Halfway Through 2024: Lessons from the Road
From Japan’s Zen Gardens to the Heart of the West Bank: Moments that are Shaping Me
(3-minute health update video)
Introduction
As the longest day of the year fades along with the full moon's glow, I can’t believe that half of 2024 has already slipped away. The solstice offers a wonderful opportunity to reflect on what has unfolded during our most recent trip around the sun. These past six months have flown by, serving as a stark reminder of the preciousness of each and every day, whether living with a terminal illness or simply navigating our brief, wild, and precious journey in this life, as Mary Oliver so poignantly put it.
At this moment, I'm compelled to reflect on where the time has gone and what will nourish my soul moving forward. Earlier this year, I invited you to join me in a New Year's reflection exercise—an opportunity for personal growth and renewal. Let's continue this journey together. For those who joined me then, it's a chance to delve deeper into our insights. If you missed out, now is the perfect time to shape the path ahead for the remainder of this year.
Find a peaceful moment—a quiet evening or a lazy weekend afternoon works wonders. Here I sit, cozy with a flickering candle and my faithful cat, embarking on a journey of reflection on the past and contemplation of the near future. (Update: I got so absorbed that this post became a saga after just four questions! So you’ll find the rest of the questions at the end.)
Join me as we nurture meaningful beginnings and breathe life into the dreams we dare to envision. Let’s uncover the unfolding reality before us together.
"One day you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do it now.” - Paulo Coelho
1. What journeys have I taken over the last six months, and what is memorable about them?
The year kicked off in Japan amidst the backdrop of an earthquake and a serene zen retreat. Adrian and I were drawn to Wabi Sabi, embracing its philosophy that finds beauty in imperfection, honors life's fleeting moments, celebrates simplicity, and respects the natural cycles of growth and decay.
One of the most poignant experiences was our visit to Hiroshima, where we spent a deeply moving day with a survivor of the atomic bomb. Before walking through solemn memorials and museums, we listened to her powerful story—a narrative I plan to share on August 6, the anniversary of Hiroshima. This encounter left an deep mark on us, highlighting the resilience and enduring strength of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable suffering and loss.
During the first three months of the year, I immersed myself in the final portion of an intensive certification program in Internal Family Systems (IFS Level 1). This transformative training unveiled new vistas into my internal landscape and equipped me with powerful tools that were immediately applicable in my coaching practice. Despite being one of the only coaches amid a group of experienced therapists, our camaraderie was profoundly enriching. This shared journey fostered deep connections and broadened my understanding, enhancing both my personal and professional growth. (For those eager to learn more about Internal Family Systems, also known as “parts work”, the films Inside Out and its sequel Inside Out 2 delve into IFS concepts in a delightful way).
In February, I traveled to Claremont McKenna College for Parents Weekend alongside my cousin, Emily. Unlike the last year’s visit, which was marred by illness that confined me to bed, this time I loved reconnecting with Adrian's circle of friends and professors. It was a joy to hear him perform on the Oud, showcasing his myriad talents and his passionate commitment to preventing conflict in outer space—a dedication that recently resulted in an article on the Sino-US space race in the journal, Astropolitics! Who knew there was even a journal called that?
Attending some of Adrian's classes, including those led by an old friend from my time in China, Minxin Pei, reminded me of the exhilaration of being a student again. During my visit, I also had a stimulating conversation with CMC’s President about the Israel-Gaza conflict—always looking to stir things up!
What impressed me was CMC’s distinctive approach to managing divisions and protests. Known as one of the country’s leaders in upholding freedom of speech and expression, CMC stands out. Unlike many other universities, CMC has managed to foster a constructive environment conducive to open dialogue, disagreement, and understanding. Its smaller size undoubtedly offers clear advantages in this regard.
In Arizona, I undertook a brief but meaningful trip, speaking at a conference hosted by a small pharmaceutical company specializing in treatments for rare diseases, including my own. Initially, I had been skeptical about the invitation, but I was soon won over by their scrappy dedication and passion for improving lives. Meeting the diverse professionals—doctors, researchers, managers, and salespeople—behind these life-saving medications was deeply inspiring. It reaffirmed for me the profound human effort and compassion that form the bedrock of many medical advancements.
While in Arizona, I also embraced an invitation from a childhood friend to explore Sedona. Reflecting on my recent visit, I'm convinced that Sedona truly lives up to its reputation as the mystical capital of the U.S. The awe-inspiring landscape, adorned with striking red rock formations and infused with potent energy, left an indelible mark—I'm certain I departed with a few extra chakras!
