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The art of…. being me.

The art of … being me.

One pink flower in a field of white daises.

Please take note… one pink snarky flower in a field of daisies….

Okay, now before you get all crazy on me, I am not suggesting in any way that I am worthy of being held to some amazing artistic standard. I am a human, plain and simple. However, I will admit to you that I haven’t always been terribly fond of myself. In fact I have struggled to “fit in” for most of my life. (or fade in nicely as part of the wall) I wanted to be normal … or something else I probably had no way of being. Yep, that’s me, the pink odd flower in the field of sweet, pure daisies.

This past year, I turned fifty, it wasn’t magical nor did I wake up on a Saturday morning feeling somehow transformed, but I believe a lifetime of introspection and effort has brought me to a place of acceptance. There seems to be some sort of wisdom that comes with fiftyish. I think it’s been a long process, a journey – one that isn’t likely to end any time soon either. Which at this stage of the game- I actually think is a good thing. (go figure)

One of the things I have beaten myself up about the most is I am not perfect. (don’t laugh!) I wanted to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect child… you get the idea. I thought that would make me the most lovable. I held myself to impossible standards and when I failed, which seemed to be all too often, it felt like the end of the world.

Luckily for all of us, I have grown. I know that the only real perfection has nothing to do with me. Perhaps it is the idea of intentional gratitude, the work on not only accepting but embracing my imperfections and the attempt to grow as a human being that has brought me to a place of knowing that this is exactly where I am supposed to be.

It’s exciting really. One day I was speaking with a close friend. She was in a similar place, beating herself up for not being Mom of the year. Without really thinking about it I looked at her and said, “maybe you were as perfect as you could possibly be for that time, with the place you were and with the tools you had. ” Tears filled both of our eyes – it really was a revelation- Often it seems that we gain wisdom later in life about a situation we didn’t handle to the highest of standards, but isn’t that called experience? Once we gain a little, we seem to handle things differently. We learn from our experiences, we grow…

Saint Theresa was a wise woman…
I am especially fond of Saint Theresa’s prayer-
“May today there be peace within.
May you trust that you are EXACTLY where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.
May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content with yourself just the way you are.
Let this knowledge settle in your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
it is there for each and every one of us.”

This prayer sits inside my computer cupboard.

An image of a piece of paper with a prayer to St. Theresa

I look at it every day as I work, e-mail, create

So I dare you… enjoy the art of being you… sing, dance, praise and love the best way YOU know how.

In peace-