My very talented friend Krista Kahl hand-painted a shirt for me with the Pegasus constellation on it. I love this shirt. It’s the most interesting and unique thing I own and every time I wear it, I want people to compliment it. I have worn this shirt many times in numerous settings, always hoping someone will say, “I like your shirt” or even just “Cool shirt.” But they don’t.
As I wore this shirt the other day, I thought about what a former therapist told me: “The outside world reflects the inside world.” More specifically, “You don’t receive anything you aren’t already giving to yourself.” I don’t fully agree with him but I’ve found the premise to be true for the most part. So. Remembering that principle, I looked in the mirror and said, “I love your shirt, Rebekah! It’s so cool and unique!” Literally 30 minutes later at the chiropractor’s office, someone FINALLY said, “I like your shirt.” Ha! You can’t make this stuff up.
The shirt in question.
Why does this sort of thing happen? According to the spiritual philosophy I align with, everything is a thought projection of Cosmic Consciousness. That means nothing is external and everything is internal. It then follows how and why the same is true for the individual – that my internal world gets reflected externally. It’s why the law of attraction works (to a degree). This principle also aligns with cognitive bias.
Cognitive bias helps us make sense of the world and reach decisions with relative speed but a bias also means we discard information that doesn’t prop up our view of reality or a person. It’s why if I think the world is filled with liars and cheats, all I’ll see are liars and cheats. And if I think the world is filled with good people, I’ll see evidence of good people wherever I go. The outside world reflects the inside world but I frequently focus on the outside world instead.
While wearing my Pegasus shirt, I could ask, “What’s wrong with people? Why don’t they like this shirt? I could get what I wanted if only other people changed!” But I’m realizing, again, that when my own emotional cup is filled, it matters less what other people do and say because I’m already fulfilling my needs. To a point, anyway.
Human beings are not meant to fulfill all their own needs. We can’t live like hermits and become completely self-reliant because that’s not how we’re built, but how much are we ignoring the self in favor of the other? A quote that’s related to this comes from my spiritual teacher who says, “One who looks for Shiva in the external world, ignoring the Shiva of the internal world, is like one who throws away the rice that is in one’s hand and wanders from door to door in search of one’s livelihood.”
I’ve been known to do that – throw away the rice in my hand while I wander from door to door. I want someone else to offer me love, comfort, support, attention, and care and forget there’s already someone here who’s ready and willing to do that: me. And when I offer myself love, comfort, support, attention, and care, frequently someone in the outside world shows up to do that as well. Because the outside world reflects the inside world.
I dream of a world where we recognize sometimes we have to give ourselves what we seek from others. A world where we don’t discount the power we have to fulfill our own needs. A world where we remember when we do that, often people will show up to meet those needs. A world where we understand the outside world reflects the inside world.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As I made plans with friends the other day, I said, “I know my nap schedule makes meals and things harder to work with.” I’m a spoonie and don’t have a lot of health privilege. I have some but require a daily nap and don’t bounce back easily from stress. When I flew home from Chicago the other week, I slept 11 hours each day of the weekend and took 1.5-hour naps. For context, I usually sleep about eight or nine hours a night and nap for half an hour, max. But even on normal days, a nap is crucial.
When, where, and how I’ll be able to nap is at the forefront of my mind as I make plans with people. And my comment to my friends also reveals that I apologize for my body. In implicit and explicit ways, I say, “I’m sorry I’m like this. I wish things were different. Thank you for bearing with me.” I’m not engaging in what Sonya Renee Taylor dubs “radical self-love” in her book The Body is Not an Apology.
May we all make a promise to ourselves that we’ll stop apologizing for our bodies. Photo by Womanizer Toys on Unsplash
She says, “Concepts like self-acceptance and body neutrality are not without value. When you have spent your entire life at war with your body, these models offer a truce. But you can have more than a cease-fire. You can have radical self-love because you are already radical self-love.”
What she means is when we come into the world, we love our bodies. Babies are delighted by every part of their body. They look in the mirror and giggle or smile. No child starts off hating their body. That comes later when society barrages them with messages about how “wrong” they are for being too dark, too light, too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, too whatever. Or the converse: not enough. In our capitalistic, patriarchal, white supremacist society, there will always be something wrong with us because that’s how the systems keep running.
