Incredible? Weak.

Empowering? Still weak.

Enlightening? Closer.

Let me start by backing up a little to the beginning of my weekend. We’ll see where it goes from there.

Tiffani, my badass freeplaylife photographer, arrived in Orlando on Friday evening.

Now let me just say something about Tiffani.

She’s flipping amazing. Colorful. Playful. Daring. Vibrant. Envelope-pushing.

But she also has this deeply sensitive side that you only get to see in her photos or videos or in long conversations about Life.

So I knew she was the perfect person to help me commemorate this powerful step. Because she totally “got it”. ♥

We had an amazing weekend that I know I’ll be talking more about later.

But the photos!

Oh wow, the photos.

We started with the before photos (for obvious reasons) and let me just say, one amazing photographer can make you fall in love with yourself.

She captured so much more than either of us felt was possible to convey without being there.

Because, oh being there was amazing!

We laughed, drank wine, ate and talked, shared epiphanies and dreams and laughed some more. I love that woman so much. Yes, I’ll definitely be writing more about that soon.

But back to the experience…

Capturing the “Before”

I wanted to capture it. My dreads. What they meant. I wasn’t sure if it would be possible but if anyone could do it, I knew it would be Tiffani.

And she did.

And I love them, each and every one of the “Before” shots. They so perfectly capture the depth and love I’ve had for my dreads. They leave me breathless. Speechless. In awe and honor of my own spiritual path, of where I’ve been and Who I Am because of them.

I’ll let my favorites do the talking…

I looked at them on her camera between Day One of photos and Day Two. And I had an ache. I saw the beauty and the story Tiffani had caught for me. And for the span of one deep breath, I loved them so much I couldn’t fathom letting them go.

But then that breath passed and I felt my whole body, my whole spirit say “Trust”. Mmm, yes I can do trust.

The During and After Experience

As much as the before photos LOOK amazing, it was (and is) the during and after process of shaving off my dreads that FEEL amazing.

And that feeling of “amazing” was something that the camera couldn’t capture.

The way it FELT to have my husband there, the man who spent 14 loving hours putting my dreadlocks in, handing me the empowerment, the strength to take this next step – on my own this time.

The way it FELT to acknowledge my fear as it turned my hands cold and made my heart pound and asked me to pause, to breath, to give it a just a moment to be heard so that it could willingly let go.

The way it FELT to call forward the faces of the beautiful women, my many sisters, who had emailed or texted or messaged me their love, to feel them circling around me.

And then the way it FELT to remove my dreads, one-by-one, to feel the world shift beneath me, while also shifting me forward, the rushing in of exhilaration, and of an emotion I still do not have a name for.

I’ve said it so many times but it bears repeating again: It was as if my dreads had, over the last 43 months (to the day, I just realized), systematically entangled all the energy of my past, the fears and challenges and limitations and all those things that were not serving me.

And towards the end of my three and a half year journey with dreadlocks, it was “heavy” with the past and the stories that were ready to be let go.

And so, with all the yuck carefully secured in my dreads, I began to snip it all away.

The past that didn’t belong in my present, the heaviness…

The weight of the world fell off my shoulders.

One at a time. Landing on the ground. With only a few feet between us but feeling as though it was the length of the world now separating me from it.

Distant. Done.

Old and gone and unattached.

And then the way it FELT to see “the past” lying on the ground, to hold it in my hands, to feel as though it was ancient history, detached from me – something to honor and smile upon, but not something to ache for or regret or miss.

(To miss them would’ve felt awkward, like going backward, like losing wisdom, slipping into clothes that had once been comfortable but that I had outgrown. It would’ve felt silly trying to wear the things of my past, like a grown women trying on her favorite childhood shirt. It was and is and always will be beloved, but it’s not comfortable anymore.)

I felt LIGHT…not weight-light, but energy-light.

I text my mom an After photo and she said it perfectly in just a few words:

You look beautiful. And FREE!!!

Free.

Yes, that’s what this feeling is.

It’s the feeling of being free. Open. Unencumbered. Spiritually showered.

A lot of people (my dad included) don’t get it. How was I not free before?

But I AM FREE now. I recognize the difference, in the way only a previously and ignorantly unfree person could recognize. I’m suddenly free of the past. I’m free of the expectations I’ve accepted in my life (from myself and others). I’m free of the facade, the props I would use to convey Who I Am.

