When I saw this quote on Susan's wall I knew I had to blog it because it perfectly fit where I am right now. Wonderfully, my friend Darlene at Emerging From Broken also has a post today that also fits so well with this. When you are done here please visit her and Susan either on Facebook or at their blogs!
Distaste and discomfort - those two words were almost guiding principals in the world I grew up. Woe to you for causing either to someone in our family or circle of rat you out in an instant friends. People would get that twisted mouth and narrow down their eyes and you'd be in for big trouble!
|Compassion is for all, regardless of size |
or how important we think we or they are.
And what was this big crime that was committed? Usually it was a simple as not doing or being what someone else wanted you to do or be. Be a good pre-teen cocktail waitress at this party. Be a quiet worker. Be someone's kicking, yelling or belittling target. But for goodness sake keep your mouth shut!. You could be on fire but don't you dare tell anyone that someone set that fire!
Flash forward to today...distaste and discomfort once again. I'm doing it again! I'm not shutting up! I'm making people uncomfortable. I'm even being 'unfriended' over telling my own truth! I'm not putting up signs or billboards with photos. I'm writing. I'm speaking up. I'm telling my truth, in my voice for the first time in my life.
But if someone telling their own truth causes someone such discomfort and distaste it begs the question - what un-looked at, un-examined things are lurking under their smooth surface? If they don't want to see what is open in my life maybe it really is because they don't want to lose the magic of their denial. How sad.
You would silence me and stifle my healing because of your own lack of voice and lack of healing! Things are so small in your world that you would rather walk away from my wounds, feeling righteous before facing your own?
When we can see our own wounding and understand it, then we can start healing. With healing comes compassion and understanding, with that comes a special kind of courage that lets us reach through the veil of hurt to hold the hand, heart and words of another who is on their own healing path. We can live through the scars of surviving. We can burst through to happiness.
It is a choice!
You can choose to be gentle with yourself and let yourself heal. But that means actually acknowledging the wounding. You can choose to push it all down and away and in so doing you can crush your own ability to have compassion and caring because you won't grant it yourself, you cannot grant it to others.
By choosing to deny the knife in your back you say you cannot help because your back hurts. By choosing to be full of distaste and discomfort you deny your self the blessings of healing and grace.
We have to face the good with the bad, they are a package deal. I cannot figure out a way to have good memories without the bad ones coming along and destroying the party. I remembered my prized possessions for a short time - pink satin pillow cases my grandma made. I loved them. I thought I loved them enough.
But soon enough that memory is dragged away with the memory that comes after. The one where I'm not worthy, not good enough, so bad that I don't deserve nice pillow cases. And in my tears I write a note, childish scrawl, and attach it to the pillow cases as I give them back. I'm not worthy. I wrote it down. I admitted it. I was sure they were right.
There was no compassion, no second chances. No chance to try again. In my world now, full of chaos and healing, I almost feel badly for them in their small world of status quo and pointing fingers at those people. Us people. Us healing people who won't shut up. Us healing people who won't whitewash, bury, rename or redress in new clothes the rotting collection of lies and snare line that trapped us for so long.
I want to be able to really touch someone and have them feel the compassion and the love. I want to celebrate healing, I want to cheer on advocates, I want to be the cRaZy whoot whoot woman on the sidelines as we race once more just to feel the wind on our faces and the sun on our backs! Never too much or too little - just right because we just are.