I spent my formative years in the mountains of North Carolina. A place so rural I couldn’t see our closest neighbors and people burned their trash or buried it because trash pickup didn’t exist and they couldn’t be bothered to head to the dump. I used to take walks on the mountain behind our house and brush snow off the limbs of the tree saplings because I worried they would bow under the weight. It was a pretty existence, but also a lonely one.
Being in the country, I yearned for the hustle and bustle of the city. The people, the activity, the culture. Give me the complete opposite of what I experienced growing up. It’s no surprise I’ve spent my adulthood in one city after another: Washington, D.C., London, San Francisco. I started to disparage the charms of nature, associating it with boredom and isolation. But then something funny happened. As I hit my Saturn return, a time when a person heals all of their childhood stuff and really comes into their own as an adult, I found myself wanting to be outside again. I wanted to walk among the trees and brush snow off the limbs of saplings. Cities started to become symbols for all that’s wrong in the world. Places filled with destruction, selfishness, greed. Places that brought out the absolute worst in humanity.
This picture! How could I not use this? Beautiful.
I started to hate cities, even though I live in one. I started to look upon all that the city offers with disgust, viewing every piece of trash and graffiti as a personal affront. Give me nature and beauty and the great outdoors. My life though is all about integration and learning the middle way, so now I’m coming to love both nature and cities. To see the benefits of both. Last night I saw “Arcane,” a contemporary ballet in San Francisco. It was stunning. My inner child exclaimed with joy and wonder and I was reminded, there are great things about the city. There is art and music and connection. There are things in the city that I cannot find in nature.
Originally, this post was going to be about how nature is awesome. How it can improve your outlook, and your focus, plus strengthen your immunity. But really what this post is about is finding beauty in all things. Understanding no person, place, or thing is all good or all bad. That everything has its pluses and minuses.
One of the things I love about my spiritual path is how it emphasizes that everything is God and everything comes from God. That means nature is the divine and cities are the divine and emotions are the divine. We cannot escape God nor can we find God because that’s like saying we found air – air was there all along, we just didn’t realize it or weren’t still enough to feel it.
What I’m coming to understand is the importance of embracing everything, of accepting everything, of allowing everything. The more I do that, the more I move past duality and start seeing everything as an expression of an infinite, loving consciousness. The more I do that, the more I’m also able to embrace all parts of myself and experience what unconditional self-love really means. And there’s nothing more beautiful than that.
I dream of a world where we embrace all that is. A world where we understand everything has its pros and cons and no person, place, or thing is perfect. A world where instead of looking for perfection, we accept things as they are because we are able to see the beauty in everything.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
So my book is finally out. And by that I mean it’s been sent to reviewers, friends, and family. All day today I’ve felt uncomfortable because I’ve been nervous about how the book will be received. I thought it was because I worried about whether people will like it or not, but in truth that’s not what’s bothering me. In truth, I’m scared. I’m scared that once people read all my personal details, once everyone sees how my mind works, that my friends will decide to disassociate with me. That once my true self is revealed I’ll be shunned.
This is an old story for me, one from childhood. I’ve believed I didn’t have friends as a kid because once my peers found out how weird I was they decided not to have anything to do with me. That’s how I viewed things through my childhood lens. But as an adult I can see a fuller, more accurate picture. That’s really not what happened. I had friends. Nobody shunned me. Really I was the one rejecting them because I didn’t feel a connection. I chose to spend time by myself rather than with people I didn’t share anything in common with. It wasn’t because I was a weirdo loser freak that scared people off. It wasn’t because people found out about “the real me.”
As an adult I also know people like learning about vulnerabilities, they LOVE hearing about the deeply personal stuff because that’s how we connect with one another. I love it when people feel like they can confide in me. When they want to talk about what’s really going on. My book is an opportunity of sorts to have the same thing happen, to allow people to connect with me. Instead of keeping others at arm’s length, I’m letting people in. I think that’s what’s so scary. I don’t get to pick and choose who I’m letting in, it’s anyone who’s interested in my story.
