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Compassion for the whole human mess.

@uncensoredcompassion

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Tender enough to care.
Wild enough to tell the truth.
-
🦚Ambassador of Compassion @stanford
🔥Mama Bear
🐒 Ministry of Playful Body Exp.

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Fresh off the plane and reporting for duty, friends! 👋🏼

A few days ago, I took a care ecology project to Stanford. In return, I came home with five men, a flood of tears and a whole suitcase full of possibilities that have me rethinking manhood all over again. (Now THAT is what I call an academic exchange. 😂🥸)

I haven’t even begun to make sense of those three days myself, but good heavens, I’ve already gathered enough material to grab the whole question of manhood by the collar and give it a proper shake.

So here are my first notes.
Compassion… Touch… The paths women have been paving for years… My objections to the prevailing definitions of manhood… You know me. My objections have no office hours. :)

Come on in! ☀️
HuuuuuuuuuMAN-kind! 🥰

#ccareimmersion #compassion #CCARE #stanfordmedicine by @uncensoredcompassion

Uncensored compassion, today, looks like this:
Not certainty.
Not confidence.

Just choosing to knock on a door I had already convinced myself would never open. Or?…

Wish me a little luck, and a little courage.
I’ll learn the rest along the way.
🌿 by @uncensoredcompassion

Every Monday, we refuse to give up.
(Mainly because, in that particular moment, we forget it’s Monday. 😌)

Knowing perfectly well that our neighborhood pool is closed on Mondays, we still pack our swimsuits, our snacks and one wheeled vehicle that lifts Güneş’s feet off the ground but will almost certainly end up on my shoulders after a couple of attempts.
We leave the house with genuine conviction.
“We’re getting into that pool today.” :)

Anyway…
At the entrance, we’re greeted once again by our old friend:
CLOSED.
The sign looks at us. We look at the sign. A brief parental brain freeze follows. Then we laugh.
We sit under a tree and start biting into our peaches.

What else is there to do?
Instead of biting myself…
I bite the peach.
At least in that moment, it feels like the more emotionally mature coping strategy.

So today I’m raising a glass to having learned to welcome these occasional motherhood-induced brain glitches as if they were just another member of the family.
Cheers.🍷🍑 by @uncensoredcompassion

Being human would be much easier if our nervous systems didn’t insist on joining every conversation. 😅 We’d probably have far fewer misunderstandings and far fewer opportunities for compassion 😍🐒 by @uncensoredcompassion

I had originally planned to do this somatic practice with Güneş. As it happens, his mother has become the most enthusiastic participant. 😂🤦🏽‍♀️
Then the house did what houses do.
While I was trying to move, Güneş was busy choreographing an entirely different universe. Luce appointed himself creative director, making perfectly timed entrances into the frame.

A perfectly human chaos.

Preparing for the U.S. New groups. Home. A child. A dog. Laundry. Somewhere in the middle of it all, my own body.
Everyone sharing the same stage.

Here’s to finding my way back home to my body, again and again, in the middle of all that beautiful noise. 🥂

My takeaway: So many of the things I invite into our home thinking, “This will be good for my relationship with Güneş,” end up finding a home in my own body first. Every home we learn to build within ourselves becomes a place our children can visit too. They inherit the body we are truly able to live in.♥️🫂

Thank you for the inspiration🪩☺️ @sproutingtreeyoga by @uncensoredcompassion

I came across a line in a book recently and it has been quietly living with me ever since.

A man had his wife’s epitaph engraved with these words:

She tried.
She tried.
She tried and she tried and she died.

I laughed.

Then I got emotional.

Then I laughed again.

Cuz.. honestly?

That might be the most accurate biography I’ve ever read.

If the people who love me ever have to sum up my life, I don’t need words like successful, accomplished or exceptional.

I’d be perfectly happy with:
She tried.

Or maybe…
She tried.
She learned.
She unlearned. (Hopefully)
She tried again.

One small request, though.
Please don’t put it on a gravestone.
I’ve never liked the idea of taking up space forever.
Write it on something biodegradable.
A piece of wood.
A scrap of paper.
Something that can quietly become soil.

If I’ve learned anything from this life, it’s that returning to the earth sounds far more appealing than being carved into stone.

