“The summit of happiness is reached when a person is ready to be what he is.” ― Desiderius Erasmus
So true! But not easy. Can I know when I’m being who I really am? Maybe I’m performing a role that society and culture handed me when I was born. Perhaps trauma activated habitual behaviors and beliefs that I now call truth and reality.
I relish following the Greek aphorism “know-thyself.” Being a searcher and a learner. This inclination is likely a part of who I am. But so are the bits thrust upon me at birth. As are the coping mechanisms in my toolbox; both good and bad. This is my lifetime to untangle the bits, take what I value and discard the rest.
This determination is highly subjective. So, I keep untangling the bits, evaluating my toolbox. What IS of value to me? What stays and what goes? Can I do this? Do I want to?
Being on the precipice of change is scary. And far too easy to fall back into the comfort I know. Even when it’s no comfort at all.
I want to be ready. I want to know who I am. Reaching “the summit of happiness” sounds awesome.
Today – I’m ready to be ready to be ready. For now, that’s enough.
Too many times I prayed for patience. One day it dawned on me that this prayer might create situations where practicing acceptance is mandatory. So, I quit that prayer.
Along the way I learned that patience is a strength. A strength found in everyday living. The commencement speech by David Foster Wallace, “This is Water” reminds me that my day-in/ day-out life routine is where I get to choose. This is where I “decide what has meaning and what doesn’t.”
Then there’s days I know something’s about to go down; I’m on the verge . . . it’s a potent sensation. But what that some something is – haven’t a clue. That’s disconcerting.
When I allow myself to be still and sit in the discomfort of not knowing, that sense might shift to an awareness that it’s done. It’s here; complete. Inexplicably, that enigmatic imprint is amplified.
But everything is different.
Now I sit back and watch the unfolding.
“The two hardest tests on the spiritual road are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter.” ― Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die
Traveling is a siren call for me. Exploring places outside my element is appealing and enlightening. It shows me that my sliver of the world is microscopic in the grand scheme.
Privilege and limitations become obvious when I step outside my comfort zone. The appreciation I feel walking out in the great wide world runs deep. Yet not knowing the local language, verbal or written, reminds me to be patient and persistent. And willing to be awkward.
My husband and I visited Vienna and Budapest – without a detailed plan. Our agenda was spontaneous within a basic outline. We knew where we were staying, when and how we’d get there. But our excursions were in the moment. We asked for help along the way. And found it from our hotel concierge, locals, other tourists – and serendipity. It was an adventure and a challenge. A moment in time to remember.
And true to form, coming home is sweet satisfaction.
“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” – Gustave Flaubert
Its mind blowing, crazy how hard it is to let shit go. Knowing that this turbulence is baked into my neurobiology, helps me see on some level, that the struggle is partially organic.
This truth can be an excuse or a dare. Making a decision to reprogram my brain – or not; depends on my perceptions. This viewpoint is entangled with the same synaptic bugaboos plus an environmental luck of the draw. Granting myself grace on this journey helps me be patient with the process.
It’s tricky to know when I’m unconsciously holding onto some something. However, my situation – my body – my dreams send messages. Being open to hear the lesson, to make space for awareness so the unconscious becomes conscious is a gift to my spirit.
. . The subway door closed quickly after I slipped out, but before my companions could make it. They ran backwards to push the open button; I impulsively jabbed my hand into the gap to pop it open again. That didn’t work, and I watched as my hand was dragged away.
. . . and then I woke up. Dreams!
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Dreams; are they messages from the unconscious? Do they have meaning? Maybe. I’m not one to naturally remember my dreams. This one was a random rare exception. Sharing it with a friend yielded the “let go or be dragged” mantra.
Missives that resonate deeply call for contemplation and reflection. Sometimes insight can be elusive.
When I don’t know but I want to; I reflect on the Serenity Prayer for direction.
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
Do I have any control over – whatever? No? Then acknowledgment and tolerance are appropriate. If yes, then what can I do to effect change? Guts and grit are helpful here.
Knowing the difference? – there’s no rushing that. Have to sit with it – for who knows how long. Experience tells me I tend to stir the pot and get into mischief, often without considering the consequences. Sheer orneriness or some darn synapse?
When I take my time and listen to that still quiet voice, the ideas that come are helpful. This knowing generally consists of small; one-degree turns in a healthy, positive direction. Wisdom is following these next right steps – wherever they may lead.
“To experience more synchronicity and ‘coincidences’ we need to listen and be aware of the world around us and also our intuition.
That’s how the universe speaks to itself, it’s an ongoing flow of information that comes from both the outside and from within.
Pay attention to how the universe speaks to you today and participate in the flow by being attentive and by listening to your inner voice.”
Self-Care is vital, yet often one of the first things out the window. Too much to do. Or so I tell myself. Buying the tall tale fed to me since birth. This, that and the other is my responsibility. Rebel and suffer the consequences. Real and imagined.
Check that box, get the degree, marry that guy. Make the money – keep up with the Kardashians. All worthy goals – if it’s what you REALLY want. What if I don’t?
Stepping off the treadmill and doing for me, opens the door to self-reflection. Knowing who I am and what I want is the most caring thing I can do for myself. This requires I recognize and accept my good and bad.
Depending on my story, this is a relaxed ramble, or a dreadful descent. Being dragged through a hedge backwards accurately describes a few of my outings. Didn’t level me, but it hurt. I got scars.
Witnessing my shadow self is uncomfortable. It requires I confront the bits that don’t want to be a Kardashian. That reveal I’m different; not weird, not wrong or deficient. Just not what’s expected by society.
Defense mechanisms like denial, projection and repression let me keep the support and admiration of my community. But the cost can be acute. Feelings of guilt and shame for alleged derelictions of duty are persuasive. Yet, when I disregard my wants and desires, anger and resentment will show up somewhere.
“Today near eventime I did lead The girl who has no seeing A little way into the forest Where it was darkness and shadows were. I led her toward a shadow That was coming our way. It did touch her cheeks With its velvety fingers. And now she too Does have likings for shadows And her fear that was is gone.”
Self-care feels good. It’s not selfish, but an abundant doorway to discovery. When I face my shadows, own my projections and accept my truth, I’m content – and one step closer to empowerment.
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves
