I celebrated my 17th anniversary of moving to California on Valentine’s Day. I’ve been more emotional than I anticipated. Not so much that I moved here, that I still live here, but that I worked so very hard to create a life that I enjoy and works for me. I left a tearful voice memo for a friend saying for the first time in my life, nothing is actively wrong, personally. Politically on the other hand. . .
I’m happy. Not in a euphoric way that’s dependent on someone or something else but in a real, scientifically backed way. It’s something I made an effort around and that’s what’s choking me up. That’s also what my anniversary represents because it was the first major decision that I made to be happier. I’m still so grateful the 23-year-old me, scared of just about everything, said, “OK, I’ll move,” without having a job, a place to live, or an extensive community. It wasn’t an easy experience moving nine times in seven months, nor watching my bank account approach zero dollars and then hit it, but boy am I grateful I moved.
A little thanks goes a long way. Photo by Daniel Andrade on Unsplash
I’m so appreciative of that young woman who didn’t give up. For continuing to try even when it would have been easy to throw in the towel. I’m grateful to her for her courage, her openness, and her willingness to go outside her comfort zone. So much happened 17 years ago and the echoes still reach me today.
Why am I writing this publicly? After all, it could have been a journal entry, a private love letter to myself, but I’m making it public because especially in tough times I wonder if you’ve expressed gratitude for your past self. Have you said, “Thank you,” to the person in the mirror?
The most enduring, constant relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself. You are the only person who is with you from birth to death. Have you said, “I’m so proud of you”? Or given yourself a high five in the mirror?
Mel Robbins (no relation to Tony Robbins), is a motivational speaker and coach. She talks about high-fiving yourself in her book The High Five Habit. During a podcast episode with Marie Forleo she said, “You’re either going to have a really positive reaction where you’re going to laugh and you’re going to smile and it’s going to be funny and corny and all this stuff, or you will burst into tears in a very positive way. This is a very, very common thing that’s happening for people. And the tears are a positive release because you are realizing emotionally how much you’ve longed for this from yourself.”
Sometimes it’s easier to praise other people, to express our gratitude and appreciation for them, but what about you? Aren’t you just as deserving of praise, gratitude, and celebration? I bet there’s something, some version of yourself, some moment, some age that you reflect on with appreciation. What do you want to say to that past self? As for me, I’m saying, “Thank you.”
I dream of a world where we appreciate ourselves for how far we’ve come. A world where we say, “Thank you for doing that,” to the person in the mirror. A world where we remember we can thank and praise ourselves because we also deserve it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In July I wrote a post called “The Dawning of a New Age” about the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. I thought Kamala would be elected and that would kickstart a progressive, egalitarian age. Pluto was set to move into Aquarius and the energy of that is, “Screw top-down hierarchy – give me bottom-up! Power to the people, baby!”
When Trump was elected, I was so confused and disappointed because his election represented a consolidation of power and the worst of Pluto in Capricorn. This isn’t the “power to the people” I was expecting! But, well, we are seeing more people becoming engaged. The Washington Post reported on February 7 that congressional phone lines have been jammed to the point of failure. A system that usually handles a few dozen calls per minute is straining to keep up with more than 1,500.
Representative Becca Balint, Democrat of Vermont, said she normally has two aides monitoring the office phones, enough to handle the handful of calls they typically receive each hour. But since Jan. 20, she has reassigned at least six additional staff members to keep up with a nonstop flood of calls. “What we usually get in a month, we got in three days,” said Sophie Pollock, a spokeswoman for Balint.
It’s us! We’re the magic wands! Photo by nine koepfer on Unsplash
For better or worse, Trump is a galvanizing figure on both sides of the political aisle. He is encouraging more people to get involved in one way or another. That’s something. And it relates to a journal entry of mine from a few weeks ago. I want a magic wand to make everything better. Or a Deux Ex Machina situation. Maybe some aliens to set us straight. Higher Power said to me, “I want there to be lasting change. I want you all to do the work to create that beautiful future you dream about.”
