As you may know, I’ve been teaching people how to feel calmer, less anxious and more connected to themselves through things like understanding the mind and “do-nothing” meditation, on and off, for years.

This practice changed my life, and many other's, too.

“I have seen massive change in the past few weeks. I have really seen my mind settle, I am definitely more calm and grounded and also starting to explore some really amazing ideas that came to visit!” —Katerina

Up until now, my classes have been for adults.

But starting this fall, I’m running my first online teen program.

It’s called RESET for Teens.

It’s six weeks, will be held on Sunday evenings (PST) and is for high school juniors and seniors, ages 16–18.

You can find more about it here.

I’m looking for a small group of just 5–8 young people. So if you have a teen in your life who you think might be open to learning a new way to deal with overthinking, pressure and the constant noise of a busy mind, please reach out

It’s based around many of the ideas in Whose Mind Is It Anyway? Get Out of Your Head and Into Your Life.

Because this is the first group, I’ve priced it at a snagable (is that a word) price of $250 for six weeks (less than $42 per 90-minute session).

For schools and educators

If you’re interested in sharing RESET with your students or would like to talk a about a program tailored for your school, please get in touch. I’d be very happy to chat.

Send me a note from the bottom of the information page:)

Looking forward to this!

Love Lisa

“I felt the same kind of peace that you feel with normal meditation. But it was easier to get there.” —Steve

In 7 days, we’re packing up our little car and heading back to the US.

And then on to New Zealand, at some point.

But that’s another story.

Back to this story.

Our car is not little. It’s big. It just seems little when you’re trying to fit a year’s worth of stuff, one 9-year old, the ice cream maker, instant pot, 2 guitars, and one 80lb dog—who the vet told me is fat and not stocky like I’ve been telling people.

Nothing a few suitcases strapped to the top—next to the rooftop box and the extra gas can—can’t fix.

Spending a year in Todos Santos, Mexico, has been amazing.

It’s hard to believe it’s coming to an end.

We’re doing all the last minute things.

Returning stuff.

Throwing out stuff.

Washing stuff.

Getting the dog screened for Screwworm.

Finally finding the recycling center.

Giving away my jars because they really just won’t fit (I love you jars).

Implementing our cardboard box car-packing strategy.

Baking a multi-layered birthday cake for Aurelia to take to school.

Having a party a few days before we leave IS a little crazy.

But our house is perfect for parties, and we don’t usually have a house that is perfect for parties, so it feels like we really should do something.

It has a pool and a private pickleball court that has the most amazing views of the sea and the hills. And playing pickleball anytime, but especially at night when the sun is setting, is just about heaven.

And I wasn’t even into pickleball before the landlord built the damn court.

Now, of course, I completely get why people love it.

Anyway, there’s all that. And a trampoline, and a big old deck that was made for a large table to sit around.

I’ve moved a lot, but this is different

Franco works in TV and film and for a few years, we routinely hauled ourselves across the country at 48 hours notice, with a young kiddo.

But this time feels different.

The international move on the other end is part of it. And the fact that it’s not just me in this.

Then there’s the 110 degree heat in Tucson. Our storage unit without A/C. And a dog who can’t be left alone because she gets stressed inside a new place.

Every day I call my sister for 15 minutes.

She tells me things like, you’re doing great.

Just pick one thing to do.

And then I do, and I feel better.

I am a SubStacker

ONE of the things on my to-do-list has been to simplify my online presence. To close my old website.

So I thought, heck, why not make the weeks where we’re moving across three countries and one Pacific Ocean, the time when I finally do it.

Substack is my new home.

Where you’ll find essays, poems, meditation, observations, and the occasional story about getting stuck and getting unstuck.

The content will be less, “5 Ways to Move Country Like a Pro.” And more me just telling it how it is.

Emails from me will now come via SubStack.

They’ll look different.

But they’re still just me.

Feel free to unsubscribe if you’ve packed up your metaphorical car and moved on to other things.

I get it.

But lovely to have you here if you want to stay friends.

I’ll keep you posted on the move and other happenings.

Love Lisa

XX

PS: No suitcases were injured in the journey, and apart from a hairy border crossing (police were involved), it all went pretty smoothly. Tucson is hot and we definitely needed a couple of pajama days to recover!

Years ago I did an odd thing.

