love, worth, and other stuff that can make a girl crazy
Here are a few things I’ve learned these past months/years/lifetimes:
Our lovability/worth/value/ is not dependent on:
The way we look.
How much money we have.
The number of people who “like” our page on Facebook.
The number of friends on Facebook.
The number of people who visit our blog, comment or “favorite” something.
Whether our work is published.
Whether we have a “following”.
The number of lovers we have.
The number of digits we get from the opposite (or same) sex.
The kind of car we drive.
Whether our friends show up for us during times of loss and need.
Whether we can show up for our friends in times of loss or need.
Whether we have an iPhone.
How many text messages we get.
How many people call us.
Whether we are the life of the party or the shy one in the corner.
(you get the idea.)
Status, power, “success”, social standing…so many things are determined by factors both within and without of our control. These things of the world are all so ephemeral and meaningless. They are part of the playground–the school of life.
Remember how much EVERYTHING seemed so damned important in high school and how laughable that was even a year later? That’s how life works too. I am here to tell you that shit doesn’t matter any more than being student body president or cheerleader did in high school. One day you’ll back on your life and say, “Why did I care so much about that?”
I have had and not had money. I have had a house and been homeless. I have had no friends and been showered with attention. I’ve thought I was the least attractive creature on earth and then had multiple people want to date and marry me.
None of these things ever made me feel lovable or worthwhile just like none of my “accomplishments” in high school mean a damn thing today. I feel empty and endlessly hungry when I tune into that level of consciousness.
The moments of meaning are (but are not limited to):
The love in my children’s eyes and feeling them melt into my arms.
Wiping away tears.
Witnessing and deep listening.
Noticing the way people and animals seem to feel safe and loved around me and the joy I get in giving that love.
Turning my attention to how exquisitely beautiful life is.
The fragrance of a flower or my child’s hair.
The taste of my lover’s sweat.
The pounding of my heart when I dance, work out or make love.
Creating something that brings joy to another and sharing it.
The deep peace of stillness.
(You get the idea.)
The One that I Am is limitless and filled with pure potential. It enjoys life as it comes and just loves to dance, play, sing, create and love. There is no measurement in that space–no “stats”, no striving, no “reciprocity”, proving or need for Deep Meaning.
There is only the pure joy of spontaneous unfolding.
That’s where it’s at. The rest is just static and one big mind fuck.
Now go forth and enjoy this blessed life!