7 Keys to Courageous Self-Expression | Empathy (Part 1 of 2)

Empathy. It’s the 4th key of courageous self-expression and lubricant for connection. Building upon the first three keys, Candice invites you to look closely at how you show up to support others, particularly when strong emotions are at play. She offers a variety of personal stories to illustrate, revealing shameful mistakes she’s made along the way, moments when she failed to offer what was needed in the face of shared vulnerability. You’ll learn about three different types of empathy, and how ‘emotional intelligence’ is a developmental journey that has everything to do with where (and how) our inner and outer worlds continually intersect. And then, we wrap up this part 1 empathy exploration with a candid peek at the role that shame - and cancel culture - play in exacerbating divisions and discouraging accountability. It’s a jam-packed episode that will inspire you toward a more practical and embodied approach to everyday compassion.


0:53 - Review of the first 3 keys
2:58 - Turbulence (story)
7:51 - Connection vs. connectivity
11:47 - Empathy & vulnerability
14:05 - 3 types of empathy
18:11 - 5 components of emotional intelligence
20:57 - Regret for Dinner (story)
25:46 - Shame & accountability
30:06 - Holiday Halftime (story)
34:29 - Brave enough to love

#10 | I Feel You

Welcome to The Deeper Pulse. It's so hard to believe this is our 10th episode. Sharing myself and these teachings with you has been a rich and rewarding journey thus far. And as we weave our way through 7 Keys of Courageous Self-Expression, it is with this episode that we reach our halfway point. Today, we begin exploring key #4 - empathy... our innate ability to attune and respond to the world around us. In the next two episodes, we will come to know empathy as a practice. One that inspires us to make our love actionable, upleveling our expression from care to connection and from martyrdom to meaning.

Now, let's get started.

Before we dive in, I'd like to take just a minute or two to quickly review the keys up to now.

We began with the 1st key, authority, reclaiming ownership over our personal story, restoring autonomy, and learning to accept the hefty responsibility of choosing for ourselves who and what powers our life. Using authority as our foundation, we tapped into the 2nd key, the deeper self and the practice of humility.

Humility requires we make peace with the full spectrum of our humanity, accepting the existential anxiety at the core of our being and embracing life's dark directives as necessary and sacred parts of life as a flesh and blood. And it is through making peace with our humanity, that we tap into the 3rd key, vulnerability, the emotional embodiment of courage. Being brave enough to tell the whole truth, unpack unresolved trauma, and restore intrinsic safety and wellbeing in ourselves and in the world around us. Vulnerability requires we learn how to emotionally discern and self-regulate as we deconstruct well-worn identities in favor of a more authentic way of being.

The first three keys taught us, if we want to be known and seen and loved for who we are, we must take ownership over our lives, accept that life is a series of small deaths, and turn to face the beautiful-ugly within.

And when we do so... when we become mindful and present to the world within us, we become likewise mindful and present to the world around us... a more capable contributor to the whole, and a vehicle for compassion and grace. When we learn who we are outside of all the unnecessary armor, we become more available to a healthy expression of key #4 - empathy.

It was November 2019. My partner, Chris, and I had been traveling abroad for four months. The privilege of our travels was a literal dream come true. And even so, towing our suitcases through 16 countries had worn me down. I was exhausted and feeling very ready to just stay-put somewhere... anywhere, really.... for more than three days at a time.

Our flight back to the states was out of St. Martin. When we arrived at the airport, we were informed that, due to tropical storms, all flights had been grounded or rerouted until further notice. St. Martin is a hotspot tourist destination, and it has a very small airport, so there were people gathered everywhere. Chris and I huddled around a burger joint in the food court. It was the only place that offered wifi.

Four hours later, our plane arrived. As the crew prepared for boarding, I wove my way through the standing room only crowd to speak with the gate agent. We had a connection in Fort Lauderdale and we still had a slim chance of making it, but our seats were in the very back of the plane.

I waited patiently in line and then, when it was my turn, I pled my case. Fortunately, the gate agent was kind enough to move our seats toward the front of the plane... to middle seats in row 7. We boarded and took our seats in the same row but apart from one another. I was sandwiched between a married couple. Bill, who sat at the window to my right; and Carol, to my left on the aisle.

I immediately sensed that Carol was less than thrilled about my placement between them. I would learn later that they'd been promised a row to themselves and well, they couldn't really blame her for her disappointment. Sensitive to her vibe, I did my best to exude warmth and take up as little room as possible.