I stumbled across something called Do-Nothing Meditation and ended up spending a year in my little cottage in New Zealand practicing it.

Like, all day, every day.

This was NOT my normal MO. You can read The Weird Story of my Year of Silenc here.

But, there was a moment when I realized …

I wasn’t well enough to fully participate in life, and my thinking was the problem.

It was pretty scary. The kind of scary that makes you think, yeah, I’ll detach from the world for a year. That’s a good idea.

But …

Through this simple practice, and enlightening conversations with my mentor, I started to see that I wasn’t just a body with a mind attached. There was more to me.

I started tapping into my wiser, calmer self, which frankly, I never knew existed, despite years of therapy, mindfulness meditation, and stacks of self-help books.

In some ways it’s the world’s easiest meditation practice. (It’s really great if you have a particularly chatty mind or have trouble with traditional meditation)

I learned that my thoughts were not always the best. But that, I didn’t need to get rid of them, I just needed a different relationship with them.

I became less anxious.

I learned how to work without burning myself out.

Life didn’t become perfect. But it became lighter.

I started writing about what I was learning.

My blog led to a book deal with Penguin Random House. I’ve spoken at schools, run workshops, coached people one-on-one, and had the privilege of hearing from readers all over the world.

Then I became a Mom

Which was amazing. And, something I’d thought was never going to happen for me.

And what with baby stuff, exciting work with Forks Over Knives, and moving around the country with my husband who worked long hours on hit movies, my own little corner of the internet became much quieter.

So quiet, it didn’t feel like me anymore.

So, I decided to start again. Here.

My family and I are moving home to New Zealand

In many ways this newsletter feels like a fresh start too.

Not because I have everything figured out.

Because I don’t.

I’m simply more convinced than ever that we make life harder than it needs to be.

And that, there is a generation of young people, who like I was, are trying hard, but don’t realize that life can be easier.

Sure, it’s still challenging. But it can feel doable.

And that rather than feeling like you’re out of control, or at the whim of a harsh world, you’ve got a magical power in your back pocket.

Here you’ll find stories, practical ideas, and the occasional experiment that might help you step out of your head and back into your life.

For all ages.

We’ll explore things like anxiety, overthinking, creativity, burnout, parenting, purpose, beginning again, and what it means to be human.

One question I used to get asked a lot

Great question, right?

Except it’s not—though I totally get why we ask it.

This simple, seemingly innocent question actually sets you up to feel worse. It’s like deciding that you love starry nights then trying to only experience cloud-free nights.

We’re human. Our moods change. Our minds wander. We have great days, flat days, anxious days, and days where we wonder what the heck we’re doing.

The more we chase the impossible goal of feeling good all the time, the more we notice every moment we don’t.

The truth is, we’re better just to enjoy the stars when they’re there, and feel more relaxed about the clouds when they show up.

It’s one of my favourite ideas, and it’s something I explore in my short illustrated book.

It’s only 37 pages, it’s free, and takes about 5 minute to read.

And it’s yours when you subscribe. Which is also free.

Love Lisa

XX

PS: Here it is. Almost 10 years on!

It was ground zero for getting over my shit.

I didn’t even know I had shit.

But since I was crying (a lot) and couldn’t sleep (at all), I thought I’d give it a go.

It was so embarrassing.

In the student health waiting room, there were two doors: one to see a doctor or nurse, and the other (gulp)…

I got over that by going through the door to the doctors wing

Then snaked around the corridor to her office.

Trisha the therapist was cool about that.

In one of my secret sessions,

I told her how it was.

After more searching questions from Trisha,

I realized that going to parties is not compulsory.

If I had a deep desire to chill that coincided with a party that someone else wanted me to go to, I just could not fathom that it was ok to say no.

It took me a surprisingly long time to get this.

Also, it’s just the teensiest bit arrogant to think others won’t be fine!

It’s almost funny now, looking back.

Except that it wasn’t.

Not following the cues to rest stops you from tapping into what fills you up.

It doesn’t give you time to replenish energetically.

And it for sure stops you from getting to know the part of you that knows everything will be okay, no matter what.

When we’re rushing around all the time, trying to please everyone, thinking we always have to be the funny girl at the party (or the dependable girl, or the “good friend”, we can’t feel our okayness.

Little by little, through having downtime, I discovered things that gave me pleasure.

