Inhabit Your Life

To inhabit a space or a home means that you live there. You have moved in. You’ve taken up residence. When you move into a new home, you explore rooms and you see their potential. You are curious and creative. You engage in nesting, decorate, invite guests over, hangout, and settle in. So what does it mean to inhabit one's life? It might simply be described as being fully present to oneself and the environment. Curiosity and creativity are cultivated. To inhabit might mean that you engage your inner world by noticing what is true for you and sharing that truth with trusted others. The art of presence requires compassionate awareness. This can be challenging when difficult emotions surface. The tendency is to want to change it now, to make it better, to sweep it under the rug and get on with however we think things should be. But in doing so, we miss the opportunity to extend kindness to ourselves. We miss the messages that our psyche is trying to convey. We miss the truth.

Perhaps inhabiting your life means that you give notice to the life you are living that is not yours. Certainly one aspect of inhabiting life would involve examining where in our lives we engage in activities as a way to seek approval from others. Do you say yes when you mean no? Do you acquiesce? Many people equate yes with love. If you say no, it must mean you don’t love me. It is important that we learn to separate yes and no from the concept of love. No is just no, and maybe even a way to engage in boundaries and self-love. 

We are riveted by the stories told by people who broke the mold created by parents who unconsciously attempted to live vicariously through their children. The chef whose father wanted him to be an attorney; the bank executive whose parents pushed her to find a good man and have children; the florist who was told, "You will never make a dime doing that!" Parents are not the only influential sources of derailment. Siblings, teachers, colleagues, or any people with strong opinions might be counted among those who might create an agenda for us and try to steer our lives. It takes courage to inhabit one's life. One must be brave to break the mold, stand up and say, "This is who I am!." I believe that it is far more common to settle for less than to go out on a limb. There is no doubt that inhabiting one's life involves risk, trust, and faith.

To Look Again

People often tell me that, while their lives are good and everything seems fine on the surface, there is something not quite right. They know something is missing but they can't quite put their finger on it. A low level of discontent follows them through their days, leading to restless nights and an aching emptiness that cannot be filled with the busyness they have arranged on their calendars.

They may go to see a counselor to rid themselves of the discontent and emptiness by trying on new activities and ways of being, only to find themselves with the same old feelings and an equally full calendar. What often gets ignored is the message that discontent is trying to convey. What would happen if we took the time to listen to our discontent? Might it have some information for us about our inner longings and deepest dreams? We brush aside these longings and dreams for all kinds of reasons, and so the whispers of the soul go unheeded and unheard.

The Latin root word for respect is "respare," which means "To look again." I love this definition of respect because it invites an attitude of inquiry coupled with compassion. Just maybe my discontent has a voice that is asking me to pay attention to something important, something that diverges wildly from my normal, habitual, and conditioned ways of responding to life. When we listen to a friend and ask them clarifying questions, we invite a spirt of inquiry and compassion to the dialogue. We care about their wellbeing and want to understand who they are and what they are telling us. One of the kindest gifts we can give to another is our attention. Can we do the same for ourselves?