, kind tone.  It might also be physical:  Hugging ourselves.  Yep.  Perhaps not in public, but in a gesture that almost resembles folding the arms across the chest.  When this is infused with the intention to express appreciation to ourselves in our struggles -- to cherish ourselves-- there can be a release of oxytocin, "the bonding hormone."  Even just stroking our arm could do it.

I had occasion to try not too long ago.  Stopped at happy hour with a friend I had not seen for a while.  No, I didn't drink too much.  I did, however, talk myself into "just a little" gluten-filled food.  A couple bites of bread here, some breaded and fried snacks there, a few bites of pastry... well, 1:30 a.m. and I'm trying to connect my own suffering to everyone with tummy aches, everyone who might be sleepless, giving myself a gentle belly-rub (which actually evoked strong memories of my mom rubbing my belly as a child).  "You poor thing, you really wanted those treats, and you really thought you could tolerate them."

This was WAY better than, "You stupid idiot, when will you ever learn?  How many times do you have to have this experience?  You sure haven't figured out how to deal with greed."  Also better than, "Oh crap, it's 1:30 in the morning, and I have to get up early tomorrow, and I have to give that talk tomorrow, and I'm going to feel foggy and weird if I don't hurry up and get to sleep!"

No, just really being with the discomfort, being really present to it, noticing the universality of it, the utter humanness of it, and just rubbing the belly.  Kindly.  It didn't make it go away.  But it did allow me to observe it subside little by little, with gratitude.