Ugh, no! It’s too hard! But when I accept the truth that I do want to do something, that I can’t just be a good person and enjoy my life, then I get overwhelmed. Little ole me? What can I possibly do? I need a nap every day! Sometimes I take two! How am I supposed to make any kind of difference? For that, I return to a quote by Rutger Bregman in the now-defunct publication The Correspondent:
“Our inclination – in talk shows and around dinner tables – is to choose our favorite kind of activism: We give Greta Thunberg a big thumbs up but fume at the road blockades staged by Extinction Rebellion. Or we admire the protesters of Occupy Wall Street but scorn the lobbyists who set out for Davos.
“That’s not how change works. All of these people have roles to play. Both the professor and the anarchist. The networker and the agitator. The provocateur and the peacemaker. The people who write in academic jargon and those who translate it for a wider audience. The people who lobby behind the scenes and those who are dragged away by the riot police.”
In other words, we need everyone – not only certain kinds of activists. Our actions may not make a splash, they may seem small, but they’re not insignificant. Because in order for change to happen, there are many, many roles to play. It’s not the size of the role that counts, it’s that we’re doing anything at all.
I dream of a world where we recognize there are no shortcuts. A world where we understand in order to create something progressive and egalitarian, we have to put in the work to make it happen. A world where we realize no matter the role we play, it still counts and adds up to something. A world where we recognize we are the “magic wands” we’ve been dreaming of.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Many cultures, especially in the West, treat Earth as a set piece, the stage upon which life happens. There’s nature and then there’s humanity. We’re seen as separate and dominant. But as former NASA scientist James Lovelock stated in the 70s with the Gaia Hypothesis, we are not managers of the planet, we are the planet. We are a piece of the complex, self-regulating system. For instance, plants breathe in the carbon dioxide we emit and we breathe the oxygen they expel. They need us and we need them.
When Lovelock’s hypothesis first came out it was met with derision but not so anymore. The earth system scientist Tim Lenton at the University of Exeter said he and a number of scientists “now think in terms of the coupled evolution of life and the planet, recognizing that the evolution of life has shaped the planet, changes in the planetary environment have shaped life, and together they can be viewed as one process.”
Darwin said organisms compete and adapt to environments. Only the strongest survive and all that. But now, the new perspective is organisms continuously reshape their surroundings with intricate feedback loops of transformation. Climate & Capital Media Founder Peter McKillop writes, “This isn’t environmental romanticism. It’s a scientifically grounded understanding of planetary dynamics that demands a complete reimagining of our economic, technological, and social systems if we are to survive.”
We are nature and nature is us. Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash
So no pressure or anything – just the survival of our species. It seems like a tall order but it all starts with a mindset shift. How often do we think of nature as being “out there”? A place we go to? As if we could ever get away from nature! Not only is the very ground we stand on nature, but we are nature too. Our bones are made of minerals that we obtain from the environment. Most of the elements in the human body, like carbon, oxygen, calcium, and iron, were created in stars. We, ourselves, are stardust.
We are not separate at all. The entire cosmos is like a spider web and if you pull on one thread, it vibrates the rest of them. I have a friend who acknowledges this every morning in his prayers. He says, “I am eternally grateful to be an integrated particle in the infinite universe of your wisdom and will, and to live in your abundance and prosperity receiving your guidance, strength, mercy, and protection.” I can’t help but wonder what would the world be like if we all felt this way? That we are an integrated particle that is only one part of a whole. What would the world be like if we remembered that nature isn’t “out there” or somewhere to get to but rather, we, ourselves, are nature?
This is essentially the point of my meditation practice, to remember not only the connection but the unity with all of creation. I am nature, nature is me. I am other humans, other humans are me. I am the Divine Beloved, the Divine Beloved is me. I am not separate from anything and nothing is separate from me. I frequently get amnesia on this point but that’s also why I meditate every day, not only so I remember the concept but act on it. Because when I do, I treat everyone and everything with more care, love, and respect and that’s something we could all use more of.