I’m free of the NEED to convey Who I Am.

I am free.

I never expected to feel as free and as feminine and as sexy in my own skin as I do right now with no hair. I’m walking on clouds, in love with my raw self. Feeling as though I’ve settled into Who I am, dropping into my own essence, JUST my essence. Nothing trailing along behind me.

Calm and simple and joyful authenticity.

I can’t stop rubbing my head or reveling in that menthol-cool feeling of the air across my scalp or the warmth of the sun or swimming in the pool, holding my breath beneath the water, feeling the sensations moving around me, no more worry about “getting my hair wet”, nothing taking me out of the moment, out of the experience it.

Present-moment awareness. How does having no hair offer me that?

I don’t know but there it is.

The whole experience. Commemorating my dreadlocks. Preparing to send them off with love. Those two minutes of fear, where my hands went cold and shaky and I wasn’t sure I had the courage to take my next step forward.

Then the instantaneous and immense feeling of YesYesYes! as I snipped the first dread and it fell to the ground, the feeling that propelled me forward like a mad-woman, feeling the heaviness lift from my spirit, feeling the open space begin to fill with excitement and LIGHTness as each knot of hair was shed.

The JOY and smiles and that sense that my whole body was laughing that suddenly came rushing in, not from my mouth or my face or my words (I was pretty much beyond words), but from my belly, from my core. Bubbling up and spilling out of my eyes, my pores, my fingertips, the top of my head.

The way I suddenly felt lit up, nothing getting in the way of SHINING. Radiating. Reveling.

To feel so deeply connected to Who I Am, to the people in my life, to Spirit and Life itself…

It has been one of the most deeply spiritual (yet insanely, hysterically, joyful and downright silly) experiences of my thirty years.

It’s sounds silly to many.

I even have to laugh at how silly it sounds to me.

It’s just hair after at all.

But it’s not about the hair.

It’s about the experience of my hair. MY experience.

It’s about what this small, seemingly meaningless experience (in the grand scheme of life) had to offer me.

And it’s about me accepting that offer.

It’s about being open to a grandiose, breathtaking and awe-inspiring overture in what looks inconsequential, impermanent, and trivial.

This is life.

Mundane. Simple. Momentary. The details small and ultimately insignificant. A blip on the screen of the Universe. A monotonously repetitive story throughout the span of the centuries.

But still never duplicated in the narrative. Consistently renewed in our emotions. And regularly, excruciatingly and inconceivably mind-blowing to participate in.

It’s all “just hair”. Until we embrace the experience of it. And then it’s the whole Universe bursting alive within the space of one fleeting moment.

Click here for all the photos from our shoot!

All of these amazing photos are from Tiffani Bearup.

Check out her full set on Flickr.

Tell her how much you love her work here on Facebook or in the comments below!

Want to read more about my process from dreadlocks to a shaved head?

All dreadlock posts from start to finish are here.

Part One: My announcement video of my decision to shave my dreads

Part Two: A more in-depth, emotional and raw video on my decision

Part Three: Putting The Process of Shaving Them into Words (and lots of photos)

Part Four: A GORGEOUS Video and words from other women who’ve done the same

And lastly: Burning My Dreadlocks: The Final Goodbye

I can’t wait to get my first grey hair (or find them under all these dreads), I love the lines I’m wearing on my face, and how I see aging as one of the most beautiful things in the world.

They assume it hasn’t “hit me yet”.

Oh but it has. The fear of aging hit me a few years ago. Hard.

And that’s when everything changed.

I explain it, passionately and emotionally I might add, in this video below…

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The Comment/Question

Tara – Here’s a thought I’ve had. I’ve been in a lot of discussions about parenting that include those who view “being your child’s friend” as a very negative thing – “be a parent, not a friend”. I really feel like there’s this false dichotomy between having a good relationship or teaching/guiding them – like they are mutually exclusive. The “be a parent” crowd assumes that if we are focusing on maintaining a close, connected relationship, it means that the kids just do whatever they want and have no respect. What if being a friend and parent weren’t mutally exclusive? I would love your take on this. – Cindy from www.birth-smart.com

My Answer

I would ask them who the heck their friends are and why they have such a low idea of what real friendship is.

