In my post the other week about fame, I said I’ll be enough when I’m worthy. I’ve mulled that over the past few weeks, wondering how to feel worthy, particularly when tying worth to external achievements is no longer working for me. The only thing I’ve come up with thus far is to hear it from my internal, loving presence. What follows is a letter from that loving source to me.
My dear, you are loved and you are worthy. My love for you is not dependent on what you achieve or what you look like. My love for you is not even dependent on how you behave. I love you already. You are worthy, you have merit, solely because you are mine.
What a sweet picture, no? Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash.
When you were a child you played with dolls and you loved them dearly. They were precious not because they did anything, not because they treated you well, or won first place in a contest, but because they belonged to you. And the same is true about you. You belong to me and that makes you precious, that makes you loved, that makes you worthy.
You could spend the rest of your life sitting around the house, watching Netflix, never contributing anything ever again. You could spend the rest of your life snapping at every person you meet, thinking only of yourself and your needs. You could spend the rest of your life in obscurity. You could do all of those things and you’d still be loved and you’d still be worthy.
Your task now is to feel into that love and that worthiness. To know you are special because you are special to me. I want you to walk around confident of those two facts because they are facts. They will never change no matter what you do or how you behave. They are and will be persistent throughout your entire life. I love you.
I dream of a world where we all feel we are loved and we are worthy. A world where we give and receive that unconditional love to ourselves irrespective of what we look like, what we achieve, or how we behave. A world where we know we are precious just as we are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I think it’s pretty clear I want to be famous. Not “get my picture taken while eating a hamburger in a car” famous, but “win awards and have people share my content” famous. I know fame doesn’t make anyone happy, I know the goal of my life is not fame, I know aiming for fame goes against all of my spiritual beliefs, and yet it’s still here.
I’ve wrestled with this aspect of myself for decades trying to reason with it, spin it, battle it, push it away. But it’s still here. On Wednesday, I listened to a radio show loosely about surrender and I burst into tears because I finally accepted this part of me. To surrender means to stop fighting and I stopped fighting this aspect of myself. I also started journaling about it, asking why I care so much.
This picture is perfect. Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash.
I seek fame because I want to prove myself, I want to showcase my “enough-ness.” I spoke with a friend about this and he suggested I make a list of all the ways I’ll finally be enough. I’ll be enough when _____. I made my list: “I’ll be enough when I’m a bestselling author. I’ll be enough when I go on Oprah. I’ll be enough when a celebrity retweets me.” I kept going until I reached the point when I wrote, “I’ll be enough when I feel worthy.”
As if to hammer the point home, I listened to another radio show by Nancy Levin, who used to be the events coordinator at Hay House before she transitioned into writing and coaching. To paraphrase, she said nothing on the outside will make you feel worthy if you don’t feel worthy on the inside. I know this. In fact, I’ve written this. But when I look back at my post on self-worth from nearly nine years, I hear a lot of judgment. A lot of dismissing. I didn’t honor my desire then or now.
When I look at the basic philosophy of my spiritual tradition, I have more perspective. The philosophy states we take everything and channel it toward the divine. It sounds like a lovely sentiment, but what does that actually mean? I’m not sure I know, but what I’m starting to understand is I can’t run from anything, including my desire for fame. I can’t escape anything. Maybe to use everything as a vehicle toward my unification with a power greater than myself means first that I have to accept what is here in a loving, compassionate way.
This blogpost deals with my desire for fame, but the concept is applicable to anything. It could be the part of ourselves that’s scared of others, or is greedy, or ashamed, or whatever. We can’t pretend that side doesn’t exist as much as we’d like that to be the case. We have to work with what’s here in order to have any power over it. I’ve likely used this quote before, but Carl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you’ll call it fate.” I’d rather be an active participant in my fate and the only way to do that it seems is to stop running from the things I don’t like.
I dream of a world where we accept all parts of ourselves with compassion. A world where we realize just because we don’t like something doesn’t mean it goes away. A world where we embrace our inherent tendencies and still work to transform them into something else. A world where we channelize them toward something greater than ourselves.
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.
“People have a need for meaning and for belonging,” Dr. Gabor Maté writes. “But this society defines the value of a human being by how much they can either produce or consume. For all our talk about human values, we don’t really value humans for who they are. We value them for what they either give or purchase.”
