Ugh. Maybe I'll just put my toe in the water. But while standing at the edge of the deep waters, I was pulled in. And I can see where this Summer of Self-Love is going to take me. To the places where I don't love myself well.
What did I expect? Really.
A good friend tells me I always walk into things so guilelessly and end up being so surprised when they bite me. It's something we laugh about together. Thank goodness for friends you can laugh with.
Anyway, don't ask the Universe for help and then be surprised when it comes in interesting life lessons.
So yesterday I published the first post of this daily discipline of writing and it was beautiful. Except for the pesky extra space between the picture and the text, which I thought would be a simple enough thing to fix. I'd already posted it and did not like the look of it when I went in and read the published version. It was just a tiny little thing, but it really bugged me. So I went in to edit. All I did was take out a space. I went back and viewed the blog and it had transformed into the ugly blog. Three different fonts. Two different font sizes. How the heck did that happen?
That's right. Went in to fix it. Over and over again.
Made it worse. Each time. If such a thing could be possible.
It was possible. A great many things are possible.
Well, I laughed at myself when my alarm went off. The one that told me it was time to leave to go meet my son. There was no fixing the thing now. It would have to wait. And no chance it would not be seen. It was published. I'd sent it to two friends and put the link in a group I facilitate for people who've taken one of my workshops.
I was outed. Imperfect. Yep. That's me.
There was a time when such a public confession would have thrown me into crisis. It opens up a lot of things for me, imperfection. I've been struggling with not being perfect all my life. I have this strange notion that everyone expects me to be perfect. It's not true, of course. But there's a pesky little voice in my head that reminds me almost moment by moment that I am not. I probably picked it up in childhood. It really doesn't matter. It's here and needs to be taken in hand. Befriended. Healed. Transformed.
Shadow energies come up when they want to be healed, and they want us to pay attention because they really do want the best for us and represent the best within us. Our strengths, the things that make us powerful. Our beauty.
Like this pesky perfection gremlin. She really is not about perfection after all, but about excellence.
Excellence and perfection are not the same things. First of all, excellence is attainable and perfection is not. Perfection is an illusion. Excellence is a true expression of our efforts and our manifestations. Perfection is also a clue that we are way too worried about what other people think of us. If perfection is a pesky little gremlin in my inner cast of characters, what-others-think is the monster under the bed. That darn beast whispers to me in the dark almost constantly. Something else I picked up in childhood, no doubt, but this one needs immediate banishing. When we give this one power, our life no longer belongs to us.
Hmmm...how did I manage to stumble into that?
Well, perfection and what-others-think usually walk hand-in-hand in us. And I have to say, that in my next production, these two do not make the cast. Not even in a supporting role. Not even in the chorus. And not as extras. I don't want to see them on the stage at all. Instead, I will let them sit in the theater and watch what I create without their constant yammering and efforts to direct, produce, and star in my show.
It's the loving thing to do. For me, that is. I trust that they will learn something and come into balance. Transform into energies that can be truly helpful to me and to my path.
I had a great time with my son yesterday. We did not see Solo after all, but had lunch at a funky place in Philadelphia and talked. A shout out to Honey's Sit 'N' Eat on 21st Street. (There's also one in Northern Liberties. We've been there too.) Take cash if you go. There's an ATM there if you forget. By the way, my son pointed out that, contrary to what I blogged yesterday, a whole half year has not gone by, but there's another month until we get there. There she is again. Imperfect me. And that's just fine. I feel like I am ahead of the game.
The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey? Most of them usually are.
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