In my world, a friend is someone who loves me compassionately, who sees my worth when I may not see it, who listens deeply and never encourages me to do less than I’m capable of doing, nor do they support my actions if those actions are hurting me or others.

A real friend brings out the best in me with love and laughter and support.

So who the heck have they been hanging out with that isn’t all those things? And why wouldn’t we want to be those things to our child?

And I want to add:

Maybe if more kids were used to seeing this kind of love and support from their parents they wouldn’t be accepting anything less in their friends.

What is your take on the parent/friend conversation?

And just because I can, I want to share a video I created that reminds me just how quickly it passes, just how much we should cherish the tender moments and just how much we miss out on when we’re more concerned with how we’ll look as parents, instead of the moments of connection we’re capturing with our kids.

As soon as he was aware we began sitting together and reading through stories together.

His favorite for the first few years of his life was Time For Bed, by Mem Fox:

“It’s time for bed little mouse, little mouse. Darkness is falling all through the house.”

We all knew it by heart after reading it three or four or seventeen times each night.

Then came Putt-Putt and The Bean Boy as he grew a little older. And then the Little House books, The Chronicles of Narnia, the Animorphs series, Harry Potter and then Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

There were many things in Zeb’s early life that I would rush through and forget to relish, but reading was never one of them.

Perhaps it was because of the memories I have with my mom, cuddling in bed together, her melodic voice telling the story as my eyes followed along the page or dreamily imagined the scenes she described or finally became too heavy to stay open.

She’d probably say my memory is pretty forgiving, but it didn’t seem to matter how busy she was or tired she was; there seemed to always be time for reading together, even if it was only a chapter.

And so whenever Zeb asked for a story or seven, I knew just how important it was to curl up next to him, to create those memories, to say yes as many times as I could.

And then one more time, for good measure.

Now, at 12, he’s spent many months not being interested in cuddling up together and being read to. And as much as I enjoy seeing him grow and change, a part of me was still a little sad at what I thought was the closing of a tradition.

I mean, I knew it would happen. I knew there would be a day when he moved onto other things in his life. But it still felt bittersweet, ya know?

So a few weeks ago, after a hilarious night of Uno playing, when he asked if I wanted to start reading Percy Jackson again my heart smiled as it melted.

One, two, five chapters…we still read until the eyelids get heavy (mine now, instead of his). We read until I begin to see words that aren’t even on the page. We read as we travel down the road, and we take breaks from our individual tasks to read together during the day.

And it’s only now that I see the real value of it.

You see, when he was a baby I read to him in hopes of creating a love of reading. I read to him because it was educational. I read to him because it seemed like the thing a mom should do.

But looking back over the last 12 years I’ve found that reading together had less to do with learning to read, or learning to love reading. It had little to do with teaching him how to read on his own.

In fact, it had very little to do with books at all.

Looking back over the last 12 years I can see that the books were just a tool to the real benefit of reading together: the time we spent with our heads on the same pillow, the discussions we had as the plot twisted or turned, surprised us or irritated us, the sense of connection that comes from simply being next to one another, sharing a common thought.

We create those bigger and more important lessons and experiences with more than just books. We do it with games, or movies or video games, too.

We, as parents, do it every time we prioritize our kids and what they ask us to do with them over our long day or our big tasks.

Maybe he’ll “outgrow” our tradition again some time. Maybe he never really will.

But since I’m never sure when “just one more chapter” will be our last together, I’ll keep my head rested upon his as he rests his upon my shoulder. I’ll keep brushing down his curly hair so that I can see the page.

And I’ll keep relishing in these simple moments, that are always so much bigger than I sometimes remember they are.

Ah, perfect. That word is a hot one. Especially for us women.

Most of us strive so hard to be perfect: the perfect mother, perfect partner, the perfect person with a perfect purpose. We try to create the perfect home and the perfect world with perfect hair and perfect kids.

And then we hear the messages that perfection is a myth, that it can’t be obtained and that striving for it is a maddening and pointless attempt to be something we’ll never be.

After all no one is perfect, right?

This is where I get all Big and Philosophical on you…

Both are wrong.

Zoom out with me – way out – and take in the Big Picture of your life, your journey of self-discovery and growth, your contribution to and purpose in the world.

The entire purpose of your life is to learn, to grow, to experience this human experience and make sense of it the best way you can.

