If you’re a mental health or healthcare professional interested in ritual, ceremony, and/or the integration of a spiritual perspective into psychotherapy work, give a listen to this podcast interview/CEU course. We explore meaningful ways to honor both big and small transitions–without imposing any particular beliefs or practices. With an emphasis on discernment and cultural humility, this conversation is meant to empower and inspire clinicians, opening more creative possibility for supporting the human experience.
“I just gave and gave and gave. And now you’re telling me I’m the one inside, I have to heal myself?!?”
If you spend time helping or caring for other people, you may resonate with this question Sindee posed to me in our recent conversation about self-healing. It’s a valid point! How do we show up for others as well as ourselves when we’re depleted or going through our own struggles? I hope you give this interview a listen. I so enjoyed discussing shifting perspective in how we approach service and the importance of nourishing our own spiritual lives.
Though this interview is part of a therapist podcast, its underlying message is truly for any individual who is often supporting others. I hope you know how much you matter–not just because of what you are to other people, but because you exist here too!
Do you worry about things you said or did and how other people may perceive you?
Do you battle niggling feelings of not being good enough?
If you resonate with the term “perfectionist,” “people pleaser,” or “impostor syndrome,” you’re most likely a highly conscientious, caring individual with an acute sensitivity to nuance. You may also struggle with an inner tension that won’t let loose, a guard and self-critic whispering “sour nothings” that something is wrong with you. On the outside, all may look manicured and pretty. On the inside, trying to maintain control and tame creativity can be an exhausting drain of energy.
One way to break out of the inner prison is the practice of making imperfect. You might say, who needs practice making mistakes; we do that all the time easily enough, right? But I’m talking about practicing welcoming those mistakes, embracing messiness, and loving fallibility. It goes against the grain for those who grew up finding their value in giving people what they wanted. We give lip service to fostering a “growth mindset,” but we’re not taught how to emotionally integrate failure and keep moving forward when everything goes sideways. That’s OK though; sometimes the best learning comes from stumbling through.
I’d like to share a prayer I worked with almost daily for a long time. It originated in something I read and eventually evolved into something more my own. I invite you to edit the words as needed to bring the most genuine relief and freedom to you too:
You know who is not a perfectionist? Nature. It’s not our nature, nor is it in nature, to have everything line up just so, for all eternity. Find the most beautiful symmetrical flower you can, and there will likely be just one little tear. Some tiny “flaw” that makes it slightly different from its neighbors. Yet wow, isn’t nature filled with such fantastically intricate patterns? Take a closer look at that flower, and you’ll see the awesome beauty of her just being herself.
May you be imperfectly, beautifully whole, and gloriously you,
Julia Aziz
🌝🌜🌚🌛🌝
Sidebar on the word “prayer”
If you’re not used to praying, or if the word “prayer” brings up religious trauma or resistance, know that it doesn’t matter if you are praying to something or not. I think of the phrase Baruch Hashem from my own tradition, meaning “Blessed is the Name.” I like it because it captures the non-nameable aspect of divinity–I translate Baruch Hashem as “What an amazing wonder this all is, whatever you want to call whatever it is you’re calling.” How could our limited language capture the essence of interconnection and everything we can’t perceive/don’t understand as a tiny person in a vast universe? So it’s OK, we don’t need intellectual understanding of what we’re doing here. What matters is we keep expressing from the heart. We keep opening to ourselves, to each other, and to all of life as is.
I’m happy to say I’ve been meeting new friends on my morning walks again. Just last month, I had encounters with a porcupine, owls, armadillos, hawks, foxes, a crested caracara, and coyote. I always try to play it cool, gently slowing down without making too big a deal of it, wanting to greet the animals in a natural way. As you might imagine, they don’t often hang out for more than a few moments, and I find myself feeling wistful each time they leave. Not knowing when or if we might meet again, I’m left with a fleeting joy, better nourished by the connection.
