There is room in me to grow.
I don’t like to opening admit this because it is not something I like to acknowledge. I would like to believe that my dance card is full. I have no room. I can’t do anything new or interesting. I am full with mediocrity. Can’t take another bite of life.
But, we know this is a lie.
I am an extremely talented liar. I can lie to myself without even flinching. I have gotten so good at this I do not even know what the truth is anymore. How sad. I may portray myself as a saint of integrity and honour. But again, another lie. I told you I was good.
So, how does one access this sacred space of “yet to be me”?
I am not sure. Now, that is true. We are all so busy with being busy we can’t figure out how to trick ourselves into opening up.
It’s like we just keep putting rubbish in our bin of life until it spills onto the floor. We secretly worry or even get visibly anxious. But, we could simply just sort the recycling here and take the rest to curb. Busyness is as addictive as sugar or crack. We are addicted to being important and thereby too busy to focus on self-worth.
There is a divine flame in me that no human can extinguish. But there are times when it is hidden so far down below the drudgery of life, that I don’t know how it all doesn’t burn to the ground.
I like to think I am generous but the truth is I am very stingy with myself. In fact, I am downright mean much of the time. I spend hours building up people. Complimenting strangers even but not a kind word muttered to myself. How is this fair? It is not. It is again a lie I tell myself. “You can’t do that.” “You Don’t have time.” “You used to look better.”
It goes on and on and why I don’t take that rubbish to the curb, I don’t know.
The hard way has been a life path. I am guilty of being unable to help myself the beauty and meaning I may bring to a world too demanding to care.
There are days when I feel so inspired and I somehow see the light in bands of gold and bronze with sprinklings of pink, like a sunrise of my potential. I awaken to myself.
These are one of those days. I give great gratitude to God for reaching me beyond the noise I put between us.
On days like today I not only feel that all my suffering has carved me like a statue into something more than I was. I feel fully and I am able to have a deep appreciation for the simply joy of small things. Peeling a tangerine. Lighting a candle. Walking the dog. Writing a sentence.
Falling deeply in love with life again, I chose me. I don’t just tolerate her, I embrace her. All the wounds of the past betrayals or disappointments melt away into nothingness setting me free to roam in to becoming.
I invite you to silence the noisy inner voices chattering on like a broken record about nonsense. I ask you to to come home to your real self and open your arms, letting her rest her weary head on your shoulder.
Hold her close. Adore her. Stroke her hair. Whisper kind words of comforts.
Let that be the only you that you know anymore. Let the divine flame not only flicker but be fanned by your inner love and self-awareness.
No one gives us this, but if we let them, they will keep us from it. And that’s no lie.
Imagine this if you can. You are seated around a table with a most glorious spread in front of you. It's so elegant and lovely you don't really want to touch anything. At the table, there are seated other versions of your former self. You as a child, you as a teenager, you as a 20 year old, you before Covid 19 ...you get the picture. Then there is you now and next to you a seat that is empty for who you are becoming. She's not here yet. She won't be showing up for awhile. She is in transit.
When I am most honest (which I hope is always) I have to admit that the past few years have really thrown me off. Not in one way but in many ways. I no longer really know exactly who I am or what I like or even what I don't like. What I do know is that the world has changed and also it has not changed. The great hope I had the COVID 19 would somehow make us all better people is starting to feel like a ruse. I was naive in my hopes for the world but that is not unusual.
At this table with the many versions of you, what would you talk about? What would you say? How would you address each other? With fondness? I hope so. It would be ideal if you could greet your former selves with love and appreciation. We haven't had it easy, have we? We could argue that many other people have had it a lot worse. But, that is not the point. The point of this is - how are you doing? Really? Not that best case scenario you put on for the world, but the real you. The one making room for the new self to arrive.
I wonder if we can really make room for her? Can we see that she won't come until we make a space for her to come in. Is it possible for us to see that we need to invite who we are becoming to the banquet of our life. Let's give this experiment a try. Who will she be? How will she look and feel about the world? What does she care about most?
As we live our lives, how would it be to engage our imagination instead of our worry? How can we give our very best to ourselves now in this moment? Appreciating our selves at every stage may be a good starting point. Realising that the rest of our story is still yet unwritten may be another important point. Whatever you are seeking is seeking you. This is what the ancient poets taught us. Can we believe it? Now may be the time to truly embrace this.