WP_Query Object
(
[query] => Array
(
[category__in] => Array
(
[0] => 19
)
[post__not_in] => Array
(
[0] => 8059
)
[posts_per_page] => 50
[ignore_sticky_posts] => 1
[orderby] => desc
[_shuffle_and_pick] => 3
)
[query_vars] => Array
(
[category__in] => Array
(
[0] => 19
)
[post__not_in] => Array
(
[0] => 8059
)
[posts_per_page] => 50
[ignore_sticky_posts] => 1
[orderby] => desc
[_shuffle_and_pick] => 3
[error] =>
[m] =>
[p] => 0
[post_parent] =>
[subpost] =>
[subpost_id] =>
[attachment] =>
[attachment_id] => 0
[name] =>
[pagename] =>
[page_id] => 0
[second] =>
[minute] =>
[hour] =>
[day] => 0
[monthnum] => 0
[year] => 0
[w] => 0
[category_name] => peter-borten
[tag] =>
[cat] => 19
[tag_id] =>
[author] =>
[author_name] =>
[feed] =>
[tb] =>
[paged] => 0
[meta_key] =>
[meta_value] =>
[preview] =>
[s] =>
[sentence] =>
[title] =>
[fields] =>
[menu_order] =>
[embed] =>
[category__not_in] => Array
(
)
[category__and] => Array
(
)
[post__in] => Array
(
)
[post_name__in] => Array
(
)
[tag__in] => Array
(
)
[tag__not_in] => Array
(
)
[tag__and] => Array
(
)
[tag_slug__in] => Array
(
)
[tag_slug__and] => Array
(
)
[post_parent__in] => Array
(
)
[post_parent__not_in] => Array
(
)
[author__in] => Array
(
)
[author__not_in] => Array
(
)
[search_columns] => Array
(
)
[suppress_filters] =>
[cache_results] => 1
[update_post_term_cache] => 1
[update_menu_item_cache] =>
[lazy_load_term_meta] => 1
[update_post_meta_cache] => 1
[post_type] =>
[nopaging] =>
[comments_per_page] => 50
[no_found_rows] =>
[order] => DESC
)
[tax_query] => WP_Tax_Query Object
(
[queries] => Array
(
[0] => Array
(
[taxonomy] => category
[terms] => Array
(
[0] => 19
)
[field] => term_id
[operator] => IN
[include_children] =>
)
)
[relation] => AND
[table_aliases:protected] => Array
(
[0] => wp_term_relationships
)
[queried_terms] => Array
(
[category] => Array
(
[terms] => Array
(
[0] => 19
)
[field] => term_id
)
)
[primary_table] => wp_posts
[primary_id_column] => ID
)
[meta_query] => WP_Meta_Query Object
(
[queries] => Array
(
)
[relation] =>
[meta_table] =>
[meta_id_column] =>
[primary_table] =>
[primary_id_column] =>
[table_aliases:protected] => Array
(
)
[clauses:protected] => Array
(
)
[has_or_relation:protected] =>
)
[date_query] =>
[request] =>
SELECT SQL_CALC_FOUND_ROWS wp_posts.ID
FROM wp_posts LEFT JOIN wp_term_relationships ON (wp_posts.ID = wp_term_relationships.object_id)
WHERE 1=1 AND wp_posts.ID NOT IN (8059) AND (
wp_term_relationships.term_taxonomy_id IN (19)
) AND ((wp_posts.post_type = 'post' AND (wp_posts.post_status = 'publish' OR wp_posts.post_status = 'acf-disabled')))
AND ID NOT IN
(SELECT `post_id` FROM wp_postmeta
WHERE `meta_key` = '_pilotpress_level'
AND `meta_value` IN ('','employee')
AND `post_id` NOT IN
(SELECT `post_id` FROM wp_postmeta
WHERE `meta_key` = '_pilotpress_level'
AND `meta_value` IN ('' )))
GROUP BY wp_posts.ID
ORDER BY wp_posts.post_date DESC
LIMIT 0, 50
[posts] => Array
(
[0] => WP_Post Object
(
[ID] => 7855
[post_author] => 3
[post_date] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_date_gmt] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_content] =>
What do you like about your anxiety?