If you’ve been involved in spiritual, self-help, or personal growth circles, you’ve been hearing the phrase “let go” anywhere you look and listen. Lately, I’ve been curious about what I’m calling “letting leave,” a concept best taught by our wise companions and caregivers, the trees, in this new fall season. Letting leave is a less active, more receptive process than letting go, one that honors a timeline beyond human will. The leaves of a tree are not hustling and on the go; rather, when their time comes, they simply fall to the earth. A gust of wind or a big storm may also blow through and accelerate the process of leaving. Life is like this too, isn’t it? Smooth or sudden, ready or not, when change wants to happen, it will.
In the healing arts, we often begin with what we want to let go of. What’s wrong, what’s the presenting concern, what are you struggling with? A problem focus is helpful in knowing what needs attention, but concentrating too much on the issue can sometimes hinder its release. As I see it, one of the key aspects to actually receiving help and letting support in is being able to let suffering leave. On the surface, we all want that. But when you’ve been struggling with something for a long time, be it physical, emotional, mental or spiritual, the question of “Who am I if I’m not a person with this pain?” feels almost incomprehensible. There’s no easy bypass here; instead, we might keep asking the question. At a deep level of consciousness, we “let leave” the attachment to knowing what we are or how change will occur.
The letting leave process doesn’t often happen in one fell swoop; everything has its season, and seasons come and go too. It can become a bit easier to trust the natural cycles when we notice the subtle shifts happening all the time. Have you ever found yourself telling a familiar painful story, and realized it’s not actually true or still happening in this moment? Healing may be the recurrent “in the now” experience of letting the resistance to what’s hard leave. It is also, as the Buddhists know well, the loosening of our clinging to what feels good. I watch those trees rooted down into the soil, and see how they allow more powerful forces to weather and therefore strengthen them. We have this capacity too, when we are grounded and willing to hold lightly what we think we have to do.
The invitation I’m hearing this fall is to soften and find courage in letting what needs to go leave when it’s ready, whether that’s old patterns, beliefs, or something more tangible. There will be grief, and sudden loss especially will need plenty of time and love to integrate. In holding sacred the leaving times, may we also find deep appreciation for all that is here with us now.
I’ve been living in the same neighborhood for ten years now, and given that I take a walk at least once a day, I’m pretty familiar with my surroundings. There’s the blue house with the big cactus out front, the little library around the corner, the “for sale by owner” sign two blocks away… you get the picture. Seeing the same things every day can, as you may well know, get a little monotonous. Yesterday though, it occurred to me that I could walk in a different direction. That sounds obvious, I know, but taking a left from my front door means crossing a busy street, so I never go that way. Yesterday however, I turned left, waited to cross the street, and found myself in a neighborhood I had never seen before.
Listen, it wasn’t as if I discovered Shangri-la. It’s just another neighborhood, right? But yesterday it felt like grace, getting happily lost on unfamiliar streets with new sights to see. Of course this mini-adventure only came about because I decided to quit walking around in the same circles and instead notice what was already there. I tell you this simple story that’s barely a story at all because it’s reminiscent of a message that keeps coming to me these days: enough already, and already it’s enough.
What have you had enough of already? I don’t just mean walking around in circles, covid, politics, zoom calls, etc. I mean what are you tiring of inside your own experience? Maybe it’s regretting the past, the “shoulda coulda woulda” internal conversation that never seems to resolve itself. Or maybe it’s complaining, comparing, blaming, guilting, or some other heavy pattern that has become so entrenched it’s easy to forget there is any other way to respond. What I’ve noticed in my own life, as well as in my experience supporting others through shadow work, is that if we get to know these patterns well, we can learn to recognize when they’ve taken hold, say “Enough already!” and experience a real shift. I’m not talking about some grand and fabulous transformation where you’re demanding a brand new you. Pushing yourself (or anyone else) into new awareness just does not work. What I’m talking about is, in your own time, finding the “no” that shows the way to your “yes”.