I still have thoughts about not letting people down, but it’s easier to set them aside and graciously say no when that feels like the best thing to do.

Now if you asked my friends if I have trouble saying “no” they would probably laugh.

That’s how good I’ve got!

If you struggle with this, it’s worth exploring. It’ll open up a whole world of you, that is so much more fulfilling than trying to please others.

I’m constantly challenged by email.

On the one hand, I love it.

What an incredible medium.

I’m subscribed to all sorts of interesting people.I love hearing from readers. And it’s a great way to keep in touch with friends.

But it is SO easy to check email more than we need to.

Way more.

It feels like you’re just having a quick peek.

But it’s not.

It breaks your rhythm.

Interrupts your focus. Your momentum. Your train of thought.

And the even bigger loss …

It fills in the spaces where creative ideas show up.

Those small gaps of nothing are where the good stuff happens. Where you figure something out, make a connection, finally get unstuck.

(I also run a little anxious and the constant checking makes me feel more scattered.)

This isn’t a small down-shift in productivity, it’s huge.

The scary truth…

When I’m disciplined about email, I get at least twice as much done in a day, often more. And it’s better quality.

Twice as much!

A few things that help:

• Don’t have your email application open in the background. Close. It. Down.

• Read and answer emails at set times; once or twice a day is usually enough.

• Set up rules so favorite emails go into a folder to read later

• Unsubscribe from emails you no longer read (not my newsletter!! Just kidding. Even mine, if it’s cluttering up your life)

• Answer emails when you read them—for anything that takes less than 5 minutes

• Remove email from your phone—or at least turn off the notification

Am I an email-resisting ninja everyday?

No.

But when I do…

oh boy.

What changes for you when you stop constantly checking email?

Because this article has got out of hand, just counted—it’s 5,000 words. Isn’t that like a book or something?

And I talk about how my parents tried to give me away because I was so embarrassing (wild exaggeration dipped in creative license with a garnish of scarcely true).

And it has 63 drawings.

And you know how some bloggers are master artists who craft their drawings to look simple and childlike?

I’m actually trying as hard as I can.

What I’m trying to say is I understand if you want to use this time to read another article that doesn’t have pictures or oddball asides.

We’ll still be cool.

95% cool, at least.

But it does include some rare stuff, like, why you should never feel guilty about your meditation practice or about not having a meditation practice at all.

I’ll also walk you through a lazy person’s guide to meditation, where you don’t even have to meditate.

Plus, there’s the surprising meaning-of-life type of lesson I learned during my peculiar year of silence.

These insights changed my life. They might change yours. And, even if the change is small, it all helps, right?

So it might be worth it—even with all the pictures. (Especially if you’re prone to worry, confusion, insecurity, or not feeling grounded).

My take on traditional meditation

Meditation is a simple exercise where you try to focus your mind. We often think of it as a Buddhist practice, though it’s common in many religions, and the discipline isn’t religious.

Meditation goes like this. You focus on something like, say, your breathing.

Then the inevitable happens …

Around and around you go, thinking about everything from the laundry to your kid’s homework, from the state of your fake tan to what you should wear to work tomorrow.

Then, you remember!

About 20 years ago, I learned about mindfulness and meditation in a class taught by an ex-Buddhist monk. He was kind and gentle (of course). None of the class had a clue what we were in for. We just wanted to feel less stressed.

For the first time, I began to see my thoughts as separate from me. It became easier not to get caught up in them.

And it felt good to take time out.

For the next few years, I was amazing, as in amazing, at practicing meditation somewhat regularly.

I wasn’t good at it.

No one is really. We all have racing, chatty minds.

But I did it.

Meditation is officially trendy.

It’s a new gadget. It’s coconut ice cream. It’s teen-star-rebrands-as-bad-boy.

Schools are teaching it.

Doctors are recommending it.

The United States Army is even doing it.

It’s the perfect antidote to our busy “always-on” world. Perfect if you’re stressed out from work (especially when “work” is killing people).

In short, it’s awfully good for you. And for people who rock at meditation, hats off.

The problem for some of us

Meditation is hard.

Ok. So, it’s not so hard. All you’re doing is watching your breath.

But, it can be difficult to stop what you’re doing and think, right, I’m going to do my chants now.