This is a question I’ve asked many of my patients. Unsurprisingly, almost everyone’s initial response is “nothing.” But over time (especially in people who are determined to get the most out of their unpleasant experiences) I’ve seen anxiety become a gift that re-orients people in a profound way.
I’ve learned many strategies for managing anxiety directly, some of which I shared in my
last article. They can really help. However, my greatest intention isn’t merely that we can effectively manage anxiety when it arises, but that our basic orientation is to be attuned to what’s good, what’s working, and what we
love about life.
So this time I’m going to share self-care practices to guide you back to the love beneath that fear.
It’s true that fear isn’t usually a
healthy expression of love, but sometimes it is – like when love spurs fear in a parent and they rush into harm’s way to save a child. Most of the time we’re afraid, though, the underlying love is so contorted by the mind that it doesn’t feel like love at all. It just feels nasty and horrible, and we get into a vicious circle whereby the feeling prompts fearful thoughts and the thoughts heighten the feelings, and so on.
But deeper than all of that craziness, we love life, we love ourselves, and we love others. I would like to invite you this week to bring your anxious feelings back to the loving point of their origin.
1) Practice good posture. Having a straight spine automatically helps you to breathe more fully. It also has a subtle effect on your mood. It’s easier to feel threatened, weak, or like a victim when you’re slouching; conversely, when you sit or stand tall, with a straight spine, you’ll naturally feel clearer and more confident.
2) State the facts (in the morning and always). What you do in the morning affects your whole day, so start with a brief and enthusiastic session of truth telling. What is good right now? Are you alive? Are you breathing? Did the sun rise again? Do you have enough to eat? Say it.
Who do you choose to be today? A light-hearted person? A truth-telling person? An emissary of love in the world? A devoted servant to the highest good of the world? Say it.
Pausing, noticing, and stating the facts about what’s good in your life is like hitting the save button. It programs your mind to continue to spot the good stuff. It reconfigures you for peace.
And stating the facts during fearful times is like becoming a warrior with a razor sharp sword. With your loving fierceness, you cut through the collective illusions and emotional fog, reminding yourself and others,
We didn’t jump into the world just so we could cower from life. The truth is bigger (and better) than the story we’re telling each other.
3) Get connected to the elements. Spend time in nature, ideally including some direct contact of skin to earth and natural bodies of water. Some people with anxiety also report that they feel much better with sun exposure. Others feel a benefit from sitting in front of a fire or even several candles. Besides helping to realign you with the rhythm of the natural world, it’s also a nice break from your electronic devices and media.
4) Establish a daily routine and stick to it. Predictability helps stabilize a wayward mind and helps the body get into a consistent rhythm. This means setting a regular bedtime and wake time, having meals at the same time each day, exercising on a regular basis at the same time, meditating at the same time, bathing at the same time, etc. Of course, your routine shouldn’t be strict in a way that generates stress if you stray from it – it’s something you do out of kindness for yourself.
5) Love actively. There’s no use in trying to obliterate fear. That would be like trying to destroy the sound of ‘middle C’ on a piano. Fear is a frequency of energy. No matter how you train yourself to cut it out of your life, you can always call it up again. Instead, focus on the love beneath.
What do you
love that your mind tells you is threatened? Give your attention to loving what you love instead. Love is so much stronger and bigger than fear, and unlike fear, love is a unifying and creative force. If you’re out of practice, find the things that are easiest to love, like kittens and donuts, and feel the love opening your heart. Then practice expanding that love to envelop yourself, your neighbor, your houseplants . . . and your fear. Then go bigger.
All along, keep opening your heart. Just imagine it opening like a golden ring in the center of your chest. Learn to feel when it closes, and patiently open it again and again and again.
