Cool to Be Cruel

Cool to Be Cruel

cruel

Who was it that decided
It was cool to be cruel?

Who was it that instructed you
To cover up your envy.

With cutting words
Used to feel oh so clever.

Holding your balance
On the pedestal you’ve precariously perched on.

Hoping to tower over
Your item of envy.

They need to be smaller
Small, like you feel when you’re around them.

Small, like you feel.

When you forget how beautiful you are
You can be so very ugly.

Your cutting words
Will never leave you feeling valued.

Self-satisfied
Masturbated, perhaps.

Your ego safely tucked
Behind your manufactured cool.

Maybe they won’t notice
How insecure you are.

You’re more beautiful
Than you act.

It’s a shame
You don’t know.

How your envy leaves you exposed
To what’s behind your performance.

You’re caught up in comparison
And your need to control.

How insecure you are
You’re trying to feel better.

Looking at everyone else
You never see the best in you.

Never getting that your beauty
Isn’t forced into production.

It’s yours
Naturally.

Clever and cool are words
That do not express.

An opportunity for love wasted
Beauty masked.

photo credit: Dori

“Better” Than You

“Better” Than You

SeeSaw

It’s an endless quest to be good enough in another person’s eyes. Not facing our own thoughts and feelings, we measure our self using the eyes of another. Unable to acknowledge it’s really our own perception of self that we use as the measure—not theirs.

It takes practice to feel good and whole as we are. Sometimes, rather than doing this, we buy clothes and things, chase and stockpile money, and do what we can to be “better” than others. In comparison, we find our worth.

Rather than question and/or remove ourselves from the mindsets and situations that exert and encourage this dance of superiority/inferiority, we can find ourselves feeding into it and trying to puff ourselves up in order to match it—and even beat it. In our armour of clothes, hair, beautiful things, and pomp we are elevated and protected.

A culture of buying into the need to feel superior (and invariably, inferior) to others. A collective experience encouraging us and teaching us all to feel so very insecure.

Repeatedly pushed and pulled to feel inferior and superior, internally and externally, this wild see-saw of emotion is crazy-making. In our totality, we are no better nor worse, yet we each have qualities that make us “better” than another. It’s focusing on these qualities that gets us caught on the see-saw. Feeling superior ultimately leads to feeling inferior. And vice versa. The pendulum keeps swinging, the see-saw rises and falls.

How do we know what is impressive to another? Thinking what impresses us is what impresses everyone leaves us in fantasy, believing everyone is like us. And they are not. Acknowledging our fantastical expectations, we are pulled by them less by them—and we’re less likely to push them on others, keeping ourselves on the see-saw.

We are neither as perfect nor as terrible as we imagine ourselves (and others) to be. Accepting this frees us from the push and pull to be “the best.” Equanimity actively dissolve the illusion surrounding us.

For our own happiness, we need to own the places where we compete and compare, where we feel inferior and superior to others. It’s so very okay that we ride the see-saw. It’s so very okay we measure our self against others. Owning this, we make the see-saw an easier ride for all of us. Now, the pendulum has less space to swing, and the ride becomes less wild. For the moment, in our truth, we are each good enough.

photo credit: Mike Leary

Getting to Know Your Garbage

Getting to Know Your Garbage

Garbage

Here’s a bit of my garbage… I have a tendency to attach to other people’s garbage.

I magnetize to the parts of people that they have decided have no value and have thrown away.

I can’t stand how their not responsible to these parts, and I determine someone needs to be.

And now their garbage has become mine. I’ve attached to it.

Except, I have my own garbage to manage. So, why do I think I have room to take on theirs? Being responsible to theirs, I can’t fully be responsible to mine.

I need the emotional space.

Other times with garbage, I like to think other people are responsible for the garbage in my life. I like to think I’m a victim of their littering and ignorance, their garbage creations.

When I’m not being responsible to the garbage in my life, when I’m blaming it on others, this action holds me back from being the complete person I am.

Taking responsibility for both the things I’ve made and the things I’ve wasted—my creations and my garbage—I change myself, and the world around me.

In owning my complete experience, I am free to be whole in my tragedy and in my joy. I can now acknowledge both my waste and my creations without shame.

In creating space for own my handiwork, both its darkness and light, I create space for others to own theirs. Magically, my garbage problem disappears.

photo credit: habeebee

The Perfection of Imperfection

The Perfection of Imperfection

Imperfection

What if my imperfections were my road map for growth and becoming more perfectly, joyfully me?

What if embracing and supporting my imperfections could lead me to spaces I’ve never been before?

I am not perfect. And I desire to feel totally happy letting the external world know this truth. No matter the situation.

Inside, I am aware that I am imperfect, but I hold a hesitancy to accept this truth. I waste my valuable energy trying to resist this truth internally, and trying to portray otherwise to the external world.

I’ve been choosing to support the collective lie that perfection is a true ideal and I have allowed this choice to weigh on me. I diminish myself with this ‘perfect’ story, and diminish my world by continuing with a story I don’t truly believe in.

It’s no wonder I feel tortured and confused in my relationship with imperfection, dancing between ignoring her existence and engulfing myself in her.

But what if I chose to walk the line with my imperfection instead, and celebrated the perfection of my imperfections?

What if I gently embraced my imperfections, and had faith in my own ability to transform them into something beautiful?

What if I believed that in working with my less than perfect qualities I am better able to discover the perfection in me?

photo credit: bark