You know how one day you can be really disciplined, and then something happens, and you’re not anymore?

When I got M.E./Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, everything changed.

Instead of hanging out with friends, I hung out with my parents’ cat. Instead of going to beer-drinking parties, I went to colon-cleansing parties. (It was less a “party” and more just a trip to the clinic.)

Instead of looking deep into the eyes of my boyfriend (who eventually broke up with me because I never left the house), I had an iridologist look deep into the eyes of me.

I saw

I tried

and

Plus, a lot more things.

I filled my days reading and watching television.

I knew the public radio schedule like the pattern on my duvet.

I cross-stitched.

I Sudoku’d.

I watched 5-day cricket matches (and enjoyed it).

I thought about meditating…

But I never did.

In over five years.

We could say, “Lazy Lisa. Why was Lisa so lazy about meditation?”

Or we could say, “Maybe there was another way that would have suited Lisa better. She just wasn’t aware of it yet.”

How I learned an easier type of meditation

The west coast of New Zealand is a “wild, scenic wonderland” filled with rainforests, glaciers, and peculiar rock formations, most famously ones that look like pancake stacks. (Punakaiki).

Granity is a small coal mining village in the middle of all that.

One road. Tasman Sea to the left, rain forest to the right.

Temperate climate. Cheap housing. Population 105, including neighboring villages.

It was the perfect place to finish recuperating.

MY LIFE IN GRANITY:

• Boyfriend: one

• Dogs: two

• Vegetable patches: three (until the oxalis weed got one. Damn you, oxalis!)

• Animals grazing in the back paddock: three (horse, goat, sheep)

• Neighbors with chickens: four

• Large freshly-skinned animal pelts left on my front lawn: one (I still have no idea why)

• The number of times I stood naked on my front porch and looked up to see miners waiting for the early morning bus: one. (In my defense, when you live somewhere with so few people, you don’t expect to see anyone—it feels perfectly reasonable to open the door and let the dogs out naked.)

• Job: none — it was time to get one.

JOB OPTIONS IN GRANITY:

1. Cafe worker at either The Blue Zephyr Chip shop or Drifters Cafe

2. Coal miner

3. Snail hunter for the rare Powelliphanta augusta snail, often in fog and rain (best snail-finding conditions). Employed by Stockton Mine as a way to appease conservationists before bulldozing down forests. Snails live in ice cream containers in the ‘fridge until a new home is found.

Snail-hunting and driving mega–ton diggers for 12 hours a day aren’t “ease into work slowly” kinds of jobs. And while I love cafe work, I worried about committing; my health still fluctuated, and a common cold could lay me out for months.

Solution: Start your Own Business—That Will Be Easier

(If you have a business, you’ll know how funny that is.)

So I started New Zealand’s first online sexuality bookstore.

It was 2005, and internet retail was starting. I wanted to help people feel more relaxed about their sexuality. Besides, people were uncomfortable shopping at their local bookstores … small towns and all. And the variety was limited, too.

It was no big deal to me.

It was to my parents.

Over the next few years, I learned about online retail and business operations. I used a bank loan I’d taken out to renovate my house and instead imported books from around the world.

I had stalls at various expos around the country.

My little bookshop and I gained national media attention in popular women’s magazines and in daily newspapers around the country.

I thought the favorable response would help my parents.

It didn’t.

I was a first-time business owner, working hard, with no clue about what I was doing. And I was alone in an isolated, little town.

To make things worse, as the months and years went by, I started to feel sick again.

This is how scared I was about being sick for the rest of my life.

Ever had a moment that changed everything?

I told a friend how terrible I felt and needed to go on a retreat.

He said if I wanted a real retreat, I shouldn’t do what everyone else does and distract myself with things like books and nature.

He said that if I wanted a real retreat, I needed to “… close the curtains and, with as few distractions as possible, just sit.”

Kind of like a do-nothing retreat.

He said, “The less you do, the better. This is very difficult. Just see how you go—even if you do it for one day.”

TIPS FOR DOING NOTHING:

• Don’t try and change your thoughts; just let them run. Huh?

• Don’t spend all your time cleaning. No worries. Excellent. Already done.

• Don’t cook complicated meals. Marginally more likely, but okey, doke.

• It can induce madness. WHAT!??

• If you do go mad, don’t worry. You should revert to being non-mad when you’re done. Reassuring.

