A Few of My Favorite Things

December. It’s a hard time for folks walking on wires to please others. It’s a hard time for folks finishing semesters when running on fumes. It’s a hard time for folks grieving family hurts or losses. It’s a hard time for processing what comes up in contemplative moments and social interactions alike.

This December is especially hard because it punctuates a year of great injustice, dehumanization, and the increasing visibility of wrongdoings. Now, as so many of us personally and collectively are doing (and being asked to do) “shadow work,” there’s a heightened need for self-care/self-work that embraces both/and.

How do we both honor the ways we’re falling apart and go about surviving? How do we both recognize the possibility of human extinction and invest in living more authentically, courageously, and lovingly? How do we both unlearn oppression (including internalized inferiority and superiority) and build new, more equitable relations? How do we both stay centered in gratitude and committed to justice? How do we experience both the depth of grief and the height of joy? How do we get by in the midst of inherent contradiction, paradox, incongruity, and change?

One answer (for me, this December) is that I’m getting by with a few of my favorite things. Specifically, I’m making “play dates” to hike with friends, to eat nourishing foods, and to read books and blogs that fill me up like adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy and Chani Nicholas’s weekly horoscopes. (I even happily found this recorded conversation between adrienne maree brown and Chani Nicholas!)

My most frequent, almost-daily “play date” has involved listening to a new podcast while sipping peppermint cocoa and soaking in an Epsom salt bath. Here’s what this looks like:

1. How to Survive the End of the World Podcast

Over the past three weeks, I’ve been falling in love with the podcast How to Survive the End of the World from the Brown sisters: Autumn Brown and adrienne maree brown. And I mean falling in love as in feeling my stomach sink when I’ve listened to all the episodes and getting super excited when a new episode is released.

These recordings are directly about living within both/and, as episodes focus on “learning from the apocalypse with grace, rigor and curiosity.” Truly, episodes give deep insights, rich storytelling, and committed calls to action—modeling ways forward and asking how we show up for ourselves and others to be in “right relationship.” If you’re not already listening, check out the trailer here:

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It’s not by chance that this podcast is offered by two women of color at a time when the hashtags #TrustBlackWomen and #FollowBlackWomen are trending on social media. May listening to feminists and womanists of color do more to counter epistemic injustice and to honor the lived stories, experiences, and knowledges that need to be trusted and followed.

2. Peppermint Cocoa

Chocolate, I’ve found, makes falling in love even sweeter. Because I’ve also got a complicated relationship with sugar, I mix raw cacao and stevia so that I can enjoy chocolate daily, especially when luxuriating in a warm bath with my favorite podcast. Here’s the recipe for this month’s peppermint hot cocoa.

Combine and stir the following ingredients:

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 3. Epsom Salt Baths

Truth be told, I’ve always enjoyed baths, but I didn’t give myself permission to take them daily until struggling for several years with chronic back pain. It’s amazing how often pain has been a motivator for doing what I desire, what gives me pleasure and joy. Now, whenever my body or soul hurts, as they do when facing systemic racism and other institutional violence, I immerse myself in salty water. This is a privilege I am grateful for everyday.

I add several cups of Epsom salt to a warm bath, and soak while listening to awesome podcasts and enjoying hot cocoa. The combination, I’ve found, grounds me, while also lifting my spirit.

When we talk about building resilience, I wonder if we should talk more about Epsom salt and warm water for grounding and clearing energies. As a white woman, when I think about building fortitude to counter white fragility, I definitely think about Epsom salt baths for crying, releasing, recommitting, and re-emerging ready to work again.

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Together, (1) the How to Survive the End of the World podcast, (2) peppermint cocoa, and (3) Epsom salt baths are a few of my favorite things. As favorites, they help with refueling and with readying for ongoing resistance.

I talked recently with my six-year-old nephew about his “favorites,” and I realized that I don’t often have this conversation with adults. How often do we, as adults, name our favorites? How often do we take time in the day to enjoy something simply because it’s a favorite? Recognizing and honoring favorites feels important for navigating the both/and of life, especially at this time and especially in December.

May these or other favorites bolster you in personal and collective shadow work. May these or other favorites help with surviving when falling apart. May these or other favorites help with feeling what’s hard and also with feeling what’s incredibly beautiful, amazing, and possible too.