Love will prevail. Always.
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => The Antidote for Fear that May Surprise You
[post_excerpt] =>
[post_status] => publish
[comment_status] => open
[ping_status] => open
[post_password] =>
[post_name] => the-antidote-for-fear-that-may-surprise-you
[to_ping] =>
[pinged] =>
[post_modified] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_modified_gmt] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_content_filtered] =>
[post_parent] => 0
[guid] => http://thedragontree.com/?p=7855
[menu_order] => 0
[post_type] => post
[post_mime_type] =>
[comment_count] => 0
[filter] => raw
[webinar_id] => 0
)
[1] => WP_Post Object
(
[ID] => 7112
[post_author] => 3
[post_date] => 2018-08-29 16:23:25
[post_date_gmt] => 2018-08-29 16:23:25
[post_content] =>
I once took a required course in a subtle form of bodywork called Jin Shin Do. Rather than pressing, kneading, or stroking, the practitioner simply rests her fingers on specific combinations of acupuncture points and intends for healing to occur. During the first few classes, I thought, “I have all these other healing tools. Why would I waste my time on this? Who can even tell if anything is happening?!”
Yet, I was pleasantly surprised. This class gave me an appreciation for the power of subtlety in medicine. I now believe that subtle healing techniques often succeed where others fail, because there’s less potential for the recipient’s mind or body to object to the intervention, less potential to exacerbate an existing condition, plus an opportunity to “slip under the radar” and initiate a deeper healing.
Frequently, the professor broke us into pairs – a giver and a receiver – to try experiments. And there was one experiment that I’ll never forget.
While the givers’ hands rested on the receivers, she would circulate through the room whispering a variety of words into the givers’ ears. Some of the phrases I remember were, “I love you,” “You are safe,” “You are healed,” and “Everything is good.” The givers were instructed to hold each set of words in their consciousness without changing anything about what they were doing with their hands. Sometimes they were directed to think about what they were going to have for dinner or to ponder a current problem in their life. After a few minutes, both the giver and the receiver would report about what they experienced.
Nearly all the receivers, without knowing what the givers were focused on, reported feeling better when the givers were focused on a positive intention rather their own “stuff.” They weren’t always able to articulate what exactly felt better about it, but some felt more “held” by the giver, or more energy, or an alignment of their skeleton, or a reduction in pain.
There were minimal differences in the effect of the various positive intentions – except one. Everyone in the room reported that the best, most “connected” experience occurred when the giver held the phrase “I am here for you” in their mind. In fact, when the giver thought, “I am here for you,” there were sighs around the room from the receivers. Their breathing deepened and they relaxed more.
I’ve thought about this a lot in the years since. It reminds me of an anxious phase I went through as a tween. When I was 12 I had some panic attacks, and afterwards I always wanted one of my parents to be near me. That need for physical proximity eventually passed – I actually preferred to be alone much of the time – but as I got clearer about it, I realized that I what I really wanted was to know that someone would be available to give me their full presence if I ever needed it. (Kind of like the ease that comes from having a Xanax in your pocket, even if you never take it.)
This realization eventually led to the understanding that attention is an exceedingly valuable thing. We all know that “time is money” because there’s a finite amount of it in the workday. But attention (or presence) is even more precious. How often do you feel that you have someone’s complete, undivided attention?
Back in my angsty tweens and teens – before the Internet, and when it used to cost a lot to make a long-distance phone call – if there wasn’t someone nearby, it might be difficult or expensive to find a human connection. Today, it’s much easier and cheaper. We can Skype or Facetime with someone on the other side of the planet for free! We’ve made great gains in bridging distance with technology.