I also think about how people have shared with me things they were ashamed of, things that are not widely accepted or approved of, and my response was not to go running from the room. My response was not to turn up my nose in disgust. Instead I felt compassion for the person, for the pain that drove them to act out in such a way. I’m hoping my friends will react the same way. Instead of cutting off all ties because they found out some things that happened years ago, they’ll react with compassion and with love. Because when I’ve been my most vulnerable that’s all I’ve ever received.
I guess I’m saying I can look at a story that has shaped my identity and how I move about the world with a different lens. These days I get to see the reality of what happened to me instead of just the pain. I get to heal my childhood trauma and recognize I wasn’t as powerless as I led myself to believe. That I had a choice in things. That I co-created an experience for myself.
As far as my book, no one will turn me out because they suddenly find out I’m human and I have feelings. They won’t say, “Sorry Rebekah, you’re not the person I thought you were,” because they learned more about me. But if they do, is that really someone I want in my life anyone? I choose to know it’s safe to be me, that it’s safe to express myself, that I can view my life’s events from another lens and thus experience some peace.
I dream of a world where we know it’s safe to reveal our true colors. A world where we feel comfortable sharing our raw and honest emotions. A world where we examine our past with a different lens acknowledging things were perhaps not what they seemed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Some of you already know this, but as a child I went through some pretty severe peer rejection. I had almost no friends and spent much of my time reading or taking walks by myself. I mostly played games with my sister, five years my junior. We used to choreograph dances in our living room and perform them for our parents. We crafted elaborate skits and created props out of cardboard. I loved it, but I didn’t choreograph dances or craft elaborate skits with kids my own age. I made friends easily but I couldn’t keep them because I was too “weird.” Not because I ate paste, but because I had different values from those around me. I was a vegetarian who didn’t eat onions, garlic or mushrooms. I believed in reincarnation and karma and love as the pervading force in this world. The people around me did not. They told me I was going to hell because I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior. They made fun of my lunch every day exclaiming, “Ewwww! What’s that?!?” My brother got the worst of it – his peers teased him so mercilessly they threw meat at him. I seemed normal enough in my appearance, but when kids peeled past my outer façade, they inevitably stopped calling, stopped inviting me to parties, just stopped.
In the midst of this, I picked up the idea if I was perfect people would love me. If I never made a mistake in soccer practice or on a test, then people would see how normal I was. If I acted just like everybody else, then I would be loved. I would never be able to think or believe in what those around me did (unless I moved), but at least on the outside I could fit in. Thus perfectionism was born. For me when I make a mistake, no matter how small, I have to quell a bit of panic because my subconscious/unconscious mind equates mistakes with isolation and abandonment. It’s silly, really. Just because I sent the wrong e-mail attachment to a contact today doesn’t mean all the love in my life will be taken away from me. It doesn’t mean anything, actually.
I’ve written before about mistakes being the zest of life, which I think is true. I honestly believe mistakes are part of the learning process, and nothing beats the expansive feeling that comes from learning. At the same time, I’ve felt a desire to be perfect right out of the gate. To know everything immediately. To be a star pupil. To be an award-winning martial artist. To know how to invest my money and become a millionaire. I want to know right now and I want to do it perfectly. Otherwise you won’t love me.
When I examine that belief and idea it starts to crumble because perfection does not guarantee love. I graduated number three in my class and my peers didn’t love me more. I called a perfect show as a stage manager and no one seemed to notice or really care. Even when I do things “perfectly” it doesn’t seem to make a difference. And you know? It never will.
People will never love me more because I’m an all-star. People will never love me more because I’m famous. People love me for who I am, not what I accomplish. I am allowed to make mistakes. I am allowed to send the wrong e-mail attachment because there is no inverse relationship between the mistakes I make and how much I’m loved. Thus perfectionism, I bid thee adieu.