You don’t need to strive for perfection and you don’t need to give up the idea of perfection…Because you are already perfect.

Where you are is already perfect. What you are experiencing, doing and thus learning is absolutely perfect.

You are the perfect mother for your children. You are the perfect person for your purpose. Everything you’re doing and experiencing is perfect.

Stay with me here.

It’s perfect that you make mistakes. It’s perfect that you beat yourself up for them. It’s perfect when you don’t do either.

It’s absolutely perfect when you wake up one day to realize something totally new and life-changing and it’s perfect when nothing ever seems to change.

It’s all perfect because it’s all purposeful, because when we zoom way out the little details that we stress over and complain about and push against blur together, and we see the process, the journey, the contrast that teaches us, the resistance that strengthens us, the meaning at the end of the story, the light at the end of the tunnel and the Magic that brought it all together, that connected the cosmic dots and created something amazing.

If our purpose in life is to learn, and if we learn best through our experiences, then yes, it’s all actually perfect.

And only by acknowledging that it’s perfect can we embrace it, learn from it and expand because of it.

Your mistakes have value. Your journey is oh-so-valuable.

But you won’t get that, you won’t experience that value, until you accept it as perfect, as exactly as it gets to be.

Yes, this applies to everyone – you and your kids, your partner and THAT one frustrating person you would rather not talk about. No matter what you all are doing or experiencing in your lives, you are all in the same perfect place.

Acknowledging that you are exactly where you need to be, and that everything you are experiencing or doing is perfect is not license to be an asshole, hit your children or just quit trying, anymore than the lack of a posted warning is license to shoplift.

On the contrary, and perhaps paradoxically, embracing the seemingly imperfect as perfect will take off that heavy weight of Not-Good-Enough, Less-Than, Doomed-To-Mess-Up, and leave you only with desire to move forward into seeking more….more Love, more connection, more experiences, more compassion, more beauty, more peace, more learning.

You cannot create your Life from a place of imperfection, unworthiness, brokenness, less-than. You can’t. Whatever you see this moment as being, you will notice and create more of the same.

But when you can connect to the fact that this moment is perfect – that it is here for you to experience and learn from, that’s it’s all opportunity, all of value – you can connect to the fact that you can create something more, better, and beautiful from it.

Only by stopping the fight against what is can we give ourselves the clarity and power to create what can be.

Look for it: What about that one frustrating thing is actually perfect?

“There is only one world, the world pressing against you at this minute. There is only one minute in which you are alive, this minute here and now. The only way to live is by accepting each minute as an unrepeatable miracle.” – Storm Jameson

Which wouldn’t have been too big a deal had we not wanted to tow our 15,000lb 5th wheel and motorcycle trailer up a hilly country road lacking adequate gravel.

Try looking in your rearview mirror and seeing all that weight slowing skidding toward the ditch on the side of the road.

Note: You should not be driving straight
and see your rig off in another lane.

Terr. If. Fying.

Even more terrifying? Seeing the same look of Holy-shit-it-should-not-be-doing-that in your always confident husband’s eyes.

We slid, we skidded, we pelted giant clumps of mud all over ourselves in an effort to find traction.

My heart was racing, my stomach was clenched, and my voice was clear as I prayerfully reaffirmed – very loudly for all of the heavens to hear – that we are totally safe. Safe, I say, dammit!

By the time we made it into the campgrounds and my heart stopped racing, I was pissed.

“That’s not effing cool.”

“Someone should’ve warned us about that road.”

“They’re gonna hear it from me at the office.”

I wasn’t exactly freaking out (on the outside) but you could say I was ready to make a statement.

As we walked up to the office – me mentally practicing what I intended to let them know – a man got out of his car and walked up with us. He had driven behind us up that muddy hill and had watched us work to keep control of our rig.

Chuckling, he said, “You guys looked like you were making a Ford commercial! Built Ford Tough!”

And that’s all it took.

One moment of laughter to break through my tension. One reminder of just how thankful I am that our truck could make it up that slippery road.

I laughed. I breathed. I remembered.

I was taken out of my anger and my self-inflicted suffering to remember the bigger picture: That small moments only have the power I give them. That living in the past, in What Could’ve Happened, does nothing for The Now, what IS happening.

