Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

True Love

You must love yourself in order to love anyone else. We’ve heard this adage before and we can understand its truth.

But are we really loving ourselves? Truly? Deeply? Body, mind, heart, soul?

Or are there little pockets where we are withholding love?

At the end of 2016, judgements swirled at the height of a presidential election and the media was saturated with criticisms and finger-pointing.

As I observed this play out on the world screen, I turned my gaze inward, noticing I had my own little tit for tat going on within.

I was ashamed to admit it, but it was true. I wasn’t loving myself, unconditionally. Truth be told, there were pockets in my mind where I just wasn’t being kind. Sometimes the thoughts would flit so quickly, they’d often go unnoticed. But their sear was cumulative and lasting.

A criticism of myself for not having been more patient with Jeb: “Well that exchange will scar him for life. I’m an awful mother.”

A judgement that my stir-fry just didn’t turn out with the spice I was hoping for: “No matter how I try, I’m just a terrible cook.”

A defeated look in the mirror: “Wow, I’m getting old. Who is that ugly woman in the mirror?”

It’s not easy to admit that I would send these silent zingers to myself. It’s even harder to type them out to lay bare in the ether here. But perhaps they sound familiar. My wish would be that these quiet put downs are alien to you. But I suspect that all too often, many of us fall prey to the mental looping of continual criticism, which eats away at our esteem and staves off love.

So tired I was of being mean to myself, but not sure how to stop the habit, I grasped for something tangible. I put a big pause on what I was feeding myself, literally. I chose not to put in anything unhealthy. I chose to add only the highest, most nutritious food and phyto-nutrients. I figured I could start with my body and hopefully the vessel that housed my mind would have influence on my thoughts.

As I loved my body by giving it the utmost care, I began to see more loving thoughts cross my mind. The negative judgements dissolved. My cells reverberated with more kindness. I felt happier. I had more patience. Food was more appreciated and flavorful. I saw my true and beautiful self in the mirror again. I felt younger, more inspired.

We hold our hearts in our own hands. We get to choose how to treat ourselves. I’m still learning. But as we enter the month of Valentine’s Day with hearts and flowers, chocolates and diamonds, I’d like to advocate for the truest gem: our own hearts.

Delicate and pure, full of infinite potential. Lets house them well. Nurture them. Then spread the love.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Our Greatest Compass Point

This post digs back into the Archives, circa 2011. Jeb was eight and I was a single mother trying to juggle work and parenthood while maintaining some sort of higher perspective.

Six years later and the image of the hand on the heart comes back to me this morning.

These days of late seem wrought with overwhelm. Change is afoot and with it comes uncertainty. The work to be done in the world feels daunting.

As we face the days ahead, as we sit in this very moment, right now, I hope we find the tools we need to keep ourselves oriented to our True North.

Our hearts are our greatest compass points.

Here’s a modified excerpt from that 2011 post about bringing it all back home.

“…Jeb’s in the back seat trying to see if one of his Star Wars Storm Troopers can fit in his remote control Jeep while Buzz Lightyear looks on.

Buzz Lightyear and a bald Mr. Potatohead
Buzz Lightyear and a bald Mr. Potatohead

Riding shotgun with me up front, is my laptop and paperwork, a ten page to-do list and a stick of gum. I feel the overwhelm close in on me like a shroud. And then I remember the words of the Ambassador.

If you follow the Archives you may recall the Ambassador shared his story of 15 seconds of grace. He also imparted some sage advice for moments when grace can’t even be felt for a millisecond. He suggested the simple gesture of a hand to the heart. A deep breath in, and just be there, like that, for a moment.

I’m driving down the highway with Jeb and Mr. Potatohead and I reach my hand to my heart and breathe. There is a comfort there of simply feeling a hand on my chest. An abbreviated version of a self-hug. I notice the air in my lungs. I begin to see the sparkling green of the wet trees along the highway a bit more vividly. After about a minute I realize my body has relaxed.

No circumstance has changed. I still have a client to meet. Jeb is still sniffley. But I’m a bit more calm. It’s then I realize that the metaphorical mountain on my head is not just sourced in situation. Surely life will provide plenty of external conditions to challenge me. But in the end, I’m the one who decides how it affects me. I choose to tighten. I choose to loose my grace in haste.

