(no subject)

Sometimes, opening my inbox can be a scary thing. Something from Inner Journey has me alternately cringing and sighing. I'm not sure how much of this is just my mood, and how much is truth.

Human beings are unique because WE ARE SELF-CONSCIOUS. We not
only know, but we know that we know. We are thinkers. We can work
with not only our animal instinct, but also our intellect and
intuition. We are also unique because we can be conscious of our
soul influences. We can seek, grasp and experience the mysteries
of life. We can actively PARTICIPATE IN OUR OWN EVOLVEMENT, if we
so choose.

How do we evolve? By becoming more aware of who we are. THE
PURPOSE OF OUR LIVES IS TO UNCOVER OUR OWN TRUTH - to live more
and more from our authentic natural self that knows the way. For
the truth of the spiritual path is that 'who I am is always
enough.' And when we explore our own natures, we can awaken the
self-acceptance, self-love and self-expression that make it
possible to connect consciously, honestly and deeply with the
rest of life.


That was the excerpt that struck me. Both right and wrong, it seems to me today. Yes, we are self-aware (isn't that a curse sometimes, though? We're also self-doubting, self-questioning, self-sabotaging, not just self-fulfilling.) But that's just part of it, and not the greatest part. "Who I am is always enough"... what utter bullshit. If I actually believed that, what incentive would there be, to grow and change? Why should I evolve, why should I strive, if I'm never discontented with myself?

I'm not saying that I never am satisfied with who I am. Indeed, just lately I've been able to say that I like who I am, I'm proud of my growth. But that's just it, isn't it? I'm proud of having grown, from a point where I was dissatisfied and unhappy with what I was, to a point that was closer to what I wanted to be. If ever I do feel that who I am is enough, there isn't anything I can be that will make me better or happier or stronger, I won't have a reason left to live.

I'm proud. I'm stubborn. I'm kind, I'm careless, I'm awkward, I'm generous, I'm selfish, I'm jealous, I'm forgiving, I'm graceful, I'm competent, I'm strong, I'm fragile, I'm shattered, I'm a healer, I'm loving, I'm cruel, I'm tender. I'm all of that. I'll always be all of that. It's a balancing act, every single day, to make sure the good outweighs the bad, and sometimes all I can manage is to not let the bad outweigh the good by too great a margin.

Sometimes I fall into things that come too easily. Destructiveness. Self-destructiveness. Despair. Self-pity. Giddiness. Shallowness. Vindictiveness. If you're looking to catalogue my faults, you'll be kept busy. If you're looking for my strengths, though, you'll also be kept busy. Because I love, fiercely and protectively and tenderly, and for me love doesn't burn out. It fades, it gets hidden or shoved aside, but it lasts. I create. I dream. I laugh. I share. Sometimes too much, sometimes I show more than I need to and it becomes a wound both of us have to live with. But I share.

If you're looking to me to reach some stage of perfection, to reach some yardstick by which you're measuring me, then you'll wait a long time. I'll disappoint you often, I'll let you believe I've gotten there and then I'll fall short. Because my progress isn't a one-directional thing, it's more about how I get there than where I end up. Don't cage me in. Don't tell me there's only one way, because I never will be able to follow it. I've got to dance my own path, and if it takes me over thin ice sometimes, then I'll swim or drown, and the lesson will still be what's important. I'll never be satisfied with who I am... so why should anyone else?

Take me or leave me, and be glad you have the choice. Just know, the way I do, that accepting me lets you in for something rewarding, maddening, frustrating, joyful, gratifying, disappointing, fascinating. If you're not in it for the ride, then wait at your finish line; I may be there, I may not. But I'll wind up where I was meant to be, probably. So long as I'm never too satisfied with where I am at any one point along the way.

(no subject)

"You're such an inspiration for the ways
That I'll never ever choose to be "

A Perfect Circle - Judith.


... Nothing I could say could improve this.

too much introspection.

... brought on by wiredferret and the lyrics that have been playing into my ears and through my mind for hours.

o/~ When you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do? o/~

Wired says;
"I should say, "I love you" more.
Of course, it isn't that simple. Things never are. In many cases, 'I love you' is the catalyst for a long discussion and evaluation and furthermore, and this is much worse, it makes people feel compelled to say it back to you. It's like action/reaction, it's that strong. And I don't want people saying it to me unless they mean it in the way that they use love.
Because I am afraid, I wait to say it until I know how it will be received. Usually before then, it'll pop out of my mouth on some random occasion, because, of course, I have been thinking it all along."

That's so true. But there's so much more. There's also when I don't say it because it doesn't say enough; it doesn't say what I mean or enough of what I mean by it. It covers over too much, it's too strong to apply to something that needs working through. Because I'm afraid of saying it and not having it change things, I'm afraid to use what should be an emotional sledgehammer and find that the weight of it has disappeared.

Which makes it contradictory that sometimes I use it as an escape from looking further into something. Easier to say, "I love you," and have it smooth things over, than to find the words to probe and cleanse a wound. Lazy to say, "I love you," when what I mean is, "I'm tired of thinking about what's on my mind right now, and I'd like to be comforted so I can forget."

So many meanings for one small phrase. Too many meanings... how do we ever understand each other? And yet, we're convinced that we do; we think that when we hear those words that they mean just what we'd mean by them. Even though we have so many meanings for them ourselves that we never stop to catalogue.

( my catalogue. )