This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Sieving Life: Keeping What Nourishes and Releasing the Rest” orBreaking Commitments and Recommitting through Mindful Reflection.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Breaking Commitments and Recommitting through Mindful Reflection

A little more than a year ago, I wrote the following statement to describe this blog project:

“Embodied knowledge matters. So do commitments. And especially acting on commitments as part of everyday life, BIG and small. This blog shares ongoing efforts of feeling, thinking, and doing for justice. Posts include reflections, recipes, research, and resources: all seek to make sense of what it means to live a life for justice.”

This language signals that, at best, I’m attempting to live for justice and to share these attempts. What this means is that the everyday-ness of lived experience goes hand-in-hand with seeking or striving for justice. Striving means that I experience moments of getting closer to living in alignment with a more just, truer, and committed life. And I also experience moments when I’m far, far away and out of alignment with this goal. My hope is that I learn from my own incongruity and that the moments of alignment grow more regular. This learning—along with attempting, seeking, and striving—builds resilience for “the long haul” toward justice.

Such a hope leads me to reflect on the moments when I fall short of my commitments. Recently, I broke a commitment to a co-author and close friend, and I contributed to a larger pattern of co-authors falling away from important projects, a pattern that calls up pain. And I’ve been reminded again that pain can be an important teacher.

As a white woman (a white, cis-gender, able-bodied, U.S.-born, upper/middle-class, raised-Christian woman), I’ve inherited internalized inferiority and superiority aligned with the narrative of being a “good person”—a narrative that I’m always needing to unravel and unlearn. The more I let go of the need to be a “good person,” the more I can be just a person—a whole, human, and messy person. And as a person (not a super-human and not a dehumanized being), I can see and confront the harm that I do.

Breaking my co-authoring commitment did harm in my friendship, and it did harm by contributing to a pattern of broken commitments around justice-oriented research. It also did harm because of the material consequences for my co-author, who’s already experiencing precarity, overwork, and a particularly stressful semester.

As is so typically the case, my body told me that something was wrong. From tight chest and stomach ache to what felt like the inability to breathe, I could feel my heart hurting.

Grateful for embodied knowledge, I turned to contemplative practices that help with sifting through the harm and figuring out how to know and align with my commitments more often, more of the time. These practices have included gentle movement, yoga nidra, and sitting meditation. They’ve also involved the RAIN meditation that I’ve learned for working with difficulties.

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Photo credit to Matthew Grapengieser (creative commons licensing).

As I’ve explained previously, RAIN involves four steps:

R—recognizing experiences, thoughts, feelings, conditions, etc.
A—allowing the states of being, no matter how bad, embarrassing, or privileged.
I—investigating deeply to gain new or additional understanding.
N—non-judging or non-identifying to avoid attachment with the experience, emotion, and even understandings (toward embracing impermanence).

Here’s what RAIN has looked like for me, as I’ve been exploring my broken commitment:

Recognize that I’ve broken the commitment; that I’ve done harm to my friend, and because I love my friend, to myself as well; and that this harm is painful. Recognition feels important for taking responsibility and also for naming the complex dynamics within the larger situation. It feels important for seeing the links between this particular broken commitment and larger, systemic injustice.

Accept the pain. Like joy, pain is part of life—not something to push down or pretend isn’t there, but to see, experience, and get curious about. I keep asking: “Pain, what do you have to teach me? How can I learn from you about making commitments I can truly keep?”

Investigate the fuller situation. The more I get curious (instead of shutting out the pain), the more I can see how I’ve been operating in contradiction. On the one hand, I’ve been wanting to follow my “strong YES,” and on the other hand, I’ve been wanting to please others. On the one hand, I’ve been wanting to redirect my energies (away from this particular project and direction in my life), and on the other hand, I’ve been wanting to keep what’s familiar and comfortable about this established direction.

Though I’m aware that I get into trouble when not listening for/to my “strong YES,” I didn’t act on my intuition at the time of committing to the project, and that’s likely when incongruity entered the scene. What I see now is that instead of investing in meaningful relations with other people (including with my co-author and friend), I’ve actually been creating trouble for others by not honoring myself and my “strong YES.” Do I really want to undermine myself and my relations in this way? What will I need to change in order to trust, act from, and speak aloud my “strong YES”?