I dream of a world where we remember we are an integrated particle in this universe. A world where we understand we aren’t separate from anyone or anything and nothing is separate from us either. A world where instead of thinking of nature as being something “out there” we remember we are nature and act accordingly.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m the type of person who likes things to stay the same at home. I don’t rearrange furniture for fun or swap out pictures to bring new life into my space. No. I have a poster hanging above my bed and when it gets old, faded, or ripped, I plan on buying the exact same poster and putting it in the exact same place. Whenever I’ve moved, my apartment looks like a replica of the previous one, as much as it can given spacing is different, windows are in new places, etc.
Given that predilection, the past two weeks have been veeeeeeery difficult because of construction taking place inside my apartment. My home was in complete disarray and I can’t put things back how they were before. My bookcase can no longer be flush against the wall due to an electrical panel and that means I had to move my plants and my pictures. My friend Nicole calls this “forced feng shui,” which is spot on. It doesn’t matter if it looks good or I like it, I’m forced to change things. I hate it. But at the same time, I’m taking this as an opportunity to do some upgrades.
During the pandemic, my wall heater broke and my landlord replaced it but the new one was smaller than the old one. That created a border around the new heater, exposing the unpainted wall. I didn’t ask my landlord to repaint it because I didn’t want a stranger in my home longer than they needed to be because this was the height of the pandemic when the risk of contracting COVID was high. So I lived with a border around my heater. For years.
Sometimes change makes things better. Photo by Theme Photos on Unsplash
When the current construction crew needed to repaint part of my wall because of moving the electrical panel, I asked them to paint around the wall heater too and they did. Yes, the construction is a nuisance, but also it’s an upgrade. My place looks better than it did before. This same principle applies to other areas of life as well. Frequently I spend so long mourning the loss of the thing I used to have – a job, relationship, community, whatever – that I forget it could be making space for something better.
More than a decade ago I released my memoir, Just a Girl from Kansas, and the subtitle was, “One woman’s dreams are ant-sized compared to what lay ahead.” (Side note: I know that’s grammatically incorrect but “lay ahead” felt more open and resonant to me than “lies ahead.”) I used to believe that. Everything in my life kept getting better and better until I hit my Saturn return at age 28. At that point, life got very, very hard and most of the optimism about my personal future leaked out of me like a deflating balloon. Believing I was getting an upgrade felt almost impossible. It felt more like I was getting beaten down by life.
I’ve slowly been coming out of that and am starting to believe things can be better than I envisioned for myself. The dream I had in my 20s was to be the editor of a magazine, which I was. What I do now, ghostwriting for therapists and working as a freelance journalist, is so much more interesting and fulfilling than working for one publication. This, too, is an upgrade.
The energy of my life right now is, “Can you let go of the way you think things should be? Can you instead make room for what wants to be birthed, which is better than you imagined anyway?” It’s a process, but I’m working on it because it turns out I enjoy upgrades.
I dream of a world where we understand sometimes the old has to leave our lives to make room for something better. A world where we recognize what we want for ourselves can be less than what the universe wants for us. A world where instead of viewing certain experiences as a hassle, we see them as potential upgrades.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a truly wild story. About 13 years ago I lived in an in-law unit and the landlady wanted to show the apartment to potential tenants. I didn’t want to be home and at the same time wanted to safeguard my valuables. The most valuable piece of jewelry I owned was a diamond pendant necklace from my Grandma Libele. She died when I was 13 and the necklace was the only physical thing of hers I owned so it was valuable for multiple reasons.
