If you have never been to Mardi Gras, you should experience it. It may not be what you have in your mind when you think of it. Yes, you can overindulge on Bourbon Street. Yes, people flash other people for trinkets. Yes, costumes can be risque’. But there is another side of it that is magical, colorful, family friendly, and fun. The parades and the sights and sounds that go along with them are wonderful experiences. Little kids and their parents, neighbors and strangers, pack the streets to see the spectacles roll by. The marching bands fill the city with music that makes you come alive inside. The marching krewes are flamboyant and fun. The throws feel like treasures and you find yourself caught up in receiving what the riders are throwing, or trying to catch the attention of a krewe member to get a special throw or a photo opportunity. Before you know it, the float or the krewe has passed, and another is approaching. You may be able to hear it or see it coming. Your attention is refocused.

On and on our parades go. Twenty five, thirty, sometimes over forty floats with marching bands and krewes in between. These are all day or night affairs. One noisy, colorful, exciting distraction after another. All vying for your attention, all holding promise, all wonderful and worthy and important in the moment. Sometimes, though, it gets overwhelming, and I find I need to take a step back.

I’ve begun to think of meditation as an experience not that different from going to, and then retreating from, a Mardi Gras parade. Arriving on my mat is a similar experience to arriving on the route just as the parade is beginning to roll by. There is a lot of activity! The thoughts rolling in are exciting and important, bright, noisy spectacles that I don’t want to miss a detail of. With my eyes peeled I am trying to take everything in. Trying to catch and hold on to thoughts as they pass is not unlike jumping to catch a shiny throw, which sometimes turns out to be a meticulously decorated shoe, and sometimes a cheap plastic piece of future garbage. It’s a frenzy, a non stop barrage of thinking and thoughts.

After some time the thoughts become overwhelming, and the effort of trying to hold on to them, react to them , or silence them becomes too much. As I turn my attention to my breath, and begin to detach from my thoughts, the sensation is one of stepping away from the parade route, moving ever further backward. The parade is still going on, but it is less loud, less bright, less enticing. I continue to retreat, darkness and silence enveloping and soothing my poor overworked senses. I am able to feel my body relax, my breath settle and even out, my mind relax.

Mind you, the thoughts are still parading. Sometimes, a particularly bright and shiny one moves through my consciousness. I witness it. The difference is I am not willing to run after it, arms in the air, knocking over small children to catch it, hold it, take a piece of it home. I witness and trust that I will have an opportunity to think that thought again. I breathe.

Backing away is like vice grip releasing on my mind. I am able to detach from the fray and turn my back to it. I find myself on an empty street, the crowd cheering behind me, only a streetlight ahead and empty porches on either side of me. I walk a ways in silence.

After a couple of blocks I turn and enter a doorway that leads to a staircase. I climb the stairs and enter a room where a flickering candle is the only illumination. I approach, feeling safe and soothed by the soft amber glow. I approach the flame and sit down, layering my awareness on the light.

Being alone and focused on the light reminds me that I am more than the fray I am caught up in. It stokes my own inner fire and connects me to it. It gives me the ability to go back into the outside world with a tether to my inner guidance and wisdom. I sit and rest my gaze upon the light, for how long I cannot be sure.

Something inside me stirs. It is time to reenter the world of sound and form. I simply rise, turn, descend, pass through the door and allow my senses to take in the lingering scent in the air, the faint sound of a crowd, a sensation of coolness on my skin. I choose to move in the direction of the parade but not right up to the edge. I can keep my distance and be content with a glimpse of it here and there, and hearing the music from a distance. I am content.

This is how I feel after meditation. Perhaps you can relate. If you have stuck with me this long, thank you for going on this little journey with me. This is both an analogy, and an example of a guided meditation. With guided meditation we can allow the mind to become present to feelings and sensations we call forth through visualization.The mind does not know the difference. It is the same as waking from a pleasant dream or a disturbing one. The mind believes what it perceives, whether it is real or not. It is easy to discern dream from reality (or is it?). It is not always easy to discern which thoughts have merit and which ones we should let pass through us, which is why meditation is such an important tool for the modern human.