Not identify with judgments about being a person who keeps or doesn’t keep commitments, who does good or harm in the world, or who is static in ways that limit the complexity of full personhood. Not identifying means that I try to see this moment as though I’m floating above it at a distance. It won’t look or feel like this in the future, though it’s part of the many experiences that I’ll carry forward and hopefully continue to learn from. It’s now part of my history, but it also doesn’t singly or solely define me.

The RAIN process has been helpful in looking at my actions, in staying close to tough emotions, and to investing at this moment of pain. It’s often the moments when we’re noticing gaps between our everyday actions and our goals that real growth takes place. It’s also moments like these when there’s a lot of potential for developing resilience and long-term, staying power.

So, in the midst of processing a broken commitment, I’m re-committing to everyday attempts and the ongoing process of striving to live a life for justice. I’m sure to mess up and cause harm in the process, but may the moments of alignment become more and more. May I better align my actions with my beliefs. May I know and follow my commitments and my “strong YES.” May I stand TALL and true (truer and truer) for justice.


This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Holding Space and Being Present: Two Resolutions Following the Las Vegas Shooting” and “Listening for/to the ‘Strong YES.’” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Listening for/to the “Strong YES”

In the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about when and how I tune into my “strong YES” for decision-making. I find that I’m truer to myself when I’m following Marty Tribble’s guidance: “The absence of a strong YES is actually a no.” Reflecting on this advice is what led me to write “Using Your ‘Strong Yes’ to Guide Career Decisions” for Inside Higher Ed:

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I hope that this article helps others tap into the strong YES not only for navigating job searches and career decisions, but also for everyday decision-making and living for justice. I share in this article five strategies for finding the strong YES:

1. Follow the deeper breath.
2. Check in with the heart, head, and hands.
3. Keep an emotion journal.
4. Look for signs in everyday life.
5. Look inward through guided meditation.

Each of these strategies asks us to prioritize embodied knowledge, inner knowing, and emotional literacies that we too-often downplay or discount, especially in higher education.

Each of these strategies asks us to unlearn ways of being-doing-living that keep us limited to less than our whole selves, less than fully human and messy.

Each of these strategies asks us to slow down through imperfect meditation and other contemplative practices so that we stop shutting out what hurts and instead get to know ourselves and our commitments with greater clarity.

Despite practicing these strategies, I still often act without checking in with my body, without intentionality, and instead with procedural efficiency. I’ve had several recent reminders—from dropping my phone to becoming sick—that I need to slow down and listen more carefully.

When I listen for/to my strong YES, I sometimes have to change plans. For example, recently I’ve sat on several blog posts, not sure if or when they’ll feel ready to share, and I’ve canceled several meetings, not sure if or when I’ll feel ready to have them.

Truly, listening for/to the strong YES is essential for de-routinizing dehumanization, yet it’s so hard to do because I love routines, even when they undermine well-being. Similarly, the strong YES is essential for countering the lies of internalized inferiority and superiority, yet I’m so attached to these lies that I resist letting go. Noticing routines and resistance helps me shift toward more careful, mindful listening.

Toward better listening, I am starting today a daily practice of yoga nidra that I hope will help me stay truer to myself and my commitments. As I work to align with my strong YES, I hope you’ll join me in asking:

  • How can I release the “shoulds” that inadvertently direct my days?
  • How can I notice (and be kinder to myself when I notice) that I’m acting without intention?
  • How can I better align my everyday living with my hopes and commitments?


This post is written by
Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Imperfect Meditation and the Desire to ‘Slow Way Down’” and “Reframing ‘Independence Day’ as a Day for Truth-Telling and Committing to Justice.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

40 Days of Yoga Nidra

A year ago, when launching this blog, I wrote about welcoming winter by looking within—resolving “to tune into how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, and what I can do,” resolving “to be true to my truths, my commitments, and my joys.” These resolutions have accompanied me through the year and are now re-energizing the desire for introspective hibernation.