In March, I embarked on a profound journey into plant medicine and sweat lodge rituals deep in the Mexican jungle, accompanied by my cousin, close friends, and local healers. Together, my cousin and I carried the weight of our family's intricate history—a tapestry of generational trauma in need of healing. The Temascal experience proved to be one of the most transformative journeys of physical and spiritual purification I've ever undertaken. Emerging from the sweat lodge felt like a rebirth. The intense heat and steam not only purged physical impurities but also facilitated deep emotional healing.
To assimilate these profound teachings, I retreated to the tranquil beaches of Tulum for a week of mediation and yoga. Amidst the soothing rhythms of the ocean, I found a perfect sanctuary to contemplate and integrate the profound healing and insights gained during my retreat. I left with a heightened sense of clarity, peace, and spiritual rejuvenation.
From the serenity of Tulum, I shifted gears to the vibrant energy of Houston, timing a CT scan at MD Anderson to coincide with a solar eclipse—because why not make medical appointments as cosmic as possible? The scan revealed new lung nodules, adding a layer of uncertainty to my journey.
Afterward, I joined Adrian and EJ for an epic road trip from the heart of Texas, through Oklahoma's expansive landscapes, and into the vastness of Arkansas. Adrian's real-time updates on cloud cover led us serendipitously to the crystal quartz-laden Mount Ida. There, we stood in awe as the eclipse enveloped us—a moment of fleeting darkness and breathtaking beauty that seemed to unite humanity in a pause of time itself, a collective breath held in awe and reverence.
A week later, I found myself in Salt Lake City for the Annual Cholangiocarcinoma Conference, reconnecting with a vibrant community of dedicated professionals—doctors, researchers, biotech innovators, healthcare workers, and fellow cholangio patients. The air was electric with optimism, each presentation and poster a beacon of hope signaling that a cure, though still on the horizon, was inching closer every day.
Unlike last year’s edgier vibe, where I delivered a keynote and we celebrated afterward at a bar with a daring mechanical bull, this year’s gathering took a more serene turn. A few of us piled into a 4x4 and ventured into the mountains, taking a rejuvenating walk along a path lined with the early whispers of spring and a pristine mountain river. There, we baptized each other’s balding heads in the icy waters, washing away the weight of our struggles and renewing our spirits. Before leaving the conference, we gathered in a nearby city for a drum circle, each beat resonating like a heartbeat echoing our collective call for healing. Leaving Utah, I felt profoundly thankful for the reaffirmation of our shared journeys and the deep connections that fortify us as we navigate the complexities of cholangiocarcinoma.
By the end of April, my journey took an unexpected turn through Athens en route to Ramallah in the West Bank after flights to Tel Aviv were abruptly canceled. There, I spent a remarkable week alongside an indomitable group of legal aid lawyers. They are devoted to defending some of the most marginalized—mostly juveniles and refugees whose voices fade amidst the chaos of conflict. Witnessing their unwavering courage and resilience in providing critical representation and assistance was profoundly moving and deeply inspiring.
Traveling with them from Ramallah to Nablus and Jenin, I experienced firsthand just a fraction of their daily challenges—tall separation walls, army checkpoints, road blockages, and the constant undercurrent of physical threat. Engaging in this effort left me with a profound sense of purpose and respect, as if every twist and turn in my life had been preparing me for this work. I began to map out plans to head to Myanmar and Afghanistan before year’s end.
In May, I embarked on another unforgettable journey, courtesy of an extraordinary gift from a dear friend: the Saving Philippine Reefs Dive Expedition at Tubbataha Reefs, a pristine marine sanctuary a 10-hour boat ride from Palawan. Each day, alongside marine biologists and ecologists, I plunged into the depths, meticulously documenting the coral tapestry on our underwater slates. We carefully recorded coral types in quarter-meter segments along 50-meter transects, laid out precisely by GPS coordinates, contributing crucial data to conservation efforts.
Navigating the steep learning curve, I found myself immersed in an environment where love for marine life was as tangible as the warm, crystalline waters surrounding us. Tubbataha’s reputation for marine biodiversity—hosting over 600 fish species and 360 coral species—came alive as I started to be able to identify indigenous butterfly fish darting through coral gardens like underwater butterflies. Adrian and I shared magical encounters with marine wildlife, each dive unveiling intricate details of a vibrant world that felt transcendent in its beauty and vitality.
I was filled with an overwhelming sense of privilege and gratitude for the rare opportunity to contribute to such vital research and witness the extraordinary beauty of our planet's underwater ecosystems. This experience not only deepened my understanding of marine biology but also heightened my appreciation for the delicate interconnectedness of our natural world.
