Feeding My Own Sheep

I heard from a couple of wise and awake women in response to my recent post about Jesus' words:

"If you love me, feed my sheep."

What I feel most grateful for is their reminder that before we feed the sheep on the outside, we must feed the sheep on the inside. Thank you, Dr. Laura and Kimberly.

As I reflected on their words, I realized that this has quietly become one of the most important practices in my own life.

In fact, it is often the very first thing I do each morning.

Their comments helped me recognize something that was present in my practice, but whose importance was understated in my post and deserves far more attention in our culture.

This morning, I woke up with a sense of disturbance.

Not exactly sadness.

Not exactly fear.

Not exactly anger.

Just a subtle sense that something inside me was unsettled.

I couldn't even tell you exactly what it was.

Perhaps it was an old hurt, some trauma, or an ancient sense of separation, the feeling of being disconnected from ourselves that many wisdom traditions describe as the root of suffering.

Perhaps it was something much simpler—fatigue, stress, or even dopamine withdrawal.

Who knows?

But what feels evident now is that I didn't need to know.

For many years, my tendency would have been to try to understand it, fix it, solve it, or move beyond it.

Instead, this morning I met it the way Jesus is said to have so often met people:

"Peace be with you."

According to scripture, these are among the first words Jesus spoke to his disciples after the resurrection.

Peace be with you.

Shalom.

As-salamu alaykum.

Peace be with you.

As I turned toward the disturbance inside, I found what felt almost like an infant crying in the dark—something that had felt alone for quite some time.

And so I sat with it.

Not trying to change it.

Not trying to make it go away.

Not trying to figure it out.

Simply:

Peace be with you.

I am here.

In that moment, I realized that this is how I feed my sheep, at least when I'm feeding them effectively.

Not with solutions.

Not with self-improvement.

Not with spiritual achievement.

But with peace.

With presence.

With love.

With the calm, connected, compassionate awareness that Internal Family Systems calls Self.

The sheep within me may be frightened.

They may be angry.

They may be grieving.

They may be exhausted from trying to carry burdens that were never theirs to carry.

But they do not need to be fixed before they are loved.

They simply need a Shepherd.

Over time, I've come to see that many of the things I take myself to be are actually sheep.

The part trying to figure life out.

The part trying to manage everything.

The part feeling overwhelmed.

The part feeling responsible for everyone else's well-being.

Those are sheep too.

So who is the Shepherd?

For me, the Shepherd is discovered in the simple question:

Who am I?

When I look for the source of a thought, I find that it emerges from a presence that is already peaceful.

When I look for the source of a feeling, I find that it emerges from that same stillness.

When I look for the source of perception itself, I find the same thing.

Stillness.

Silence.

Presence.

Peace.

The peace that was here before any thought appeared.

The peace that remains when every thought disappears.

I believe this is the peace Jesus spoke of when he said:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives."

Not the peace of the world that depends on mental understanding, favorable circumstances, or problems being solved.

But the conscious peace that abides as the source of experience itself.

The same peace that is already here.

When I recognize my oneness with that peace, feeding the sheep becomes natural.

I become nourishment for the frightened places within me.

And from there, something beautiful happens.

The nourishment begins to overflow.

Only after feeding the sheep within do I find myself able to feed the sheep around me.

Perhaps this is reflected in Jesus' two commandments.

First:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.

For me, this starts with returning home to the One "I am that I am"—the one being, stillness, presence, and conscious peace beneath all experience.

And then:

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Both the neighbors within—our parts—and the beings around us.

Not as an obligation.

Not as a moral duty.

But as the natural expression of a heart that has already been fed.

Before I can be nourishing for the world, I must first allow myself to be nourished by the bread within.

Before we feed God's sheep, we must remember to feed our own.

May we remember that many of God's sheep are living inside our own nervous system.

If this resonates with you and you'd like support in meeting yourself and others with greater peace, presence, compassion, and connection, feel free to reach out for a free introductory conversation at www.ifspsychiatrist.com.

Peace be with you.