I dream of a world where we realize love is associated with our insides, not our accomplishments. A world where we experience unconditional love all the time. A world where we allow ourselves to make mistakes because we know love will still be there. I dream of a world where we let go of our outdated beliefs and ideas because they no longer serve us. A world where we feel loved now and always.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I sprained my ankle pretty badly last week. (It’s kind of a tragic story involving falling down the stairs, taxi cabs who wouldn’t stop for me, and walking a mile on an injury.) So I’m sitting at home and I’m feeling bored and restless and cranky. The most exciting part of my day is when I take the elevator one floor to my mailbox. It reminds me of another period of my life when I went through a similar thing.
I’m stressed but not stressed and I just feel like crying. I feel like I can’t do anything. And I wake up each day just wanting the day to be over because when it’s over I can relax and lose myself in television.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now my mind is whirling. It’s filled with visions of past people and situations. Of old friends, favorite teachers and former crushes. I’m mulling over my past self — who I was was and what I did. Last night was my eight year high school reunion (yes, eight year. It’s a small school and they combined classes from 1997-2002). Talk about a time warp. It’s a trip to see yourself in the eyes of another while you try to convince them in the span of five minutes you aren’t the same. That you are no longer that girl who lacks perspective, who gets so trapped in the details of life she doesn’t see the big picture. But of course to them you’ll always be the person who wore a yellow tanktop over a plaid shirt for tacky day.
I remarked to a friend of mine it’s weird to go from seeing certain people every day for years to all of a sudden not at all and then suddenly to see them again. I’m still tripping out this morning because my mind likes to reconcile the past with the present. To put together past selves with current realities. It’s like a puzzle — in high school you were this person and today you’re this person. Maybe it’s the journalist in me but I want to know the story. How did it all happen? How did you end up doing what you’re doing? I think I’m also still tripping out about my reunion because I’m not satisfied. I don’t know the stories. I don’t know the progressions from the past to the present. All I have are past selves and now current selves with no idea what happened in between. Perhaps though it doesn’t matter.
As I wrote about last week (and many times before), all there is is now. All there is is here. This moment in time as I sit on my bed typing on a borrowed laptop so old the wireless card is external. My mind likes to latch onto the past and mull it over but really the past matters only so much as I let it. It matters only as much as I allow it to shape the now. Of course there are consequences for every action and those consequences are still playing out, but me? My person? I get to decide moment by moment who I am and how my life will work. As Louise Hay says, “The point of of power is always in the now.” It doesn’t really matter who I was and what I did because I’m dealing with the now. The person I am today. The person who writes a weekly blog in the hopes her own struggles and insights will help others on their path of self-realization.
I may never know how my peers got to where they are and that’s ok. Because they’re here now. They’re nurses and actors and stay-at-home moms. They’re photographers and lawyers and teachers. All the trappings of what they’re doing pale in comparison to who they are. To their essence. I already know their essence, just as I know my own essence. We are all love incarnate. Divine beings in human form. Therefore I know them already. Even with eight year gaps and stories in between we still know one another. Because their essence remains unchanged. When I dip into all that is I recognize that. I no longer feel the pain of separation or the rupture of an abrupt goodbye. Because I am you and you are me. When I feel sadness it’s because I’ve forgotten that. Forgotten who I really am and where I come from, and I don’t mean Wichita, Kan. There are no goodbyes because how do you say goodbye to yourself? Even when you lose yourself you’ll eventually find you again. It’s inevitable.
We are always connected to each other and that will not change. No matter what happens in the physical realm, in the spiritual realm we are all one. So the fact I didn’t get to say goodbye to some folks, or that others didn’t attend the reunion, doesn’t ultimately matter. Time goes on and things in the physical world unfold but really we are eternal creatures. Outer appearances change but we remain the same.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are all connected at all times. A world where we understand “goodbye” is just a word because separation is an illusion. A world where we recognize our essence is what matters above all else. Above what we’re doing and how we got there. I dream of a world where we see ourselves for who we are really are: spiritual beings having a human experience.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.