When I got home after the viewings, I couldn’t find the diamond necklace. I either forgot where I hid it or someone stole it after all. Every time I moved in the ensuing 13 years (which was a lot), I looked for the diamond necklace. I kept thinking it would turn up in a random box or bag that I would find as I unpacked. I didn’t. And even after I settled into my current apartment, every so often inspiration would strike and I’d check a purse pocket or pouch hoping I’d find the necklace. I never did.
This week construction guys are working on my apartment. I had to remove everything from one of my closets and now my belongings are scattered all over the place. I hate it so much but I’m taking it as an opportunity to clear things out. Sheets I never use? Donate them. A cord that I have no idea what it goes to? Recycle it. There’s a three-drawer storage bin I kept in the closet that I’ve opened a million times because I have cloth napkins and such I use regularly. For some reason this week I decided to open all of the drawers fully and empty them. In the top drawer, the one I open the most, was my grandmother’s necklace.
Here it is! The necklace.
I burst into tears when I saw it, not only because of the necklace itself but also what finding it reminds me: “What’s meant for you will always find you.” That’s a message I need to hear over and over again because as a worrywart, I don’t always believe that’s true. I’m scared I’m doing something wrong. That I’m “blocking” my perfect whatever or I missed the metaphorical boat. I’m not alone in that either. People say things like, “I missed the deadline to apply for my perfect job!” “My future romantic partner isn’t on a dating app so I’ll never meet them!” or, “Somebody else bought the house meant for me!” None of that’s true.
I’ve repeatedly seen that if something is meant for you, it will always find you. In fact, if it’s meant for you, you can’t keep it away. This happened to me with a pearl bracelet and other things too. So often I think I messed things up, that I blew my chance, that I can’t have what I want but finding my grandmother’s necklace again reminds me, no, what’s meant for you will always find you. It may take a while, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
I dream of a world where we understand the people, things, and situations that are meant to be in our lives will. A world where instead of living in scarcity, we live in trust. A world where we know that yes, there are actions we have to take, but we don’t need to worry about missing out on anything because what’s meant for us will always find us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I feel incredibly off. In large part, it’s because I’ve been sick with a cold for the last nine days. Add in lack of sleep due to said cold, disruption at my apartment because of construction, Trump returning to the White House, the collective heartbreak around the LA wildfires, continued destruction of Gaza, and all the other tragedies in the world, and I want to pull a Rip Van Winkle. If I could go to sleep and wake up once everything is better, that would be great.
When life is like this, I remind myself of a few things: One, I don’t need to tackle my life’s problems (or the world’s problems) all at once. I do what I can when I can. And two, what’s called for is the next right action. The next right action varies but it’s always something small and manageable like taking a shower, calling that person, or running an errand. Little things snowball into big things and I can trust the big things take care of themselves when I focus on taking the next right action over and over again.
Lastly, to keep myself from falling into a pit of despair, it’s important to find the good and remember the miracles all around me. To that end, I’m resharing a post from August 2023. I hope it helps you as much as it does me.
After a long day of staring at my computer screen, I walked outside to my apartment complex’s terrace where something caught my eye. Leaning against the far wall beneath an overhang is a bag of detritus. It’s filled with dirt and pine needles and everything workmen scooped out of our gutters from at least eight months ago, if not longer. Do you know what was spilling out of that bag?
A well-developed nasturtium vine. There are so many things about this that are astounding. Number one, I’m on that terrace every few days watering my plants. How did I not notice it before? And number two, it hasn’t rained here in MONTHS. How did that nasturtium vine survive?!? It’s not like any of my neighbors were watering a bag of soil in an attempt to keep a plant alive. And yet, not only did the vine survive, it thrived as you can see in the picture.
The vine in question. Look at how big it is!
When I saw this plant, I literally laughed out loud because it was so unexpected and also miraculous. It reminded me that miracles are everywhere if we look for them. Miracles often have the connotation of being something big and obvious, but they can also be small and discreet, like this nasturtium vine.