And yet, it seems even more uncommon to find someone who can give you their presence in a sustained way. Based on my conversations with patients, people feel busier and more distracted than a few decades ago. We have shorter attention spans and less ability to focus. (I believe the phenomenon I’ve dubbed the Human Data Stream – that massive flow of information in the form of texts, calls, videos, social media, emails, etc., and the devices that transmit it – is largely to blame.) You could be sitting across the table from someone, engaged in a conversation, and still feel that they’re not really “here for you.”
HERE. FOR. YOU.
Think about what it means to really be present for someone you care about. As in, I offer you my total presence. And consider how good it would feel if you could allow yourself to fully trust and relax in the presence of a loved one who’s holding the space for you. What a gift! I encourage all of us to practice offering our presence to others – setting aside our personal agendas and giving our full attention to the one in front of us.
Now, there’s a little more to the story. So, I realized that I didn’t need someone always holding my hand, but I wanted to know I had a support system in my family and community. I gathered folks who would be here for me if I needed it (and I for them). And I will always prioritize family and community for the rest of my life.
However, I came to understand that even that level of support was still external in a way. I don’t mean to diminish its value, but I recognized that there was a deeper or closer trust available, a closer presence, that wouldn’t require calling a friend.
I saw that I rarely offered myself my own total presence, choosing instead, almost incessantly, to give my attention to my mind’s constant stream of thoughts. I saw that I rarely told myself, I AM HERE FOR YOU! (By “I” in this phrase, I mean my Authentic Self, my Divine Self, my Absolute Self, or what many people simply call a Oneness with God.) It’s at once tragic and glorious to recognize this self-deprivation.
Sometimes I have difficulty remembering it or accessing it, but I know it’s always there. That is, I am always here. And, because you and I are one, I am always here for you, and you are always here for me. Let’s remember together, and dispel the illusions of separation that cloud our vision.
Be well my friend,
Peter
[post_title] => I M Here 4 U
[post_excerpt] =>
[post_status] => publish
[comment_status] => open
[ping_status] => open
[post_password] =>
[post_name] => m-4-u
[to_ping] =>
[pinged] =>
[post_modified] => 2019-06-17 22:42:40
[post_modified_gmt] => 2019-06-17 22:42:40
[post_content_filtered] =>
[post_parent] => 0
[guid] => http://thedragontree.com/?p=7112
[menu_order] => 0
[post_type] => post
[post_mime_type] =>
[comment_count] => 18
[filter] => raw
[webinar_id] => 0
)
[2] => WP_Post Object
(
[ID] => 6801
[post_author] => 3
[post_date] => 2017-11-07 19:01:47
[post_date_gmt] => 2017-11-07 19:01:47
[post_content] =>
When I was a teenager, I invested $400 in 20 years of anger and a big, hard, life-changing lesson. I had seen this guy around – a friend of a friend named Justin – carrying the exact model of guitar that I wanted, and there was a rumor that he was looking to sell it. I tracked him down in a parking lot by the beach where high schoolers hung out on summer nights.
He was among a group of kids smoking cigarettes on a Mexican blanket in the back of a van. As I approached them, he nodded at me in recognition, and I asked him about the guitar. He said he had paid $800 for the instrument but was willing to let it go for half of that because he needed money fast. So fast, in fact, that he wanted me to pay him for it on the spot even though he didn’t have the guitar with him. That way, he explained, he would know I was serious about it and he wouldn’t sell it to another guy that he had already promised it to. I went home and returned with my money, which I handed over, and he agreed to meet me at a coffee shop the next morning with the guitar.
Only, as you can probably guess, he didn’t show up.
I found out where he lived and went to his house. He answered the door flanked by a large, red-faced man several years older than us who looked twitchy, and had scabs on his knuckles. I asked for the guitar.
“What guitar?” Justin replied. “Are you talking about my cousin’s guitar?”
“Yeah,” the man asked, “are you talking about my guitar?” and he pointed to the guitar, which lay on a dirty couch behind them.
“Well it’s my guitar actually,” I stated, trying to sound tougher than I felt. “I paid Justin 400 bucks for it yesterday.”