The rest can become compost. ☺️🙋🏽‍♀️ by @uncensoredcompassion

A little note before you listen. 🤍

You might hear people talking and cicadas singing in the background.

Finding a perfectly quiet place to record or even to work, isn’t very realistic in this season of my life.

So instead of waiting for silence, I’m practicing creating from within the beautiful mess.

Thank you for listening, background sounds included. by @uncensoredcompassion

This morning, I woke up to some beautiful news.🎉

I received a scholarship from Stanford.

A little while ago, I wrote them an honest letter about where I am in life, raising a young child, rebuilding my work and doing everything I can to make this journey possible.

Yeap.. I feel one step closer.
Will I actually be there in October?
I still don’t know.
My visa interview is in early September and there are still many pieces that need to fall into place.

I just love witnessing moments when honesty meets kindness. So I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing:
showing up, asking for help when I need it and continuing the work.

One step at a time. 🤍
We’ll let the visa officer decide the next chapter.
Above all, uncertainty and I are travel buddies now. 🙋🏽‍♀️😂✈️🇺🇸 by @uncensoredcompassion

A couple of days ago, a young dancer honored his gift. His mother honored it for years before anyone else could see it. That’s the story I can’t stop thinking about.

Needless to say, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I wasn’t just witnessing a performance, I was witnessing years of devotion. Come oooon. 😭🔥

🛑✋A correction, because in my excitement I got the details so spectacularly wrong that it turned into a minor work of fiction. 🤭

Here is the accurate version:

Efe will be the first dancer in the history of the Turkish DanceSport Federation to represent Türkiye internationally in the Youth Men’s Solo DanceSport category.

@ayse_cigdem_turkdali
@efe_hasdoyuranlar_efenin_yolu 🥹❤️‍🔥👏🫂

* #Compassion
* #UncensoredCompassion
* #Caregiving
* #TheArtOfCare
* #BalletDancer by @uncensoredcompassion

I don’t trust anger that has never met compassion.

But compassionate anger?

The kind that says,
“Enough.”

Not to a child.
Not to the vulnerable.

But to cruelty.
To injustice.
To anything that asks us to abandon life.

That’s one of my favorite life forces. 🦁🔥❤️‍🔥

#FierceCompassion #HealthyAnger #NervousSystem #EmotionalRegulation #compassion by @uncensoredcompassion

A little boy danced into preschool.
A mother stayed behind, crying quietly in her car.
Both were signs of healthy growth. 🤍🧑‍🧒

The day your child needs you a little less might be exactly what your heart has been hoping for and exactly why it aches. 🫀 by @uncensoredcompassion

Today, I ran an experiment. A real one of course!
Not because I was too busy to move. Not because I forgot. I CHOSE NOT TO.
Just to see what would happen. :)
I wanted to know what intentional stillness or rather, the absence of intentional movement would do to me.

Truthfully, I can’t remember the last time I went an entire day without making space for conscious movement.
Even on the days other people would call impossible…
the hardest days,
the most sleep-deprived days,
the moving-house days,
the motherhood days…
I always find minutes, even hours to move my body.

Today, I didn’t.
On purpose.

I was curious!
I let my inner Godzilla roam free.
Not by getting angry.
Not by yelling.
By doing… almost no intentional movement.

No morning mobility.
No dance.
No rolling on the floor.
No yoga.
No climbing onto the pull-up bar.
No shaking.
No stretching.
No five minutes to remind my body it was still alive.
Nothing.

By late afternoon, the results started coming in.
My body had quietly collapsed into itself.
My mind had become foggy.
I had to ask Güneş to repeat himself more than once.
Responding to life suddenly felt like a much bigger task.
And something else showed up.
My reactions were standing at the front of the line.
I could still choose not to act on them.
But I could feel them eagerly volunteering before my wiser self had even clocked in.

To my surprise, my nervous system has a favorite horror movie now. It’s called “The Day We Forgot to Move.”

Today’s conclusion?
Movement isn’t just something my body enjoys.
It’s one of the ways my kindness stays online.
Five minutes of movement changes the rest of my day more than I ever realized.

Tomorrow, Godzilla and I will be dancing again. 🦖💃 by @uncensoredcompassion