As luck (or divine intervention) would have it, Marty Tribble (my Reiki teacher) is offering a community practice of 40 days of yoga nidra, starting November 22. To learn more or to participate in this practice, see Marty’s website:

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As I’ve experienced it, yoga nidra, or “yogic sleep,” is guided meditation that invites active participation in deepening self-awareness. This practice integrates embodied, emotional, mental, and spiritual knowledges. It truly brings together the heart, head, and hands and asks us to know ourselves so that we know our commitments.

I am excited for this 40-day practice as a means to create new rituals. It was during Marty’s 40-day commUNITY Sadhana in 2014 that I put into place my daily asana practice. By doing the same 7-minute movement sequence for 40 days, I transformed a belief that “daily yoga practice is good” into the experience of truly practicing daily. This formative experience has stayed with me as I’ve continued to do at least some gentle movement, meditation, or other contemplative activities every day.

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To check out Marty’s free yoga videos or to make a love offering, visit http://www.martytribble.com/podcast.html.

I share these experiences because committing to a practice can be significant, especially at this time of year when seasonal shifts are inviting critical self-care. I will be participating in Marty’s 40 days of yoga nidra, and I’d love to share this experience with you. I’m excited about the possibilities that consistent, committed practice can enact. Perhaps you’ll join me. If you do, please let me know.


This post is written by
Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts about yoga and self-care, you might try “Gentle Yoga Practice for Healing” and “Gentle Yoga for Releasing Burdens.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Everyday Divination

For Halloween, I dressed as Professor Sybill Trelawney, a professor of divination at Hogwarts (within the world of Harry Potter). This has been a favorite costume of mine in past years, because I like to fashion myself the absent-minded professor. This year I’m thinking about how I’m drawn to Trelawney because she fits the archetype of the dreamer, seer, and intuitive.

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Archetypes are helpful for seeing qualities and narratives that we carry within/about ourselves. Identifying archetypes helps us explore what we’re drawn to and why and, conversely, what we’re repelled by and why. Like other self-exploration, reflection on archetypes brings additional clarity about who we are and who we want to be. And such clarity helps with becoming our best selves.

Clarity emerges for me this week in the midst of Halloween, Samhain, Día de Muertos, All Saints Day, and the Full Moon in Taurus. I find myself embracing divination through the seasonal invitation for deeper introspection in dark days. As I embrace divination (and the role of intuitive dreamer), I find myself tracing the many ways I divine meaning from everyday life.

What I’ve learned (and I’m still learning) is that there are numerous signs and signals in everyday life that help us make sense of the world and how we participate in it. These signals include embodied responses and emotional literacies. They come through moving the body or dreaming in sleep, through practicing daily habits or enacting holiday rituals. They can arise in imperfect meditation, yoga practice, or even troubling interactions.

Like an ethnographer, to find meaning, I identify recurring themes or patterns and also attend to outliers, or those bits of information that seem not to fit the pattern. I look for the repetition of thoughts, feelings, and physical sensations. I listen for the repetition of words, phrases, and ideas. And I remain curious about the messages these repetitions convey, using online tools and contemplative writing to identify symbolic meanings.

Perhaps the best divination tool I’ve found comes from my Reiki teacher, Marty Tribble, who says, “The absence of a strong YES is actually a no.” For years, I’ve learned how to talk myself into things, how to weigh rationale arguments, and how to make the best-informed decision based on others’ advice. And for years, I’ve gotten myself into trouble whenever doing something because I “should.”

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Instead, the more that I listen for my strong YES—the sense that, yes, I want to do this thing, or, yes, this feels like it’s directing me toward ease/joy/love—the more I’m emerging as myself.

I know that divination invokes jokes in popular culture about false prophets and fortune-tellers, and Professor Trelawney’s character embodies frequent critiques that divining meaning is full of fluff, falsehoods, and fantasy. Yet, as I fashion myself a “professor of divination” and embrace the related archetype, I hope to share the possibilities of learning to live more intuitively, more in line with divine guidance.

Truly, there is so much to learn from everyday life. The more I open to my full senses—my heart, head, and hands—the more I learn my strong YES. And the more I follow the YES, the more I remain true to myself and to my commitment to justice.