“Why would you make up a story like that?” his cousin challenged, sneering to reveal a mouthful of broken teeth. “He can’t sell my guitar. Can you, Justin?”
“Nope,” said Justin. “I barely know this loser.”
“Did this little boy give you 400 bucks?” Cousin asked.
“Of course not. Cuz then I’d have 400 bucks. But I’m broke, see?” and he pulled out his wallet and opened it to show that it was empty.
“Well then,” said Cousin, turning back to me, “it looks like you just came here to try to cheat us and that’s not very nice.”
“You’re the ones who are cheating me!” I countered, but my instincts were telling me that no good would come out of pushing this.
“Is this little boy threatening us at our own house, Justin?” Cousin asked.
“It kinda sounds like it,” Justin replied. “It kinda sounds like he wants to fight.” The two of them edged toward me.
“I don’t want to fight,” I said, “I just want the guitar that I paid for.”
“If you don’t want trouble,” said Cousin, “then get off our porch and don’t show your face around here again.”
So I left.
At that age, in that time and place, I believed that getting an adult involved – even one with a badge – simply wasn’t an option. Not solving your own problems was looked down upon, and there was no real escape from retribution for squealing in a small town. No, the only way to manage such an issue was to beat someone up. My guy friends said things like, “You need to go back over there and pound the money out of him!” But I was a skinny pacifist and Justin and his cousin were the burly sons of lobstermen. I suggested that maybe a whole gang of us could visit Justin’s house, but my friends sheepishly declined, murmuring things like, “I don’t have any beef with him . . .”
I only encountered Justin once more in person. I ran into him at a restaurant a few months later, where he was sitting at a table with his friends (no Cousin, luckily). I walked over to him and said, “You still owe me 400 bucks.”
“Yeah?” he replied, “Get in line. I owe money to a lot of people.” And at this he shrugged and looked to his friends who all laughed and started yelling out how much he owed them.
I wish I could say that was the end of it, but I had hundreds – no, thousands – of encounters with him in my mind during and after this time. The incident generated many negative conclusions: that I was an idiot, that people are bad and untrustworthy, that I was weak, that Boston is full of thugs, that I wasn’t manly, that I couldn’t count on my friends, and so on. I had daydreams in which I would imagine myself destroying his life, or going back with a gun or a knife and getting my money, or stealing the guitar.
Sometimes I would forget about the whole thing for a month or six months or a year, but whenever I remembered it again I still felt upset.
It was many years before I entertained the idea of forgiveness. I didn’t like him and I didn’t want to give him anything he didn’t deserve, but I was beginning to get a sense of just how much my own resentment had poisoned me. So I tried it. I said to myself, “I forgive Justin for stealing my money,” and I felt a little relieved.
But shortly thereafter, I caught myself replaying the story and feeling angry. I hadn’t let it go. I was frustrated. I forgave him again. And then I caught myself again. And I repeated this cycle a few more times before a deeper understanding began to dawn on me.
First, I decided that it would be worth $400 to really let this go. So I reframed it – I decided I was letting him have the $400 willingly so that I could just be done with this. I hoped that if I could convince myself that I was choosing this, there would be nothing to resent.
Unfortunately, this strategy wasn’t enough to help me get over the whole thing, but there was value in being rational about the various costs and payoffs involved. I was getting nothing but pain for my $400 as long as I held onto my story. And, Briana once reminded me, if I had taken on those guys: “You would have been paying four hundred dollars to get your butt kicked.”
Second, I discovered that forgiveness is almost always a many-layered process and constitutes more work than we tend to expect. In my case, I had some anger about having gotten ripped off, but I was gradually getting to a place where $400 wasn’t that much money. The actual theft wasn’t the biggest thing. More bothersome was the sense that my instincts were wrong, that I was helpless, that I was a wimp, and especially that I should have done something differently.