I could use more miracles in my life. It’s easy for me to become disheartened by the ever-present pessimism in the news. Fires leveling towns. Floods. Famines. It’s a lot. And yet, if I look around, I also see evidence of miracles. Back in November, scientists captured footage of the black-naped pheasant-pigeon, which hadn’t been seen since 1882! In Brazil, the Golden Lion Tamarin used to be on the brink of extinction with about 200 animals in the wild, but the population has rebounded to around 4,800, according to a recent study.
Miracles happen every day with people surviving deathly car crashes, getting pregnant when they thought they were infertile, or walking again when they were told it was impossible. It’s easy to think, “Well, that wouldn’t happen to me,” but what if it could? What if you could also receive a miracle? And like me with the nasturtium plant, what if miracles are all around and we’re just not noticing them?
Given the choice between a world where we’re all doomed and one where miracles occur, I vote for the latter. It reminds me of a concept we have in my spiritual tradition called madhuvidyá, which literally means “honey knowledge.” It requires seeing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, also known as Brahma.
My spiritual teacher says, “This madhuvidyá will pervade your exterior and interior with … [ecstasy] and will permanently alleviate all your afflictions. Then the ferocious jaws of [degeneration] cannot come and devour you. The glory of one and only one benign entity will shine forth to you from one and all objects.”
That may not seem relevant but for me, practicing madhuvidyá means remembering God is here, there, and everywhere. Because everything is Brahma, everything is a manifestation of that infinite loving consciousness. In that framework, OF COURSE miracles are everywhere. How could they not be?
I dream of a world where we recognize the strange and the unlikely occurs all the time. A world where we make room for magic and mystery. A world where we understand this entire universe is composed of an infinite loving consciousness that is all-knowing and all-powerful. A world where we recognize if that’s true, if anything can happen, then miracles can too.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s the time of year when people are making resolutions, plans, and goals for themselves. They’re picturing who they want to be and what they want to do this year. Someone asked me if I had any resolutions and the answer is no because my biggest lesson of 2024 was, “Stay in the moment because you don’t have a clue how things will turn out.”
Over and over again life surprised me with curveballs both good and bad. Longtime friends drifted out of my life. New ones arrived on my doorstep. High-paying clients stopped providing me with work. New ones took their place. I couldn’t have predicted any of it. So instead of making lists of what I want to accomplish, I’m embracing something poet Mary Oliver said: “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” As someone prone to worry, the “unimaginable” is often synonymous with “terrible.” Things like, “An earthquake is going to swallow me up!” or, “My dear friend is going to get hit by a bus!”
What’s around the bend? We have no idea. Photo by Dirk Spijkers on Unsplash
I’m pretty sure that’s not what Mary Oliver meant when she said keep room for the unimaginable. I suspect she meant, “Allow room for wonder, possibility, and joy.” When I read her quote, I feel warmth in my heart and remember that good things can happen out of the blue like meeting new friends, getting accepted into a film festival, or finding out you’re pregnant. The unimaginable can be incredibly sweet even if it wasn’t planned.
What I’ve learned in an even deeper way over the past year is I’m not meant to know everything. Life isn’t meant to follow a script, or at least not one we have access to. My spiritual teacher says, “Human beings should always remember that living beings are only actors in the vast universal drama composed by [Cosmic Consciousness]. . . . One should remember: ‘We are only playing specific roles in a great drama. I will act properly according to the role I have been given in this drama.’ This is a person’s duty. It is meaningless for a person to think about anything more than this – about what is beyond oneʼs power.”
There are many, many things beyond my power but what I can control is how I’m showing up in the world. Am I overly focused on my plan, my story, and how I think things should go? Or am I softening into the great unknown and remembering to save room in my heart for the unimaginable? This year I’d like to do the latter. So maybe I have a New Year’s resolution after all.
