When you need to push through and keep going

“I’ve got a lot going on.”

“I may not like this process, but I need to push through.”

“I would love to take a break, but there’s too much to take care of.”

These sound familiar? Whether it’s a crisis, a big life change, social action, or relentless responsibilities, sometimes we need to answer the call of necessity–no matter how we’re feeling about it. The question is how to push through with vitality, rather than straining to the point of collapse.

It reminds me of a time when my seventeen-year-old sedan gave up on the hill of a highway frontage road. Cars were speeding by, blaring their horns, but there was no hope of revival. Luckily I was able to coast down to the exit, landing on the side of the road. That car had had enough. It had been pushed too far and too long, without the maintenance it needed to keep going. 

No one wants to be that old car! If we’re going to do more–for our work, for our families, for our communities–we will need to do more to sustain ourselves too. Sure, we’d all prefer a break to a breakdown. But when life is too full to take time off, we might have to take what I’ll call “time in.”

“Time in” might look like purposefully moving a little slower than our regular pace, especially during a busy day. Listening to a bird sing during a rare pause in the action, rather than checking email. It’s like the old Zen teaching on lengthening your meditation when you have less time to sit. Need to do more? Do less too.

“Time in” might also look like an intentional mini-breakdown. In a safe space, a good cry, a wild tantrum, or a full somatic anxiety release can relieve some of the tension that comes from having to keep it together. A little rest afterwards, and it can be just the right medicine for getting back up and keeping on going.

But hey, sometimes self-care can feel like just one more thing, so if that sounds like too much, it’s not necessary. The pressure to stay on top of everything is like the pressure of those passing drivers blaring their horns: it’s not going to solve the problem, it’s only going to stress us out more. Better to give up on being superhuman!

When the long road ahead is worth the trouble, we’ll each find a way through. 

I respect that there are times in life that require more of us. It can even be empowering to know we can step up when needed. Other times, it just doesn’t work to say “C’mon, get up, you can do this! What do you need to push through?” In these situations, maybe there’s a downshift, a “Here I am. Here’s my capacity. Now what will I do with it?”

Wishing you replenishing rest stops wherever you can find them, and a bit of coasting downhill too, 

Julia Aziz

PS- Need some supported time-in? Check out my individual therapy or the Release & Empower Women’s Group Program. And be sure to sign up for my mailing list; you’ll receive some free, easy ways to love yourself through all the ups and downs of life.

Image by Tobias Brunner from Pixabay

When you’re feeling worried

Do you ever feel like your concerns are repeating on an endless loop? “What if… but then, what if…?” To deal with the noise, you might be controlling everything you can, googling down rabbit holes, or seeking distraction. No matter how you cope, it’s hard to think clearly with a worried mind.

In contemplating worry, I like to remember a morning walk I took in northern California last fall. My mind was full from a recent family crisis, and ruminating thoughts were completely distracting me from the surrounding beauty. Then I noticed a small opening inside a big redwood tree. Curious, I squeezed through and found myself in complete darkness. I felt my way around the space and sat down until the noise in my head began to settle.

“Don’t rush to a solution. Sit here and rest,” counseled the tree.

So I did. 

The troubles plaguing my mind didn’t get resolved, but slowly, their urgency lessened. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to see shapes–and options I hadn’t been aware of before. When I reemerged from the tree hollow, I felt like myself again, mind and body back to earth.

Worry likes to say:

“Don’t let your guard down. The other shoe is about to drop. Figure it out now–there’s not enough time.”

Quiet says:

“Oh sweetie, you’ve found your way through chaos before. It’s OK to slow down. Wait until you can see your next step.”

Only we can decide which voice to listen to. 

What if fear was a doorway to trust? Despite its compelling nature, worry is not a protection from bad things happening nor does it help us think clearly or creatively. What helps in long-term crisis and uncertain change is caring, thoughtful humans offering of themselves in the particular ways they are called to contribute. More pressure won’t help; solid ground can.

As our long story continues, may we find refuge through the fear, re-rooting ourselves for inspired action. And in our darkest of hours, may the quiet voice of compassion be a true companion and guide.

Sending love,
Julia Aziz

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Orienting in uncertainty

This past summer I got to have another face-to-face encounter with a black bear. I was going down the winding mountain trail, she was going up, and we both stopped short upon meeting each other. I took a small step back to give her more space, trying not to fall off the mountainside. She quickly sussed me out, then turned and headed into the forest. I stood there watching her go, wistful and graced.

