Teaching and Self Care

 

As I begin to wrap my head around my return to the States, I am acutely aware of my mental state before I left. I was wound tight, anxious, and having difficulty sleeping. There were no immediate, real dangers in my life, but try telling that to my brain. My troubles were all mental and all revolved around not wanting to do things I had committed to and not speaking my truth. I was in the middle of trying to find my truth amid obligation.

Overall, my life at home is pretty amazing, especially as it pertains to work/life balance. I am able to regularly take time for myself during the workday, whether it be to exercise, sit in silence, or go for a walk; these are luxuries I know many don't have, and I am very grateful for them. However, as I mention in my early posts, I was burnt out and frustrated. On the surface, I was doing everything right: exercising, doing yoga, practicing mindfulness and meditation, and engaging in a lot of fun. But, it didn't work. I was still overcome with anxiety, and my body was waking me up each night (multiple times) with full-body contractions. My body was screaming for help, and I thought I was helping it, but knew deep down I wasn't.

Thankfully, this time away gave me the space to reflect and to identify the areas I knew weren't working for me anymore. I rested...a lot. I developed a really consistent gratitude and reflection process. I listened to my body. I kept exercising, doing yoga, and meditated, and I wrote about everything I was going through and working on with a new friend I had met right before leaving and who also was working through life. 

Now, I have to face the reality (and the creeping anxiety) of coming back to "regular" life. Thankfully, I don't have to teach for another five months, but this return to home marks the next phase, which does entail some more work obligations. Am I ready?

Due to my impending return, my most recent research focus has been on teachers and self care. Not surprisingly, there is a lot of research about this topic because teachers--everywhere--are burnt out. In addition to the normal stressors, teachers are also now experiencing the after-effects of COVID, and in fact, teachers "describe their teaching experience as detrimental to their commitment, well-being, and health" (Buttler and Kay p. 44). This is a stunning finding, and I can relate. But I also want to figure out how to combat this. Teaching is my passion; I can't do anything else. It's why I was put on this earth.

As a teacher, taking care of oneself is a complex process and needs to be just as important as lesson planning, dealing with student issues, and grading. Research finds that when teachers not only take care of themselves mentally and physically but also in ways such as finding efficacy in their teaching, mentoring others in the profession, and having supportive and communicative relationships with administration and other teachers, their mental health and resilience benefit (Baker; Schussler). So, I guess it's not enough to just do the bare minimum in this profession; I have to go even deeper.

So what do I do? Well, I think I've started to figure it out: keep taking care of myself physically and mentally, stay hydrated, spend time with myself often and in reflection, speak my truth, appreciate beauty, engage in fun, keep perspective, engage in meaningful relationships with my colleagues, mentor other teachers, rest often and hard, shape my days and weeks with intention, set goals, and enjoy. 

I am grateful for my time to discover these things, even if I knew them somewhere deep inside. I guess this is what professional leave and travel can do for someone: they provide the space and time to to dig deep and discover new--or old-truths. 

The Cycle of Empathy/Compassion and Nature Connectedness

 

No one really needs to be convinced that nature is good for the soul. There is a lot of research that supports the fact that when humans spend time in nature, we are less stressed, more in-tune with ourselves, and show increases in our overall mental well-being.

But what about increase in areas such as compassion and empathy? Does spending time in nature make us kinder and more understanding and, perhaps, giving? Or, does being a kinder, more empathetic person make one feel closer to nature? While there isn't a ton of research to be found about this connection, there is enough to highlight that--of course--all things are connected.

In an article entitled, "Beyond knowing nature: Contact, emotion, compassion, meaning, and beauty are pathways to nature connection," the authors discover a surprising connection between humans, their actions, and connections to nature: "Activities that involved contact, meaning, emotion, compassion and beauty were found to be both indicators of, then pathways towards, nature connectedness." (Lumber, Richardson, and Sheffield). So, if I understand this correctly, the more we live engaged, emotion-filled and considerate lives, the better we are able to connect with nature?! Wow. Just wow. 