I dream of a world where we remember life can be surprising and delightful. A world where we understand we are all actors in a drama we didn’t write and don’t have the script for. A world where in addition to our plans, we save room in our hearts for the joyfully unimaginable.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As I thought about how to close this year (last post of 2024!), the blog that kept coming to mind is one I wrote almost exactly eight years ago. So no, I’m not in Malibu, nor have I flown home from a retreat just yet – that happens on Wednesday – but the message is still relevant. Enjoy.
For the past five days, I’ve lived in a bubble. Members of my yoga and meditation group gathered in Malibu where we sang, danced, meditated, and learned from each other. Gazing at the ocean surrounded by so much beauty and love, it was easy to forget the real world. And then I flew home.
Re-entry startled and unnerved me, raw and sensitive as I am operating on a few hours of sleep. On the drive home, I saw police officers tackling a man on the shoulder of the highway. It wasn’t me being chased, but my heart started pounding nonetheless. On the same ride, I saw hearts painted on the roof of a building. All of these things coexist.
It’s a new day, a new dawn, and (almost) a new year. Photo by Blake Verdoorn on Unsplash
I don’t know what this year holds. I’m guessing it will be a mix of things, just like my ride home. There will be happy things and scary things and sad things and awesome things. For some of us, there will be an unequal mix. But feeling my heart pound watching someone else’s experience, reminds me we are all in this together. We all belong to each other and we are all responsible for each other. We are not as separate as we’d like to believe. We are all connected and what affects one person ripples out.
As we start this new year, I want to quote my spiritual teacher because the message seems relevant. He said:
Just as the advent of the purple dawn is inevitable at the end of the cimmerian darkness of the interlunar night, exactly in the same way I know that a gloriously brilliant chapter will also come after the endless reproach and humiliation of the neglected humanity of today.
Those who love humanity and those who desire the welfare of living beings should be vigorously active from this very moment, after shaking off all lethargy and sloth, so that the most auspicious hour arrives at the earliest.
As we enter this new year, let us all greet the purple dawn. Let us all experience a gloriously brilliant chapter. And let us all work together to bring that “auspicious hour” sooner rather than later because we aspire to live in a beautiful new era.
I dream of a world where we remember we’re all connected. A world where we understand we all belong to each other. A world where we work together to create a beautiful and brilliant life where everyone is treated with love, kindness, and dignity. A world where we rise up to greet the new dawn awaiting us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Piggybacking on my post from last week about a new definition of perfection, I’m pondering a new definition of “good.” When I think of “good” or “being good,” it’s usually in a binary way: “This is good, this is bad.” And often “good” is from an outside source. I’m “good” if I follow the rules, if I do the things other people tell me or want me to do. But because people are contradictory (myself included), I’m also a rulebreaker. If I think a rule is stupid or doesn’t make sense, I won’t follow it. A fight I had near constantly when I lived in London was, “No, I don’t want to do it this way just because it’s always been done that way.”
The past few weeks I’ve toggled between wanting to do things my way and wanting to do things other people’s way, with my inherent goodness at stake. My therapist encouraged me to change my definition of good to encompass living in harmony with nature and all created beings. She specifically told me to look up “walking the beauty way path,” a Navajo/Diné concept.
Diné historian Wally Brown explains in a video that anyone can find their own way to walk in beauty, regardless of their background or beliefs. What the beauty way path means, fundamentally, is acknowledging the sacredness of all life and trying to be in alignment with the natural world. Instead of, “Did I follow a rule that someone else set?” it’s, “Am I treating all beings with respect? Am I striving for inner peace?” If so, I’m walking the beauty way path. There’s a prayer to go along with this concept that I’m including below:
In Beauty may I walk.
All day long may I walk.
Through the returning seasons may I walk.
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk.
With dew about my feet may I walk.
With Beauty may I walk.
With Beauty before me, may I walk.
With Beauty behind me, may I walk.
With Beauty above me, may I walk.
With Beauty below me, may I walk.
With Beauty all around me, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of Beauty,
lively, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of Beauty,
living again, may I walk.