This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Disrupting the Mind-Body Split,” “Imperfect Meditation and the Desire to ‘Slow Way Down,’” or “Playing Through Pain.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Gentle Yoga for Releasing Burdens

I’ve recently noticed how much tension I’m holding in my neck and shoulders. It feels as though I’ve been burdening myself with the weight of the world and carrying this extra weight in/on my body. The burden shows up in rounded shoulders—the physical manifestation of shrinking—rather than standing TALL with upright posture so that I can courageously be seen and take up space.

To change this pattern, I’ve been using this simple and slow yoga video:

I appreciate this simple practice because it somehow magically releases the tension and reminds me of the value of releasing, not carrying, burdens. Of allowing instead of trying to control. Of flowing with the rhythms of life. Of remaining open, aware, and still flexible.

I feel grateful that my body speaks my mind and that I can learn from my body’s intuitive cues (in this case, stiff neck and tight shoulders). It’s not by chance that hunching over gadgets (phones and computers) causes neck and shoulder tension, yet it’s not just the hunching that my body is asking me to address.

Rather, my body is signaling the need to address my intake of news, my response to emails, my emotional engagement in communication, and my response-abilities to myself and others. The more I can let go of false ideas that I can control or correct situations, the more I can release this tension. And the more I release this tension, the more I am poised to truly respond, as I can flexibly turn from side-to-side, from issue-to-issue.

So, I’ll keep playing this gentle yoga video with appreciation for my body directing me to s-l-o-w self-care yet again. And I’ll work on releasing what’s not mine so that I’m flexibly attending to what is.


This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Attending to Anger” or “Gentle Yoga Practice for Healing.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Reframing “Independence Day” as a Day for Truth-Telling and Committing to Justice

I really struggle with July 4th. It’s a holiday that presumes to celebrate “freedom,” but freedom for whom? By what means? Under what circumstances?

It’s a holiday that celebrates myths like meritocracy and “the American Dream,” while keeping hidden systemic racism and other ongoing oppression.

It’s a holiday that normalizes narratives and displays of patriotism, which underlie white nationalism, tribalism, and the logics of “we” versus “them.” The “we” must be “better than” or “the best,” even when assertions that the United States is “the best country in the world” are wrong, as Shaun King documented this week. Still, such assertions persist, especially around this holiday.

This year, the 4th of July left me feeling a physical pain (tightening and nausea) in my stomach. Pain at the many falsehoods. Pain at presumptions that this holiday is celebratory. Pain at attempting to go-about-the-day-as-usual when there’s no avoiding the systemic racism underlying all the red-white-and-blue attire, explosions of firecrackers both day and night, closure of public places in commemoration, and other patriotic displays.

So, I allowed myself to feel the pain, to grieve, and to seek sources for reframing this holiday and my experience of it.

I found initial relief through truth-telling—with deep appreciation to the blog “What’s the Meaning of the 4th of July to Marginalized People?” and the video “No Country for Me”:

I found inspiration through seeing friends reframe “independence day” as “interdependence day,” shifting the focus from colonialism and individualism toward a relational worldview.

I found a vision of a what Native Independence Day might look like, a vision of righting wrongs, redressing harm, and enacting equity and justice. Such a vision involves making visible the histories of genocide, human rights abuses, slavery, and oppression in the United States. It also involves acting with response-ability (as in the ability to respond)—moving from truth-telling and remembering to repairing and healing. It involves acting on what the truth compels.

If we in the United States want an annual celebration of freedom, then I’d ask that we wrestle with hard questions about whose freedom matters and why. How freedom can be achieved for all. What response-abilities are needed for collective, shared freedom.

Truly, liberation involves knowledge of the past, reckoning with the good and bad, and willingness to make right. It involves seeing one’s “freedom” in relation with others. How can one person be free when others still aren’t? Appreciating Nelson Mandela’s wisdom: “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

We have a looooooooooooooong way to go toward freedom. A long, long way, which is why I can’t celebrate the 4th of July. It’s not a celebratory holiday, though perhaps it could be a day for truth-telling and re-committing to justice. A day for valuing interdependence and everyday practices on the long haul toward justice.

I’m appreciative that this year my body reminded me through stomach pains that I can’t go about the day (or any day) as though it’s business as usual. For the usual is unjust. May I choose to tread another path, a path toward justice.