I didn’t write this post for… me.
It was for you, to show you that every damn inch of you deserves love from yourself, even if “society”, the media, your co-worker or friend or parent or sibling or cousin or even partner tells you otherwise. Don’t believe them.
This post is all about you.
So, tell me:
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For anyone who’s ever loved anyone in any way… this is for you.
The Man Who Didn’t Believe in Love
by don Miguel Ruiz (from The Mastery of Love)
Happy Holidays, everyone!
I hope everyone has a stress-free
(I mean, it’s meant to be enjoyable, isn’t it? so let’s all relax!)
and most of all LOVING holiday season.
The ultimate purpose of this season is giving– and
not (just) materialistic items, either, but generosity, kindness, and love.
So go spread that love!
Do something kind for a stranger,
donate to the favorite charities of those on your list
instead of buying them more “stuff” they might not want or need,
build your vocabulary and help end world hunger at the same time,
bake cookies for your neighbors… the possibilities are endless 
winter, maybe.
do you ever feel like you don’t know why you’re alive? sometimes that it wouldn’t matter if you were dead or not. a second ago you had passion for everything in existence, but now the flickers have whistled away. apathy is worse than sadness, in my opinion. anesthesia is the real depression, indifference the true disease. wishing you can’t feel pain doesn’t make pain go away, it just makes you numb to all– happiness and joy included.
when I experience a moment like this, sometimes the first thing I think is: I was supposed to be over all of this by now. I was supposed to have “healed” from whatever wispy grey of fog (or pollution?) clouded my heart once upon a time. I’m “supposed” to be happy. but that’s what I forget, that none of us really “should” be anything but ourselves. that the only thing we “should” do is let ourselves be.
when I forget why I’m still here, I force myself to remember: I’m here because of love. for love. to love.
I want to save the world. this bold statement in milder form: I want to help people. but I can’t solve every problem in the world, and though I wish I could sometimes, it just isn’t realistic.
how can I take on this task I’ve committed myself to, when I can be so scared? when I’m sometimes too afraid to call a loved one I haven’t spoken to in weeks, then forget to take responsibility when I wonder why we’ve drifted apart? when I want to speak to random people I see every day or once in a lifetime, but out of fear, chicken out and don’t?
but I have plans. I will break out. I will do what terrifies me. I am so grounded in this quicksand of comfort right now. and comfort is dangerous; it promises, of course, that we will stay safe. that it will be less likely for us to get hurt.
it also promises that we will stay in the same place for as long as we stay within the small cage we’ve built for ourselves. sure, we have some minimal room to walk around, but we’ve fenced ourselves in. it promises that it will be much more difficult to change, change for the better.
I will (re)learn how to talk to people, in real life. I will put myself in situations where I am not guaranteed immediate acceptance and lack of challenge, spoon-fed to me from people with whom I’m already quite familiar. I want to meet new people and love them in new ways.
we can discover kindred spirits, kind souls, lovers, family in those individuals least expected, each curious face we pass by as we go through our day. after all, weren’t our best friends strangers as well, once upon a time?
…in reality, we were never strangers. in our cores, we are not strangers at all– we are each a part of the bigger something that encompasses everything. we are individuals, but we are not separate. we might not always get along, but we are not as different as we think.
let’s stop fighting and hurting each other because we don’t always understand. embrace our differences and discover our similarities. accept and love ourselves and each other. talk to the person we see eating alone. recycle and respect the earth, because we all need this space to survive. step out of our usual circle and befriend unusually. give and love freely. open our hearts, our minds.
let’s stretch ourselves.
there are no limits.
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I’m a big fan of honesty now. especially since meeting and getting to know someone who’s done (what I thought was) the impossible– knowing everything about me, in complete honesty and openness and all, and still liking, even kind of adoring me– it’s become easier to be myself, nothing held back. I felt stifled by my own preconceptions, my own insecurities (a recurrent theme in people living in developed countries these days), my disbelief that people really care or want to know the truth. so I repeat phrases like “I’ll be honest: …” as if it’s something different. but it’s not different anymore– in fact, when was it ever? when did I really, truly lie?
the answer is not often (at least, not consciously). I started over in this journal because I wanted to lose everything. (there’s something about losing everything that etches, simply, life. but that’s for another day.) because I wanted to learn again. how to write, really write. to be honest but also regain that tone. a characteristic tone. “maybe none of us are not original, but that doesn’t mean we’re not meaningful.”
the difference between “honest” and “candid”. that’s what I mean by “I’ll be honest”: let’s be blunt.
here we go… read the rest of this entry »