Thank goodness for the reminders of muddy roads.

I have a little story for you, a story of opportunity, of growth, of saying Yes.

Many months ago I had this little tiny nudge. A nudge to shift, to relaunch, to step up to the plate of my life.

And I said yes. Actually, I said “Okay“.

And because “Okay” is really just a thinly veiled “Okay, I’m having doubts, but I’ll try to tentatively trust you” Life answered in return with, “Okay, I hear your doubts, so we’ll take this slow.”

So, for about four months, I moved slowly. There were a few moments of “Um…” or even one or two of “Eek!” but mostly it was a comfortable little path.

Then right before I relaunched, as I was sitting in my space – that quiet, meditative, soulful space – I felt it again.

But it wasn’t a nudge this time. It was more like a request: A request for more Trust, an offer of growth and connection, an opportunity.

It was the question, “Are you feeling ready yet?“

Not demanding or pushy, just a heartfelt question.

I had no idea what it really meant and I was filled with fear about it. Oh boy, was I. Because saying yes to something you can’t see…well, that’s just fracking terrifying.

But I took a deep breath anyway…and I said Yes. And I really meant Yes this time. So I opened my whole heart and my whole soul to receive it.

And Life Rushed In

Do you know what happens when you say Yes! to Life, to an offer from your Source, to the nudge in your heart you’ve been ignoring?

Opportunity.

In the moment, opportunity looks a lot like stress, overwhelm, uncomfortable changes, upheaval, odd new circumstances, and a really messy experience. It might start feeling like being engulfed by fear, or even sadness or anger.

(Or maybe that’s all just me.)

But if you keep saying Yes, if you can remain open and trusting….

Well, in hindsight you can see it’s all just Life rushing into your open heart as fast as it can. It’s not going to miss the opportunity after all.

And so because Life’s opportunities are often big, it can be stressful.
Because it comes so fast, you can feel overwhelmed.
When it’s new (and it will be new), it can feel uncomfortable.
And since it’s often demanding, it may seem like upheaval.
And because we’re human, it’s often messy.

But in reality, it’s really, really good. And here’s why…

It All = Strength Training

Looking back on these past 3 months, I see what I thought was pain and obstacles and stress. But you know what I really see now?

Strength training.

My coach has a way of putting it that I like. She compares it to weight lifting. You put resistance on your muscles to build them, to grow them.

When you say “Yes!” (and really mean it), Life begins its job of giving you opportunity to strengthen and grow you.

And that can feel tiring, overwhelming, even painful at times. Because it’s usually going to start with the discovery and healing of all the things that are going to get in your way of what comes next.

You can call it struggle, or strengthening; pain, or healing. But only one perspective is going to get you through it. Only one is going to keep you saying “Yes”, keep your heart open and authentic and expanding.

And that’s worth it.

Because as ugly as it will feel as you go through it, as someone emerging from the other side, I can promise you it’s amazing.

What are you saying “Yes” to in your life?

A lot has happened since I experienced my perspective shift toward receiving.

I’ve experienced such an incredible insurge of insight and experience in the matters of support, creating tribes and the intertwining acts of creating our worlds.

There is no separating these exchanges from Who We Are. We give. We receive. We shine.

Sometimes the exchange feels big – an A-ha moment that rocks your world, the purchase of something that brings beauty into your life, a new commitment or change.

Sometimes it feels pretty small – a tip left for the waiter, a smile to a stranger, a phone call from a friend.

But more and more I’m recognizing one of the greatest gifts to give or receive IS the most simple: Our presence.

Holding Space + Vision With Our Presence

My Visionary Mom team is wrapping up this month and I can undoubtedly say the women I’ve come to love on this team will be a part of my life for some time to come. We’ve laughed and cried, voiced our anger and fears and victories. We’ve shared advice, resources, tools and ideas with each other to help accomplish our dreams.

But it’s come to all of us in the past few days that perhaps the greatest gift we’ve given to each other is not so tangible.

We’ve created and held sacred a wide open space for one another to Be, to dream, to discover and to create.

But even more incredible is what is held within that space:

A vision of “Who You Are”.

This is such a gentle, careful thing. Without expectations or attachments, we just hold in our hearts an image of the other person  – an image of strength, of beauty, of authenticity, of the incredible women we are.

