There are ways to temper your toughest critic and take constructive control of your feelings.
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Thoughts and practices for personal and social transformation
Miki Kashtan Ph.D.
Clarity came in the form of the Core Commitments—my best understanding of what it means to live a life of nonviolence and the foundation of a community for living it together.
One key aspect of the conscious practice of interdependence is the quality of care that we bring to the moments in which we want to change agreements with others.
How do groups of individuals come into their own power and collectively manage to improve the conditions of their lives?
My experience with a process designed to restore a flow of resources from where they exist to where they are needed, based on willingness.
Often enough, we cannot predict what the consequences might be, nor what our capacity to accept them is. Sometimes, we discover by doing.
One of the potent images of our modern, competitive era is that of a long line in which we are all trying to get ahead. We don’t choose this. We only choose how we relate to it.
I cannot and don’t even have the aspiration to become perfect. I want to be fully free from the constant stress of “working on myself.”
I was unexpectedly nourished by an email I received from someone who is consciously, purposefully trying to live applied NVC and Conflict Transformation in work and life.
Most people seem to believe both that punishing men is successful at protecting and supporting women, and that nothing other than punishment could be. I question both.
Reclaiming our innate capacity for receiving takes us on a journey of recognizing, accepting, and embracing our needs, and re-developing trust.
The practice of nonviolence begins precisely when our actions, words, or thoughts are not aligning with our commitment. Because our capacity often lags behind our commitment.
I am confident that fighting back, name calling, shaming, denouncing, and other similar tactics recently are feeding rather than quelling this upsurge of white supremacy.
I see this as the core source of violence: the physical, emotional, and spiritual brutalization of boys and men.
After posting my recent post, I received a comment that completely surprised me, in which I was challenged about what I thought was the opposite of what I said.
When enhance my capacity to hear the contents of what people from marginalized groups share about their experiences, regardless of how it’s presented, two things happen.
In short, the practice of vulnerability has given me peace and less helplessness; it has given me more freedom to be myself in a simple way; and it has made me more accessible.
What is it that makes the existing global system continue to function with our ongoing participation, when so many of us know how close to the edge of catastrophe we are?
This is something all of us can do: align our actions with our values, even when it means stepping outside our comfort zone, and reaching out to others.
If I truly want to be an agent of change in the direction of a world that works for all of life, I cannot do it alone.
When we approach confrontation differently, I will then have more hope that miracles of transformation can happen.
"I have more faith in actions that arise from a context of inner peace and acceptance than in actions that are fueled by fear and anger, the hallmarks of non-acceptance."
Time and time again I notice just how simple and strong it is to own and acknowledge my privilege where I have it, and to do so without guilt and shame.
It’s clear to me that without seeing everyone’s humanity, we will not find a way of moving forward that will actually create change.
Deriving solace from thought leaders like Michelle Alexander, Rabbi Michael Lerner, Tom Atlee and Arnold August.
What I realized in a moment of sharp and instantaneous insight that came from nowhere and hit me at the core was utterly simple: the Waltons and I see a different reality.
At the Theatre of the Oppressed last week a group of 36 of us from across many social divides and several countries grappled together with our experiences.
What does love look like in the wake of violence I cannot grasp?
All of the tips I present here are based on what I have learned on my way to being able to survive, and often even thrive, as a “professional” outlier in the world.
"Do we have to involve everyone in every decision for it to be collaborative? ... Because if we do, I'm quitting my job." I hear different versions of this question all the time.
In response to the intensity of hatred and separation that I see coming from Trump and his supporters, I want to find a way to meet them in an entirely different way.
Miki Kashtan, Ph.D., is a co-founder of Bay Area Nonviolent Communication and serves as its lead facilitator and trainer.