I had big Monday morning plans. Gym at 6am. Coffee from my favorite barista a few doors down. And I’d be bright eyed, bushy tailed, and at my desk by 8am.
When rest matters more
Instead, it’s now 9am after sleeping in until 7am. I woke with a headache and a general grumpiness that I’m sure was very unattractive for all in my midst. Forget gym. I need rest.
When self-compassion helps
I told myself this rest is self-compassion. You don’t go to gym when you feel unwell!
Dr Kristen Neff, a self-compassion researcher, defines it as “being with” ourselves in an accepting way. It has three components:
- Self-kindness: comforting ourselves.
- Common humanity: reassuring ourselves that we aren’t alone.
- Mindfulness: being present with our pain.
And then I thought, “I’d never make it as a Navy Seal”. So much for self-compassion. It’s hard to silence that inner critic!
Still, I channeled Kristen and went for the gentle approach. I chose to go to my closer, second favorite barista(s). Kevin and Jenny. They own a small local milk bar (just like the old-fashioned corner stores that existed before 711’s replaced most of them). It was Kevin today and he made my coffee just how I like it. Then I walked around the corner to the local park to watch the park action.
Where you put yourself matters
Usually, it’s a few dogs playing fetch with their owners (yes, that way around). Except today, I was a bit late. Only one dog. And quite a few Australian magpies swooping near the gum trees at the western end of the park. I kept a wide berth and chose the seat at the eastern end. It’s no fun being swooped.
What you do there matters
And that’s when the magic happened. You know how they say notice something with each of your senses? The mindfulness Five Senses exercise? The third component of self-compassion? This is my simpler version of it:
- Seeing green grass, a dog and its owner, swooping magpies, gumtrees.
- Feeling the sunshine on my shoulders.
- Tasting the coffee.
- Touching the warm coffee cup.
- Hearing chicks cheeping.
What? Everything was totally normal except for what I was hearing. Baby birds. And then I noticed Mama and Papa bird swooping down, picking I imagine a worm from a spot on the grass, flying back up to “oh yes, now I see it… the nest”!
Adorable! Truly delightful. And they had no interest in swooping me. These were noisy miners, not Australian magpies. And I noticed I was no longer grumpy.
I’ve been back every day since. I’ve still only been able to see the beaks poking up out of it. They’re still tiny.
From grumpiness to joy
No matter how bad I feel, there’s always something extra special about watching parents tend their young with such care. I guess, in the end, it’s the common humanity part of self-compassion that grounds me most. Even when they’re birds.
That’s my top self-compassion thing. What’s yours?
Image by 현 정 from Pixabay