Every time I see a bear, I’m struck by the relaxed, easeful way they move. When they encounter something unexpected, they’re immediately alert and responsive. Then they go back to being relaxed again. Wouldn’t this be a powerful way to approach the uncertainty of our times? Relaxed and responsive, calm and available to act when needed. I like it!

I think about bears more often than most, but I still get the shock of “Oh! This is really happening now!” when I actually see one. Most of life is not so compelling. This kind of wake up call to aliveness is harder to come by when paying bills or brushing teeth. Though those mundane tasks may be exactly where more presence could help!

It makes me think of my dear friend Svenja, who died this past spring on the precipice of becoming an empty-nester. Sven was a master of savoring the moment, someone I could always count on to both dive deep and find humor in all things. On hospice care in her final weeks, one of the last texts she sent me said:

“I don’t feel like talking, It’s all a bunch of Hoo Ha. I just want to see stuff and taste stuff…”

It is all a bunch of Hoo Ha, isn’t it? We only get the moments we get. It’s a gift when we fully experience the small, everyday sensory experiences while they’re here. After all, this is really happening right now!

The point isn’t to be commanding “Be grateful!” at ourselves or each other in the little moments. Like Sven, who didn’t like to be too precious about things, we can take the pressure off. Savoring is not clinging–it fiercely appreciates then lets go. Savor and release. Relax and respond. Here and now, here and now.

I used to build forts in the woods with the neighbor kids when I was young. Storms would come, we would forget about these refuges for a while, then we’d go back and have to refortify. I think we’re in a time of inner fortification right now. We’re remembering what matters, replenishing the strength and courage we’ll need as our collective human story continues. My question is, what is this time of change asking of you?

Wishing you time to reflect, savor, and fortify—not just now, but any time you need to,

Julia Aziz

PS–If you’d like more support navigating these challenging times, we have spots available in the next season of Release & Empower: A Group Program for Women Moving Through Change. Or if you’d prefer individual counseling, please check out my psychotherapy page.

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Changes that feel uncomfortable, inevitable, and not quite here yet

“Things feel uncomfortable, uncertain, surreal.”

“I know something is changing, but I have no idea what’s next.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening, how I feel, or why!”

I’ve been hearing these themes a lot lately. Some feel they’re at an unfamiliar crossroads; others are grappling with existential questions. In this Great Unsettling, it seems as if one phase is shifting without us knowing what the next one will be. Like driving through a fog and missing all the signposts, it’s a vulnerable time to be moving through.

What’s exhausting you could be your vehicle of transformation

If we accept the truth of what’s happening now, we can “offer up” our weariness, confusion, and existential uncertainty. Offering means we let what is hard for us become sacred. We acknowledge that the road ahead runs precisely through the territory we like to avoid, and we take that road in the spirit of soul growth, with courage. Surrendering some resistance, we may feel more open to receive from unexpected directions.

Changing the questions we’re asking

When we can say “I don’t know” honestly, with open curiosity, “What’s the point?” may no longer be such a heavy question. There’s something about admitting lack of control that frees up the mind to see things differently. We come back to what’s in front of us right here. Rather than “What do I do?” we might ask, “What do I do next?”

Remembering where to find the inner compass

I’ve never been one for roller coasters or winding mountain roads. I feel that instability deep in my core, right away! Maybe you’ve got the stomach for turbulence, though you still may not feel thrilled by the ride of personal and collective change. It helps to know if there’s a voice inside saying “Aghhhhhhh!!!”, there’s also one that’s good at handling things. It’s the part of us that shows up for other people when they need it. That competent, fierce, adaptable part has a better sense of direction than the tired and frightened inner child. In this new terrain, we might intentionally ask the inner adult to take the wheel.

New rules to the game? 

There’s not just one insight that changes everything, and then we’re good to go forever more. So much spiritual seeking seems to have this flavor of “if I just change in this one way, I’ll be golden, and then I can finally coast.” Who came up with this silliness? Everything alive on this earth is in some cyclical process. Life is temporary; the mystery of life is always. 