Bill, on the other hand, was very outgoing, and he struck up a conversation with me right away. He and I traded stories about travel and its inevitability, and I settled in as best I could.

Then, about an hour into the flight, we hit some rough air. I mean, really rough air. I've flown a lot and experienced my fair share of turbulence, but this was like no turbulence I'd ever experienced. The plane wasn't dropping in that my-stomach-feels-like-it's-bottoming-out sort of way. It was instead shaking and shuttering, acting very much like a car that was about to run out of gas. It was a jarring and terrifying sensation, and I found myself expecting the worst.

It lasted probably less than a minute. And when our flight leveled out, only then did I realize, with some embarrassment that I was holding the hands of each of these strangers. Instinctively, I had reached for them; holding tight to Carol's hand on my left and Bill's at my right.

I laughed nervously, released their hands, and took a deep breath... rolling my eyes at my own impromptu gesture of uninvited intimacy. They were super warm about it and, as it turns out, it broke the ice between Carol and I. A little while later, after flagging down a flight attendant for a much needed glass of wine, she would offer me her granola bar and a smile. At the end of the flight, she said to me: "you're the nicest stranger I've ever held hands with."

So why am I sharing this story with you? Well, because life itself is a plane ride of sorts. And when the miracle that keeps us from falling from the sky is revealed to us in some small way, when our safety feels threatened or when life shakes us up in ways that we are not accustomed to... it is in these moments that we learn the inevitable. That connection is what matters most. And that love is the last thing we reach for.

It often surprises people to learn that I am an introvert. And as an introvert, it sort of surprised me that when face to face with turbulence and terror, my instinct was to reach for the connection of strangers.

Now I'm honestly not sure if I was asking for help or attempting to offer comfort. I suspect it was likely a bit of both and that when you strip empathy down to its core, these two things are actually one in the same. Neediness and generosity. Terror and relief. Life and death. These are concentric circles on the wheel of life, sharing a common center... connection. Empathy is the lubricant that keeps this wheel moving, spiraling humankind forward in ways that have the power to transform lives, relationships, and the world at large.

We are living in a time when online connectivity is too often mistaken for connection. And where superficial validation through clicks offers us no real measure of acceptance. We have in some ways forgotten that empathy, like love, requires effort. It is an action. It is a verb. It is the embodiment of acceptance through authentic heart-to-heart connection, through shared vulnerability and a willingness to show up with compassion even when we can't quite make sense of one another. Empathy taps us directly into the force that inextricably binds us to one another. Regardless of race, gender, nationality, or political affiliation, we all have one thing in common... an innate desire for love, connection and belonging.

When we strip away all the right and wrong, yours and mine, beliefs, persuasions, agendas, and identities... when we find and feel for connection to what we have in common... it becomes easy to say to one another. I see you. And I love you.

Now let me just say that the empathy that I aspire to is still very much a work in progress. It's a sort of love that crosses over from sentimentality into action, not just in conscious allegiance with those who think and act and live like me, but toward all whom I encounter.

But it's not so easy as it sounds, because sometimes my mind can be a real asshole. And instead of offering empathy, I default to judgment, helplessness, and even apathy. Now, collectively speaking, we humans... we're a bit immature when it comes to emotional expression. Depth psychologists argue that the global psyche is just now approaching its adolescence. Therefore it is wise to assume that each and every adult we encounter is struggling to grow up in a teenage culture if you will. One that is insecure, preoccupied with status, and continually in need of reassurance. As such expressions of empathy towards strangers while well-meaning, are commonly shaped by these adaptations and by projection and implicit bias. Essentially, we bring the lens we look through everywhere we go.

And particularly when it comes to those closest to us, our desire to offer support is often thwarted by an unconscious desire to move the conversation toward our own desired outcome. Or sometimes we swing to the other extreme and, when it comes to those we love, we take on their suffering as if it were our own. We become a slave to their narrative, to their emotional reality, unable to differentiate between mine and yours... we push and prod, gaslight and goad, or even martyr ourselves... doing all the things for all the people, all in the name of so-called love.

Now, ironically, this enslavement to codependency at home leads us to over-correct out in the everyday world. We have not the bandwidth to take anything else on, and so we numb out or change the channel, turn ourselves away from the pain of others because we cannot bear the discomfort that lives within our own hearts... let alone stomach the burden of global helplessness.