Hand on the heart makes space. I like this.

If you’ve read this far I invite you to try it for yourself right now. Put your hand on your heart.

How’s that?”

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Transformation Foundation

We know that change is the only constant. But what about when we want a certain change and it constantly feels impossible?

There have been periods in my life when I embraced the possibility of change with wholehearted enthusiasm. I stretched myself to venture into foreign terrain (figurative and literal), open to anything that emerged within me and around me. I felt myself growing, evolving, and I reveled in the shifts. Life was good!

Perhaps that perspective was most profound in my twenties, when I had little responsibility and an wanderlust spirit. I pushed myself into my personal, scary places and lived the proof that I could rise to the challenge and thrive.

In my forties now, with a few more bills to pay and a much more sedentary life, I can appreciate some mellowness. I don’t feel the call to walk the edge of metaphorical cliff sides as much anymore. Yet in this comfort zone there has still been a longing.

There are things I want to change. Ways I want to grow. Habits I want to let go of. Bigger dreams I want to be living. Contributions I want to share with the world.

For a few years now, I’ve been aware of things I’ve wanted to change but felt helpless to make any truly authentic shifts. I can read plenty of inspiring words by the masters on how anything is possible, that change can happen in an instant, yet I haven’t been able to apply this wisdom to my everyday life. I can glance up from that metaphysical book of sage advice, see Jeb’s muddy footprints stamping a path to his bedroom door, and be gripped with impatience, anger, and frustration. Who cares about enlightened words, I just mopped the floor!

So how to make real change?

For so long I just haven’t felt strong enough. The yearning for the change, coupled with the repeated experience of everything playing out in the same old, painful way has been deeply disheartening. I’ve struggled in this reality for a good while now. It has seemed my mind has not been powerful enough to hold the shift. That my heart has not cracked open deeply enough to completely transform.

So recently I rested the heart and mind and tried the body. It is my vehicle, after all, and it’s with me every day. I chose to dabble in biochemistry. Stop putting certain substances in, start putting specific plants in. The results (40+ days into this experiment) have been remarkable.

I promise every post here on the Archives won’t be about superfood ingestion, but these are my chronicles of the everyday, and these days I’m fueled by phyto-nutrients that are shifting my consciousness and assisting in the changes I’ve been struggling for years to make.

As if by magic, I don’t have to tightly will myself to be patient with Jeb’s red-dirt footprints, I’m just less tense about it. Rather than hurrying to the post office, hoping I don’t see anyone I know in this small town, because I’ve got things to do and I don’t have time to stop and chat, and I don’t really feel that great today anyway, so I just don’t want to make connections with anyone… (yes, that was my day-to-day for a long time).

Rather than that, I’m open. I’m in a more relaxed space in the post office parking lot. My schedule demands haven’t necessarily lessened, but I’m much more available to seeing someone I know (or even someone I don’t). When I do cross paths with a friend, I ask how they are doing and I genuinely want to hear.

I’m not forcing my heart to have more interest in my fellow humans because I should. It’s because I want to.

This is an organic shift within me that I am simply observing with an intrigued curiosity. What changed? My food. That’s it. And by simply changing my food, the world within and without has shifted.

I think about the fat, bulbous, low-crawling caterpillar devouring plant-life in order to spin a cocoon. Does it have awareness of its mission? Does it know what it’s working to become? Or is it simply acting on ignorant instinct?

Regardless, those plants fuel an alchemy that would be unbelievable if we didn’t see its living proof. A radical transformation occurs, taking that thick and squishy body and changing it into a gossamer-winged, flying flower of delicacy. From crawl to flight. A completely altered organism. One and the same, but totally different. Evolved. Reimagined.

I’ve been gorging on the greens, and now I think I’m emerging from my cocoon. It’s a whole new way of being in the world.

I can be a stubborn, skeptical, worry-prone, doubter sometimes. But I held out a little hope when I friend suggested that superfood fuel had given her some wings. I’m so grateful to have met her on the path and followed that arrow she was pointing in the direction of superfoods.

I want to offer the same signpost for anyone that is wrestling with change. Affirm here, that yes, change is possible, and the body can be the foundation for that transformation.