Radical Compassion (Kindle highlights)

Since then, I’ve done a brief version of RAIN with anxiety countless times. My anxiety hasn’t gone away, but something fundamental has changed. The anxiety doesn’t take over. (p. 7)
“Radical compassion” means including the vulnerability of this life—all life—in our heart. It means having the courage to love ourselves, each other, and our world. Radical compassion is rooted in mindful, embodied presence, and it is expressed actively through caring that includes all beings. (loc. 263-266)
This practice is called RAIN. The name is an acronym that stands for the four steps of Recognize, Allow, Investigate, and Nurture. (loc. 269-270)
You are in trance when you are living on autopilot, when you feel walled off and separate from those around you, when you are caught up in feeling fearful, angry, victimized, or deficient. (p. 3)
Presence has three primary characteristics: wakefulness, openness, and tenderness or love. (p. 9)
Between the stimulus and the response there is a space, and in that space is your power and your freedom. (p. 17)
Two key questions of mindfulness. Ask yourself, “What is happening inside me?” Now ask, “Can I be with this?” or “Can I let this be?” (p. 26)
Instead of thinking about what’s going on, keep bringing your attention to your body, directly contacting the felt sense and sensations of your most vulnerable place. (p. 44)
Calling on the most wise and compassionate part of your being, you might offer yourself a loving message or send a tender embrace inward. You might gently place your hand on your heart. You might visualize a young part of you surrounded in soft, luminous light. You might imagine someone you trust—a parent or pet, a teacher or spiritual figure—holding you with love. (p. 45)
Now imagine that your future self is offering healing attention and care to your current self. You might feel that you are receiving some touch of kindness, maybe an energetic embrace. You might receive a message of guidance, of reassurance. See how fully you can take in that warmth and care and wisdom. (p. 46)
What is happening inside me? (R, Recognize) Can I be with this? (A, Allow) What is REALLY happening inside me? (I, Investigate) Can I be with this … with kindness? (N, Nurture) (p. 51)
Yet because our beliefs are continuously filtering and interpreting reality, we mistake our stories about ourselves and the world for reality itself. Understanding “real but not true” can free us from this prison. (p. 61)
Wisdom tells me I’m nothing. Love tells me I am everything. And between the two my life flows. (p. 65)
Stepping out of our old skin gives us a fresh and clear view. Not only are we able to sense the sincerity and benevolence of our own heart and being, but we are more able to see the gold shining through others. (p. 67)
Keep in mind that embedded in the message “something is wrong with you,” there is often a societal story that is invisible, shaming, and toxic. (p. 89)
Making a desired state into a trait, an enduring quality of our being, requires two basic steps. The first is to “have the experience,” either by recognizing it when it arises spontaneously or by purposely eliciting it with a resource anchor. The second is to offer our full, sustained, and immersed attention to that positive state and to the self-sense that arises with it. Psy-chologist Rick Hanson calls this second step “installation.” It gives the positive experience “stickiness,” so that it becomes installed in our long-term implicit memory for future retrieval. (p. 101)
But you may discover that with practice you develop enough balance and resilience to be with your fears. When you learn to stay present, you undo habitual avoidance and gain more ease and freedom in the midst of stress. You actually enlarge your window of tolerance. (p. 112)
Often there’s a nagging sense of “something’s missing.” But what happens if instead of pursuing what we think we want, we stay there? What happens if we encourage ourselves (as with a kind hand on our shoulder) to trust that “this is it”? Gradually we will discover the fullness and aliveness of our own presence. With this comes the blessing of feeling “enough”—that what we really long for is already here. (p. 120)
When shame comes up, try calling on the wisest, most loving part of your being—your future or evolved self. See through those compassionate eyes, and tell your small self, “It’s not your fault.” Or try saying, “You’re okay, sweetheart,” or “These cravings are yours, but they are not all of you.” And remind yourself, “Others feel this too.” If you bring a compassionate presence to shame over and over again, it will gradually loosen its grip. And you will find yourself able to respond to the cravings in a fresh and resourceful way. (p. 135)
“I can make myself a victim by blaming someone else, or I can heal and empower myself.” (p. 157)
It’s true that many people, especially social activists and those in the helping professions, become burned out. But it’s likely that the real culprit is empathy, not compassion. (p. 212)
Compassion begins with empathy, but the crucial element of mindfulness protects us from merging or identifying with the pain. Empathy alone can lead to burnout, but the mindfulness and care inherent in compassion foster resilience, connectedness, and action. (p. 212)
Remembrance: pause for presence. For now, set your intention to pause in just one or two situations of moderate stress and reactivity. It might be when you see a flurry of new emails needing a response; when you’re worrying about an upcoming deadline; about to enter a demanding meeting; or feeling irritated with a friend, colleague, or family member. The pause itself is simple. Stop whatever you’re doing, become still, and take a moment to Recognize and Allow whatever emotions and thoughts are present. Then take three to five long, deep breaths. With each, match the length of the inhale and exhale: Breathe in fully, filling your chest and lungs, and then release with a long, slow out breath. When you’ve finished, notice if anything has changed, and then continue with your day. Gradually expand the number of situations in which you practice an intentional pause, including those that involve more emotional triggering. In time, you’ll be able to pause in a wide range of situations, and you’ll have more access to your inner clarity, resilience, and heart. (p. 231)
The four remembrances. Pause for Presence Say Yes to What’s Here Turn Toward Love Rest in Awareness (p. 229)
Remembrance: say yes to what's here. While we need to open to our deep fears and losses, we can develop our resilience and confidence if we first practice saying yes to moderate discomfort and unpleasantness. You might try saying yes when you have indigestion or a headache; when you are anxious about being late, annoyed that the car was left close to “empty,” or disappointed at missing a dear one’s wedding. Keep in mind that your “yes” is directed toward your own inner experience, not toward what someone else is doing. You are meeting your edge—any sense of emotional reactivity or inner conflict—and softening. (p. 235)
Remembrance: turn towards love. Set your intention to turn toward love when you become aware of feeling lonely, depressed, anxious, caught in self-judgment, or blaming others. Give yourself permission to experiment with different ways of reconnecting with love. (p. 238)
Remembrance: rest in awareness. Set your intention to rest in awareness at times when you are calm and quietly present. It might be when you lie down to sleep and can feel yourself unwinding; when you are listening to the sound of wind or rain; when you are looking at cloud formations or the intricacy of a flower; when you are with someone in comfortable silence. It might also be when you’ve arrived at your destination, right before getting out of the car. Or when you are standing and looking out a window. Close your eyes, be still, and notice the foreground of what you are experiencing—the thoughts, sensations, images, sounds. Let everything be just as it is. Then notice your own presence, the formless awareness in the background. What is awareness? Can you sense the silence? The stillness? The openness that everything is happening in? Relax and rest in this awareness; become the awareness. Often after just a few seconds, the mind re-fixates on something in the foreground—or perhaps on a thought about what’s next. This is natural. Rather than struggle to sustain awareness of awareness (which is another “doing”), simply be mindful as you continue with your day. The most helpful way to practice resting in awareness is for brief moments, many times a day. If you approach this remembrance with curiosity and ease, you will find that you become increasingly drawn toward, and then at home in, the inner stillness of being. (p. 241)