I looked long and hard at all of this, and it took me on a deeper journey into my psyche that revealed that these thoughts all had deeper roots. There was a certain mistrust for the world that was important to recognize, but more importantly, a mistrust of myself, and lots of self-blame. I systematically unearthed everything I found and forgave it all.
Third, I realized that true forgiveness is not a single act, but a commitment. I’ve written about this idea in several articles and books, but never before told the story that led me to it. Until I had this revelation, I believed that a proper act of forgiveness should last forever and the resentment should never come back. Thus, I had also some self-blame around not having forgiven correctly, since it wasn’t sticking.
Then I learned that the “correct” way to forgive is to make an agreement with myself that I am going to forgive over and over, as many times as it takes. It’s also an agreement to be mindful enough to notice when I’ve picked up my resentment again, to stop indulging in it, and let it go once more.
So, in the end, perhaps $400 was a bargain for the insights I finally got.
What have you invested in (whether with dollars, energy, time, or some other commodity) that has thus far yielded only pain? Is it possible to reframe it such that you offer to willingly give what has already been given – in exchange for growth, insight, and freedom?
Where is forgiveness in order? Besides the most obvious object of forgiveness, what sub-resentments exist? (It’s worth getting a pen and paper for this, since it might be a long list.) Are you willing to make a lifelong commitment to forgive and thus be freed from a story that has kept you enslaved? It’s heroism, truly.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => I Got My Butt Kicked for Only $400
[post_excerpt] =>
[post_status] => publish
[comment_status] => open
[ping_status] => open
[post_password] =>
[post_name] => forgiveness
[to_ping] =>
[pinged] =>
[post_modified] => 2020-08-03 17:34:12
[post_modified_gmt] => 2020-08-03 17:34:12
[post_content_filtered] =>
[post_parent] => 0
[guid] => http://www.thedragontree.com/?p=6801
[menu_order] => 0
[post_type] => post
[post_mime_type] =>
[comment_count] => 21
[filter] => raw
[webinar_id] => 0
)
)
[post_count] => 3
[current_post] => -1
[before_loop] => 1
[in_the_loop] =>
[post] => WP_Post Object
(
[ID] => 7855
[post_author] => 3
[post_date] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_date_gmt] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_content] =>
What do you like about your anxiety?
This is a question I’ve asked many of my patients. Unsurprisingly, almost everyone’s initial response is “nothing.” But over time (especially in people who are determined to get the most out of their unpleasant experiences) I’ve seen anxiety become a gift that re-orients people in a profound way.
I’ve learned many strategies for managing anxiety directly, some of which I shared in my
last article. They can really help. However, my greatest intention isn’t merely that we can effectively manage anxiety when it arises, but that our basic orientation is to be attuned to what’s good, what’s working, and what we
love about life.
So this time I’m going to share self-care practices to guide you back to the love beneath that fear.
It’s true that fear isn’t usually a
healthy expression of love, but sometimes it is – like when love spurs fear in a parent and they rush into harm’s way to save a child. Most of the time we’re afraid, though, the underlying love is so contorted by the mind that it doesn’t feel like love at all. It just feels nasty and horrible, and we get into a vicious circle whereby the feeling prompts fearful thoughts and the thoughts heighten the feelings, and so on.
But deeper than all of that craziness, we love life, we love ourselves, and we love others. I would like to invite you this week to bring your anxious feelings back to the loving point of their origin.
1) Practice good posture. Having a straight spine automatically helps you to breathe more fully. It also has a subtle effect on your mood. It’s easier to feel threatened, weak, or like a victim when you’re slouching; conversely, when you sit or stand tall, with a straight spine, you’ll naturally feel clearer and more confident.
2) State the facts (in the morning and always). What you do in the morning affects your whole day, so start with a brief and enthusiastic session of truth telling. What is good right now? Are you alive? Are you breathing? Did the sun rise again? Do you have enough to eat? Say it.
Who do you choose to be today? A light-hearted person? A truth-telling person? An emissary of love in the world? A devoted servant to the highest good of the world? Say it.