On our journey back to the U.S., we made a stop in Kuala Lumpur for a long weekend, warmly welcomed by a dear friend and her family. Together, we immersed ourselves in a Peace Walk alongside hundreds of Theravada Buddhists, a serene experience that resonated deeply. Exploring the city, we visited a variety of temples, each showcasing a unique facet of Kuala Lumpur's rich cultural tapestry and architectural splendor.
Venturing into the countryside via Route 68, we were treated to sweeping vistas of lush greenery. The road wound gracefully above the forest canopy, revealing dense forests, rolling hills, and vibrant vegetation below and around us.
I engaged a lively audience with a talk on the interplay of peace and justice, their questions drawing me back into the intricate world of Southeast Asian politics. The exchange was energizing, sparking profound discussions about the future of peace and justice in the region and the world.
As always in KL, we feasted on culinary delights, indulging in so much delicious food that we felt like royalty every single day!
Back in the States, I participated in an interview discussing my tenure on the UN Panel of Experts on North Korea, from 2014 to 2019. The Panel's disbandment that month, due to a Russian veto, reaffirmed why I never looked back after departing the UN for the third time (third time's the charm, right?). I celebrate that freedom daily, now focusing on executive coaching to empower those driving deeper, meaningful change.
2. Which parts of the last period would I do over if I could?
The concept of repeating experiences take on more complexity for those facing terminal illness. Each journey blends beauty with a sense of finality, knowing it could potentially be my last time soaking in the serene landscapes of Japan, navigating the bustling streets of India, or wandering through nostalgic sites in China. Every visit becomes uniquely precious and unforgettable.
At this point, it's not about revisiting specific countries—it's about deepening connections with people, nature, and my inner landscape. The experiences I cherish most are intertwined with cherished companions and moments immersed in nature and other spiritual endeavors.
I remember how the ocean softened my spirit, its waves murmuring ancient secrets as they caressed my skin. Each ebb and flow felt like a gentle lullaby, easing away the weight of the world. Below the surface, vibrant coral gardens teemed with life, colorful fish darting playfully, their rhythmic movements adding to the symphony of the sea. These sights reminded me of the intricate beauty and interconnectedness of all living things.
In the jungle, amidst dense foliage and a symphony of wildlife, my heart opened wide, feeling like a return to a primal home. These moments were deeply healing and transformative, stripping away layers of fear and leaving behind a raw, honest connection to life itself. Every sunrise became a celebration, every breeze a gentle reminder of the fragile yet resilient nature of existence. These experiences aren't just memories; they're imprints on my soul, vivid and alive, continually shaping my path.
3. What has been the most difficult aspect of these past six months?
The most challenging aspect of these past six months has been confronting the brutal and relentless loss of innocent lives in conflict. Grappling with the profound divisions and pervasive hate in our discourse amidst war crimes and atrocities has been a constant struggle. The sheer magnitude of human suffering is almost inconceivable, leaving me deep in despair and disgust. Knowing that a large part of my life's work has been in service of ensuring “never again” makes the current situation all the more heartbreaking.
“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others.” - Pema Chödrön
While aboard a boat in the tranquil Sulu Sea, disconnected from digital distractions for a few days, I tuned back in only to be struck by the news of another civilian massacre. The sense of peace I had evaporated instantly, and I was engulfed in a storm of despair, haunted by the tragic images of children lost to brutality.
Similarly, during our stopover in Kuala Lumpur, the shadow of violence loomed everywhere. While ostensibly preparing for audience questions, I found myself glued to unfolding accounts and photos of atrocities. The persistent stream of distressing updates cast a heavy shadow over our time there, causing tension with Adrian as we visited temples and ventured through the countryside. The weight of the world's suffering seemed inescapable, casting a pall over even the most serene moments and making it challenging to be present for the people in my immediate reality.
4. What challenge am I actively working on, aiming to make meaningful progress by the end of 2024?
Currently, I'm deeply engaged in cultivating practices to manage anger and aversion towards individuals involved in committing atrocities, including through metta (loving-kindness) meditation. While it's natural to deeply empathize with victims, true compassion is boundless. It doesn't justify or overlook violence but aims to address its underlying drivers—suffering, trauma, and ignorance—and plays a role in preventing future atrocities. Studies highlight that compassion practices reduce empathic distress and burnout while activating brain regions associated with resilience and altruism. (Research and citations contained in Annex).