He said that, in silence, our dysfunctional habits and beliefs bubble to the surface and then fix themselves:

The “doing-nothing-in-my-own-home” retreat was more in my budget than one of those “fake-but-wonderful-sounding” retreats. The “it- might-cause-madness” aspect was disconcerting, but I didn’t feel that great anyway.

Plus, there was this whole extremely-terrified-about-my-life-staying-like-this-forever thing.

So I did it, right?

Well, I really wasn’t sure if I could do it.

So, to give myself the best chance, I implemented a TEMPTATION REMOVAL STRATEGY:

1. Take modem, radio, and telephone to friend’s house.

2. Move magazines and books from the bedside table into the uninhabitable, messy bedroom.

Put television in garage.

The first day …

I’d like to say it was all amazing. But often, it wasn’t. And it sometimes was.

First, it went like this.

Then, like this.

Then I started thinking about noises I could hear outside, like kids going to school, cars going past.

I thought about how sad I was that some old friends hadn’t wanted to be friends, even though I understood and wasn’t annoyed.

I thought about times like when my friend Rachel and I went door to door “collecting for charity” with an empty spaghetti tin. How ashamed Mum was. How she said, she couldn’t tell my dad or my brother or sister because I was just too deceitful and bad.

And how, for the next ten years, no matter what awards or accolades I got at school, I knew Mum, and I knew the “truth” about me:

I was rotten.

And not in a cute way.

Then the yucky thoughts became not-so-yucky. And the voice telling me to get up and do something—anything—got quieter again.

And then, I got this “Hello, Xanadu! Isn’t life wonderful?” feeling.

I felt connected to everything.

And then I’d start to worry again.

Like when the lawn guy came around, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer the door and spent the next few hours curled in a ball worrying about not paying him.

Around in circles like that.

Other strange things happened.

Regular, everyday foods started to taste like they’d been prepared in the finest kitchen by a star chef.

And one time … okay, two times … I was so anxious, I wanted to—for the first time in my life—

Cut me.

I mean, why would I want to do that? I’m a real baby when it comes to cuts and scrapes.

It just seemed, for a while, that it might distract me from my thoughts.

Eventually, my thoughts shifted to something else. And the kitchen knife returned to being just a good option for slicing potatoes.

Was I mad?

I decided I wasn’t. Actually, I was starting to feel better—just a little bit.

After about five days, I called my friend. And, with his guidance, I began to understand what was happening.

He said that what I was doing was meditation. He said that the “follow your breath meditation” was one way, but so was this.

I told him my mind was systematically going back over, well, it seemed like everything.

He said, “Yes, this is what happens.”

He said letting my thoughts run, without trying to change them, was very healing. He said my mind was looking for “sticky bits” and would sometimes go over things multiple times.

I decided to carry on.

After a few weeks, drunk on the idea that this might actually “fix” me, I decided to dedicate the whole year to “doing nothing”.

NOTE: If you’re feeling in need of some “fixing,” stick around. You don’t have to do anything as extreme as I did; in fact, it’s better not to.

The glamorous day-to-day practicalities

So … it wasn’t glamorous, but let’s pretend it was.

The basic routine: Get up. Eat breakfast.

Sit for a couple of hours.

Have a cup of tea.

Sit again. Eat again. Sit again. And so on.

I didn’t use a clock or time myself or anything. I knew, roughly, the time of day by how hungry I felt and by noises, like the school bus going past.

Exercise: My two dogs, Maltese terriers Max and Rocky, and I went for walks along the beach most days.

The Bookstore: I processed orders and paid bills for a few hours weekly.

Fresh vegetables: I grew most of my own.

Groceries: I shopped as little as possible, always buying in bulk.

I later discovered that locals speculated about what I did with all the milk I bought. Was I bathing in the milk? Making milk soap?

Correct answer: I was making protein drinks and because I went out so rarely I bought it in massive quantities.

Isn’t it boring sitting around, doing nothing?

No.

Aside from hurtling between feeling so wretched you want to stab yourself and a sense of blissful enchantment, you get ideas.

Which you want to write down… because they’re so profound.

I ignored most of then. But then one day …

I was curled up, wracked with some insecurity or another, when a thought arrived in a reassuring bunch of words. The words were like an antidote to how I was feeling. And they had rhythm, which was nice.