Now, if you can relate to any of this, you are not alone. I often ride the empathy pendulum from one extreme to the other. Dangling by a thread, I swing from apathy to self-sacrifice and back again... forgetting that the purpose of the literal heart of it all is to be there for one another. That empathy has nothing to do with saving one another. It has everything to do with loving one another back to center again.

Now empathy's placement right on the heels of vulnerability is quite deliberate. Because, like a married couple who are destined for each other, vulnerability and empathy grow individually stronger through partnership with one another.

In order to actualize empathy, I must be open-hearted and curious. And in order to be openhearted and curious toward you... to the complexity and nuance of your emotions... I must grow in my own capacities for vulnerability and self-expression.

Sentimentality is sweet, but it is often hollow. Empathy is more substantial. You can think of it like a mighty sword. And if you don't know how to wield it for good... well, it's hefty weight can (and will) work against you.

If it is your habit to turn away from the hard stuff, to sequester your most vulnerable self to a dark corner of your psyche... you will most certainly flinch when you come up against the shadow side of others.

Ram Dass once said: "We are all just walking one another home." It is true. And in a similar way, we are all just mirrors for one another, reflecting back light and shadow. How you feel about vulnerability shapes how you show up to those in need of your empathy.

It is no accident that those who have suffered the most often have the greatest capacity for empathy, love, and kindness. Vulnerability has taught them who they are apart from the pain; and to them, love is not superficial lip service. It is an emotional atmosphere of acceptance, nuance, truth, and forgiveness.

Viktor Frankl, who, as you may know was a neurologist philosopher and Holocaust survivor once said: "What is to give light must endure burning."

Frankl knew firsthand that the illumination of love and acceptance is often best discovered by striking a match in the darkest of spaces.

But let's set the poetry aside for a moment and get practical.

What do we really mean when we speak of empathy?

I'm going to borrow from the work of Daniel Goleman, the psychologist and author who brought the language of emotional intelligence into the mainstream. Goleman and his colleague, Paul Ekman, have worked together to identify three types of empathy.

The first type is cognitive empathy. The ability to take on another person's perspective. Cognitive empathy is all about intellectual attunement and understanding; and it is particularly useful and practical applications where, either many vantage points are at play or a measured approach is needed and necessary... such as in a professional environment.

For example, a doctor might lean into this type of empathy when communicating with a patient and their family regarding a difficult diagnosis. Cognitive empathy is very useful when a degree of emotional distance is needed. However, if it is used solely on its own, this approach can fall short. When it comes to creating an environment of safety and belonging, cognitive empathy can come off as overly 'heady' lacking in heart and emotion.

Which leads us right into the second type of empathy: emotional empathy. Emotional empathy occupies the heart space. It is somatic and emotional attunement. Mirroring, or reflective embodiment of feelings and sensations. As Goleman describes it, emotional empathy is: "when you feel physically along with the other person as though their emotions were contagious."

Some individuals self-identify as empaths. And these individuals have a greater sensitivity to the emotional atmosphere around them. If you're raising your hand, I'm right there with you.

Now whether this is innate or learned, that's a discussion for another time. Either way, an empathic ability to attune to what others are feeling can be profoundly useful when it comes to creating connection.

And of course, there's a potential downside that I've already alluded to. In order for empathy to work functionally in our interpersonal relationships, it is imperative we learn how to differentiate our emotions from those around us. If emotional empathy becomes our singular strategy for forging connection, empathic exhaustion will likely be a constant struggle, and our ability to regulate our own emotions becomes critical to our mental health and wellness.

Now if anything I've just said resonates with you, you're definitely going to want to check out the next episode. Because in Episode 11, I'm going to be focusing primarily on this second type of empathy, and the unique challenges and opportunities that often result.

But for today, we're going to move on to the third type of empathy; because if we make an effort to embody it as a practice, it can be an absolute game changer.

The third type of empathy is compassionate empathy, also sometimes referred to as empathic concern. Compassionate empathy lies at the intersection of cognitive and emotional empathy. It is equal parts perspective-taking and emotional attunement, with a third component braided in for good measure: genuine care and concern that translates into action.

In order to demonstrate compassionate empathy, we must cast our concern using a much wider net, do our best to see through eyes unlike our own, feel into the contextual motivations at the heart of individual choices, and embody a genuine desire to help in tangible ways.

Compassionate empathy is in many ways a function of emotional maturity. It isn't so much reflexive... instead, it works like an ongoing daily practice. It requires mindfulness and an ever evolving emotional intelligence.