I recently spent two solid weeks immersed in nature in the Bornean rainforests. For days, I was surrounded with nothing but nature, and it was wonderful. Lower stress? Check. Increase in mental well-being? Check. Ability to slow down and appreciate? Check and check. But what I didn't quite understand at the time was that the more enriched, connected, giving, and beauty-filled my life was prior to these few weeks, the more I could have felt connected to nature. That is a big realization for such a simple concept: like everything, when I tap into being a better human through my understanding and helping of others, my life improves.

Perhaps you might have heard about the biophillia hypothesis, which "posits that peaceful or nurturing elements helped us regain equanimity, cognitive clarity, empathy and hope. . . . The humans who were most attuned to the cues of nature were the ones who survived to pass on those traits" (Williams, 22). So, a symbiotic relationship seems to emerge: nature helped us become better humans and being a better human makes us more connected to nature. Another wow. 

I don't know about you, but I couldn't live long without nature, and I also couldn't live long (or with myself) without being a kind, compassionate human. Moments observing an orangutan in the wild are just as beautiful and meaningful as helping a stranger who is in need. Now at least I know that this connection isn't by chance; one deepens the other, which then reciprocates in an endless cycle. So stop and smell the flowers, my friend, and be a kinder human while you're at it.

Works Cited

Lumber, Ryan, Richardson, Miles, and David Sheffield. "Beyond knowing nature: Contact, emotion, compassion, meaning, and beauty are pathways to nature connection." PLoS One, vol. 12, no. 5, 9 May 2017, doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0177186. Accessed 23 January 2023.

Williams, Florence. The Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier, and More Creative. New York: W.W. Norton, 2017.

Move In and Hold Hands

After reading Brene' Brown's book Braving the Wilderness, I've thought a lot about her four rules, per se, of living a brave, connected life and how much they apply to travel:

1. People are hard to hate close-up. Move in.

2. Speak truth to bullshit. Be civil.

3. Hold hands. With strangers.

4. Strong back, soft front, wild heart.

Specifically, I'm drawn to #1 and to #3 and how much these rules apply to traveling the world and interacting with people.

#1 People are hard to hate close-up. Move in. 

The picture above is of my meeting and interviewing Said, a translator for a basket shop in Morocco. Said--and many others in many countries--showed me what I already knew but had forgotten: people are good.

I have been to Morocco before, and in all honesty, my impression was that most Muslims were a bit cold and unfriendly. This impression, though, was from my time here twelve years ago and from a whirlwind of a trip, seeing five cities in two weeks. This was long enough to get a feel for the country but an inaccurate feel of the people. So for this trip, I spent five more weeks in the country, and I moved in. I moved in by interacting and discussing issues with second-language speakers; I moved in while eating a free lunch from some local Muslim women who shared everything they had on their table with us; I moved in playing frisbee with two street youth who locals called "thieves" but who gave us only enthusiasm and appreciation for letting them play; and I moved in watching my son play basketball with many children who didn't speak English but spoke the universal language of kindness and play. 

Then there are the various people we have met along the way and who we moved in with--only briefly--to see their goodness: a Russian couple who left their homeland after Putin invaded Ukraine and who moved to Cambodia in hopes to start their life over; the multiple taxi drivers who warned us to roll up our window or put our phone away or to move our bag away from the window to avoid theft; or the many people who called us taxis, pumped our bicycle tires, or showed us how to do something. These people are not bad; in fact, they are far from it. They are good people living their lives to the best of their abilities and watching out for their fellow human.

#3 Hold hands. With strangers.

Travel puts you out there. You have no choice to interact with people of different races, religions, and beliefs, and it is awesome. It is uncomfortable, sure. But what arises is a building up of understanding and a rekindled faith in humanity. 

Harim, our Workaway host in Morocco is a typical Muslim. He lives his life by the pillars of Islam and by the customs he was raised with. This means his wife is covered and stays home with the children, and Harim (seemingly) gets to go about life in a freer and more fluid way. Of course, I recognize that this perspective of him comes from my own Western lens, so I mean no harm in my description of Harim. There is a deeper side to him, though, that I saw revealed as the weeks went by--his devotion to his "guests" who come from all over the world to help with his various language schools. Daily, Harim is picking up or dropping off new guests, taking guests to lunch or dinner (often to demonstrate the customs of his people), and arranging for guests to go on weekend adventures in his home country. Talking with Harim about this, he believes it to be nothing extraordinary. To him, love and respect is part of what Allah wants him to do, and he is happy to do it.