Take disappointment for example. If you’ve ever felt disappointed for a long stretch of time, whether that be by relationships, jobs, circumstances–you name it–you know that people and situations don’t always change and relieve you of feeling disappointed. If at some point, however, you say “enough already” and claim your needs as worthy of your own attention and love, no matter if the outside world fills them or not, you may feel a profound sense of power returning. When we acknowledge what didn’t happen and love who we are and what we have anyway… now that’s something new.
December is all about more, not less, in our modern culture. Yet here we are at the end of the fall season, a time when the trees lose the last of their leaves, and the sun sets into the darkening sky earlier each day. All is quieting, simplifying down only to what is most essential. This year we face limitations on our choices, and we grieve losses big and small. So I ask you, what still remains? What in your life is already enough?
I hope there is laughter in your tears and tears in your laughter in these changing times. We all could use some of both, I think. And thank you for reading these messages this year. May you find the courage and gentleness you need to keep going, no matter what.
Julia Aziz
PS- If you know you need more practice with setting boundaries on old patterns and recognizing you are enough, this little book is super affordable and available to all: When You’re Having A Hard Time: The Little Book That Listens. If you want to take it a step further, the Women’s Release & Empower Group continues to enroll wonderful, caring souls. Very little staring at screens, lots of space to be you.
PPS- Want to receive these monthly musings directly? Just subscribe here. It’s the best way for us to stay connected.
One of the greatest gifts I’ve received in the past few years has been some dear friends in Colorado that invite my family to pet/housesit when they travel. I just returned to Austin from there, and while the spirit of the forest is still present in me, I’d like to share it with you. Every morning last month, I woke up hours before my first appointment and hiked down and up the mountain to take my morning shower in a waterfall a little ways away. Before I start waxing on, let me warn you: I am in love with this waterfall. I don’t mean I think it’s beautiful or that I like listening to it, though those things are very true. I mean I am in love with this waterfall! There’s something instinctual about hearing the sound of rushing water that makes me feel both abundant and safe. The freezing cold stream woke up every cell in my body and erased every thought in my mind those mornings. All this while looking out onto pine trees and mountaintops, hummingbirds and butterflies.
On my last full day there, I got to spend a more extended time with my beloved. I sat there watching and listening to the cascade, mesmerized by the movement of water over rock. I loved noticing how it all goes downstream. Some drops might bounce off a jagged edge and spray out at a wild angle, but all the water knows which way to go. If only we humans could maintain such flow and clarity of direction. I sat there contemplating how to let my own life choices head downstream, letting what’s easy and obvious lead.
Then some hikers came by and decided to have lunch, at which point I realized I better move on. I was feeling wistful and not wanting to leave, especially knowing that the town plans to close the trails next year. I headed down the path to a spot I had never stopped at before. As I sat there watching the milder stream, I saw that every time we adjust to a new situation or changing reality, we are just like the water rushing down over the rocks, moving over and around the obstacles, flowing through the crevices. Maybe this moment-to-moment adaptation is all it takes to be in the flow. There’s nothing more to figure out about it. More importantly, the mountain is more than just one beautiful section of waterfall. A mountain is made up of many different elements, just like we, too, are whole beings that encompass scared parts, pleasure-seeking parts, ambitious parts–the inner child and the inner elder too. In the big picture, we are all of these parts and more, just like the mountain isn’t separate from individual rocks and trees, waterfalls and dirt. When I am the mountain, I know everything that’s happening is happening over and through and within me. I don’t have to hold on to my favorite parts; they are already encompassed within something much larger and quite majestic. Some of you may remember how well the trees reminded me to root back into the earth in December, pre-pandemic. I think our current times call for something even more grounded, more vast. Perhaps it is time to be the mountain itself, where the trees and the waterfalls and the flowers are born, grow, die, change, and in some sense, are always one.
Are there ways you could move more easily downstream in your own life? I know there is much that will never be the same again. Even the waterfall I fell off of two years ago is unrecognizable today, so many pebbles and boulders have shifted since then. Sometimes, I find, letting go is easier when we expand the view. What would it be like not just to let change happen, but to be the ground upon, the field within, that change occurs?
