Self Esteem DIARY

I’m running two workshops on today.

A unique experience.

Biggest pressure is, will I have enough energy to do it?

Will the cup of coffee at lunch time keep me going?

Energy, physical energy, such an amazing thing. We are nothing without it.

When I don’t have it, I feel like…nothing, like some half-baked, shell of a somebody.

Not many people see me like that. The hidden persona, sucked dry of juice.

Waiting for Godot.

 

 

I’m thinking about how we are trained to be so competitive.

So much of the time, thinking win-lose, superior-inferior.

When we learn to read and write at school we are either told, “You are so clever or so stupid.”

Wouldn’t it be beautiful if they could say, “Can you feel the intrinsic magic, of reading and writing? This amazing ability we all have, to create letters and words and sentences and paragraphs and books and to read them and learn and share ideas with each other and create and communicate and express love and grow and heal and transform!?

Can you feel this beautiful resonance in your body, in your mind in your heart?”

Then perhaps all of life, of living, could be filled with wonder and magic.

Really feeling it, filling our entire being.

The joy of this, rather than the pain of, “I’m so clever-stupid.”

Nothing much is happening right now. Sitting on my patio looking at the garden, the trees, the flowers, the birds hopping and flying around.

I notice my mind, looking for something to dissect, comment on. Searching for peace and meaning in this strange and uncontrollable life.

It is like a desperate chef, speedy chopping knife tearing through the vegetables.

Life was beautiful a moment ago, now it lies in pieces on the ground, like James Taylor’s Flying Machine.

I smile wryly at this incessant thing, this destroyer of the Now!

 

I’m totally exhausted.

Stachybotrys, the mould biotoxin, has got to me.

I’m looking, searching, clawing desperately for a way to escape the pain of exhaustion, to feel better.

It’s just a fantasy. Without the fantasy I can sit with the pain.

But I don’t want to.

I give up the fight, relax and merge into what is happening.

Perhaps love isn’t in getting what I want, it is in loving what is happening.

 

I notice myself giving advice to someone.

It isn’t from a place of love. I am trying to change them.

They don’t listen to me and I am resentful.

I laugh at myself.

Self-righteous advice is to make myself feel good. Loving advice is a gift, for free, no strings attached.

Being in the world without ‘strings’…what joy!