Upwards Spiral image

If you’re struggling to find your way, I hope you reach out and ask for some help. We’re really not meant to be doing all this life stuff alone. When there’s too much constriction to let in support, clearing some things out can make all the difference. Change, of course, requires some creativity–and undoing.

Wherever we go, I’m glad to be on this wild ride with you,

Julia Aziz

PS- Here’s a little off-the-cuff, less than two minute audio to support you in these strange times: Get the “Rapid Reset for Instability” practice audio.

Reviving Into A New Year

The other day, I was sitting outside with a cup of tea when a butterfly came for a visit. She fluttered around, then perched on the side of my cup, closer and closer to the edge, until she fell in. It took a few moments for me to find a twig and rescue her, lifting her drenched and struggling little body onto the rock next to me. I tried to use my breath to dry her off, but she was barely moving. I watched as she brought her little antennae to press lightly and repeatedly on her chest, almost as if she was giving herself CPR. For a long time, she just laid there still, and I figured that was the end. I went for a walk, thinking maybe I’d bury her later to honor what I had witnessed. After a half hour or so, I came back, and there she was–upright on the rock now, starting to flutter her wings a little bit. Surprised, I watched her for a while more, then took a break. By the time I came back, she had flown away. 

Revive. This word feels like it’s been taken by fundamentalists, but let’s think about it. To Bring Life Back. Wow! Nature is amazing. We have the capacity to return to life. Our metaphorical revivals are not always met with a lot of fanfare. They are often quiet, slow moving, and subtle. Nevertheless, they are real, and they are necessary.

As we enter this new year, I wonder, where have you been living a half-life, and what revival may be underway for you? This is an individual and a collective contemplation. It’s easy to see all the problems; so much in our lives and our world is not working. To be able to see differently is a big deal–maybe even essential for a new way to emerge. In 2024, my wish for all of us is to return to life with new vitality and vision, especially in the areas that need it most. 

What is the strategy here? The old way of pushing an agenda and trying to make things happen no matter the fallout has caused plenty of suffering already. What if instead we (1) take the risk of following curiosity, even if it means falling in the cup of tea (2) claim the heart’s longing to feel and revive and (3) receive the patience and support we need. Then rather than “making” transformation happen, we “let” it happen. Big vision, tiny changes. Everything grows, or returns to life, one day at a time.

Many many blessings upon you and your loved ones, and all beings of this earth, in this new year,

Julia Aziz

PS- If you could use more support in envisioning and allowing change, check out the Release & Empower Women’s Circle or my 1-1 psychospiritual counseling or consultation services. And if you’d like to receive occasional articles on self-healing and empowerment in your inbox, just sign up for the mailing list here.

May we remember that people on the other side of the internet are real, just like we are, with real feelings. May we remember how wonderful it is to learn from different perspectives. Let us find radical acceptance for ourselves and each other, and learn a new way of peace.

When what you want is not happening

You may have heard my bear stories before, but I’ve recently been thinking about one I met this summer in the Appalachian mountains. I had begun my morning walk a little later than usual, and as I reached the top of the road, a young black bear crossed my path. She stopped and looked at me, as I stopped and looked at her. Deciding I was not a bother, she kept walking and even let me follow not far behind for a while. I could wax on about her grace and the deep gratitude I felt in seeing her, but that’s not what this story is about. What struck me was that had I not been delayed in getting out that morning, I would have missed her entirely.

Timing is a funny thing, and not all unexpected happenings are welcome. Despite knowing we are just tiny beings with limited life spans on a spinning planet in a vast galaxy, we get pulled into the collective societal consciousness that assumes we can take charge here. The conditioning of western culture makes us believe we should decide what we want and make it happen, otherwise we’re doing something wrong. So of course when things don’t go our way, we blame ourselves–or other people. Some of us respond by pushing our agenda harder; others fall into indecision and inertia. Either way, we lose the sense of being in the flow, in right timing. So what other options are there when life seems to be saying “no” or “not now”?

Rather than pretending to be ok, what if we let our reactions run their course? As in, “Hey sweetie, you’re allowed to be frustrated, disappointed, and even resentful. It’s OK to feel how you feel. Take your time, and let the waves come and go.”

What if we get curious about the obstacles that have shown up, asking, “What is there to learn here, and what more support might I need?”

Or maybe this is a resting time, not a doing time, and things just need a chance to work themselves out. What if we let go of trying to figure it all out?