So I made a poster out of them. Nothing fancy.

I made over 50 in the end. They span the gamut of common, but faulty, beliefs that lie at the heart of our insecurities, unhappiness, fears and worries.

For instance, this one called “Perfect” helped me not worry about things I could have done differently.

This one, “Possessions,” reminded me that while we hitch our sense of self-worth to external things, we’re none of them.

And this one, “It Doesn’t Matter,” reminded me that things aren’t nearly as critical as I think.

I’d stare at them for hours, which, compared to staring into space, felt like watching TV. They were surprisingly calming

So I called them Reach Your Big Calm Cards (Originally called “Life Cards.”)

It’s good to find out how to do things more easily

It’s not that I’m lazy. Well, sometimes I am lazy. It’s just that finding a way to do something that takes less effort, less time, etc., makes sense.

Take something like keeping your paperwork straight, an annoying job for most of us. It’s just better when you find a way that makes it easier for you.

THE LISA PAPERWORK HANDLING METHOD™:

1. Open all mail. Do not try to file anything. You’ll only fail. Put all invoices, account statements, and other critical material, like that insane gluten-free chocolate cake recipe, in the box under the desk for “when you’re ready.”

2. When you’re ready (the box is overflowing or you need to find something), empty the box onto the floor.

3. Now’s your time to shine. Collate. Highlight. Staple. Hole punch. Put it into a binder. Make dividers by turning a page on its side and stapling a tuck. Nothing fancy; get it done.

If I were a file-things-immediately kind of girl, I’d do that instead. But I’m not.

And so, just as my paperwork handling method is simple, doing nothing is my simple way to feel grounded and “meditated.”

And, the great part is no matter how unmotivated or cranky or tired I am, I can do it.

Why Doing Nothing is So Effective and Easy

There are no hurdles. You don’t have to do anything other than stop.

Anyone can do this!

You can put your book down and sit there.

You can turn off the TV and sit there.

You don’t need to be anywhere special. You could be sitting on a plane or waiting for a bus.

When I think back to all those years I spent feeling bad about not meditating, I’m sure as heck certain I could have turned the radio off and just sat there for half an hour … especially if I’d known how good it would be for me.

The thing is — and this MAJOR IMPORTANT — you absolutely, completely don’t have to do it for a long stretch to get the benefits!

Do nothing for a little bit and then a little more when you can. It adds up. The effects are cumulative.

We’re brought up to believe if we want to feel good, we need to DO something to make it happen, like:

• Want to relax? Practice this relaxation technique.

• Want to feel more spiritual? Read these books.

• Want to be a happy adult? Get good grades at school and take extra AP classes.

• Want a good job? Go to college. Although, this is rapidly becoming: Want a good job, a real education, and avoid a lifetime of debt? Get a job.

But sometimes, doing nothing is more powerful than doing something.

Every time you pay less attention to your mind, you can hear your heart more. Your belief in yourself gets stronger. You start to feel more secure. You feel less dependent on things to feel good. And you begin to know you’ll be okay, no matter what happens.

You might not notice any difference … at first, anyway. But every time you do nothing, things shift.

This morning I read that Jon Morrow, one of my favorite bloggers, spends 30 minutes daily doing nothing. Of course, he does! In fact, most highly productive, creative people do.

How does the story end?

Did I fix myself?

Am I, like, calm all the time?

What happened to that pretty pink dress?

Well, things are different, all right.

I live in Los Angeles, for starters. I got married. I started this blog, and I’m learning to sing, play guitar, and roller-blade.

I haven’t fixed all those faulty beliefs because it doesn’t work like that. However, being aware of them makes it easier to own my own crapola and not dump it all over my husband.

I still don’t practice meditation, the formal kind. And I never, EVER worry about it.

And the pink dress wasn’t real. It was pretty, though, wasn’t it?

What about doing nothing? Do you still do it?

For a couple of years, I craved it and did it often. But, as time passed, I did it less, which is cool. It’s nice not to be in a place where the best thing to do is stare at your bedroom wall for months.

But every now and again, I’m reminded about how freaking priceless it is. I had a moment like this recently, sparked by returning home exhausted from a holiday down under.

Last year we won a trip to Australia (raffle at Santa Monica Music Festival)!