Somewhere in between trying really hard and giving up, there is a place of alignment and power. It’s a place where we move with the twists and turns in one particular moment and then the next, nothing more, nothing less. I wish this place arrives for you as often as not, and I send you the blessings of the mountain, the waterfall, the eagles, and the bears. May we remember where we came from and why we are here.
Big big hugs to you, Julia
PS– I know I can always use a reminder about how powerful even thirty seconds to a minute of standing under a cold water shower is as a nervous system reset, anxiety soother, anger cooler, immune system booster, skin refresher, pain reliever, and overall wake up. If reading about cold water here didn’t do it for you, you can research not only the science of it but also the different traditional cultures that have utilized cold water plunges for spiritual, emotional, and physical renewal for many generations. Simple healthcare you can do yourself.
PPS– I find so much to gain from ritual, showing up for what heals me on a regular basis, regardless of how I’m feeling that day. Like the cold waterfall, it’s about starting over, regularly. My morning walk and prayer/meditation time are like that and so is Release & Empower, an online self-healing practice community.Together with other genuinely caring and quite responsible women, we loosen up the body and relieve the mind, returning to our own wild hearts. Everything is changing and plans are pretty impossible. But if you’re a woman who spends a lot of time attending to other people’s needs, this community is a place you can rely on for you. New creative solutions to personal and world problems originate from relaxed nervous systems. There is a lot we can do on our own, and so much more we can do together.
The other day, I called up a dear friend and colleague who has survived four near-death health emergencies in the past decade. After a little check-in, I asked him, “So how are you feeling about your mortality these days?” We both laughed at how overly direct my question was. In typical Robert fashion, he then replied, “Well, I feel I’ve been doing my part by not using toilet paper.” Then we laughed again.
Most people don’t want to talk about death. It’s not small talk, and the general attitude seems to be “why dwell on such things.” Well, dwelling is certainly not helpful, but taking an honest look is. While some people have been facing terminal diagnoses for a while, we now have a collective situation where it’s hard to ignore the possibility that death could come sooner rather than later. This little heads up doesn’t necessarily make grieving easier, but it is a gift. When we understand there may not be as much time left as we hoped, we might take the risk of being authentic.
Some masks are being put on, but it’s time to take another kind of mask off. While we’re waiting to see how many losses we’ll experience, there is time to be real. What needs to happen for you to feel at peace with the life you’ve lived? If there’s something left unsaid or undone, what a great time to either do it or forgive yourself for letting it go. Many people who know they are dying will say they wish they took more emotional risks in life. If you let yourself be seen, and then end up with a lot more time here after all, wonderful. Maybe taking those risks now will help you show up and live in a way that reflects what really matters to you. This is the paradox, the new life that comes from death. It is the clarifying nature of a disorienting transition.
Humanity as a whole and each one of us individually have come to a crossroads. Change is happening, but the bigger changes are not yet clear. We will not all continue in the same direction, but we are still here at the crossroads right now. So what do we do here?
You tell me what we do. You’re doing it right now. There are all sorts of things to do at the crossroads. Like this song by Taya Ma says, the wise woman does it all. She cries. Prays. Rants. Shakes her hips at the crossroads.
The beautiful and the tragic are all wrapped up into one, as they have always been. It’s OK to grieve. It’s OK to receive. It’s a pleasure to laugh. It’s a relief to cry. And (whisper voice) it’s pretty awesome to roar at the top of your lungs when you’re not hurting anybody at all.
Whatever you’re thinking and feeling, I hope when you see yourself in the mirror, you look beyond appearances. Maybe send some tenderness to that very human being going through a lot of change.
I don’t know who wants to hear this right now, but I hope you will share this with anyone who needs it. I promise you, there are people you love out there right now who are scared, and they don’t feel like they can talk to anyone about what they are truly afraid of. You probably also have loved ones in high risk groups who are not afraid and who are ready to talk, but they may be quite lonely because no one will listen.