In releasing what “should have been” and turning in a new direction, something else might even show up around the corner.

It takes a different kind of strength to slow down, accept what’s not happening, and look for the gifts that do show up. Underneath the conditioning, we are, like all sentient beings, wild and resilient, designed to adapt to change. We can unlearn some of the ways we’ve been enculturated and remember the innate call to harmonize with life and its timing. The old paradigm fights to maintain dominance and control, but there are more of us who want peace than not; we can start on the inside, wherever we’re at. 

May you feel more and more like your authentic self
Living a life full of curious synchronicities
Following the path as it reveals itself.

Walking with you,

Julia Aziz

*As soon as I took out my phone to take the picture of the bear, she felt it. Turned around and saw that I was still following her, then headed off into the forest. It’s not a great pic but it’s the real deal!

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When you feel lost and uncertain, remember we are just bitty things on this vast earth. The bigger pattern can't be seen from where we stand. It's OK to not know.

On getting triggered: Anger, guilt, blame, and the feelings we don’t want to feel

I’m curious, who showed you how to feel and process anger in a healthy way?

(Just kidding, that’s not a fair question!)

Depending on our background, we may have learned to numb or suppress negative emotions, beat ourselves up, or lash out, but it’s pretty rare for an adult reading this today to have grown up in an environment that modeled well how to work with feelings like anger, guilt, shame, or fear. It’s something we as a species are still learning. We continue to trigger negative emotions in each other all the time though–that’s just being human and living in society with other humans. Part of growing into adulthood is learning how to respect what we feel while also respecting other people’s experience, and while that may sound extremely basic, it’s often extremely missing.

You may have heard the term “shadow work” before, and it may mean something different to you than it does to me. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll define it here as finding a way to work with the thoughts, feelings, and parts of ourselves we’d prefer to banish to the basement of our consciousness. Let’s say you read, hear, or see something that gets your ire up. You begin to look for fault, but rather than inwardly or outwardly blaming (or avoiding), you pause. You say to yourself, “Hey, let’s not focus on who’s wrong right now. I’m more curious about what’s happening inside you?” Maybe you notice a little voice that’s feeling scared or lost, along with some tension in the body. And you don’t try to do anything; you just be kind about it. You offer empathy and compassion to yourself the way you would if a dear friend was sharing something similar. Giving attention to thoughts, feelings, and sensations with care in the heart, you may find yourself breathing more deeply and noticing more nuance. Maybe there is something to say or do now or maybe not. At some point, you’ll know what the next step is for you.

This is just one of many different ways we can work with triggers. Shadow work helps us to be less controlled by our conditioning and inner demons, so we can return to our truest essence. The big triggers need big patience and support. And if we’re often holding space for other people’s triggered feelings, making room for our own is doubly important.

Anger is part of a guidance system–it points us toward boundaries that need setting and power that needs rebalancing. Once we’ve moved through its fire, we can use it as fuel for change. Rather than asking who is to blame or getting stuck ruminating over what other people are doing, we might look at questions such as: How can I accept my whole self, with all my feelings and history, and take courageous action from a place of centered clarity? What is my unique role here to play in the bigger context? As social beings, we have the power to regulate and disregulate each other. In tending to ourselves and showing up again to the complexities of living in society, we make a difference. 

The quieter voices in the room, just like the quieter voices in ourselves, have some important things to say. Listening and learning, we evolve together.

In the school of life with you, in gratitude for our connection,

Julia Aziz

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PS-If you need at-home support with the kind of shadow work we’re talking about, try the simple practice outlined in this little book. It’s an affordable, accessible resource for anyone feeling challenged by negative emotions and looking for a new way.

PPS-Here’s a song by the Middle East Peace Orchestra for more support to feel.

We each have our own role to play in the emergence of a new way. May those who are struggling for their lives, traumatized, and grieving be protected, supported, and loved. May the wisdom and power of our hearts prevail.

How this new year might be different

As I was leaving the farmer’s market this weekend, a young man called out, “2023 is going to be the best year ever!!!” I turned and said curiously, “Really?” We laughed together about how “best ever” may be too heavy an expectation to lay on 2023. Instead we agreed on wishing each other fresh new beginnings and an excellent new year.

