From Meredith…

Compassion. I assign such positive feelings to that word. It seems so simple, pure and honest. I look with wide-eyed awe at people who practice compassion. They seem so light of heart and centered. I picture the Dalai Lama, Mother Theresa, and other enlightened people. What I don’t see is their internal struggle, which I’m sure exists, or all the decades of hard work they put in to achieve a compassionate state. They may be iconic figures, but they are human after all.

Here’s how compassion is defined: “sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it.” I’m in the middle of trying to feel compassion. I am helping a loved one in distress and I have a strong desire to alleviate her distress. But boy am I starting to realize that for me, in this moment, compassion is not easy, pure, or simple, nor does it come with an ounce of enlightenment.

My compassion is wrapped up in guilt. Really wrapped up, like a bacon wrapped appetizer of sorts, dripping with fat and grease, and although tasty, ruining the healthy, pure ingredient inside. My guilt has to do with the complicated relationship I have with this loved one and the barriers I’ve had to create in order to maintain some sort of healthy relationship with her. It is darn hard to practice compassion, and maintain those healthy barriers. And when I try to, I feel immense guilt. I say to myself, “This person is in need! I should give her the shirt off my back! What is wrong with me?”

In the midst of this, I’ve been thinking about what kind of limits can, or even should, be placed on compassion. Is it still compassion if given within limits? In other words, “I will be there for you and support you emotionally…to a point?” It seems counter-intuitive, but when I consider some examples, I realize that showing compassion sometimes means making hard choices. For example, the family member whose loved one is a drug addict may sometimes do more harm than good when they give their addicted loved one “the shirt of their back.” This enabling is far worse for the addict than other approaches, such as a needed intervention, or encouragement to seek rehabilitation. In this scenario, the addict’s family member is probably acting from a place of compassion, but I wonder if the choice to enable comes more from a place of guilt and less from a place of pure compassion.

The Dalai Lama says that limited compassion is biased, that being fully compassionate must include compassion towards those you like and dislike, and those who are good, bad, and in between. What is still unclear to me is what does actively showing compassion mean?

Writing this entry I did a lot of research about compassion and came across this quote from Thomas Aquinas:

I would rather feel compassion than know the meaning of it.

I’m beginning to think I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe I should worry less about defining compassion and focus on other things all together. Consider this snipit from The Book of Awakening, a recent gift from a friend, by Mark Nepo. Writing about kindness, Nepo says:

Somehow, in the course of being good, we have all been asked to wrestle with a false dilemma: being kind to ourselves or being kind to others. In truth, though, being kind to ourselves is a prerequisite to being kind to others. Honoring ourselves is, in fact, the only lasting way to release a truly selfless kindness to others…If we can work towards this kind of authenticity, then the living kindness – the water of compassion – will naturally flow.

What are examples of compassion that you’ve experienced in your daily lives? Big or small; simple or complex. Have there been times when you have had to put limits on how you showed compassion in order to honor your authentic self?

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From Meredith…

In addition to being a passion of mine, The Women’s Sojourn is part of my job. As such, I frequently end up talking about the concepts and ideas we come up with in the office with my husband at home. He listens with interest, but is often surprised that we discuss such things in a “professional environment.” He says he successfully separates his work life from his home life. I say, he’s fooling himself.

This guy comes home talking about his work life all the time. Not that I’m complaining. I love helping him work through challenges he has communicating with his colleagues, or figuring out the best way to approach his boss about a tough issue. But I’m guessing that if he’s talking about his work life at home, this “wall of separation” is pretty penetrable. When we talk through many of his challenges, what it often boils down to are lessons of good communication. Lessons one might apply to marriage, relationships, friendships, etc. Hmmm… applying life lessons to one’s professional life? Imagine!

