and Don’t take anything personally.
QUOTES from don Miguel Ruiz:
“Taking things personally is a set up for suffering. It makes you easy prey for other people’s emotional poison; they can hook your attention with one little opinion and feed you whatever poison they want.”
“When we take things personally, we feel offended, and our reaction is to defend our beliefs and create a conflict. We make a big drama out of something so little.”
“When you truly understand this and take nothing personally, it doesn’t matter who gossips about you, who blames you, who rejects you, who disagrees with your point of view. Whatever people say doesn’t affect you because you are immune to their opinions and their emotional poison.”
QUESTIONS FOR YOU:
Do you take things personally, feel deeply hurt or angry, and say things that you later regret?
Do you lie awake at night reliving unpleasant conversations or situations in your life that make you feel angry, anxious, and upset?
Speak this over your life: “God, I give you my reputation. I’m not going to spend my life worrying about what people think about me. I am going to be free to be who I am and be led by You and do what I believe You want me to do, and whatever people think, it’s up to them.”
I am a combination of both the good and the bad. like everyone else. At least I am able to acknowledge that. It’s called either reflection or the sixth and seventh step. I’m sorry for my hurtful words, anger, actions. Yet, at the same time, I am not subjecting myself to gaslighting, deceit or being put down.
Through my thirties and forties, I would occasionally succumb to the yearning, drop everything, and run as fast as I could to visit the home within me. The door to my internal spiritual home would be one simple experience, one encounter with a thin place—maybe sitting in my car listening to Loretta Lynn sing “How Great Thou Art,” or an afternoon swim with God in Lake Travis, or one night praying the Daily Examen. But then, after that visit, I would leave and go back to my first-half-of-life world. I’d describe this first-half-of-life spirituality as the ebb and flow of [the Greek words] nostos and alga, homecoming and pain.
Over the past two years, I’ve found that I’m more spiritually homesick than not. Spiritual homesickness has become an almost daily dulling grief. It’s not depression or exhaustion. It’s an uncomfortable knowing that I’m coming to the end of one thing and the beginning of the next. I’m leaving and arriving. There’s fear, but there’s also joyful anticipation.
Today, when I return home to the place in me where God dwells, I’m no longer interested in making it a quick visit so I can run back to the world of “what other people think” and “what I can get done.” Today, I can barely be dragged out of the house. I’m drawn to different conversations and deeper connections. Credit: Brené Brown, “Nostos and Alga: Returning Home in the Second Half of Life,” foreword to Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, by Richard Rohr, rev. ed. (Hoboken, NJ: Jossey-Bass, 2024), vii, ix–x.