There definitely seems to be a general sense of possibility in the air. I’m hearing people ready for something new and wanting lasting change, though also still struggling through plenty of chaos and grief. Like many of you, I’m over it when it comes to New Year’s resolutions, but the collective desire for transformation is definitely fuel for whatever we’re hoping to do right now. It’s a great time to welcome new beginnings while integrating the wisdom of what we’ve learned about power and limitations.

The pretense of what I’ll call the “marketing of manifestation” is falling by the wayside. Change doesn’t always pan out so well when we’re muscling through life, shouting, “I want this, and I’m going to make it happen!” If we haven’t learned by now we’re not in control here, I don’t know how we will. On the other hand, we certainly have a major role to play in what happens next. We can start down the road of our choosing with vision, courage, and flexibility–or not. We can be creative with the obstacles that impede our best laid plans–or we can resist them with all our might. We have choices, often and always.

Integrating both intentionality and receptivity might look a little different from the usual new year goal-setting process. Instead of “what do I want?” we might ask:

What will help me to open and meet life this year?

What do I feel called towards?

What changes are in right timing?

Intentions are only the beginning, just like this week is only week one. Purposeful change begins with clarity and continues with the unglamorous-but-necessary quality of perseverance–that slow, persistent willingness to keep taking the next small step on the winding path each day. More than an online quiz with a formula for what to do, then trying hard and giving up when willpower runs out, I invite you to find supports that will help you chart your own course, grow from failure, and re-open to life again and again.

Where is support showing up that I can receive more fully?

If you’re a woman who is often supporting other people in *their* changes, do check out the new year Release & Empower Women’s Circles. This program was created specifically to support *you* in maintaining the changes you want to make and in moving through those changes you didn’t count on. If this group isn’t resonant for you, I know there are plenty of ways a person can find accountability for keeping on the heart’s path. We know we will fall off again and again this year. We’re mere humans, and we are lovable when we dream big and when we fall short too. We are enough, and we keep going, together.

Wishing you less pressure and more ease in all that you create and all that unfolds this year, 

Julia Aziz

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When you’re trying to let go

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.

Until next time, thank you for reading,

Julia Aziz

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I was able to catch a photo of this cutie pie, thought you might appreciate 🙂

When you need a real refresh to keep going

The summer intensity has been calling me back toward waterfalls again. This year, I’ve been playing with shifting my listening from one spot to the next, noticing how water bouncing off small rocks makes a tinkling sound under the noisy rush from heights above. The cascade’s separate sprays are like a crowd of different voices all talking at once, reminding me of the input overload so many of us feel these days. I try to hear one stream or another until I give up, listen to the whole chorus of voices together, and let it become one current, one being, one song. 

Sounds lovely, right, but how on earth do we let the current of our modern times sing us a song rather than slip us off the edge and take us down with it? “Go with the flow” won’t cut it. If we go with the flow of the collective, we are going down a dark vortex of strife and fear. So let’s pause for a moment from the many streams of deep grief, trauma, injustice, and tyranny and see if we can shift how we’re listening.

One of the aspects of waterfalls that strikes me this year is that the water only makes sound because of the rock. The flow is not separate from the hard places. I, like many, would usually prefer things progress forward in a direct line. But that’s not the way water, or life, moves. It curves over, under, and around the hard places, finding any way it can to keep flowing. We, too, must make contact with the rocky edges in ourselves and meander the curves to follow the course. The music is in keeping on.

I recently visited the waterfall I fell down a few years ago, and it, like many things, has changed. Time and weather has rearranged it. I’m a bit rearranged too, and maybe so are you. The way I see it, my Number One Job right now is to release negative thoughts and emotional tension as frequently as possible, so the waters don’t get muddied and stagnant, stuck in a puddle of doom. Letting go makes way for the flow to continue, showing the next right move at the next right time. We may want to get ahead of ourselves and hurry a plan, but like the water, the nature of life here on earth is that we move through what’s current before knowing what’s next

Releasing and renewing sounds easier than it is to remember and do. But I believe in you because if you can take a moment out of your busy day to read this, it means you can take a moment to refresh your mind, body, and precious heart too. If that sounds improbable or impossible, it’s time for more support. Support from people, the water, the birds, the ground, the breath, the body–much is available when we ask and open to it.

May the chorus of the world sound to you like perennial permission to pause and re-source yourself, so you can get back up stronger again and again and again.

With kindness,
Julia Aziz

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