Under this toxic framework, which oftentimes feels overwhelming and permanent, it’s harder to blame a nameless, faceless system and instead, people turn inward and start blaming themselves. That’s when the apologizing begins. But Taylor asks some great questions: “What if we all became committed to the idea that no one should have to apologize for being a human in a body? … How might we change our lives? How might we change the world?”
I can think of lots of ways we’d change – like building wider airplane seats or ensuring every sidewalk corner has a curb cut. But on a more personal level, I can see how things could be different for me. In response to my body apology, my friends said, “Your nap schedule is not hard to work with at all! Honestly, it’s inspiring for both of us.” Their reply touched me deeply because the subtext was, “You’re not a burden. You’re OK just as you are. And we appreciate that you take care of yourself.”
It reminds me of that quote from the Buddha who said, “You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” That means my body too. Not when it’s more energetic or more closely aligned with my idea of perfection, but now. In this iteration. Here. I can’t say I know exactly how to radically love my body – I suspect continuing to read Taylor’s book will help – but what I can do is be unapologetic about my body and that feels like a good place to start.
I dream of a world where we remember society will always tell us there’s something wrong with us. A world where we understand we can opt out of those messages. A world where we stop apologizing for our bodies because we realize they’re already lovely just as they are. A world where we practice radical self-love and treat ourselves as the precious beings we already are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My body hurts. Not in a debilitating way. More like in a dull, aching, inflamed way. The pain reminds me my body is not a machine, despite my predilection to treat it that way. I have to admit I’m angry I can’t control my body; that it’s not doing what I want it to be doing. But when I dig a little deeper, I remember my body isn’t some irrational creature — rather it reacts to something. In my case, I’m realizing my body has stored trauma.
Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, an expert on trauma, has spent more than three decades working with trauma survivors. In The Body Keeps the Score, he uses scientific advances to show how trauma literally reshapes both body and brain, compromising sufferers’ capacities for pleasure, engagement, self-control, and trust. In essence, trauma is not only something that happens in the brain, but in the body.
The body has its own intelligence. Photo by Lucrezia Carnelos on Unsplash
I’ve spent many years unraveling trauma on a psychological level. I’ve read books, enlisted help from others, and engaged in practices such as EMDR to rewire my brain. What I haven’t done as much, what I’ve largely ignored, is the physical component of stress and trauma. Don’t get me wrong, I have a regular yoga practice and have seen energy medicine practitioners over the years, but it’s obvious I need something more because I have a long list of foods I’m allergic to and I keep adding to it. It’s not realistic for me to spend the rest of my life avoiding certain things because if I eat something often enough, I become allergic to it. A friend of mine joked pretty soon all I’ll be able to eat is protein water. There’s a kernel of truth to her joke.
I’m starting to see a network spinal analysis chiropractor. It’s a modality Tony Robbins said is one of the most powerful sources of transformation he’s ever experienced. This blogpost isn’t to extol the virtues of network care, but rather to bring more awareness to the body. How often do we get pissed because our shoulder hurts but neglect to ask why it hurts? How often do we treat our bodies like enemies instead of close friends? I’m absolutely guilty of this, but more so, I’ve been a bit naïve thinking I could experience some of the most stressful things possible and that my body would not be impacted. I thought I could carry on as usual. Turns out I can’t.
My spiritual tradition emphasizes the divinity in all things, and that includes the body. It’s my responsibility to treat my body as a sacred vessel, helping it to calm down and unwind from stress. Sometimes that means taking a bubble bath, but sometimes that means seeing a professional. I realize not everyone has the means to do so, but it is my sincerest wish that everyone has the opportunity to access that sort of care.
I dream of a world where we all take care of our physical forms. A world where we recognize our bodies carry stress and trauma. A world where we help ourselves heal in body, mind, and spirit using modalities that work for us. A world where our society honors and values the lives and bodies of all of us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
After reading a thought-provoking article on Buzzfeed the other day about the movie Titanic, I decided to re-watch it. The love Jack feels for Rose, a love where he’s willing to put his life on the line for her multiple times, moved me, as it did millions. That sort of love reminded me of a poem by Daniel Ladinsky who wrote:
Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
“You owe
Me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the
Whole Sky.