Otherwise, we may be eternally on the neutral ground screaming for beads and trinkets and forgetting to breathe.

Like my friend, I suspect that you are someone who cares deeply for your people. Your care and concern for the well being of your family, neighbors, and community are likely to be a top priority for you. You probably go out of your way to serve them on a regular basis. It may even be that your care for them takes precedence over your care for yourself most days, especially if you are raising children, or are a caregiver to a sick spouse, or an elderly parent or parents.

I feel this.

For the longest time, I tried to tell my loved ones how to best care for themselves. I tried educating my immediate and extended family about nutrition, and encouraging them to exercise. This was often met with resentment, disdain, or dismissal. Because of my level of care, even though I was frustrated with them, I still showed up and went out of my way for them, often exhausting myself in the process. I knew what they needed, and I prioritized it, even if it meant there was no energy left for me. Over time I started resenting this, and them.

Fast forward to the present: This year we had a plant based Christmas dinner, at the request of my daughters. These days, my husband eats a larger lunch and lighter dinner. We all fast for 13+ hours each day. One of my girls willingly joins me for a short morning workout. We have conversations about how to care for ourselves, body, mind, and spirit.

The only thing that changed was my level of commitment to myself. I quietly took the energy I put into impassioned pleas for them to change, and put it into transforming my daily habits, and everything shifted. I am still caregiving daily, but I do so with an open heart, and a clear mind. I have the energy and stamina to meet the needs of my family, and resources to draw from in case of a restless night, or long day of doctor’s appointments. I’ve learned a lot, most importantly this:

Self care is not selfish, it is a service to others.

If you have ever flown, you have heard this instruction, given by the flight attendant, “In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, before you assist others, always put your oxygen mask on first.” Why? Because if you run out of oxygen, you can’t help anyone else. Taking care of yourself first will allow you to better help others. This idea has also been communicated as “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

When we are depleted, it is difficult to go above and beyond for our people. If we are not well fed, we run out of energy. If we only have enough stamina to get through the next hurdle, we get stressed out over a small change in plans or a minor inconvenience. We may be short tempered, cross, and impatient.

Conversely, when we are rested, nourished, and grounded in our physiology, with a high functioning immune system and energy reserves, we are better, better parents, spouses, neighbors, friends, employees, bosses, caretakers and people. Across the board we are better. We can show up to our responsibilities with a higher level of care and commitment. Our commitment to ourselves benefits those around us.

This is true for anyone, anywhere, and especially true for caregivers, who often feel burnt out and tired. Caregiving requires presence and selflessness, which is much easier for someone who is not depleted. Those we care for can sense when we are resentful of our responsibilities to them, which can cause them to feel guilt and shame. Self care practices, like sitting in silence, moving our bodies, and resting, will allow us to access our compassion so what radiates from us is our love and care.

Perhaps the most impactful way that caring for ourselves serves our loved ones and communities is that in doing so we can inspire others to do the same for themselves. This is what played out in my home. When I stopped nagging everyone about what they should be doing and began just doing what I needed to do for myself, I got results. These results were visible and palpable. My family noticed and began to ask how they could get the same results. I was able to share in a new way, a way that was welcomed and well received. I was giving them, and others, an example to follow. In making myself a priority, I was giving permission for them to do the same. This is a service to a culture that is overworked, overweight, overtired, and overstimulated.

• When you are rested, you are more patient,
• When you are nourished, you have more energy.
• When your immune system is functioning well, you get sick less often. You miss work less often. You recover faster and you don’t miss out on life.
• When your mind is clear you can be present for others. You can listen deeply and respond from a place of authenticity.
• When you are connected to your spirit, all of life is meaningful, even the hardships.
• When you make yourself a priority, you empower the people around you to respect and care for themselves.

A lot of people I encounter don’t know how to prioritize themselves, especially women. I didn’t either. I am grateful I found a community to join that would support me while I transitioned from putting everything and everyone before me, to someone who put their oxygen mask on first. I encourage you to embrace the habits that can heal you, restore your energy, reset your nervous system, clear your mind, ground you person in your physiology, and connect you to your spirit so you can be the person the people around you need and want you to be. Your dharma may be to serve, but you need not be a martyr to do it.