In my darkest hours or deepest and messiest challenges, it was this space and this vision that moved me through.

When I felt I lost my hold on my own light, my own vision, my own strength, I was reminded that they were holding it for me. It never went travels from me, because those around me never let it go.

The Opposite is Also True

The space and image we hold for someone can be freeing and empowering for them….or it can be incredibly limiting.

We can hold an image of someone that is negative: an image of brokenness, of unhappiness, of pain, of being wrong.

Or we can hold an image based on our own expectations, based on what we want or think is best but that does not resonate with the other person.

And that image can shape their beliefs of Who They Are, what they are capable of doing and where they are going.

It can feel just as slight as an affirming image, so much so that we don’t realize we’re doing it.

• She’s never happy.
• Oh, he’s just like that. That’s just the way he is.
• They are always wrapped up in drama.

It doesn’t matter if we feel it’s true. It’s still constricting.

We do this with more than just labels, though; we do it with our expectations, with our limiting beliefs of what is possible and with our fears.

• I don’t think he’ll follow through.
• Here we go again….
• You’re not being practical.
• But you could be hurt!

In the same way an affirming or positive image never travels far from me, a negative image never travels far either.

Your ideas of Who They Are are always there to be accessed, remembered and absorbed by them.

And the closer you are to that person – a parent or child, a lover, a close friend – or the more vulnerable a place they are in, the more your image of them will have an impact.

What Are You Holding?

In the past few weeks, I’ve have been more consciously holding space and vision for those I know and love or with whom I come in contact.

With my son, whom I tend to worry about. With my husband, whom I tend to help too much. With my mom, my friends, my clients.

Sometimes the shift is incredible: Zeb has felt the freedom I’ve created by holding that space and vision for him and he’s flourishing in it. (Yes. It was only my fear that was holding him back before.)

Sometimes the shift is in my internal processing: I feel freedom, compassion and wisdom in my own course of action when I’m approaching life without these limitations.

But even if the only thing to shift is our own perspectives, we’re still on the right track. Because our perspectives shift everything.

I’m Holding This For You.

My intention with this blog is to promote my message of Being Organic.

I talk a lot about what that looks like in my own life, but I have no idea of what that will look like in your life.

Some of my Truth – organic learning, organic living, minimalism, authenticity, unconditional compassion, autonomy – will resonate with you. Some of it won’t. And that’s okay.

I don’t need to know Who You Are in order to hold a space and vision for you.

I just need to know one simple truth:

You are wise and wonderful. And you shine best when you remember that.

I’m holding space here for you, a vision of that in you. You are welcome to access that space and that vision anytime you need to remember.

What are you holding for others?

We’re aiming to make this our last week off the road. By Friday, we will be heading toward Southern California; Disneyland to be exact.

Transition is always emotionally and spiritually full. We get filled with thoughts of what needs to be done, timelines and deadlines and regret. We scurry, we ebb and flow, we forget and remember and forget again.

And we oscillate, between looking back and looking forward, and all the world conspires to compound the dichotomy of here and there by pouring on the rain, piling up the hurdles, throwing in a little more madness.

I think there are two reasons Murphy’s Law is real and true:

1. Because madness creates or attracts more madness.
2. And because life loves to test our resolve.

I used to confront these maddening times of resolve-testing with a strong mix of doubt and added resolve. Was I on the wrong path? And what did I need to change?

My approach was one of sheer will and barreling through.

Today, as I sit with a mind full of tasks and exasperating challenges, piles and piles of paperwork to scan, a fender-bender to contest and repair, and an old friend demanding more than I will give, my approach is different.

No task lists, no sense of urgency, no feeling of obligation, no impending deadline.

My approach now is one of surrender.

Of savoring.

Of slow, methodical movement.

Of earphones and blueberry muffins.

Of trust.

Of quiet and breath and acceptance.

Instead of frenetic energy, of compiling and pushing, of resistance or fixing or spiritual darting…

I’m allowing.

Allowing the emotions to sweep through me, observing the place where I am, feeling peace as things go undone, as they remain imperfect, and being whole in that imperfection.

Something funny happens when you allow your world to be imperfect and messy.

It ceases to be imperfect or messy.