As many of you know, I used to work as a hospice chaplain, visiting people in their final months, weeks, days, and hours, as well as sitting and praying at the deathbed after a loved one’s passing. I’ve had terrifying experiences as well as profoundly blissful ones, but every single encounter with death has been humbling. There were times I felt the pull of dark energies nearby and times I was floating in bottomless peace. Yet one of the most important insights that came from those families I had the honor to witness and care about was this: much of the fear of death is really a fear of grief.
Where there is love, there is loss. Where there is loss, there is love. This is what it means to be a human being. This is what we signed up for. There is no need to wait until you or your loved one or the whole world is in crisis. Healing can happen now. Maybe not curing, but real healing. We can forgive ourselves, we can reach out and protect each other, we can draw boundaries and forge a new way, for as long or as short a time as we have left.
I’d like to share with you again a Hebrew song from Kol Nidre, a holy of holy nights where all the individuals in the community together release unmet expectations, forgive broken promises, and start over completely. It has just two lines:
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od V’ha-ikkar lo l’faheid k’lal
The first line translates as:
“The whole world is a very narrow bridge.”
We are being slapped in the face with this reality right now. The entire world is a very narrow bridge. Everything can and will be taken away from us. Eventually, what we have left is the spirit of who we really are—the pure essence only–and absolutely nothing else. This is nature. This is the existence we know.
We can’t stop at just the awareness of the narrow bridge though! Stopping here has caused, at least in my lineage, chronic anxiety, worry, and fear for generations, a collective PTSD from a long history of sudden loss. No, we must absolutely remember the second half:
“The essential thing is not to fear at all.”
Courage.
Feeling all the feelings, even and especially the grief and the fear.
Letting those feelings pass and moving forward.
Knowing necessity to be the mother of invention and finding creative solutions.
Taking the next right step in the direction of wellness and peace.
Changing alongside with change.
So yes, nothing feels secure. But what if we could dance across that narrow bridge anyway? I’ll do a little hip shimmy, maybe you’ll do the cha-cha. Both of us with our eyes wide open, balancing on one foot, then the next.
Fear, I see you! Fear, I hear you! Thank you. You remind me: I am choosing Love.
Always, Julia Aziz
PS-I’ve been feeling called to write more in these times of isolation, so please do share this sign-up link with friends and family who may need some alternative messages coming into their inbox.
Someday, I’d like to tell you more about my friend Stephen. Stephen was addicted to heroin for eleven years, from the age of 19 to 29. In his former life, he stole from, lied to, and abandoned the people he loved. I didn’t know him then, but I know him now. My first thought when I met him, before we ever spoke, was that his eyes looked like those of a newborn baby, just full of wonder. There’s a certain gentle, open-heartedness about him that can’t be faked. Stephen is still a brave and independent person like he was in his youth, but his new life leads him toward adventures that inspire rather than ones that devastate. He’s going back to school to be a counselor, and I know without a doubt he will help many people over the course of his lifetime.
How did that transformation happen? Well, first I also want to tell you about my friend Creta, a former firefighter who has become a dear friend in Colorado. For a long time, Creta suffered from health issues related to her thyroid. After putting it off for years while the condition worsened, she went to the hospital for surgery two weeks ago. When the prepartory lab tests were run, the blood work suddenly came back normal. She was sent home because she didn’t need the surgery anymore.
These are both absolutely beautiful people with fascinating stories to tell. The specifics are different, and I won’t go into them here, but I can tell you they have both experienced great healing of the heart. I knew I wanted to share their stories with you all, but I wasn’t sure how to talk about them without writing a whole dissertation on self-healing. So I told my eight-year-old daughter these details about our friends, and asked her. “What do you make of this? What’s the moral of these stories?”
“Find your connection,” she said.