Alice and William, on the other hand, were our Workaway hosts in Kenya, and were more strangers we got to hold hands with. Alice, the founder and principle of the school, and William, her son and main teacher within the school, are no different than Harim--they are good, faithful people (but in Jesus Christ as Kenya is mostly Christian) who are doing what they can to make an impact on the world. They open their arms to volunteers and welcome them into their home. They do the same for orphans who have nowhere else to go, and they do it for the children who live in local slums but who still deserve an education. In so many ways, they are strangers: they are a different race, speak another language, eat different foods, and have faith in someone we don't. But, boy am I glad to have met them and to have held their hands. They have shown me what it is to live a connected and purposeful life, and I am forever grateful.

 

Braving the Wilderness

 

One of my most recent research reads was the one above, and while Brown doesn't use the words "empathy, kindness, or compassion" a lot, these concepts are at the core of what she discusses. 

Essentially, as a way to truly belong in this world, we must have the courage to be ourselves so that we can meet others on the platform of their own unique human-ness. This takes recognizing (and acting with self-kindness and self-compassion) what we have--as individuals--and displaying who we are in the most authentic way. When we do this, we then are more easily able to give empathy and compassion to others because we realize there is a baseline of common humanity.

You see, I truly believe we have moved into a fear-based society, where individuals and politicians have discovered these fears and have exploited them to the fullest. COVID? Blame the ignorant, the politicians, the doctors. You name it. Behind it all is fear. Job security? Ah, yes, blame the immigrants, the President, your neighbor. 

What Brown posits, though, is that true belonging is where we need to shift to. And that when we do shift to this, we can help unify. Her definition is as follows:

"True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging 

to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with 

the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and 

standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging does not require you to 

change who you are; it requires you to be who you are."

Imagine if we could all do and be this. What seems to happen is that when you are authentically yourself, you truly belong. And when you truly belong, you recognize that others are either doing the same or are trying the best that they can to get on in this world. 

This process can take a long time, and perhaps is never finished. But I believe in it; I believe we can see the good in ourselves and the good in others. People are good. You are good. I am good. 

Empathy and Travel

Being in Italy these last few weeks in a mode I call "vacationing" has given me some time to reflect on empathy and its connection with "traveling." Let me explain.

Vacationing, what I'm currently experiencing, is what most people I know do. They pick a place they dream about, go and experience it, and then have memories to last a lifetime. Yes, sometimes the vacation has hiccups: there is the obvious language difficulties, the frustrating navigation through streets or public transportation, the discomfort when the beggar approaches outside the Louvre, and the general unpredictability that happens when one is outside one's own culture. But, dare I say, vacationing is safe, predictable, and often quite enjoyable. Days filled with seeing top sights, evenings consumed with delicious meals and cocktails, and sleep that closely resembles home (upon a quick Google search, I discovered there are "more than 584 Hiltons worldwide"!) give us just enough comfort to balance any and all discomfort. We are barely stretched outside our comfort zone and our perspective remains largely what it was.

Traveling, on the other hand, is different. It is neither better nor worse than vacationing; it's just different. Oftentimes, a traveler will go a place that is not glamorous and easy. Perhaps the traveler picks a spot where Allah is the one true God (or Buddah) or visits a place where living below the poverty line is the norm. What does this mean for the traveler? Discomfort. Not only does the traveler have to deal with all the things the vacationer has to deal with (see above), but there is another level: there is the never-ending stream of people (often children) asking for money or to buy something or to visit their shop, or, even worse, there is the absolute look of despair and vacancy when someone comes up to your finished meal and silently asks if they can take your scraps; or, perhaps, it's the head-to-toe covered female or the impromptu prayer spaces to worship a God that others feel is evil that stops you dead in your tracks and makes you question everything that you were taught. Travel like that punches you in the gut. There is no hiding behind ease and comfort and luxury. It's the human condition and all its complexities--right in your face.