Perhaps it’s the people whose lives have taken sudden new twists – people who have learned to embrace the creative possibilities of change – who stand the best chance of penetrating life’s mysteries. – Hugh Mackay

There’s an epidemic that has infiltrated our culture. It creeps in to families and relationships and make us all sick. Sick of each other, really.

It’s the If/Then Syndrome, sometimes referred to as the When/Then Syndrome. And it gets us all at some point. It’s that tit for tat behavior that we all loathe, and yet it’s just as much a part of us as we feel it is of anyone else. Some examples of its symptoms:

• If she’s going to be rude to her kids, then I’m going to tell her off.
• If he’s gonna yell at me, then I’m gonna yell back.
• When you act nice to me, then I’ll act kind in return.
• When you help me with the chores, then I’ll pay you.
• But if you don’t help me, then I’ll be moody and passive-aggressive.
• When he apologizes, then I’ll stop giving him the cold shoulder.
• If she cheats on me, then I’ll cheat on her.

Truly, it’s all equal and it’s all pretty immature thinking. But the most mature among us fall victim to it. We apply it to our parenting, our partners, and our friendships.

It’s not entirely our fault. It’s the culture we live in, one based on rewards and punishments. We feel that every action must be met with an equal (or greater) reaction. We give kids grades based on their performance, allowance based on their contributions, attention based on their behavior. We give our spouses snide comments or biting retorts. We give others parents pointed looks, or offer hurtful, harsh remarks. And we say (and truly feel) that things won’t change unless we do these things.

We’re a culture of human reactors.

I’ve just realized I do it all the time. If Justin isn’t helping out, I am moody or unhelpful in return. If Zeb is cranky, I act cranky right back. It’s stupid, really because here’s the thing:

I need to be Who I Am, not because of anyone else, but because it’s who I want to be.

I want to be the kind, patient, compassionate mother, not to get a particular behavior from my son, but because I want to be that mother.

I want to be the generous, loving wife, not to get something from my husband, but because that’s the lover I want to be.

And what does it say about ourselves otherwise?

We expect kids and adults to “take responsibility” for their own actions and we don’t allow them to use others as a scapegoat for their own behavior. Then we yell, punish, criticize, humiliate, embarrass, lose our tempers or our patience and we say it’s because of something they did. We say it’s because we have to make a difference, because they need to change, because of some outcome if we don’t.

Bullshit.

It’s not because of what they do; it’s because of something we do. We base our actions off our expectations, instead of our intent. We sacrificed who we want to be because they aren’t being who we think they should be. And when we didn’t get what we wanted (and how often does coercion really result in real cooperation anyway?) we responded with something akin to a temper tantrum.

How can we possibly expect our children to do something we ourselves can’t master?

This is what unconditional love is about: That we continue to love a person in the same exact way regardless of whether they are being kind or mean, helpful or disruptive, quiet or loud, thoughtful or inconsiderate, joyful or short-tempered, patient or rude.

Anything less is not unconditional love. It’s fair-weather friendship, it’s the parent who isn’t there when their child is hurting, the partner who leaves you feeling alone. And if love is not unconditional, we’d better not call is love at all.

Over the past few weeks, with engine problems and stress pouring out of our ears, I’ve been told by nearly everyone that it all happens for a reason; it all works out for the greater good, that we are exactly where we need to be. It’s so easy to apply that principle to things like dead batteries or a long pause in your plans. But why don’t we apply the same principle to our relationships?

If we truly believe we are exactly where we need to be in tough times, that there are no accidents, and that it all happens for a reason, how can we try to change someone at all? Every mood, every attitude, every hurtful or kind word, every helpful or hindering action from our children, spouses, friends or loved ones is exactly where and what it needs to be.

It’s all good, even the messy, the hurtful, the disruptive. It’s all opportunity, experience, chances for understanding, an occasion for contrast, a space in which to learn. Not just for them, maybe not for them at all. Maybe it’s just there for us.

There is always a bigger picture to view. We get all caught up in the details of the moment, the stories we tell ourselves, without ever remembering one of the most important reasons for the moment, for life at all: Growth.

And only by meeting people where they are and accepting them for who they are in that very moment while remaining who we want to be, do we give anyone the opportunity to grow. Only by being the person we want to be can we allow others to be who they are, as well. Only by accepting ourselves as imperfect first, can others accept their own imperfections.

Only through unconditional love and compassion can anything be okay.