Welcome to The Naked Nowletter! My community is for those seeking a deeper connection with their true essence and a more intimate relationship with themselves, others, and the unseen world. We explore authentic communication, connection, and what it means to get Naked in the Now. Each week, I share a personal story, enriching thoughts, and juicy practices—plus occasional links to articles that inspire presence and transformation.
Share
When You Don't Want to Do What Life is Doing: Softening Inside, Standing Strong Outside
Published 6 months ago • 8 min read
Hello Kindred Spirit,
The other day, after a fun evening of pizza, movies, and hot tubbing at Amma and Papa's house, Juney had to go home.
Her dad had come to pick her up, but she was dragging her feet. Finally, she plopped down and declared:
"I don't want to do what Life is doing!"
I had to chuckle — what a succinct way to sum up the ego's dilemma!
Her words captured that deep human impulse: to push against what we can’t control, to wish for something different, to resist the flow of Life itself. In just a few words, June pointed to one of the core causes of suffering: we resist what is.
We don't want to do whatever is coming next. We don't want to accept the way things are unfolding. In other words, we don't want to do what Life is doing.
Following last week's newsletter, in which I shared June's wise declaration—"I wish for the sky in my heart," it feels fitting to share this other side of human beings. Just as we deeply long to feel the whole sky inside ourselves, we also resist what Life presents.
When we "don't feel the sky inside our hearts"--i.e., when Life doesn't match our hopes, a storm can rise inside us. Often, we meet that storm with a clenching "I don't want to!"
Moments like this are exactly why presence practices are so vital. Such practices help us meet Life exactly as it finds us—with tenderness, curiosity, and, eventually, a softening of resistance.
Too often, we get stuck up in our heads, plotting how to make something different, better than it is.
We don't trust that if we relax, we might find joy and love available right now—and from that space, be much better prepared to respond (rather than react) to what Life presents.
Why Do We Resist?
Resistance is deeply wired into our bodies and brains. When something feels threatening — even an uncomfortable emotion — our nervous system shouts No! It's a survival reflex: tighten, fight, brace.
I once took a class called Zen, Buddha, and the Brain. In it, the teacher informed us that we are wired to suffer. Indeed, neuroscience now underscores that notion: our brains resist change.
Where does that leave us? Are we doomed? Are we stuck in a loop of "I don't want to, I don't feel like it!" whenever something doesn't go our way?
The response to this lies in first recognizing that we are more than our brains.
Thinking is just one way we experience being human—probably the trickiest way because it tends to drown out all other input.
To bypass the brain's tendency to resist, we need to look deeper within ourselves, trust something other than our brain, and be open to a different way of being.
When we find ourselves hugely resistant, we need to practice an alternative response to digging in and putting up the fighting dukes.
Across spiritual traditions, the wisest teachers encourage the same thing:
Let go. Soften. Say yes to what Is.
Why would they all say this, even when it goes against our biology?
Because resistance — that clenching, that battle against reality — hurts us. It traps us in suffering. It cuts us off from the larger, loving flow of Life. At its heart, resistance is about hating something: a feeling, a moment, and the fact that we cannot control the tides.
And hate, even in its quieter forms, breeds suffering.
But when we step back — even briefly — and soften our gaze, we might also glimpse that love is present.
Always. Even here.
Back to Juney
Before Juney made her incredible declaration, her behavior wasn’t exactly easy for the adults. She was dragging her feet, resisting, getting grumpy — doing what tired three-year-olds do.
If you have toddlers — or have dealt with toddlers — you are probably very familiar with this scene: The child has planted their feet, adamant that they don't want to do something! (And, even as grown-ups, if we are honest with ourselves, we act this out too — albeit subtler.)
As parents or caregivers we may use any of many tactics in a particular scenario—scoop them up and carry them to bed, negotiate or cajole,offer a distraction or a “carrot”--depending on many factors, like how urgent it is to get the child to do something or our own level of patience.
But the real key isn’t in the tactic. It’s in the source from which we move.
When we stay rooted in presence, we can see and acknowledge what the child is feeling — the sadness of leaving a fun evening, the tiredness she might not even know how to name — and still stand firm: It’s time for bed. You’re tired. Rest will help.
Presence allows us to hold both realities: hers and ours. And from that space, the response can be both loving and clear — even when it’s firm.
In this case, her dad recognized that Juney was sad to be letting go of the fun she'd been having — even though she was clearly tired and it was time for bed and offered her a soft path back to love, knowing a beloved Auntie/Friend was at her house.
He said, "You know Dee Dee is up at the house. Would you like it if Dee Dee put you to bed?"
It was as if a lightbulb went off.
Love was within reach through a different pathway.
Juney beamed and said, "Yes!"
The Power of Insight
This power is the magic of insight--one of the deep silver linings of awareness practice.
In neuroscience, when we experience a genuine moment of insight, a complex set of new neural connections is created — connections that have the potential to overcome the brain's resistance to change.
But here's the catch: we must pay repeat attention to hardwire an insight. Not surprisingly, this is precisely what spiritual teachers have always told us: to reap the benefits, we must practice, practice, practice.
Awareness practitioners practice through meditating or self-inquiry, noticing our conditioning and what causes suffering. We sit in stillness, practice softening and accepting what is, and noticing what is happening, listening for the clarity or insight that can arise when we stop trying so hard to control a situation.
When clarity or insight comes, it can feel like a doorway opening inside us, inviting us into a new relationship with Life. If only we would pause, notice, step through, and repeat.
