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.
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.
This blogpost has been written subliminally probably a thousand times. The notion is one of my life's guiding principles, so after watching a television episode about this very subject, I decided it was high time I write a proper post.
One of the characters on the T.V. show said, "What if the universe doesn't send us signs? What if we're just seeing what we want to see? Maybe the universe has better things to do than send us signs." I can understand why this character would say that. Heck, I've said it myself, but primarily when things didn't turn out the way I wanted or expected them too.
It's been a hard lesson for me to learn, that the universe is still communicating with me, when I don't get what I want. A few years ago I feel head over heels in love with a man who did not return my affections. I was crushed for many reasons, but the biggest was that I had received so many freaking signs and messages about this dude. I started to question everything, whether the universe really did communicate with me, whether I made the whole thing up, whether I only saw what I wanted to.
A picture I took in Washington, D.C. You would think this photo was staged but it wasn't! The guy on the left really was pointing in the same direction as the sign of his own accord!
About a week ago, I wrote a poem for the first time in years. Through this poem I came to realize all the signs and messages I received about this guy were necessary and true. Because of my heartbreak I got sober, started living in reality, and have been able to heal parts of myself that desperately needed healing. And because the universe is always communicating with us, I came across the most perfect Rumi quote days after writing that poem:
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Every time I find the perfect quote, run into a friend unexpectedly, see animals repeatedly in unusual places, etc. it's the universe communicating with me. And to be honest, I know when something is an authentic sign and when I'm trying to force it. A true sign will have a resonance in my heart. A true sign will give me the warm fuzzies. And a true sign will often appear in threes. It has been said there is a rule about threes and I find it to be true with signs as well.
I bring this all up because I think there's a belief we're separate from the world. That "the universe" is outside of us. That we're operating in different circles and why would the universe concern itself with the petty goings on of a mere person? The answer is: we're not separate. We are all cosmic stardust. We are the universe and the universe is us. So of course the universe is happy to play a part in our romantic lives because romantic love is one of the ways in which we experience the divine.
Rumi has another poem:
"The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.”
My interpretation of that poem is that the love we seek is already within us and sometimes we require another person to act as a mirror (or maybe a shovel) to bring it out of us. That exquisite feeling though, that love, is the universe in my opinion. Why wouldn't the universe want to remind us of deep, abiding, unconditional love? To remind us what we're working toward? And if we're not separate from the universe, doesn't it make complete sense the external world would be a reflection of our interior one? So when we ask a question it will be answered?
I dream of a world where we pay attention to signs and messages. A world where we understand there are benevolent energies that want to help us, that are happy to communicate with us. A world where we tune in and see how the world is speaking to us.
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.
Does anyone else think of that kid’s song when they hear, “Shame, shame, shame?” Maybe it’s just me. Anyway, right. Shame. It’s my issue du jour this week. There’s a whole lot of, “Oh my god I can’t believe I did that,” and “What would people think if they found out?!?”