I’ve been thinking about Maté’s quote a lot lately. In my post last week, “We Can Do Better than This,” I mentioned one of the plights of capitalism: homelessness. The underlying sentiment is if a person is poor, or mentally ill, or physically incapacitated, or old, they have no value. They can neither produce or consume anything so they are shunted off to the side where we don’t have to think about them. However, I would like to point out it’s not only certain segments of society who are harmed by the notion of what is valuable, it’s all of us.
On Tuesday, my dear friend Amal called me up and asked if I’d like to go to the Chapel of the Chimes, which is a crematory and columbarium. Afterward, we walked through the adjacent cemetery and watched the sunset. Seeing the sun set over the bay, I felt like crying because this, this, is what life is really about – not checking off my to-do list, not producing content, not building up my following on social media.
The sunset I mentioned. Photo credit Amal.
In our materialistic society, I absolutely define my value by what I’m producing and I know businesses define my value by how much I’m able to consume. That means if I don’t produce something every single day, my perceived self-worth diminishes. Heaven forbid I take a rest day! That’s also why my health condition, maladaptive stress syndrome, is so freaking challenging: I’m tired all the time. I need more rest than the average person, but that also means I can’t do as much as the average person. And because I can’t do as much, produce as much, my self-worth goes in the toilet.
I have to remind myself over and over what my life is really about, which is to achieve a divine union, and that’s not dependent on how much money is in my bank account or how many followers I have on instagram. Furthermore, my spiritual teacher says, “The Milky Way is vast from one end to the other; an ant is a very small creature, but the role of both of them in maintaining the balance of the universe is equal. If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.”
That means I’m important, you’re important, we’re important even if we never win a Nobel prize or an Oscar, because our worth is not inherent on what we’re doing. I could lie in bed all day every day and be just as important as a school teacher. I have to tell you I have so much resistance to saying that, but I’d really like to believe it’s true. If the Milky Way is just as important as an ant, how could it not be?
I dream of a world where we recognize our inherent value and worth as precious human beings. A world where we realize we matter just because we are alive. A world where we remember we are blessed children of the universe, no less and no more important than anyone else. A world where we remember who we really are.
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.
Every so often I notice my blogposts take on a certain theme; they'll build off of each other. Lately I've been talking about self-care and treating myself the way I treat others. While listening to an interview with Christine Arylo I realized all of these separate pieces come under the umbrella of self-love. See, I used to think self-love meant looking in the mirror and saying, "I love you." But I have to tell you, even after years of doing so I haven't noticed much difference. I mean, there are some subtle changes in how I view myself but I still don't feel as if I love myself fully. When I heard Christine's interview the penny finally dropped.
Christine says self-love is about more than affirmations. In fact, there are 10 branches of self-love: self-acceptance, self-care, self-trust, self-awareness, self-compassion and forgiveness, self-empowerment, self-honor and respect, self-esteem, self-expression, and self-pleasure. Like branches of a tree, these parts of self-love feed into self-worth, the root of self-love. Here, I'll show you a nifty picture she drew:
After hearing all of this, it made sense why I've felt as if I'm missing something. My self-esteem, self-awareness, and self-expression branches have been massive. Believing I can accomplish anything I set my mind to? Check. Having knowledge of who I am and what I'm good at? Check. Self-expressive? Double check. The others though? Not so much. I can't really profess that I love myself until I take equal care of all those self-love branches.
Why am I dithering on about self-love? I operate under the belief the outside world is a reflection of my internal one. The more I love myself the more loving people show up in my life. The more I take care of myself the more I can take care of others. Self-love may seem selfish (and Christine addresses that in her book Madly in Love with Me) but honestly, how on Earth are we supposed to love other people if we don't even know what it means to love ourselves? How can I show up for other people if I can't fully show up for myself?
This topic of self-love has become so important to me in the past few years because as I get older I realize no one will be able to love me the way I want to be loved. The amount of love I want is infinite and no finite human being will be able to give that to me. I'm not even sure I can give that to me but I'm much more suited to it than anyone else. Also, I have to be honest here — people drift in and out of my life. No one is with me all the time except for me, so really, the only love I can depend on 100% of the time is the love I have for myself and the love the universe has for me. And really, why would I want to put such an essential and basic human need solely in the hands of someone else? I'd much rather balance loving myself and having others love me. I can't get all the love I need from other people nor can I get all the love I need from myself.