This has me wondering, are there workplace lessons that apply to our personal lives? Enter Bob Sutton. If you haven’t heard of this guy, you should check out his blog. He is Stanford professor who recently published a book, based on his popular Harvard Business Review article, called – pardon my French – The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized Workplace and Surviving One That Isn't. In the book and on his blog, Sutton discusses the poisonous effect of “jerks” on the work environment, productivity, and retention of qualified employees, among other things. His solution? Cut them loose. Sutton writes:

The biggest and best lesson: escape if you possibly can. The best thing to do if you are stuck under thumb of an asshole (or a bunch of them) is to get out as fast as you can. You are at great risk of suffering personal damage and of turning into as asshole yourself. Acting like a jerk isn’t just something that a few twisted people are born with; it is a contagious disease.

Sutton’s work focuses exclusively on the workplace, but doesn’t his rule also hold true for all our relationships? Over the span of our lives, what kind of poisonous relationships have we held onto that we should have cut loose? How has that affected our current relationships? Do we mirror the bad behavior of the jerks in our lives? How have these relationships affected your “productivity?” What has maintaining these relationships cost you?

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Nancy writes...

One can’t help but think about balancing life. Lots of books are written about it, corporations are quick to position their work-life balance policies as a benefit, and both working and stay-at-home mothers strive for it daily, wondering if there isn’t a magic trick they’ve missed.

One recent morning as I rushed to get to my office, my arms were full with papers, food, water, etc – my grandfather would have called it a “lazy man’s load” meaning I was too lazy to make two trips. As I was flinging the stuff into my car, my lunch spilled all over my shirt and pants. Clearly I was not balanced.

Closure seems to be my world these days as school ends and sports seasons end. Friends of my girls are graduating from high school, kids are being recognized for athletic prowess, finals are anguished over, and anxiety reigns. My mantra is: it’s not the awards, grades or scores you earn; it’s the authenticity and grace with which you approach and receive them. Character is built during these times of hanging on to the “proper” balance.


Let’s look at this phenomenon of work/life balance differently. Instead of wondering how to get it, let’s consider: Who are we in the middle of the imbalances? Isn’t that what really matters? And while it’s easy to use these times as teachable moments for our children, I try to ask myself the same questions. Who am I when another PR firm is more successful than I am? Has their “success” come at a cost that I am willing to pay? The answers can be inspiring or freeing. They can push me to reach in new and exciting directions and/or they can remind me that I’m not willing to sacrifice certain values to achieve “success.” What is success anyway? Whose is it? Why was I rushing to the office? Was the rush coming from a genuine place within me or was I running away from something I'm avoiding, or am I trying to be someone I’m not? What does recognition, grades and others’ respect tell us about who we are?

My angst is a signal that I need to ask: Authentically, genuinely, deep down inside of me, what the heck matters to me? I try to remember that the value is in having the courage to ask the questions, not in having all the answers. Live the questions! It’s the journey, not the destination.

I love the poem, All the True Vows by David Whyte. Here’s a wonderful verse:

There is only one life
You can call your own
And a thousand others
You can call by any name you want


I feel lucky that the mantra in my house seems to be, BE YOURSELF. At the end of the day, knowing who you are is the only balance that really matters. Because, from this aligned place, energy flows with compassion. I'm not there yet, but when I am it will be the ultimate hard-won award, hard-won grade.

What are your imbalances? How have you remembered who you are in the middle of them? What advice do you have for others?

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From Stacia…

I’m ready for summer. I’ve been dreaming of the hot days all winter and spring. I am fostering the illusion that with summer will come easier days, less fuss over schedules and meals, and cocktails with friends by the BBQ or pool. My reality is that all three of my children will be juggling sports, jobs, and social agendas. I will be sought after daily for my car, my cooking, and my money. My friends will all be in similar situations.

By degrees, I realize that this scenario is much less physically taxing than when I was balancing car seats, strollers, and toddlers racing toward the pool – blissfully unaware of the fact that they can’t swim. Now, I wish someone made car seats for 140 pound teenagers and that they wouldn’t feel the need to be any further from me than the pool or edge of the yard, twenty feet away. I imagine that my summer days will change through the years into a balance between these two extremes.