According to Goleman, there are five components of emotional intelligence.

The first is self-awareness, the capacity to mindfully witness ourselves our behavior and our choices. Second, is self-regulation, how capable we are at managing our emotional responses. For more on this, listen to Episode 9. The third component? Motivation, but not so much the motivation that comes from the outside world, but an intrinsic desire to create change or impact our lives or the world around us in some particular way. Number four: social skills. The ability to communicate and collaborate with others... which leads us to the fifth component, which is empathy, and the three types that we have already discussed.

If you look back at that list, you'll see that each and every component requires we forge a healthy relationship with vulnerability; and that self-awareness, self-regulation, and intrinsic motivation... they all create the mindful foundation for how we interact with the world via the final two components: social skills and empathic expression.

Now as somebody who specializes in self-awareness, I often hear the argument that personal growth and all this emphasis on self inquiry is really a pretty narcissistic pursuit; that it is selfish and shortsighted to focus so much energy on personal development, especially in light of so much collective injustice.

But it is here that I must wholeheartedly disagree. Our personal emotional development is absolutely foundational and critical to our ability to stand beside another human in his or her hour of need. Each of us doing our inner work, this is what the outer world needs most of all.

It is Brene Brown who reminds us that: " Empathy is a choice. It is a vulnerable choice because in order to connect with you, I have to connect with something in myself that knows that feeling."

Essentially, what she's saying is that if we don't know how to connect to our own vulnerability, we can not effectively carve out space for the vulnerability of another.

This makes so much sense in theory, but why is it so damn difficult? When we know ourselves to be a loving and caring individual, what is it that gets in the way of our expressions of empathy?

Well, I already have a knot in my belly just thinking about telling you this next story... but here it goes.

When I was 25, I broke up with my perfect-on-paper live in boyfriend of three years. He was, and I'm sure still is, a truly beautiful human. And at this point in my life this had, hands down, been the healthiest relationship I'd ever been in.

Early on in our breakup, I fantasize that we'd be able to transition gracefully; have an amicable parting as we went our separate ways and wished each other well. And we probably could have had I not gotten so lost along the way.

No doubt in an effort to escape my revelation that I was already in some ways exploring another relationship, my beloved boyfriend decided to go snowboarding. I received a call from him later that day. He had suffered a terrible accident, and it had left him with two broken wrists.

Right when I was feeling tragically and unjustifiably done with him, I had suddenly become his caretaker. We continued to live together and I, rather reluctantly, helped him out with bathing and what-not, all the while resenting the fact that his injury... and his heartbreak... was getting in the way of my new love affair.

When his double arm casts were finally removed, my ex secured an apartment 30 minutes south of me I was shamefully relieved and overly eager to help him move. When he and I finished unloading the U-Haul, he offered to buy me dinner at a nearby restaurant. Part of me just wanted to make a beeline back to the now empty apartment that he and I had one shared, but instead I accepted his invitation. While I knew that a part of me had already moved on, I still cared deeply for this man. He had helped me through years of torturous anxiety, introduced me to meditation, Bjork bootlegs, and the poetry of Walt Whitman. Our relationship had laid a foundation for a journey I was only just beginning. It was he who had catalyze this new life that had pulled me away from him... even though he was just as perfect as ever.

And so I said, "yes, I'll have dinner with you."

We sat at the table across from one another and made small talk for most of the dinner. But toward the end, I caught him gazing at me with wet eyes.

I stared down at my half eaten dinner and wondered silently to myself: When did my heart become so cold to him? How is it that I had grown so heartless and selfish?

His eyes were filled with pain and loss and it was all my fault... and all I could feel was... nothing.

I struggled to stay afloat in the sea of silence between us, and then he spoke. I can't recall what it is he said... only that it was vulnerable and honest... that it pointed to the grief and heartbreak he was feeling.

I watched as a tear rolled slowly down his cheek, and I fought to feel something, anything... to say the right words, but instead, and to my great horror, my face contorted and a sound came rippling out of me.


I laughed in his face. I had no clue why I was laughing. It was then that he looked at me like the stranger that I was, shocked and hurt by my heartless rejection.

I remember squirming in my seat and apologizing over and over again, all the while wondering at my own inability to bear the weight of his pain and my culpability in it.

We parted shortly after, and I drove away with relief, unable to fathom how it is that I had dealt with the tension in my own heart by stomping on what was left of his.