I want a love like that, a love that lights up the whole sky. And I don’t mean only in the romantic sense, although that would be nice too. The work for me at the moment, maybe all moments, is the relationship with myself. My therapist reminds me over and over again I must give to myself internally what I want externally. And furthermore, I must give from a place of abundance and surplus. That I fill up my own cup first and then give from the overflow. Thus, in order to experience a love like Jack feels for Rose, a love like the Sun feels for the Earth, I must turn the focus toward me.
I know it’s not the sky, but I liked the light in this photo. Photo by Madison Nickel on Unsplash.
Have I mentioned self-love is hard? Because it’s hard. When we talk about self-love, usually people mention affirmations, as if saying “I love you” while looking into the mirror is all it takes. I wish. Love is setting boundaries, saying no, practicing integrity, and thinking beyond the short term. It means not eating a gallon of ice cream because later you know your stomach will hurt.
I have to believe the more I love myself, the more other people learn to love themselves, and we create a ripple effect until eventually we are lighting up not only each other, but the whole sky. This is my last post of 2017 and I’m writing it on Christmas Eve, which feels appropriate. I’m not Christian, but I appreciate Jesus for the loving, kind, compassionate being he seemed to be. I’m happy to celebrate the birth of someone like that, who embodies those characteristics, and I write this post a harbinger of what I hope will come for us all.
In the new year, I’d like us all to feel loved and cherished. I want us all to work together, to survive our version of the Titanic, steering toward an iceberg we are powerless to miss. I want us to take each other into our metaphorical lifeboats, and literal lifeboats too. I want us to make space for all our siblings, not because it’s the “right” thing to do, not because we “should,” but because so much love spills from our hearts we can’t do anything else.
I dream of a world where we’re taking care of each other, where we’re lifting each other up. A world where we practice deep, real love. A love that is generous, a love that moves us to sacrifice some of our comfort in service of someone else. A love so big and beaming, it lights up the whole sky.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other week I wrote that all any part of me wants is love and presence. Ever since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, it’s as if I triggered a rock slide, and now other parts are popping up and saying, “What about me? Do you love me, too?”
The practice is a difficult one because so much of my life has been geared toward fighting, toward struggling, to talking back. For instance, if I think I’m fat, my response will be, “No you’re not.” I don’t allow for the thought to even exist. Since the other week though and learning to love a part I previously only pushed away, instead of fighting back, I’m saying, “OK Rebekah. So what if you are? I love your body no matter what. If it’s fat, if it’s thin, if it’s not functioning the way you want it to, I love it, and you anyway.”
I feel vulnerable even typing that because it’s true, what I long for is unconditional love and I’ve withheld it from myself in a never-ending quest toward an unattainable ideal. I think there’s also a fear if I shower myself with unconditional love that I’ll become an inert blob, but the truth is, love doesn’t mean constant indulgence. Love means compassion, understanding, acceptance, allowance. It means saying to myself, “I see you as you are, right now, and I love you anyway.” From that place, real change and transformation occurs. Loving my fearful part didn’t make me more afraid, quite the opposite. Loving my fearful part gave me a sense of relief and peace unlike any I’ve experienced before.
Can I love it all? I’m working on it. Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash.
My spiritual practice promotes the cultivation of love. Of viewing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, of trying to grow the internal feeling of love. Our goal is to love all living beings and to merge ourselves in the source of that feeling. To swim in an ocean of love. The thing is though, if I keep believing some parts of me are not worthy and deserving of love, there’s no way I can give myself over to that ocean. It’s like saying, “Your legs are allowed to wade into the water, but your arms have to stay dry.” I can’t experience complete merger until I’m completely submerged.
What I’m coming to here is recognizing, again, all parts of me want love. My body wants love, my mind wants love, my emotions want love. The cool thing is I can give that to myself. I don’t have to wait for some imagined future that may never come. I don’t have to wait for someone else to come along and say, “I love all parts of you unconditionally.”
If you had asked me five years ago whether I loved myself, I would have said yes because I said affirmations and treated myself with kindness. I checked all the boxes people listed when they spoke of self-love. Now though I’ve reached a new level of love because it’s not just looking in the mirror and saying I love you. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that says mean things. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that’s disappointed. It’s saying I love you to everything, regardless of my judgment of the part. Now the answer to the question, “Do you love me, too?” is “Yes.”
