Worry About Yourself (c.)

The hallway became a metaphor for a thing I cannot currently name. I walked that hallway for about three years at all kinds of hours, in all kinds of confusion about what I was feeling. It is funny how quickly God will give you clarity when you release your vision and start learning how to truly look at what you are seeing instead of making it into the beautiful thing it is not. Had no idea about the ghosts that had been dancing in anticipation of the victory in a battle they had not won.

In the middle of some relentless night that morphed into a beautiful opportunity to simply breathe, be, think, and feel without distraction or expectation, I found myself unbelievably preoccupied with all of that worrying and how thoroughly it got in the way of my ability to access to my own peace, my own pleasure, my own comfort, and my own, well deserved time. In the midst of the wrestling, I was struck by a simple and clear internal nudge: worry about yourself.

It is wild how long it can take to give yourself permission to rightly order a thing. It is also wild how we come to believe we are a thing that is not even worthy of unwavering consideration.

This year I think I am gifting myself the honor of worrying about myself, first. Consistently. Maybe this will give the strength to be more attuned to others, the patience to listen my way into being a better lover, and maybe even a better presence in the light, and the dark.