Now, even as I share this story with you 20 years later, regret lives in my bones in a way that is palpable. And I'm confessing it to you now because I think it would serve us to unpack it a bit.

I'd like to choose curiosity; and I want us to examine why in a moment that demanded tenderness, empathy, and kindness... why is it that I responded in the way that I did?

Now it's true that I was young and ill-equipped when it came to relationships. It's possible I was just overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation., But I can say for sure that there's still more to it because, even to this day, I feel my body temperature rise when I tell the story. It is a heat that I know. Well, it is the brimming fire of shame.

Sitting across from him, knowing how much pain I had caused... I couldn't make room for the magnitude of his heartbreak, because I simply couldn't account for the seismic consequences of my choices.

This is what we speak of when we speak of accountability, our ability to account for the fallout; and when it feels so incalculable, we often opt out of responsibility entirely.

But I also offer this story as an illustration of how, when our system is overwhelmed by our own feelings of vulnerability, empathy can be largely out of reach; accountability, nearly impossible.

So when you find yourself wondering how could they? How could they be so selfish, shortsighted, or indifferent?

It's a reasonable question, if we're asking it in earnest; but 'how could you?' often becomes a pointed accusation. We pile the shame on thicker and then wonder why this person cannot find within them the ability to self-correct.

Unfortunately, adding shame upon shame has the exact opposite effect that we're going right. In her podcast, Unlocking Us, Brene Brown devotes an entire episode to her research and how it has revealed that shame, in fact, kills empathy; and it also erodes accountability.

Why? Because when we're steeped in shame, our attention is on ourselves. We are contracted self-absorbed and lost in an endless loop of self-talk. Emotional dysregulation is at play, so we run, avoid, defend, comply, or even laugh as a means to distance ourselves from the tension we feel inside. But the thing that all of these maladaptive responses have in common is that we are dysregulated and therefore in survival mode. We are myopically focused on our own needs and entirely disconnected from high-brain functioning, and the capacity to make room for the needs of others.

Empathy requires we turn our attention outward, away from ourselves toward others, and we need to be in our right mind in order to do this. And this is why shame doesn't breed empathy and, in fact, works against it... because when we're consumed by defensiveness or preoccupied by feelings of unworthiness, we are tragically unavailable for connection. The very connection that is the antidote to our suffering.

And so, I'm here to remind us... all of us, myself included, that when we shame people for a lack of empathy, it's like we're tossing fuel on a fire expecting it to go out.

We must remember instead that emotional empathy is a contagion. If we want to inspire empathy, we must be willing to offer it freely. Even when... no, especially when... it feels unearned or undeserved. Now if you're thinking, "but what about when..."

Listen, I hear you and we'll spend the next few episodes exploring boundaries in the like. It's a worthwhile topic to be sure.

But if our knee jerk answer to discord is to inject a boundary or put up a wall of some sort, we can be sure that, emotionally speaking, we have a bit more growing up to do.

If we feel insecure about our ability to handle other people's discomfort, we sometimes just opt out of offering empathy. Instead, defaulting to judgment.

Actress and trans activists, Laverne Cox says it well when she reminds us: "Feeling discomfort isn't the same thing as being unsafe."

Much of the time, we lose touch with empathy because we feel emotionally unsettled. We project our confusion and uncertainty onto the world around us. We mistake our cognitive dissonance for a need to self-protect, and we tragically conclude... if I feel uncomfortable around this person, they must be undeserving of my empathy.

Of course, in reality, it's quite the opposite. Empathy isn't in any way about agreement are perfectly aligned agendas. It's about surrendering your opinion of how someone else should feel, act, or live in the world.... in favor of curiosity and understanding.

A few years ago over the holidays, I was visiting my mom in Kansas. A group of family friends and I had gathered together at a sports bar to watch a football playoff game. Now I, for one, cared very little about who out sported who. I was in it for the company, and the excuse to chase a plate of fries with a stiff cocktail in the middle of the day.

During halftime, conversation shifted to a sports news headline that flashed at the bottom of the screen. There'd been ongoing debate about whether or not the Washington Redskins should change their name and mascot.

A white man, who must have been in his sixties, a friend of my aunt who I had just met, scoffed and shook his head: "This is just another example of more of that liberal bullshit."

My aunt and I then each took a pass at explaining how the name was, and always had been, racially insensitive and offensive to indigenous persons. Then my mom chimed in and we all offered our agreement. Yes, they should change their name.