My own turmoil does nothing to alleviate suffering, and my anger risks mirroring the destructive energy that perpetuates conflict. This awareness has pushed me to seek a more balanced approach to dealing with these emotions. I'm striving to maintain my effectiveness and compassion without being overwhelmed by anger and despair. By acknowledging my emotions without letting them paralyze me (experiencing them as experiential not existential), I aim to stay engaged and purposeful, recognizing that a clear mind and a compassionate heart are essential for sustainable advocacy and meaningful change in the face of atrocity.
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." Martin Luther King Jr.
I spoke of my struggle to find this balance in the case of my work in Rwanda in "Breathing Through Rage." Some days, I make progress in managing aversion and nurturing compassion for perpetrators; other days, I find myself overwhelmed by anger and rightousness.
Compassion never excuses or justifies the actions of those who commit or enable harmful acts; rather, it asserts that all beings deserve healing. These individuals, often driven by their own suffering and ignorance, highlight the urgent need for compassion. The practice of compassion is vital for nurturing an open heart, disrupting cycles of animosity and vengeance, and cultivating a world where genuine peace and reconciliation are possible. Looking back on my career, I see numerous instances where approaching situations with less anger could have enhanced my advocacy and probably also reduced stress-induced exhaustion.
In addition to this internal work, I remain committed to supporting organizations and individuals committed to justice and human dignity. Recent missions to places like the West Bank are part of this commitment, with upcoming trips planned for Myanmar and Afghanistan (Myanmar is happening shortly!) Through these efforts, I aim to contribute to meaningful change and the alleviation of suffering in our world.
Outside of these trips and my coaching work, I've become acutely aware of the need more generally to manage my energy more effectively. These days, I lean more toward being a social introvert, finding solace and recharging in the company of my cat and a few close, intimate friends. My wise friend Carrie Grossman, also known as Dayashila, recently shared her reflections on the summer solstice—a time when the days reach their peak of light before gradually shortening. She describes this moment as an invitation to turn inward, to reflect, and to reconnect with ourselves. As the days grow shorter, I find this nature metaphor quite fitting, encouraging me to embrace this period of introspection and renewal. Apart from the trips to Myanmar and Afghanistan, I have no other foreign travel planned for the rest of the year—which feels like my idea of heaven right now.
Thanks for joining me on this reflection journey. I've gained deep insights and feel energized to keep pushing forward with my goals.
Much love, Stephanie
Below are the questions for your half-year check-in. Please share any insights!
The Past: Lessons, Triumphs, Growth
What journeys have I taken over the last six months and what is memorable about them?
Which parts of the last period would I do over?
What has been the most difficult aspect of these past six months? What am I learning from it?
What felt fulfilling, and what felt less so?
What served as sources of inspiration for me?
What challenges and disappointments did I face, and how did I confront them?
What am I most grateful for? Most proud of?
In what new ways did I express myself or discover new facets of my being?
What did I consciously release or let go of?
The Present: Appreciating, Celebrating, Letting Go
What endeavors feel significant to me right now?
What need to be celebrated?
How am I evolving, and how can I approach this transformation with gentleness and acceptance?
What habits or mindsets no longer serve my growth?
Future: The Journey to Come
What do I desire for the rest of 2024?
What are the core things I’d love to happen in the coming six months?
What parts of myself do I want to nurture?
What will I need to say no to? What do I want to reduce or do less of?
What baggage do I no longer need to carry? (inner and outer backpacks).
ANNEX: How Empathic Distress differs from Compassion
Research with Matthieu Ricard, a renowned Buddhist monk, using fMRI scans, demonstrates a crucial distinction: empathic distress can lead to burnout, whereas compassion activates brain areas associated with resilience and altruism. Empathic distress, characterized by feeling overwhelmed by others' suffering, often results in emotional exhaustion, commonly referred to as "compassion fatigue."
In contrast, true compassion—defined as a genuine concern for another's suffering coupled with the motivation to help—engages different neural pathways. Studies show that compassion meditation increases activity in brain regions involved in empathy, emotional regulation, and decision-making. This practice not only builds emotional resilience but also reduces stress and promotes a more effective response to suffering.
By cultivating compassion, we can build resilience and prevent emotional mirroring from leading to burnout. These studies underscore the importance of fostering compassion, even towards those who commit violence, as a means to promote healing and disrupt cycles of retribution and hatred.
Here it is in a nutshell:
Here I’ve summarized some of the research and included citations and more information.