It is finished in Beauty.
It is finished in Beauty.
This prayer reminds me of a similar concept in my spiritual tradition: madhuvidyá, which literally means “honey knowledge.” Practicing madhuvidyá means seeing beyond the surface of people, places, and things to witness their true form. It’s recognizing everything is Brahma, Cosmic Consciousness, Source, the Universe, whatever name you have for it. In other words, it’s seeing beauty everywhere.
The beauty way path means recognizing I’m enveloped in love and beauty. That love and beauty are me. And if I’m treating others as if that’s true, I don’t need to worry about being “good” or “bad.” I’m doing something else – I’m walking a path, adjusting and course-correcting as need be. I may not always see the beauty in me or around me but that’s OK because as with everything, it all comes down to practice.
I dream of a world where we toss aside the binary of good/bad. A world where we focus instead on treating others with kindness and respect. A world where we see the beauty above us, below us, behind us, around us, and inside us. A world where we walk the beauty way path, whatever that means for us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately, I’ve been burning with shame because I don’t perceive myself doing things the “right” way. It’s … not fun and when I searched through my archives, I came across this post from January 2019. May it be a balm if you, too, are a perfectionist.
I have a confession: I make mistakes. I know, that doesn’t seem like much of a confession because everybody makes mistakes, but with the amount of shame and fear that comes up from admitting it, you’d think I stole money from little old ladies and kicked their dogs.
I notice the intensity of shame and fear shifts according to my perception of safety around making a mistake. If I make a mistake and the only person affected is me, the shame and fear levels are low. If I make a mistake at work, the shame and fear levels are high. The levels spike because my brain tells me, “I’m going to get fired! I’ll be destitute!” In my mind, the only way to stay safe at work or in my relationships is to be perfect. If I’m not perfect, something bad will happen. It’s not entirely logical but when are emotions ever logical?
A practice that helps is holding a stuffed animal that represents my inner child to my cheek like a baby and saying, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not ever going anywhere. I’ll meet all your needs. Nothing about you will keep me from meeting your needs.” And then I hold little me in the crook of my arm like a football and say, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not ever going anywhere. I’ll protect you. You can do it! Go ahead and try!” Saying those messages helped.
This dandelion is perfect because it’s complete. That will make sense in the next paragraphs. Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Something else that helps is remembering security doesn’t come from other people or an external source. Security comes from my actions and my alignment with an internal greater power. Money for instance doesn’t come solely from a job. It can come from an inheritance, winning the lottery, or some other wild source. If I lost my job tomorrow, I could borrow money, start a GoFundMe campaign, or any number of things.
When I’m stuck in perfectionism, my perspective shrinks and I think in black and white. However, the world is in color and much more nuanced than I remember. And also, what does perfect even mean? An early definition of perfect is, “Brought to consummation or completeness.” That’s coming from the 1913 Webster’s Writers’ Dictionary. As a one on the Enneagram, I’m all about finding holy perfection, and the practice for me is to remember that “perfect” doesn’t mean without mistakes, rather, it means completeness.
Completeness ultimately means unification with a power greater than myself, according to my spiritual tradition. I meditate and live my life in such a way that I’m moving closer and closer to a divine entity. I’m trying to unite and merge with something much subtler than I am. When I’m stuck in perfectionism, I lose sight of my journey and instead focus on a snapshot in time. I forget I’m learning and growing. I forget mistakes are an integral part of the process.
Will I still make mistakes? Yes. Will I still beat myself up about them? Probably. But more and more I’m using tools to come out of the shame spirals, to love myself, and to be in the space of acknowledging that “perfect” means not living up to a standard set by myself or someone else. Instead, perfect means complete.
I dream of a world where we remember in our quest to be perfect, really we want safety, peace of mind, and completeness. A world where we realize we are all moving toward something whole and unified. A world where we understand it’s OK to mess up because it serves us in our journey toward wholeness.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.