Episode 91: on grief, gratitude and the holy scream

November 23, 2025 Angie Yingst

This week, I’m returning to the writings that shaped the earliest years of my healing after my daughter Lucia’s stillbirth in 2008. These three essays — one on the holy clearing power of the scream, one on the deep and complicated dance of gratitude during suffering, and one on the Buddhist tonglen practice — map my journey through grief, spiritual awakening, sobriety, and self-compassion.

These pieces were written from the raw center of my heart:

when I was newly grieving,
newly sober,
newly trying to exist inside a body again,
newly understanding what compassion actually means.

In this episode, I read:

1. “Scream, Baby” — written two years after my son Zachary’s birth and his time in the NICU, exploring pain, primal release, and the scream as an act of healing.

2. “Gratitude” — an essay confronting spiritual bypassing, toxic positivity, and what gratitude looks like when you’re grieving, not in spite of grief.

3. “Tonglen: A Meditation for When You’re in the Weeds” — a compassionate, trauma-informed exploration of the Buddhist practice that helped me breathe inside my pain instead of trying to outrun it.

Here is a brief (2 minute) meditation for those moments after you scream or when you feel stuck.

Here is a brief (4 minute) tonglen practice meditation:

If you’re grieving, healing, overwhelmed, or simply human — this episode is for you.

Here are some essential tonglen resources by Pema Chödrön:

Good Medicine: How to Turn Pain Into Compassion with Tonglen Meditation

Additional Articles & Teachings on Tonglen

“Good Medicine For This World” – an article on Lion’s Roar that explores how Pema Chödrön and Alice Walker talk about tonglen. Lion’s Roar
“Tonglen: The Path of Transformation” by Pema Chödrön (via Nalanda Translation) – a practical guide for the practice. Nālandā Translation Committee
Wikipedia summary on tonglen’s origins, practice, and context. Wikipedia

Additional Writings on Tonglen

Love on Every Breath: Tonglen Meditation for Transforming Pain into Joy – May 28, 2019 by Lama Palden Drolma

Training the Mind: & Cultivating Loving-Kindness Chögyam Trungpa

Bodhichitta: Practice for a Meaningful Life by Lama Zopa Rinpoche

Old Angie writing

impermanence

May 30, 2025 Angie Yingst

Hello, my Buttercup,

In the tiniest moments, if I take a breath, focus my attention, center myself, if I empty the mind of its chatter, and pay attention to the blood coursing through my veins, I find peace.

It takes work. A cup of tea, when poured into a beautiful mug and encircled with crystals, a prayer of thanksgiving, and all attention on the act of drinking tea can restart my day, if I allow it to.

I don't always allow it.

I am a bevvy of chaotic thoughts with my post-menopausal ADHD coursing through my brain. SIDE QUEST: LAUNDRY! 80s SONG REFRAIN ON INFINITE REPEAT IN MY BRAIN! (Pop Musik, I am looking at you!) COFFEE! DOG PETTING! Wait, what was I doing?

I sometimes hold on to my inattention, my distractions, my mind chatter like a security blanket, enjoying the torture of retelling a story about how I was the victim of someone else’s unkindness. My shamanic teacher says that storytelling can be a vital part of the healing process at some point, then a complete detriment to the healing process at another. Our wisdom lies in the discernment process.

In the last fifteen years, as I began walking a medicine path, I found myself more sensitive to noises and smells, to foods and chemicals, to storytelling and toxic thoughts. It isn't that I simply needed to banish them, but I needed to notice the way they move through my body and my mind. And then I could discern what is and is not serving me, and what is simply white noise distracting me from right-now.

When I was diagnosed with Celiac disease in 2012, I couldn’t imagine living a life without wheat. I basically lived on baguette, brie, and red wine in my 20s. In my 40s, I realized I could eat none of those things without severe intestinal disruptions. Wheat causes severe arthritic pain and stiffness and stomach pain and flare-ups. Brie keeps me on the toilet for days. And red wine, well, that makes me not care about the above stuff at all, and just want more red wine. Celiac disease strangely coincides with other autoimmune disorders, and the inflammation causes other autoimmine symptoms. So, if I eat wheat, I activate all the diseases. Truly, the cycle of suffering feeds itself.

In Buddhist thought (and, I suppose you can say, Hinduism too), the first noble truth is suffering. The suffering is about being human—just the act of having a body that breaks down, a mind that attaches to distractions and soul sedatives, a spirit that feels separate from everything, and emotions that dictate our actions. So, the idea of death and rebirth is a cycle of suffering. So, the cycle of suffering is not this or that—it is simply being human. Attaining Enlightenment (Moksha in Hinduism or Nirvana* in Buddhism) is about escaping the cycle of rebirth (Samsara), so it is about never having another human life again.** To jump out of the cycle of birth, death and rebirth, because being human is (excuse my bluntness) fucking hard.