Thank you, Tourism Australia. And Qantas. They didn’t even ask me to say that.

Our holiday looked like this.

• 7 time zones

• 8 flights

• 6 boat rides

• 20 different beds

• 1 speeding ticket

• 1 killer bird fiasco (another article)

• 412 meals of Corn Thins™ and hummus

Normally, I can easily adjust to the local time. I do that thing where you set your watch to the new time as soon as you get on the plane.

But we were doing it every two or three days.

I was so tired putting my head on my tray table felt like lying on a bed of silky cushions. I couldn’t even catch a 30–minute recharge nap in the hotel without falling asleep for half a day.

The point is, as lovely as it all was—and it really was wonderful—by the time we arrived home, I felt disconnected and depressed.

For the next few days, we stayed inside. I puttered about, saying, “Look, we’re still in one place.” We watched the last three episodes of House of Cards. Sort of. I slept through two.

On Sunday night, my husband Franco said

Which was tempting.

Except the sheets were clean. The floor under the bed was clean, as in washed, as in on my hands and knees. I am amazing. Or I would be if I didn’t feel the urge to tell you, thus proving how rare this was.

(Re-sampling is when you reduce the size of an image in bytes without reducing the dimensions.

I looked at my laptop and thought:

But this feels so good already.

Then I look at my book.

Sure, reading feels good. But as good as this?

Nothing was more pleasurable than just lying there.

I barely moved, like, for a couple of hours. Or an hour. I can’t remember.

The trick our mind plays on us

It’s easy to think that, to relax, we have to watch TV or read … to do something, in other words. But this is just our mind wanting us to keep busy.

Next time you need a recharge, play around with simply doing nothing?

Let your thoughts do as they please, which they tend to do anyway. Watch them if you want to. Or lie there and not consider them.

Either way, you can bet they’ll want you to get busy.

Experiment with what happens when you don’t do what they say.

It might not feel like you’re meditating, but you are!

The unexpected and humongous life lesson that bowled me over

Meditation (whichever way you do it: traditional or my lazier version) is just a tool. It’s a tool that can teach us we aren’t our thoughts. It’s a tool to help us connect with that bit of us beneath our mind. And, it’s a tool to teach us we don’t have to do every dopey thing our mind tells us.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter whether you do it or not.

It is a great way to help you feel more calm, more grounded, and a bunch of other good things.

But it doesn’t actually matter.

This is confusing. Especially since I’ve just gone on about how killer it is, bear with me.

The mistake people make when trying to heal is to become blind to the bigger picture.

You want to feel good, right?

(Me, too.)

So what do we do? We try and learn how to do this.

Bravo!

But, in the process of trying to heal and be more peaceful, we can judge ourselves mercilessly.

We think there is something wrong with us for not being 100% completely self-assured. We see our insecurities as signs that we’re doing something wrong. And if we try a certain technique and then fail at it in little or big ways, we feel bad for not succeeding.

(You wouldn’t believe the mess I got myself into worrying about whether I was being successful at “doing nothing.”)

This is looking at it topsy-turvy.

Inner peace isn’t a destination in front of us. It’s already within us, waiting to be uncovered. And what it all boils down to is simple. Self-love.

Our screw-ups and insecurities are not barriers; they’re the way through.

This is why you should never feel bad about NOT meditating

Since our aim is to uncover our sense of inner love, it’s counter-productive ever to feel inadequate about not meditating. Being cool with whatever you do, is more important.

You’re practicing self-acceptance.

Now, when I learn a new idea or technique and fail to some degree, I use it as an opportunity to practice.

I started my year of silence to try to get somewhere. But, as time went by, I realized that everything that caused me pain was on the surface of me, in my mind, in the faulty beliefs I’d picked up along the way.

I’m still eager for my insecurities to pass. But now, I don’t worry about them. I know they’ll leave in time.

The more I accept who I am—in all my foul and wanton glory—the closer I get to feeling genuinely and unconditionally okay.

You are the owner of a wise, creative, and powerful self-correcting system

If you feel like your life is on a lean (in the toilet), know that if you make a bit of space for yourself, things often jiggle themselves back into place all on their own.

Get help when you need it. Be lazier than you think you should.

And when you feel like you’re standing in a pool of inadequacy, know that this is just a trick your mind is playing on you. You’re doing fine.