He stared up at the TV screens as we spoke and dismissed our arguments with a laugh and shake of his head. And soon enough, the conversation moved on to whether or not the Chief's quarterback was poised for another one.

I've thought about this interaction many times since then, rehearsing all the things I wish I'd said in the moment. I will spare you my egoic fantasies, because the deeper pulse at the heart of it all is the tragic irony that we, a group of white men and women, were even debating the issue at all. As if the feelings and needs and lived experiences of Native Americans was a questionable matter that required our input.

Weren't we missing the point entirely?

When it comes to empathy, we are often prompted to ask the question: How would I feel if I were you? But the truth is that, sometimes we cannot possibly know the answer. Due to a wide variance of experiences, we are way out of our emotional depths. Sure, we can try to imagine what it would be like to walk in another person's shoes, but we will hardly ever scratch the surface when it comes to the emotional breadth and complexity of another person's lived experience.

Which is why in order to offer genuine empathy, we must be willing to defer emotional authority and hold space for expressions that we cannot ourselves relate to. It is this willingness to step aside and make room for one another... to move from right to left and from left to right... that makes all the difference when it comes to empathy.

We do not need to understand someone in order to love them.

I don't much see the point in debating whether or not we should draw lines to protect those who need protection or redefine norms through social movements, accountability, and legislation. Despite the way that it is sometimes manipulated and twisted, empathy does not mean that we collude with dysfunction. I think it's possible to say through our words and actions, 'I've got you' to those who've been marginalized without kicking dirt in the faces of people who haven't yet developed the awareness as to how their beliefs and sensibilities cause unintentional harm.

Just as we are wise enough to do with unruly children, we can lead through example, set boundaries without resorting to verbal abuse and emotional aggression.

And some will say, but Candice, these are not children. These are grown adults. They should know better than to be hateful, racist, blind to the needs of others.

And yes, you're absolutely right... they should know better. But I ask you... do they? And what good can come from all the endless shoulding and shaming and sidelining?

Would our energy not be better spent attempting to open their eyes?

And even if that is not a challenge you want to take on in your own personal life, must we respond to emotional violence with more of the same?

In the words of Brene Brown, "self-worth is foundational to change."

I'm going to say that again. Self-worth is foundational to change.

Not only for the person being asked to change, but also for those who are doing their best to make room for that change.

When I was in college, I had a dear friend who, in a night of drunken rage, ended up in jail for physically assaulting his girlfriend. I reached out to his girlfriend, who was also a friend, immediately to offer my support. I fought against the urge to visit him in jail. I guess I felt like offering my compassion would in some way, condone his behavior, or be a betrayal to all of womankind.

But if I'm being totally honest, it wasn't that I couldn't find it in my heart to forgive him for what he had done. It was really a question of bravery.

The truth is, I was angry and I still cared for him. I've always regretted cutting him out of my life so completely... that I abandoned our friendship during this dark time in his life.

I could have continued to stand in full support of the consequences he faced, but I didn't have to refuse to love him. This was a crime all my own; a judgmental and shameful rejection that only perpetuated violence via its source point... disconnection.

It requires a great deal of bravery, especially in this time of cancel culture, to offer empathy in the face of societal pressures that would have us ostracized all whom society has deemed unworthy of our compassion.

Genuine empathy means being brave enough to defy norms that teach us to demonize, exclude, and overlook our fellow humans for good, or for ill... be it due to our ignorance or our judgment.

It requires us to remain curious; to ask questions, sit in expectant silence. To assume that there are pieces of the puzzle that are missing to us and to ask people to share with us their story. What has led you toward the choices you now make in your life?

It has been said that, if you look closely enough and listen deeply enough, every action that a human takes... no matter how ill-advised or destructive... makes perfect sense if you understand the context in which the choice was made.

In order to get there, we must become intimate with our own depths... so we can swim in deep waters with those who are drowning.

Next week, we're going to talk about the intimate, personal challenges of empathy; about the sacrifices we make in the name of love and how, when the price is high opening our hearts can be so damn difficult.

Until then, know that your ability to offer unconditional acceptance is directly correlated to how, and in what ways, you've come to know and love yourself.

I love you. And I'll see you next time on The Deeper Pulse.

If you're enjoying the podcast, please take a minute to rate and review; and click the subscribe button so you're sure to never miss an episode.

I'll see you next time.

Big love.

© The Deeper Pulse, Candice Schutter