Practice for the Week
The next time you notice yourself resisting —a clench, a bristle, a thought of "I don't want this!" remember that this is a moment of transition and our brains are wired to resist them.
Being in transition is like standing at the ocean's edge. Some part of us longs to wade in —but fear pulls at us. Our minds scream, Not now! I don't want to!
But there is also an opportunity here:
Pause
Take one slow breath.
Notice whatever is going on. (Noticing is always the first step on the spiritual path — the beginning of any real shift.)
Gently remind yourself: Love is present too.
Allow yourself to have the intention to be open to insight and clarity.
And be gentle with yourself. You don’t have to dive into the deep end. You can just let your toes touch the water, practicing, practicing.
Don’t want to do what Life is doing? Take a little break.
I sometimes have an image of being on fire and remember the rule: Stop, Drop and Roll! In this case, when I’m all caught up in resistance, I stop, drop (into my belly) and roll (with Life.)
I have a host of upcoming events. Please reach out to me about any one of them.
New Write Now Mind session, starting June 2, 2025. Email me to pre-register if you are interested!
New in-person Write by Red Rock, the first Wednesdays of the month from 12:30 to 2 pm at the Blue Diamond Library, starting May 7, 2025.
Write by the Sea, in person in Loreto and virtual gathering on Mondays at 2 pm Pacific; invitation only, but email me if you are interested.
Naked Writing Workshop scheduled at Village Books in Bellingham for August 9, 2025, at 2 pm.
A Bonus Reflection
On Standing Up for Change
Just as I was thinking this article was done, a friend, Anastasia Zadeik, whose writing and perspective on Life I deeply appreciate, posted an essay called Changing the Moment. It is a reflection on the patterns of history and the crucial decision of knowing when to "stay in the moment and when to change it."
It gave me pause because, after reflecting on Juney's little outburst, I realized I hadn't fully expressed that staying in the moment doesn't mean we won't effect change or can't stand up for what we feel is right. In fact, responding from presence and love can often be the most strategic and powerful form of change.
Inner vs. Outer resistance
Let's quickly consider the difference between inner and outer resistance.
Inner resistance is the struggle we experience within ourselves when we resist what is happening in the moment. It's the mental and emotional clenching, like when we feel frustrated, afraid, or exhausted. This resistance can drain us and block our ability to respond thoughtfully, leading to burnout or frustration.
Outer resistance is the external action we take when we fight against injustice, stand up for our values, or take steps to make positive change in the world. It's important, necessary, and requires courage, but it's much more sustainable and impactful when the inner resistance does not deplete us.
So, I'm not saying to sit on the sidelines and let injustices unfold — far from it! There is real suffering and real injustice in our world. Sometimes, standing forth with clarity is exactly what's needed. But presence teaches us that we don't have to react with hate. We can respond with love.
And our action can be fueled by joy — the fierce, grounded joy that says:
I love this world. I love diversity. I love pristine mountains. I love my tired, grumpy three-year-old.
Joy itself is strategic. It reminds us what we stand for — not just what we stand against.
And we don't have to do it alone. As an essay in Lion's Roar (a Buddhist magazine) suggests, we don't have to create a whole movement from scratch. Instead, find people who care about what you care about. Join them. Learn with them. Support their efforts.
Together action is a beautiful form of presence, too.
We can meet what Life is doing — even the painful parts — grounded in love, anchored by joy and moving forward hand in hand. Our inner work of softening to the resistance of what is and finding joy anyway makes our outer resistance more powerful and sustainable.
Don't want to do what Life is doing? Hang in there!
If you'd like more companionship for those "I don't want to!" moments, I love Cheri Huber's book, I Don't Want To, I Don't Feel Like It — a wise, funny guide through resistance. My own Naked in the Now might also be a powerful source for you, offering simple, real-life short practices to meet Life exactly where it finds us smack dab in the middle of everyday Life and our chaotic thinking.
Welcome to The Naked Nowletter! My community is for those seeking a deeper connection with their true essence and a more intimate relationship with themselves, others, and the unseen world. We explore authentic communication, connection, and what it means to get Naked in the Now. Each week, I share a personal story, enriching thoughts, and juicy practices—plus occasional links to articles that inspire presence and transformation.
Hello Kindred Spirit! When my youngest daughter was about eight years old, she used to place her hands on her slightly rounded belly and say, “I love my belly.” I used to marvel at this innocent expression of appreciation for her body exactly as it was. At the time, I recoiled at my own slightly rounded belly, desiring instead the sleek, flat, preferably ripped abs on the covers of grocery store magazines. Now, in my sixties, I appreciate that having such light-hearted affection for our...
The moment I arrived at the retreat center and settled into silence, something unexpected happened. On day one, instead of emptying my mind into a serene pool of nothingness, I was ambushed by a slew of creative ideas — including a very insistent vision of a Christmas play! I had intended to practice letting go of thoughts. However, what I noticed is that presence (with perhaps a bemused detachment) also creates space for whatever wants to bubble up. Doing Nothing, Seeking Nothing One of the...
Hello Kindred Spirit! The Fortress of My Mind Many years ago, I noticed a fortress in my mind—a place both protective and confining. I first wrote about it in a poem in my early book More: Journey to Mystical Union through the Sacred and the Profane, in a chapter called A Sexual Road Less Traveled. It was about fertile, uncharted territory—the ways our bodies can respond to things our minds balk at, and the courage it takes to explore them. For me, the fortress appeared whenever my mind...