Pain is a pain. When you experience it, it is all you can pay attention to. I don't think I deserve that, even though cupcakes are delicious and I once enjoyed them immensely. I don't think I deserve that even though I work hard all day and sweets are a nice reward. I don't deserve to suffer physical pain and bloating. And yet, I couldn't wrap my brain around this not-eating-sugar-or-chocolate thing. It felt like a punishment. As it is, I don't drink, smoke, take anything that alters my consciousness. Even caffeine is limited to half a cup a day. Surely, I deserve chocolate!! Surely, I deserve that thing that makes me feel terrible and bloated, right?!

Sometimes we just need an editor to rewrite the story in our head.

We can sometimes be our own editor, but often we need someone else to read our story with new eyes and perspectives. Someone who understands our typos and strange patterns of speech that do not translate well. I consider myself a leader and a strongly opinionated woman, but I don't always know what is best for me. Case in point, cupcakes and chocolate feel like rewards, and good health feels like a punishment.

I make terrible decisions sometimes. I have friends I call and ask their advice, or talk. I have mentors and a sponsor*** and a therapist and a mother. And I don't often go wandering in my head alone--there be monsters in those woods.

But it takes presence and mindfulness and attention to catch the story in our head leading us off track, and, honestly, mindfulness is much less interesting than scrolling dog videos. And sometimes my defiance rises up—I absolutely do not want to pay attention. I just want some ice cream and a nap. I want to zone out and forget the right now.

The most revolutionary thoughts are centered in love—not simply loving the meek and the vulnerable, but loving the stranger, loving those that we deem the least worthy of our love. Loving the one that irritates you, maybe even loving thy enemy. And most importantly, loving the self. ****

I am still working on it. Like every beauty queen, I just pray for peace on earth. And for every recovering post-menopausal lady, I pray for peace within myself.

+ + + +

This year has been difficult so far. I am so far up my own butt, I cannot see the light some days. It is storytelling, self-loathing, and mindlessness. It is grief and loss and disappointment and anger at myself. Soooo much grief.

After the death of my daughter in 2008, impermanence was no longer some esoteric topic I read about in Buddhist magazines. It was my life now, and it scared the crap out of me. If my daughter died, then it could be anything, really. My other daughter. My sons. My husband. My marriage. My house. Myself. Everything dies. Everything changes. Every situation will morph and grow and change. And when I am content, I really don't want anything to change because I like things exactly as they are. Well, mostly, I want this to change, that to change, but the other stuff has to stay exactly as I want it. And THAT's the thing, right-now is much different than the right-now of five years ago, or the right-now of last week or the right-now before Celiac disease. And sometimes we have to change the thing we don’t want to change to change the thing we want to change. Our suffering comes from imagining right-now as immutable, absolute, and never-changing. The only thing that doesn't change is that everything changes.

When we lose people, jobs and things, we dance with impermanence in an intimate way. We can be paralyzed by the fear of it, or we can be enlightened by it, empowered by it, motivated to be present with the right-now. The truth of impermanence causes us to choose either suffering or mindfulness.

Is a cupcake torture or reward?

Perhaps that sounds too simplistic, but truly, we can make it that easy. When you are suffering over a sick friend, or a broken crystal, or a comment on a political post on social media, what if you shifted the focus to right now? Right now, I am honored to offer healing and prayers for my friend. Right now, I am grateful for the years I worked with the amazing medicine of this crystal. Right now, I am grateful I know so many people with differing views of the world, so that I may expand my understanding of other points of view.

Mindfulness doesn't have to be another meaningless buzzword. It can be a practice borne out of ADHD side quests, sneaky hate spirals, resentment storytelling, out of fear, out of suffering and into your right-now. And the present moment is where peace lies, and where happiness exists, if we just take the time to notice it.

So, this week, I am giving you permission to ask someone for advice about some truth you have held for a long time. I would tackle that sneaking suspicion you have that one truth not serving your Highest Good. Ask a friend if it is true. Pick their brain. Maybe it is how you approach your work, or how you have envisioned your body, or what your childhood was really like. Whatever it is, remember to listen with wide eyes. I often quote this speaker I once heard who said, "It is not what you don't know that will kill, but what you know with absolute certainty that simply is not true that will kill you."

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I actually wanted to write to you today about something else, which is to remind you that I opened a little in-person healing studio, and I see clients for tarot reading and earth medicine/crystal healing, Reiki and shamanic sessions both in-person at the Moon + Stone Healing Studio in Harrisburg and through distance work on Zoom. You can make an appointment with me right here:

book an appointment with angie

If you are in the Harrisburg area, I am running a little special tomorrow for 30 minute session for $60. Give me a text or call to book: 717-770-9109.

*Bodhi refers to the state of enlightenment, while Nirvana signifies the ultimate goal of liberation from suffering and the cycle of rebirth. Bodhi is the path to, and the state of, enlightenment, while Nirvana is the destination, a state of perfect peace and cessation of suffering.

**About past life work, when I hear people talking about their past lives and who they were, I want to ask—what did you learn in that life? Why is that life popping up in your consciousness now? What were you to learn that you either learned or continue to carry that karma? Past life work isn’t about finding out all the cool things you once were (because we were all cool in one life or another.) It is about learning what karma we are carrying and learning how to clear it. Looking at patterns to break them.

