Thyself

Beginning in early childhood, I dove into the concept of ‘love thy neighbor’ without pausing to consider the ‘as thyself’ part.

Oh man, have I been cruel to myself.

The aftershocks of my self-inflicted Earthquakes are off the Richter scale, as illustrated by my harried nervous system and visibly exhausted body.

For most of my life, I’ve treated others the way I wanted to be treated without stopping to see how I was treating myself, or letting myself be treated by others.

Embodying a doormat, I didn’t realize that I had anything to do with the avalanche of abuses I endured.

Who ordered this truckload of dung, indeed.

Now I understand that I am worthy of healthy love, and I am my sole source of self-love.

Being both self-taught and a late bloomer, this will require careful cultivation and consistent effort.

At least effort and I are old friends.

Though it feels unnatural and shameful to allot resources to myself, I must begin, and begin again.

I feel remorseful when I think of the kindness I denied myself while simultaneously over-giving to others, lighting myself on fire so that they might be warm.

I feel hopeful now that I am starting to practice self-kindness. Simply thinking about loving myself is a huge step on my healing path.

I know that the treasure I seek lies in the cave I fear to enter.

Removing toxic relationships might lighten my load, and would likely be worth the temporary albeit intense discomfort incurred by uprooting.

Yet I remain like a stubborn ox, cursing my burden as I remain willingly yoked, feeling hopelessly bound by the pressure to live up to social expectations.

The cave I fear to enter echoes with judgmental whispers.

‘Through this action, I practice self-love’ is mantra. May I hear it above the voices of those who might object. May I repeat it even as my voice trembles and cracks. May I remember that those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.

May I keep moving forward even when left in the dust by the turtle and the snail.

May I hold myself tenderly in lovingkindness, no matter what I have done or will do.

May I rest in peace in this lifetime, in moments such as this one.

The Sting of the WASP

I hope this doesn’t offend anyone, it’s just that

I have some long-standing frustration to express.

My personal experiences with the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant culture which I was born into are not meant to characterize everyone who identifies as a WASP.

The WASPy culture of my home community is one in which
everything is wrong, but nobody talks about any of it.

This illusion of perfection only fools ourselves

In reality, we are just as lost, anxious, depressed, alcoholic, drug addicted and trapped in abusive relationships as any other community.
From the outside, everything looks fine:
Picket-white fences, freshly mowed lawns
The house has been painted and the windows washed.
On the inside, our bodies are ravaged by insecurity and fear, leaving us worn down and raw like the bulimics that we are: caught in the binge and purge of a life of vanity.

We’ll do anything to keep up appearances even as we disappear further from our authentic selves.
Putting such effort into pretending to be what we are not is a tremendous waste of energy.
We strive to keep up with our neighbors in an empty shell of consumeristic existence, even though it costs us the true richness of our souls.

We go to church and recite prayers monotonously like mindless drones.
Can any discernible note of true worship be heard when we are only regurgitating printed words without feeling?
In our daily lives, how much are we really doing as Jesus would do in our thoughts and actions?
From what I have seen and heard, we could do much more.

Even as a young child I felt that attending my WASPy church was a time and place to desperately try to save face-
Emphasis was put on what to wear,
Instead of how we felt on the inside, in our hearts and minds.
We went to church to trick ourselves into feeling like we were living our lives right.
When actually we were living quite selfishly,
Without true regard for the suffering of others.
Our capacity to give was far greater than what we actually gave.
Even in giving, we were narcissistically trying to feel better about ourselves.
The same people who faithfully vowed to ‘judge not’ in church
Could be heard loudly judging their neighbors before and after the service.
I don’t want to judge WASPs on being judgmental.
I know they have suffered a lot and are doing the best they know how.

In a sincere wish to help them live their happiest, most fulfilling life

I want to gently remind them that they will suffer less when they judge less.
I’ve noticed that when I judge others, I only hurt myself.
Mentally separating ourselves from other humans by labeling them as ‘other’, ‘inferior’ or ‘defective’ only separates ourselves from our own humanity.
No wonder we often feel that our lives are insanity.
This rings true for judging ourselves too.

I judge myself and others every day, and every moment is a new opportunity to practice non-judgement, which to me is the highest form of spiritual practice.

I feel the heaviness that judging leaves in my heart, and I am ready to lessen my load.
Changing mental habits is a practice, not a perfect.

I feel lighter and happier when I connect through my heart to humanity.

I pray for spiritual awakening and liberation from suffering for all.
It is a goal as lofty as the tallest church steeple-
It is my dream, big enough to include all people.

The divine light within me bows to the divine light within you.