I dream of a world where we love all parts of ourselves, even the parts we don’t particularly like. A world where we recognize every part is worthy and deserving of love. A world where we work toward loving ourselves unconditionally.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I want to feel special, chosen, exalted. Unfortunately, I’ve been operating under the misconception it’s other people’s responsibility to do that for me. I’ve been relying on other people to make me feel special and guess what? It’s not working.
I know it’s not working because people tell me how special I am, how wonderful, etc. and I can’t take the compliments in. I don’t believe the person because as much as they love and care for me, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I want to be the specialist special snowflake there is. I want to be the best, the favorite, the most loved. And I have some shame about that. Particularly because I’ve been told over and over again that everyone is special, no one is more unique than anyone else, etc. But in my mind, saying everyone is special is the same as saying no one is special, myself included. I’ve been operating from a scarcity mindset: “There is only so much special to go around!” but in truth, that’s not the case.
This picture. I mean really.
I think about a story I heard from Marianne Williamson on beauty. She walked into her niece’s bedroom one day and found the girl and her friends trash talking a supermodel, nitpicking every flaw as to evidence why the supermodel wasn’t beautiful. Marianne gently told the girls, no, the supermodel is beautiful, but so are you. The supermodel’s beauty doesn’t detract from theirs. There is enough beauty to go around. If that can be said about beauty, why can’t it also be said about uniqueness?
I also think about a few blogposts I wrote: “We are What We Seek,” and “Why We Matter.” In “We are What We Seek,” I was reminded the things I seek externally I already have internally. In this instance, no person will ever make me feel special if I don’t tell that to myself, if I don’t believe it already. In “Why We Matter,” I wrote about how we are unique manifestations of a Cosmic Consciousness, here to co-creatively birth something that otherwise would not have been in existence. Doesn’t that also mean we’re special? No person like you or me has ever existed before nor will they exist in the future.
The bottom line here is we are each divine children of the universe. None of us is more loved than another but instead of being loved equally, I think we’re loved differently. Our unique talents and gifts should be praised and appreciated but they should not be placed above anyone else’s because each of us is valued, important, and precious.
I dream of a world where we know we are each special because we each are different. A world where we understand we are a one-of-a-kind divine being who has never existed before and will never exist again. A world where we understand feeling special is an inside job and a gift we give to ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Recently, I had an interaction with a man online who professed his love for me before we’d even spoken on the telephone, skyped, or met in person. I recognized in him similar qualities in myself, which is to say “falling in love,” before getting to know a person, and making that person my everything. Reading some of his messages to me, my cheeks burned in shame remembering the way I behaved when in the midst of my love addiction.
I’ve been deeply embarrassed of my past self, wanting to sweep all my history under the rug, and furthermore, pretend I never wrote a book, which addresses love addiction among other things. For those of you haven’t read it, Just a Girl from Kansas, is a memoir from when I moved to San Francisco and everything that happened in that first year. It’s also a story about obsession and fantasy. Since it’s been published, I’ve wanted to burn it, take it all back, pretend I never wrote it, and hurry past that period of my life like a person crossing a sewage drain.
There’s nothing about us that makes us unlovable.
Interacting with this man recently made me realize how important my book is because it’s not only a book about addiction, obsession, and fantasy, it’s also a book about coming out of those things. A book about realizing how no man is ever going to fulfill me in the way I wanted to be fulfilled because the fulfillment I seek is an inside job. That is anything but shameful. Seeking a new way to live is courageous and commendable.
Also, my spiritual teacher says, “[T]he arena of spirituality is based on divine love. You may or may not be a learned person. You may or may not have a good history. Your only qualification is that you are the affectionate progeny of the Supreme Progenitor. You are His object of affection … The Father’s love is for all. [O]ne must not forget this fact – that the Supreme Entity is with you, and loves you like anything.”
It’s like that post I wrote the other week, “We are the Beloved.” I am loved unconditionally, which means no matter what I do, I am loved. Now what I’m learning is to love myself in the same way. To love all the “shameful” parts of myself, all the parts that I don’t want others to see, because it is only by loving them that I may absorb them and let them go. Also, as my recovery mentor reminds me, we often undergo hardship so we may help others. After all, according to Ram Dass, we’re all just walking each other home.
I dream of a world where we love ourselves unconditionally. A world where we know there is nothing shameful about us. A world where we realize our deepest, darkest secrets may just help someone else. A world where we come out of the shame closet.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.