My fantasy summer is born of snippets of wonderful moments that I would like to sew together in a month long patchwork of uninterrupted days. I am sure this is true for any woman at any age. I imagine the “where” and “what” will be unique to each person.
If I were to pack a suitcase containing the things I would need for a fantasy summer, what would I choose? Four well written, well recommended books, a journal, my watercolor set and paper, flip flops, three bathing suits, two Positano skirts, five colorful t-shirts, a big hat, my favorite wooden spoon (a must for any good Blomen woman), and a soft comfy blanket for cooler nights.

Where would I be? I would definitely be near water, preferably a beach, with a refreshing, cleansing breeze blowing all the time.

Who would be there with me? My family and friends would be there – independently doing their own “thing”, and then coming together to share food, laughs, stories, and talents.

What would I share with these people? Perhaps I would make marinated flank steak. I would paint everyone a picture. I would be a witty, attentive conversationalist.

What would they share with me? Hopefully, someone would make a blue Hawaiian cocktail; someone else would make a big sandwich, grilled shrimp, and chicken; a tossed salad would appear from no where; lemon bars would be provided for dessert; friends would share their laughter and foibles of their days, and we would play games. We would mark time more closely by the passage of the sun across the sky and not by our watches.

What is the contrast between your summer reality and your summer fantasy? Does your reality match your fantasy? Have you already had a dream summer break?

What would you share?
What would you like to receive?

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From Meredith…

One of the great things about the readers of The Women's Sojourn Blog is that we all range in ages and experiences. We’re all navigating different transitions and challenges, but fundamentally, aren’t they ones that we all have navigated – or will navigate – at some point in our lives? Do we all share a common human experience, more specifically a common woman experience?

I once had a friend who was going through a serious break up tell me that no one – no one – knew such heartache. I remain respectful her perspective, but it got me thinking: isn’t heartache one of those universal experiences we all share? Think of all the songs, poems, books, plays and films inspired by heartache. Heck, the country music industry is based on heartache ( Achy Breaky Heart anyone?).

What are the universal experiences we share as women? Navigating adolescence and forging our identities as young adults; entering serious relationships and marriage; having and raising children; the heartache of breakups, divorce, death and loss; seeking a work/life balance; finding ourselves within an empty nest; exploring life in our third thirty; among many others. My guess is that these experiences are similar to men’s, but it is the way in which women experience them that is shared.

If women share universal experiences, perhaps we also share some secrets learned from navigating them. On her blog The Happiness Project, author Gretchen Rubin lists secrets of adulthood; some are rather significant, others are just darn practical. Here are a few:

• People don’t notice your mistakes and flaws as much as you think.
• Most decisions don't require extensive research.
• It's okay to ask for help.
• Happiness doesn't always make you feel happy.
• What you do EVERY DAY matters more than what you do ONCE IN A WHILE.
• You don't have to be good at everything.
• Soap and water removes most stains.
• People actually prefer that you buy wedding gifts off their registry.

Are there also, then, secrets to womanhood? Secrets we can pass onto one another? I was just discussing with a friend that no matter our age (I am in my mid-30s, she’s in her early 50s), we can easily re-connect to how we felt when we were in high school, navigating our adolescence. When I was a teenager, I was tall and awkward, completely ill-at-ease with my body, and unable to successfully navigate the teenage dating scene. This often meant I was left out, hurt, and abandoned by friends climbing the social ladder. Like most of us, I’ve grown and changed since then. But if I could, I just might go back and tell my younger self this secret: College is a completely different experience. None of this will matter. It will be okay.

Share with us. Do you think women share life’s experiences uniquely? What secrets or tips have you learned along your journey? What do you share with your sisters, friends, daughters and other women? What do you wish someone had told you when you were in the middle of one of our shared experiences? What would you tell yourself if you could?

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