#aunthenticity

Dear skin, let's breathe again.

I have spent years trying to perfect you. Chasing the glass, but ended up broken. I forgot you are worthy of my love.

No more.

You are not flawed - you are functional. Real skin has pores. Real skin has texture. I choose real.

I choose to be authentic

I choose to be authentic

You could too

I make this choice

Today and every day

To be authentic

In every way

I am shameless

I am free

No one compares to me

Because we are all incomparable

I am a big deal

And so are you

I am always home because

I found home within me

Your home is in you

You can find it too

All that I need is within me

And same for you

I control my life

And you control yours too

I am my hero

You could be yours too

I know my power

This morning as I made toast, I thought I'd fill the wait by putting away the clean dishes. This despite my renewed resolve to be more mindful, more present, and to do one thing at a time.

All was well until I picked up two saucepans in one hand, and their lids in the other. And, yes, you guessed it: the delicate balancing act I was attempting became distinctly unbalanced and a saucepan lid crashed to the floor, snapping off its handle.

Annoying? Yes. A nuisance? Sort of. An accident? No. Wait, you say, of course it was an accident. Happens all the time, it's just one of those things. Well, no. Accidents are what happen to other people, not me. If I drop and break something it's because I've been careless, thoughtless, and stupid. Oh, don't forget clumsy, awkward, hopeless, and a failure. No. Not an accident.

A few years ago I wrote what I (in a fit of grandiosity) called a narrative poem about an incident that occurred when I was six.

Goes to show that despite all that's happened between then and now; all the therapy; all the meditation and mindfulness; all the spiritual practice; all the confidence and esteem boosting things and people I've been blessed with over all those years; despite all of this, the old wounds can still play up from time to time. Old hurts and old feelings can resurface to pull you under once again.

Now, this was sixty years ago. Yes. S.I.X.T.Y. years ago.

And, today, when I smashed the saucepan lid, I thought of that poem. And I felt the emotions of that-six year-old having the experience I wrote about there.

If you let them that is. Pull you under I mean. There's a saying I like that kind of goes with my own invented favourite: I think therefore I suffer:

'...for there is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so'.

That's from Shakespeare you know. I wonder if he ever broke a saucepan lid?

Yesterday we went to pick up groceries we'd ordered online the night before. How it works is you place the order, the store texts when the order's ready, then when you arrive at the store, you push a button on the app to tell them you're there. You wait out the front, and they bring the groceries out to you. Very convenient and a service we appreciate very much.

Anyway, before we left for the store, I was thinking about how the last time we'd picked up groceries I'd been very talkative, joking, and very friendly to the store person who brought our order out to us.

What's wrong with that you might ask. Well, I asked myself the same question. The simple answer is, absolutely nothing. Except, there is. No, I don't mean to say that being friendly or making jokes is a bad thing; it's a good thing - for most of us. It's just that for me, as the saying goes, I go overboard.

Of course my friendliness is always genuine: I'm an honest sincere and loving person. And my jokes are always is good taste - even if sometimes they may not be quite relevant or otherwise appropriate. But, you see, as a hermit, as a person who is not overly comfortable in discourse with other people, I had the thought that I could make more of an effort to limit that anxiety-driven over friendliness and blah blah banter.

I guess I'm saying here that I could benefit from acquiring a little more discernment when it comes to how I choose to interact with people out there in the world.

Yesterday right after having the thoughts I've just shared with you, I read this:

High up in the summer sky I watched the silent flight of a vulture, and the day goes by in prayer. This solitude confirms my call to solitude. The more I am in it, the more I love it. One day it will possess me entirely and no man [sic] will ever see me again.

For a while now I've been reading Thomas Merton's Dialogues with Silence, little bits each day. It's a beautiful book of excerpts from his journals - some of them prayers - accompanied by his simple and expressive sketches.

Therein lies the dilemna. To find a balance between an open, loving, friendly way of interacting with others and the world, while at the same time not betraying my own need (on a number of levels) to be in solitude. How to go about the business of necessary worldly activities, while preserving my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual energies for what is truly dear to me - the quest for transcendence, for presence, and for union with Ultimate Reality.

High up in the summer sky I watched the silent flight of a vulture, and the day goes by in prayer. This solitude confirms my call to solitude. The more I am in it, the more I love it. One day it will possess me entirely and no man [sic] will ever see me again

On The Road To Happiness: Peeling Off The Layers

Layer# 1: Authenticity & Simplicity Photo by: Thesaurus. plus

The question, “who are you?” can partly be answered concerning who you are as a person but largely answers your identity, your pattern of behaviors, inner principles, and values. At some point in my life, I used to ask myself many questions like who am I? Why am I here? How did I get here? Where am I going? Questions like these…