I had an interesting experience this week where I decided nobody cares what I write, that the content I put out in the world has no value, and therefore I should stop writing and delete my blog altogether. Nevermind that earlier this week a friend told me unsolicited she liked my post on perfectionism. If I’m not getting a thousand likes on facebook, hundreds of retweets, and a million page views, there’s no point.
Let’s be real here: I’ve been chasing likes and placing all of my validation in the external world. My life is setup for it because as a journalist, I measure the success of a story by its page views and popularity. The trouble is, this blog is not like other blogs, and my reason for writing week after week is not to garner a million page views, but because I’m working through stuff and want to share my experiences with others. Part therapy, part service, this blog is not a money-making endeavor and when I use the normal yardsticks of other blogs, of course I and my writing will fall short.
I chase likes the way birds chase prey.
What’s interesting to note is that even when people tell me they enjoy my writing or a particular post, it goes in one ear and out the other, which is what happened today. I appreciate the comments, they’re gratifying, but they don’t stick. Clearly, even a bottomless pit of adulation wouldn’t satisfy me because there’s something else going on here. I’m pretty sure that “something else” is me, and how I’m feeling about my writing.
I’ve noticed when I feel good about anything – an article, an outfit, baking cookies – I don’t care if other people like it because I’m self-satisfied. When I’m self-satisfied, compliments stick like Velcro because they affirm something I already think, and criticisms slide off like Teflon because I don’t believe them to be true.
What I’m saying here in a long-winded way is if I’m constantly checking facebook to see if people liked a post, or if I’m becoming too concerned with page views on my personal projects, it means something else is going on. It means I’m giving other people the power to tell me what my worth is. It means I’m letting my self-esteem ride on whether or not people can be bothered to show they “like” something. That’s a little bit kooky.
I’m not sure what else to say other than that. How can my precious self be measured and quantified? How can I boil my being down to an electronic interaction? When I think about the people in my life, I would say it’s absurd to believe their worth is dependent on how many likes they generate on facebook. Now I need to start doing the same for me.
I dream of a world where we know our worth is independent of outside factors and other people. A world where instead of chasing likes we’re catching self-love. A world where we realize we are precious, invaluable, and loved beyond measure. A world where we realize our self-worth cannot be quantified.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
About a year ago I wrote a post called “Public Declaration of Trust” in which I declared my commitment to trusting my higher power/the universe/etc. This week I realized I’ve done a great job of doing that, of listening to my inner voice, of acting on intuition, and being in touch with a power greater than myself. What I haven’t done is trust myself.
What does this image have to do with self-trust? I have no idea but it came up in my google image search and I like it.
Let me explain. On Thursday, I went to the Conscious Network Meeting in Berkeley and felt nervous because I had never been to the meeting’s building before. “What if I get lost? What if I can’t find it?” First of all, I looked at a map before I left and also even if I did get lost, I could always ask for directions. I found the building because, well, I looked at the map and I paid attention to the landmarks. However, that little bit of anxiety reminded me that I discount myself and my abilities. I don’t trust that I’ll be able to handle whatever life throws at me. I worry about the future and what-ifs because a little part doesn’t believe I can rely on myself.
Because the universe always communicates with me, what did we talk about at the Conscious Network Meeting? Self-trust! Ah life, showing me the funny side. During the meeting I made a commitment to the members (and to me) that I would trust myself more – this blog is an extension of that.
If I don’t trust myself, there is no way I can show up for life fully because instead I get plagued by fear, doubt, and worry. I spend most of the time (figuratively) chewing my fingernails instead of feeling at ease and at peace. I want to feel more rock solid in myself, to remember I don’t need to know the future, I don’t have to have everything figured out because I have all the tools I need to take care of myself. I am a smart, capable, resourceful, communicative woman. I may not have the answer to everything but I have the intelligence to work it out and that is something I can rely on.
It’s important for all of us to believe in ourselves, to remember we’re capable of great things. To acknowledge we’ve been fine in the past and we’ll be fine in the future. It’s only in believing and trusting ourselves that we can accomplish what we came to this world to accomplish. It’s only by believing, “Yes, I can do ______,” that it will get done. First and foremost, it means believing in ourselves.
I dream of a world where we trust ourselves. A world where we trust our capabilities. A world where we realize the future doesn’t need to be mapped out because we’re intelligent people who can handle whatever life throws at us. A world where we feel at ease because we know all is well in our world.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.