If this blogpost sounds like a ringing endorsement of Christine's book, it is. She has practical tips and activities for how we can love ourselves more. I enjoy how in depth her book is because the stuff I've been doing only works to a degree. I don't want a degree, I want the whole shebang. So in reference to the title of this post, what's love got to do with it? Everything.
I dream of a world where we all love ourselves fully. A world where we understand to love ourselves is to love others. A world where we fill up our self-love cup and allow it to run over. A world where we water every branch of the self-love tree. A world where we show up for ourselves because we deserve it.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Last night I watched The Social Network. Seeing how much Mark Zuckerberg (the creator of Facebook) has accomplished at such a young age brought on a deluge of ego-centric thoughts. “Why haven’t I done as much? How come I’m not as successful as he is? I want to do big things too! I want to make a splash and be important!”
A couple of thoughts. One, there are all kinds of success. Two, it doesn’t matter how many “important” things I do, the feeling of worth has to come from within. I don’t need to make billions in order to look in the mirror and say, “Rebekah, you matter.”
But that’s not what I want to talk about.
Shortly after finishing the movie, I logged onto facebook (ironically) and found a link to my friends’ kiirtan band. They had uploaded a new tune and after singing along with them I started crying because I realized this is all that matters. This feeling, right now. The knowledge that only love is real. The feeling of complete oneness and peace. The upwelling of love in my heart that expressed itself as tears. This is actually all I want. Not billions of dollars, not fame, not well-behaved children and a doting husband, but this. This feeling. The exquisite emotion of love pouring through me and to me.
Listening to my friends’ tune, I felt all my ego thoughts get stripped away. I understood I will never be the youngest billionaire or the best whatever because I have different priorities. Only love is real and real love is all I want. I’m shooting for bliss, not fame and fortune.
This is kind of a rambling post but I guess I’m saying it’s nice to refocus my priorities. To remind myself I’m not striving for a fancy car or a big house. Ultimately, I want to wake up every morning feeling happy and content because I’m following my heart. I’m using my gifts and my passions to help create a better world. I’m entrenched in the notion that only love is real. Because really, only love is real. Everything else is my mind getting caught up in the hubbub.
I dream of a world where we remember only love is real and center our lives on that notion. A world where we remember fame and fortune will not fulfill us, just distract us for a while. A world where we live each day with love, in love, for love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I fell into a tizzy. I submitted the first 10 pages of my book Just a Girl From Kansas to a professional copy editor and she chopped out all the parts I felt were important. It wasn’t so much her suggested edits, but her deletions that got to me. I felt like she didn’t “get” me at all. I cried about it, I wrung my hands, I went into a tailspin questioning my abilities as a writer. Perhaps this copy editor knew better than I did. After all, she is a professional. Maybe I better listen to her and disregard my intuition.
. . .
No. Just no. Copy editing, like all other relationships, requires the right match. I sent the first 10 pages to a former colleague of mine, who’s also a copy editor, and she got it. She got me. I wasn’t bothered by her changes because she kept my heart intact. I didn’t feel threatened or insecure. I felt pretty comfortable, actually. Obviously my former colleague is a better match for me.
Prior to this experience, I thought a copy editor was a copy editor was a copy editor. “You mean they’re not interchangeable? You mean they don’t all do the same thing?” No, silly girl, everyone is different and does things differently! I mean of course I had to find the right person to copy edit my book. Just like I’ve had to find the right person with all my relationships.
I used to think just any person could be my best friend. As long as they said I was their best friend and they were mine, nothing else mattered. I didn’t care so much about the person as the role they played. The role was the most important part for me. I had an empty cast list I needed filling. “Pull ‘em off the street! I don’t care!”
Perhaps it’s a part of growing up, or building self-esteem, but I’m not interested in contorting myself to please others anymore. I’m not interested in compromising myself just to keep someone else around. Just so I can check off a box in my cast list. Because the right person really does make a difference. The right person really is worth waiting for. I can spend time gnawing at my fingernails and kowtowing to other people, or I can say, “No thanks,” and find someone who meets my needs. My part is feeling OK with the blank space.
I’m not going to regale you with the beauty of waiting for the right person and how it’s so much better when you do, because we’ve all heard it before. What I will say is I’m worth it. I’m worthy of waiting for the right person. I have enough self-esteem to say “No” to people and situations that do not serve me. I have value and my feelings matter. How I feel means something and I don’t need to justify myself to anyone else or try to bend my will to theirs when it feels wrong.