***I have written a podcast, but not recorded, in my Recovery for the Masses series about what a sponsor is and is not. Anyone who thinks that would be a good addition to my podcast series, let me know!

**** My latest podcast is all about the Stranger in the Bible and Ancient Mediterranean religions. You can listen to that here:

listen to centered

Episode 71: Recovery for the Masses with Angie Yingst

September 5, 2024 Angie Yingst

In 1989, September was named National Recovery Month, and SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) holds events all month, as do state Depts of Drug and Alcohol Services. I am one of more than 21 million Americans in recovery from alcohol or substance use disorder. Substance Use Disorder does not just touch one segment of the population—addiction touches the lives of literally every socioeconomic class. This year, I trained to become a CRS, or a Certified Recovery Specialist, which is like a peer specialist for those seeking recovery. I have over 13 years of recovery from alcohol use disorder and I have been wanting to do a new series about recovery. I hope to do it maybe once a month called Recovery for the Masses.

What does that mean?

It means that I talk about what recovery from alcohol or substance use disorder is all about. We often talk about how everyone in the world should do the kind of work those of us in recovery do. I don’t think many people outside of our community realize the daily work we do just to stay sober or clean or abstinent from our addiction, whether that be alcohol or drugs or sex or gambling or food or pornography or whatever can be used to avoid feelings. I personally think my first addiction, and my hardest addiction, is work. I literally have times in my life where I have thought about work 24/7, obsessed about it, worked until I forgot to pee, eat, sleep, take care of my body. Addiction is addiction is addiction.

Addiction is often defined specifically in relation to how someone uses the substance. People with addiction use substances or engage in behaviors that become compulsive and usually continue despite harmful consequences. Read that again, DESPITE harmful consequences. Why? Because the effect of numbing out is better than raw dogging life. (Hey, I’ve been out here in the world raw dogging life for 13 + years now, and I can tell you it is hard work, people.)

So what is this first Recovery for the Masses episode like? It is a lot of disparate thoughts about recovery and addiction and learning how to feel again. I think I just opened my brain and let it flow. But upcoming episodes will be more succinct and thoughtful and follow a more linear pathway. I talk about how lucky I am to be an alcoholic.

By lucky, I mean this seriously and also provokingly, because alcoholism took me to my brink, to a place I had never been before—praying for death because the suffering was so desolate. And yet, I didn’t know it was alcohol that took me there. I was just suffering. I wanted to die. And the outward appearance of my life looked together, beautiful, and truly was everything I had ever wanted. But I couldn’t feel joy or gratitude. I was in a loop of suffering, and I couldn’t get drunk enough or sober enough. And so one day, I called the A.A. helpline and talked to another alcoholic, asking if they thought I was alcoholic. But she couldn’t answer that. We can only answer that question for ourselves.

Okay, I know it is not cool to quote J.K. Rowling, but I love this quote, "Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." As Anne Lamott further goes on to talk about rock bottom, “There’s freedom in hitting bottom, in seeing that you won’t be able to save or rescue your daughter, her spouse, his parents, or your career, relief in admitting you’ve reached the place of great unknowing. This is where restoration can begin.”

We all hit rock bottoms in life. Maybe it is losing your job or breaking up with a partner or it is just that recognition that your life doesn’t bring you joy. Maybe it is realizing your hypervigilance might be from trauma. Or maybe your parents were alcoholic or drug addicted people or just emotionally immature. In the end, I think we all relate to rock bottom and facing that crossroads of—I have to change and that pathway is dark and I have no idea what it means for the rest of my life, or I can stay the same and if I stay in the same place, I get the same thing. Nothing changes if nothing changes. The choice is mine right now. I know for me and my drinking, I chose the latter until I just felt like that choice was death to a part of me that was curious, awe-struck, joyful, honest, kind…it is painful to share that, but that is where I was.

So desperation brought me to recovery. Not a desire to quit drinking, but a desire to stop my own suffering. If I could do that and have a glass of wine, I totally would. That isn’t in my cards. I come from a long line of drunken storytellers and comedians who turn into absent parents and mean drunks. I am recovering from alcoholism, but I am also an adult child and grandchild of an alcoholic parent and grandparents. I am recovering from them. I hit bottom in my own way. And sought recovery. Recovery brought me spiritual work, a community, gratitude, love, creativity, honesty, integrity…As Anne Lamott says, “...being sober delivered almost everything drinking promised.”

And in the end, you are here because recovery from alcoholism allowed me to pursue healing work because I sought healing work. I couldn’t get sober and not heal the other stuff. And in seeking healing, I found this part of me that had always been there—highly sensitive, intuitive, empathic and ready to be of service to other people.

Hopefully, though, this series transcends alcohol and substance use disorder and recovery. My intention is to transcend it, and bring you into the recovery part of life and open it up to everyone who is suffering from being human.

Love,