Pausing, noticing, and stating the facts about what’s good in your life is like hitting the save button. It programs your mind to continue to spot the good stuff. It reconfigures you for peace.
And stating the facts during fearful times is like becoming a warrior with a razor sharp sword. With your loving fierceness, you cut through the collective illusions and emotional fog, reminding yourself and others,
We didn’t jump into the world just so we could cower from life. The truth is bigger (and better) than the story we’re telling each other.
3) Get connected to the elements. Spend time in nature, ideally including some direct contact of skin to earth and natural bodies of water. Some people with anxiety also report that they feel much better with sun exposure. Others feel a benefit from sitting in front of a fire or even several candles. Besides helping to realign you with the rhythm of the natural world, it’s also a nice break from your electronic devices and media.
4) Establish a daily routine and stick to it. Predictability helps stabilize a wayward mind and helps the body get into a consistent rhythm. This means setting a regular bedtime and wake time, having meals at the same time each day, exercising on a regular basis at the same time, meditating at the same time, bathing at the same time, etc. Of course, your routine shouldn’t be strict in a way that generates stress if you stray from it – it’s something you do out of kindness for yourself.
5) Love actively. There’s no use in trying to obliterate fear. That would be like trying to destroy the sound of ‘middle C’ on a piano. Fear is a frequency of energy. No matter how you train yourself to cut it out of your life, you can always call it up again. Instead, focus on the love beneath.
What do you
love that your mind tells you is threatened? Give your attention to loving what you love instead. Love is so much stronger and bigger than fear, and unlike fear, love is a unifying and creative force. If you’re out of practice, find the things that are easiest to love, like kittens and donuts, and feel the love opening your heart. Then practice expanding that love to envelop yourself, your neighbor, your houseplants . . . and your fear. Then go bigger.
All along, keep opening your heart. Just imagine it opening like a golden ring in the center of your chest. Learn to feel when it closes, and patiently open it again and again and again.
Love will prevail. Always.
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => The Antidote for Fear that May Surprise You
[post_excerpt] =>
[post_status] => publish
[comment_status] => open
[ping_status] => open
[post_password] =>
[post_name] => the-antidote-for-fear-that-may-surprise-you
[to_ping] =>
[pinged] =>
[post_modified] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_modified_gmt] => 2020-04-15 20:02:17
[post_content_filtered] =>
[post_parent] => 0
[guid] => http://thedragontree.com/?p=7855
[menu_order] => 0
[post_type] => post
[post_mime_type] =>
[comment_count] => 0
[filter] => raw
[webinar_id] => 0
)
[comment_count] => 0
[current_comment] => -1
[found_posts] => 185
[max_num_pages] => 4
[max_num_comment_pages] => 0
[is_single] =>
[is_preview] =>
[is_page] =>
[is_archive] => 1
[is_date] =>
[is_year] =>
[is_month] =>
[is_day] =>
[is_time] =>
[is_author] =>
[is_category] => 1
[is_tag] =>
[is_tax] =>
[is_search] =>
[is_feed] =>
[is_comment_feed] =>
[is_trackback] =>
[is_home] =>
[is_privacy_policy] =>
[is_404] =>
[is_embed] =>
[is_paged] =>
[is_admin] =>
[is_attachment] =>
[is_singular] =>
[is_robots] =>
[is_favicon] =>
[is_posts_page] =>
[is_post_type_archive] =>
[query_vars_hash:WP_Query:private] => 01ef0ccbc2f3c02253728bd81815b83a
[query_vars_changed:WP_Query:private] =>
[thumbnails_cached] =>
[allow_query_attachment_by_filename:protected] =>
[stopwords:WP_Query:private] =>
[compat_fields:WP_Query:private] => Array
(
[0] => query_vars_hash
[1] => query_vars_changed
)
[compat_methods:WP_Query:private] => Array
(
[0] => init_query_flags
[1] => parse_tax_query
)
)