The role is not most important. The person is. So I’m willing to wait. I’m willing to wait for what I want. I’m willing to let go of the people who aren’t it while I keep searching for the person who is. I’m willing to be OK with the vacancies because I know, even from this small example, the incorrect match is far more painful than not having anyone at all.
I dream of a world where we are willing to wait for the right person for all situations. A world where we have enough self-esteem and pride that we trust ourselves and our intuition. A world where we’re content with waiting because it’s far less painful than wearing shoes that pinch your toes.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This past week I was in New Hampshire visiting friends and seeing one of my personal heroes, Elizabeth Gilbert speak about her new book. During that time I came to realize just how much I seek love and approval from others. How someone else’s approval is so valuable to me, I’m willing to do almost anything to get it.
In my last blogpost I wrote about perfection not equaling love. This week I’m still decompressing that notion, but instead of striving for perfection to gain love and approval, I don’t want to make any mistakes so love and approval will be revoked. A subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless.
Here’s a true story. My friends’ bathroom is in their bedroom, so that means at night I had to tiptoe past their sleeping bodies ninja-style in order to use the toilet. I felt absolutely terrified of waking them up, so much so I considered whether I could hold my bladder until daylight. (I couldn’t and didn’t. That doesn’t mean my heart didn’t race every time I crossed the threshold of their doorway though.) I honestly wondered if I woke them up if they would like me any less. Would my love get taken away? Would they decide I committed an offense so grand as to be unworthy of their friendship? My response to that is, “Gurl, you trippin.'” But it’s there. I felt that way. And it extends not just to friends but to strangers.
Sitting on the airplane flying back to SF, I asked my seatmates to get up multiple times so I could use the restroom. Each time I asked myself, “Do you really have to go? Can you hold it?” just because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I want you to love me so much I’m willing to go to any lengths to get it. Silly Rebekah, don’t you know love is given freely, it’s not something you earn because you’re a good girl? I guess I don’t. I’m still overcoming my childhood notions that wearing the right clothes or saying the right things will “make” people love me. And I so desperately want people to love me. So much so that I consider not going to the bathroom. Poor me, poor everyone who contorts themselves just so they can feel loved. What would the world be like if we all experienced love and approval unconditionally? Beautiful, amazing, divine.
After going to the bathroom for the third time in two hours at my friends’ apartment, I started journaling, thinking about the elements I can control. Obviously I can’t continue to tiptoe through life trying my hardest to never make a mistake ever because that’s impossible. What I can do is affirm, “I release my need for others’ validation.” Oh my goodness. The freedom. To be able to show up in life as my authentic self, carefree and confident is the most amazing feeling. I cannot guarantee my friends will love me forever — although I’d like to think they will — but I can release my need for their constant approval. And I can work on the two relationships that will stay with me through the end of time: the one with myself and the one with my higher power.
Is there any mistake I can ever make that will result in making me no longer love myself? No. There’s not. I may not fully believe that in this moment but I want to, oh how I want to. And it’s possible, it’s all a matter o training. It requires I look myself in the mirror and say, “Rebekah, I love you no matter what.” If I say it often enough I will believe it. Affirmations are like that.
The other relationship, the one with my higher power, thankfully already feels full of unconditional love (thank God). I already feel loved probably because nine months ago I redefined my higher power and the relationship I have. I see the love the universe has for me reflected in a thousand ways. From catching all my flights on time and arriving early in New Hampshire despite the snowpocalypse in the Northeast, to getting job opportunities out of the blue. The more I see that love, the more it comes back to me. So honestly, I don’t need to run around squawking, “Do you love me? What about you?” because there are two places where it’s secured forever and always: myself and my higher power.
I dream of a world where we love ourselves unconditionally. A world where we understand love is not a prize, but rather a gift. A world where we no longer seek approval in the eyes of another and instead work on giving that to ourselves. A world where we allow ourselves to make mistakes because unconditional love will never be taken away. A world where we rest easy because we feel sheltered by the Supreme.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m just going to be honest. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been feeling sad and frustrated. I’ve been in the space of, “Where is blah di blah? Why isn’t it here yet? Why don’t I have it yet?” Then I want to slip into my fearful controlling place to “make” it happen. But that doesn’t work for me. It never has.
I dream of a world where we all allow ourselves to get what it is we want. A world where we know all our needs and desires will be fulfilled with time. A world where we understand life is about flow and movement and that means letting ourselves be carried. A world where we let ourselves dream big and know those dreams will come true if we let them.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.