I love this parable. The first time I heard it, it resonated somewhere deep within me. I have always been acutely aware of my own dichotomy. My capacity for both wonderful and terrible things. My ability to love the terrible in others. My preference for the messy gray areas of life.
I am ever aware of my faults but learning to be more cognizant of my strengths. That learning curve is part of the reason this final post on my 40 by Forty blog is over 100 days past due. Well, that and the fact that there is no possible way to write "Become My Own Friend" and not sound like a total dork. Guess it’s time I embrace it.
In an earlier post, I referenced Philautia: self love. To the Greeks, this is a two-sided love. On one hand, it can be narcissistic, self-involved, insecure. On the other, a deep knowing and honoring of oneself. A safe space to exist. For someone who has been at war with herself for as long as she can remember, this second definition sure sounds like something to strive for.
I started in small ways. Drawing a line in the sand to keep me from re-subjecting myself to known heartbreak. Calling a cease fire to my at-times brutal internal dialogue. Trusting my gut when something feels wrong despite not knowing why. Posting on my wall of wins: a collage of daily highlights to remind me of all the lovely little things that make up my beautiful life. Doling out self-compassion like it’s my job.
In Joshua Tree, I wrote about my tendency to see myself as uninspired. I sometimes feel like a lamp: all the potential to shine, just waiting for some outside force to flick my switch. Maybe that's normal, the tendency to rely on others to bring out latent parts of ourselves. But the longer I stay single, the more I desire to be my own catalyst.
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