See Yourself and Be Seen

After that fantastic, maddening passionate last ramble about my affair with myself and my senses, I feel that it is only fair that I share with you my wanderings through the caves and shadows as well -those dark places deserve to be acknowledged with full acceptance as much as the ecstasy of Eden.

But first, a little sweetness (to draw you in, obviously). Really, I'm just starting backwards. What happened is that I went through the agony of self-reflection (below) and then enjoyed the blossom of love, captured in a moment. It's not love-love, like the kind that scares people away or binds souls together till death-do-them-part, or even till break-up-do-them-part. It's the eternal moment. A moment of love that does not demand more than what it is, but is just as worthy of the word. So, a love-moment, as I will honestly and unconventionally call it. Love is to be seen and accepted and embraced exactly as you are, right now, in this moment. That happens only once you've seen all that in yourself first. Which sometimes means you must walk through the cold valleys, guarded by your own demons before you can find yourself once again.

It is not always easy to love oneself and this was felt most acutely about 5 pm this afternoon, on the brink of evaluation as this inner city health rotation draws to a close. Sometimes it is excrutiatingly painful and exceedingly difficult. Especially when the candlelight, pretty sights, delicious scents and delectable food lose a bit of their shimmer and novelty. What about afterwards. After gaining some weight, after being way overdue for some aesthetic TLC, after nights of restless sleep, fatigue and too much passion. What happens when we hit the metaphorical hang-over? When your spirit feels stretched and busted up because you weigh it down with all those unreasonable expectations of yourself.

Case in point: this writer is a genuinely happy person, who gives of herself, loves with all her heart and works very hard, but as any human being, will lose her temper, have moments of insecurity and immaturity, frustration and despair. Now, this is part of life and the human experience. She rationally acknowledges and even accepts this. Yet the emotional being is torn to pieces, swept up in an emotional tornado of anger and guilt and general hostility that predictably rains down time and again because she failed to meet her self-expectations of perfection, and that is absolutely, unrefutably unforgivable. And that little voice of super-ego (or is it just ego) whispers in a slithery voice, not unlike Gollum's, "This is what you deserve, precious. You are unworthy, you are unlovable, you barely deserve to live".

This is the protypical inner voice of the perfectionist. Just ask her; just ask any of them. Anything good is due to chance and happy coincidence -the stuff of miracles, you know. And anything bad is so totally, utterly, completely and solely our fault. Some of us realize that we make a cognitive error here (or we have Eckhart Tolle beating down Gollum with a philosopher's quill), so we don't slip into these midnight labyrinths of self-loathing as often -that insight is a blessing. But every now and then, Gollum (who, if you remember well, took over 1000 pages and a freakin' war in order to die in the fires of Mount Doom) pipes up: hello, precious. And, of course, he'll only kick you when you're already down. Not when you're feeling strong and sexy and empowered. That is the nature of the beast.

So what to do about it? Harm reduction, baby. Or risk management. Whatever you want to call it. Prepare yourself to still love yourself when you're beat up and crashed up and no amount of sensual pleasure can ellicit that solid soulful contentment you once perceived as an unflickering light, even to the point where you know that all you need to do is take a breath, meditate and pray, but Gollum's slippery words keep even these out of your reach. You're falling down the rabbit hole. So what to do?

Free fall. There are no miracles and there are no faults. It just is. E=mc2. Everything is matter and energy, which know no judgment, so maybe just withold your own for a moment. We do not learn from mistakes -the word 'mistake' is the most negative judgment we can place on ourselves, us perfectionists. Learn from experience. Try not to beat yourself up for the fact that you don't already know everything (what an absurd concept! but try to not judge even that ;). Now here is the scariest part, right: how the heck can we achieve any of our goals and be happy if we don't continue to engage in this vicious cycle of essentially vicious behaviour towards ourselves, which we have always done, our whole lives? Oh, Gollum, just shut it.

This is when we just have to call it quits, lock ourselves up in a big glass cube with a beach view and a mountain view and a rolling countryside and a starry sky, with nothing but blank sheets of parchment and a quill. Or a laptop in a cozy Starbucks (same difference). And just write and write until your soul oozes out of your pores, purified clean, unscathed by the darkness and drama, filth and passion. And then sunlight all around and within. At last you are once again in a place of unshirkable, solid wholeness. It feels good. Why would I do anything but write until my last breath on this Earth.

And that's when a deep voice, full of comfort, friendship and sincerity, in that eternal, caressing love-moment said, "You are always in a good mood -happy. You say what you think; you are candid. You are original. You are not afraid to be yourself. You are very romantic and passionate. You love deeply [and of course, you are smart and beautiful too]" Essentially, what's not to love? And I recognized myself fully, in those words.

That's right, Gollum. Suck it.