Be kind and gentle with your wonderful self!

Thanks so much for your time.

Lisa,

XX

This article was first published on: Jun 11, 2014, and has since been updated.

I never noticed 
just how much of a drama queen 
my mind is.  Sure 
it rags on me
constantly. But this. 
This was something else. 

Every morning, as part of my month 
of "getting it done"
I write down what my brain thinks 
before starting my  work.  
I find all the usual muck: "I'm too tired,"
and "I don't know how," are two favorites.

But what's been really surprising 
is how quickly my mind throws up its hands 
in complete capitulation 
at the tiniest pimple 
of a bump. Like, the other day 
when the power went out. 
Or, the morning I slept in.

Hardly, great impediments to not following through
a decade-long dream. 
"You'll never finish this," says my mind
"You'll loose momentum and won't get it back;
you were right on the edge anyway." 
With a final sputter of
"See, this is too hard."
 
Is losing power for a couple of days, 
or only working for 30 minutes 
instead of 60, a good enough 
reason to give up a deep heart felt desire? 
Yes, my mind says, yes it is.

Every Monday, just before midday 
I rush to my computer, sometimes literally panting, and prepare 
for my meditation class—pull my hair back, 
find the link, put the fan on—all while thinking, boy
am I glad I have to teach this class today
because there is no way I'd do it 
left to my own devices. 

Today, I am sweating, not just from the
 are-you-kidding-me humidity, but
from walking the dog, 
burning the porridge while translating 
texts into Spanish for the apartment 
we're viewing this morning, and arguing 
with our daughter about 
all the things she isn't going to eat for breakfast 
and whether she can watch TV
during our Spanish class. 
"When our parents had errands," 
we tell her, " we just had to wait."
We leave 10 minutes early so 
we can drop two weeks worth of washing 
at the lavanderia before Spanish class, but 
we forget until we are standing 
10 minutes early below the upstairs window
of our Spanish professor's apartment 
right in the middle of town, right 
where you expect a Spanish professor to live. 
Is he actually a professor?
Yo no se  but he is old and has all the 
charm and wit of a Spanish professor and tells us
stories about how he used to take tours to Cuba, 
and lived three decades in New York, and has a
muy bueno singing voice, which gets my husband going
and then they both start singing. Sometimes, 
we ask him, is it this word or that, and he shrugs
it doesn't matter, you choose. We love 
him and try to please him. He tells me 
I am doing well. Sometimes he has to help me 
with the whole sentence so all I have to do is repeat it, 
but even though it's only four words
I have already forgotten them. 
Franco pronounces the magnifico Spanish syllables 
as if he was born here. I wrestle them 
like I'm trying to nail a water balloon
to particle board. Afterwards, 
we race to see la casa se renta. I tell the owner, 
I have to leave in 20 minutes. I have to teach a class.
I make it back just in time to login and wait
for the little message telling me someone 
has entered the waiting room, I recheck 
the link—sometimes I send people
the wrong link. I hear myself telling 
my students: look out for magical moments
that appear in your day, when 
you have one or two minutes free. 
Take them. Trust that taking time out 
will help you more in the long run. 
It's very grounding, I say.

I have not written a poem in a month, and before that 
it was six months. Sometimes, 
you just really want to do more than not do. I hope 
everyone who didn't come to today 
had as much fun as I did
with these 45 minutes.

Opening a Substack account reminds me of when I first started blogging. I was living in New Zealand and I’d just come out of a year long stint of do-nothing meditation. (You can read The Weird Story of My Year of Silence here.)

A friend suggested that when you start a blog you shouldn't tell anyone. It's easier
to get a feel for your voice, she said, without thinking about what all your friends will think.

It was great advice.

I wrote in secret for a month.

And now I have a secret Substack.

I have no idea where this Substack account will go, and how it will work with my existing email newsletter, but I am delighted to try a new, writer-friendly home.

I have been quiet for many years while I had a child. But I have much to say, not just on the topics of meditation and understanding our mind, intuition, and truly accepting ourself (my wheelhouse and passion) but on topics such as having a kid at 46, poetry, becoming an accidental “mostly vegan,” my killer 1-Ingredient Buckwheat Bread recipe (gluten-free), moving to Mexico, and lots more.

Praying for courage.

Writing is scary.

Let’s do this.