Empathy, I believe, is a by-product of a travel experience but not of a vacation (this is not an absolute, of course). Helen Reiss, the author of the book The Empathy Effect posits that one of the absolute BEST ways to strengthen and gain empathy is through perspective taking. Obviously, gaining perspective can happen in numerous ways: having a conversation with someone who holds different beliefs than your own, reading books that cover unfamiliar topics, engaging in different cultural traditions, and (in relation to this post) by traveling. Traveling makes you look at issues of religion, poverty, socialism, healthcare, etc. all in a different light. Yes, if you are a traveler, you can stand strong in your own beliefs, but damn it's hard to do so when something so gut wrenching smacks you in the face. 

Overall, I supposed this post is to memorialize those many, many people I have been blessed to interact with, even if those interactions are expressions of their own vulnerable human experiences that cause me to stop dead in my tracks, fight back the tears of inequity, and change my perspective. 

To the children who snatched the trash off the table in Senegal, I see you and am changed by you. To the young man who silently asked for our chicken bones in Morocco, I see you and have been changed by you. To the young women who have been taught to use their bodies for sex in Cambodia, I see you and have been changed by you. To the mothers with their babies living on countless streets, I see you and have been changed by you. To the countless others who challenge everything I know and who make my gratitude grow deeper, I see you and have been changed by you.

Said: A Kind Human, Animal Lover, and Speaker of 5 Languages

 

In Morocco, I had the pleasure to sit down with Said, a translator for a basket weaving shop in Marrakesh. Upon the first few minutes of meeting Said, I knew I wanted to interview him. He is one of those magical people who reveal a deeper level of what it means to be a human. 

In this interview, Said speaks about his love of animals, living in the United States (and being a U.S. Citizen), his goals for the future, and how we should all treat one another with general kindness and respect. I am honored to have had the chance to sit down and learn from him. Thanks for listening to our conversation!

Interview with Said

The Core (Me): Awareness and Self-Compassion

 

The Core (Me): Awareness 

Life is tricky. Things that you think you've "handled" show up in unimaginable ways. 

For me, the past two years have been stressful. I got asked to join a grant committee to develop classes and a center that revolve around kindness, compassion, and empathy. As the only full-time faculty member, I put a lot of stress of myself and I lost sight of the core of who I am professionally: a teacher. I'm all in if it has to do with teaching and classes, but the other stuff? I could leave it. I once knew this about myself but lost sight of it in the last few years.

Then, I went up for promotion. In preparation, my Chair wanted to observe my classes, which is a reasonable request and not something I stress about. I welcome anyone to come in and observe or learn from me. However, my Chair noticed one thing: my voice was shaky and trembling. This had been happening a lot throughout the semester, and I couldn't figure out why. I had also started to grind my teeth, wake myself up multiple times a night with body clenches/stretches (as if I had pent up energy I needed to release), and had a chronic shoulder pain I could not seem to get rid of.

This grant committee, applying for promotion, and then applying for professional development leave seem to be taking a toll on me. But after taking a trauma and the body workshop this past summer with Bessel van der Kolk (an interesting read if you've never heard about him: https://onbeing.org/programs/bessel-van-der-kolk-trauma-the-body-and-2021/), I've realized all of these things bodily things are showing up because of my past traumas. 

As Bessel said, "trauma takes the path of least resistance," and I truly believe my body was waving a pretty big flag to slow down and tune in. Exercising, eating well, and getting good sleep wasn't (and isn't) enough. I have to heal.

Self-Compassion 

The path to healing starts with self-compassion. And according to Kristin Neff, a leading researcher on self-compassion, being kind to myself and knowing that I am not alone in my human experience is key to this path of healing. I have to acknowledge these aspects of my self, drop any judgements, and then approach my experiences and life with mindful awareness. 

I call myself a recovering perfectionist. According to van der Kolk, perfectionism is an attempt for control. But it's the wrong type of control. It's an exterior false sense of control, when what actually needs to be controlled (or more lovingly acknowledged) is my feelings of safety in my body and brain. I need to reprogram my brain so that it knows I am okay and that I am right here, right now. 

So this path is one I'm embarking on this year. I'm taking a physical break from teaching and daily demands, and I'm hoping to heal. This process isn't passive, though. I have to be actively involved. I have to move and dance and journal and write and (hopefully) dream and share. 

If you have resonated with any of this post, I encourage you to read van der Kolk's book or read more about self-compassion or just ask me a question. I'm just one human on this long path of trying to be a good one.