Dr. Tania Singer and her colleagues at the Max Planck Institutes found that empathic distress differs from compassion both in the neural networks affected as well as the types of feelings generated, implying that they are very different inner states with different consequences for well-being. Dr. Singer and her colleagues showed that training in empathy increases activation in the parts of the brain associated with physical pain to oneself or others, increasing both feelings of distress and risk of burnout while decreasing interest in actually undertaking altruistic behaviors benefiting others. By contrast, training in compassion induced neural activations and feelings associated with positive emotions, affiliation and love. For example, an empathy-for-pain experiment generated fMRI data showing that the activated parts of the brain during both first-hand and observed experiences of pain were overlapping (in the anterior insula and the anterior medial cingulate cortex). According to them, nearly a decade of further empathy research showed no evidence of differences in reaction according to whether the person in pain was known or unknown to the subject. A first-person account by Mathieu Ricard of his reaction upon viewing distressing photos of Romanian orphans through the lens of empathy was emotional exhaustion verging on burnout. By contrast, when viewing the same photos through a lens of compassion, Richard recounted feelings of boundless love and the desire to console the children. This finding seems to have been supported by another experiment led by Dr. Singer in which non-experts trained in metta meditation for a few days showed an increase in altruistic behavior towards strangers, with better results resulting from further training.
An experiment conducted by Olga Klimecki et al involving non-experts trained in compassion (through metta meditation) or memorization showed increased self-reporting of positive affect in those trained in metta even in the face of others’ distress. This was reflected in changes in brain regions related to positive affect, affiliation, and maternal and romantic love. These findings were replicated in two other studies and again in first-person accounts by Mathieu Ricard. By contrast, training in empathy increased negative affect in reaction both to those in distress as well as in normal everyday situations. Based on these and other experiments, Dr. Singer and her colleagues concluded that while empathic resonance can lead to empathic distress, compassion offers a trainable strategy for and overcoming adverse experiences by strengthening resilience. (Klimecki, O. M., Leiberg, S., Lamm, C., & Singer, T. (2012). "Functional Neural Plasticity and Associated Changes in Positive Affect After Compassion Training." Cerebral Cortex, 23(7), 1552-1561).
With regard to the type of compassion we extend to ourselves in instances of suffering, Juliana G. Breines and Serena Chen conducted four studies on the effects of self-compassion in responding to moral transgression, personal weakness and test failure. Their first experiment generated evidence that college sophomores who wrote a compassionate letter to themselves after reflecting on a weakness were more inclined to adopt a growth-oriented mindset than those assigned to the control conditions of a self-esteem or no intervention. Experiment # 2 produced evidence that undergraduates who reflected on a recent moral transgression with self-compassion, when compared with a self-esteem or positive distraction control group, reported more motivation for self-improvement including the desire to make amends for and not repeat the transgression (which admittedly for undergraduates was unlikely to be major). Their third experiment showed that while self-compassion after lab-based test failure did not directly lead to improved performance, it increased study time in undergraduates, which the authors claimed predicts higher test scores. In a 4th experiment involving U.S. adults (as opposed to undergraduates), those subjected to a self-compassion condition were found to be more likely to engage in upward social comparison as opposed to downward or lateral social comparison. Together these experiments helped to clarify the role of self-compassion in promoting self-improvement. Given the wide use of undergraduates in these studies, Breines and Chen’s findings might have particular implications for enhancing coping skills in university settings.
Empathy and compassion by Tania Singer and Olga Klimecki https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0960982214007702
Compassion Is Better than Empathy: Neuroscience explains why https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-clarity/201703/compassion-is-better-empathy
Matthieu Ricard TED Talk, How to let altruism be your guide. https://www.ted.com/talks/matthieu_ricard_how_to_let_altruism_be_your_guide?language=en
Matthieu Ricard blog piece, ‟Empathy Fatigue” (https://www.matthieuricard.org/en/blog/posts/empathy-fatigue-1)
Matthieu Ricard’s book, Altruism: The Power of Compassion to Change Yourself and the World. For a less involved read, see his book, Happiness: A Guide to Developing Life’s Most Important Skill. (This book is not a navel-gazing, self-focused pursuit of happiness, but quite the opposite.).
https://www.lionsroar.com/matthieu-ricards-journey-to-compassion/
Kristin Neff on empathy and self-compassion (how to use self-compassion to deal with burnout / empathy fatigue). Her website contains an abundance of helpful resources: https://self-compassion.org/
· https://pro.psychcentral.com/self-compassion-as-an-antidote-to-empathy-fatigue/
· https://compassionit.com/2019/09/09/how-to-curb-workplace-burnout-with-self-compassion/
· https://self-compassion.org/why-caregivers-need-self-compassion/
Jordan Peterson and others on the pitfalls of empathy / the age of empathy:
https://quillette.com/2018/12/09/a-surfeit-of-empathy-and-an-absence-of-compassion/
https://quillette.com/2017/02/23/our-age-of-empathy/