She is so right. That is what they both did, and they are not the only ones either. Look around you, and you may start to notice. The darkness in our world today is bringing out some brilliant light. The miracles are here if we are ready to listen to and see them. It doesn’t matter what name you give to what you are connected to or if you think you are connected to something or not. What matters is the feeling of connection.
Knowing love in your heart and believing in it more than you believe in the permanence of your suffering.
It’s very hard to believe in love when you’ve had your heart shattered. It’s hard to believe in connection when it feels like your life is falling to pieces. But I’m talking about a different kind of love and connection, more even-keeled than the human form. It is fundamental to radical transformation and healing. This dialed-in, equanimous way of being doesn’t come easily to most of us, but it can be learned if the intention is there. One thing you can do to feel more connected right now is to start looking for miracles. Notice the big ones, like the healing Stephen and Creta experienced, and the small ones, like the perfect spiderweb I saw on my window pane this morning. If you are on the lookout for miracles, you’ll find them everywhere. Maybe you’ll take a little extra time to listen to a stranger, and you’ll be that miracle yourself.
What’s the moral of your story, dear one? What do you want it to be? That story is being written right now, and I bet it deserves a good read. Meanwhile, I’ll be wishing you the felt knowledge that you are not alone here. Whether or not you’re aware of it right now, you are very loved.
I went to bed at 2am last Saturday after my son’s nontraditional bar mitzvah slash coming-of-age ceremony positively vibrating with love and gratitude for all of it. Family, friends, teachers, and mentors shared their blessings and wisdom with Kaleb. It was an infusion of good vibes and appreciation! What a gift for any human being in the middle of 7th grade.
Aside from being a proud mama, I feel re-inspired as a ceremonialist. I’ve been officiating weddings, funerals, and baby/mother blessings ever since I graduated from an interfaith seminary program in 2003. But this was my first personalized coming-of-age for one of my kids. Designing and facilitating something new requires a real trust in the creative process, whether it’s for a client or my own family. People that choose personalized ceremonies often feel like they don’t fit within the structures of organized religion, yet they long for the connection and meaning that community gathered together in reverence can bring. So when I work with a new client, I start off by asking questions. I need to know who the people are, what matters to them, and why they want to have this particular ritual. We have to root the experience in what is most meaningful and true to the people involved. So, for instance, if you come from a culture or tradition that you would like to reconnect with, I use that as a foundational piece. If you feel disconnected from the traditions of your ancestors or you’ve experienced religious trauma, I want to know where you feel the most alive and connected. Is it when you’re lying on the grass, staring up at the sky? Is it a martial arts or yoga practice? Maybe it’s hanging out with a small group of loved ones around a fire. It’s different for everyone, and that’s what makes personalized ceremonies so unique.
Once I understand how to root the ceremony, we can branch out in ways that reflect the people involved. I follow tradition in structure or just in essence when it serves the heart-centered purpose of the ceremony. In some ways, the process is a lot like making art or writing. We start with a free flow of ideas and let them marinate for a while. In time, with patience and creative collaboration, what looks like disparate parts solidifies into form. Something brand new emerges that has never been seen before and yet is completely familiar, for it is your own.
Several friends this weekend told me they want to do something similar but don’t know where to start. The first thing I say is to give the ceremony creation some priority and a little space in your life. This isn’t just event planning (which takes time too!). The process is likely to stir up deep feelings, memories, and some questions. Ceremony is a marking of an important change you or someone you love is going through. It’s a chance to get real with yourself and with the people in your life. Rites of passage have been a part of every human culture throughout the ages. We all come from this history. We can remember and relearn our roots, and we can grow new branches reaching for the light. As humans here on earth, we have an open invitation for meaning and purpose. May we all grow strong and more beautiful in its unfolding!
All my love,
Julia Aziz
PS–If you’re considering some kind of ceremony to mark a transition in your life, and you’d like support in its development/facilitation, check out the details here to get in touch: Ceremonial Work.
Julia Aziz, LCSW-S, OIM 