bring those we love before us, as they were,
with faults and all, not nobler, just there
Derek Walcott from Sea Canes
What is your truth today?
I’ve been thinking about how many times I rushed past the truth on my way to change, and, in so doing, didn’t really change at all.
It was small things – the way the numbers on the scale used to prompt an immediate, and drastic, call to diet – without ever sitting with what I knew and felt in that moment.
And larger ones – assuming that other people’s notions of success should be mine – without stopping to acknowledge who I was and wanted to be.
Part of embracing imperfections – and opening ourselves up to a deeper way of loving and being loved – is to acknowledge what is true without springing immediately to action or judgment.
It is to pause and sit with that truth, particularly in the moments when we want to run away from our own selves, when we feel our most unlovable and anxious.
It is to say “here is where I am and here is what I know and feel,” without having any immediate expectations.
This is immensely hard. It’s so tempting to rush past the icky parts, to hop off the scale immediately, to avert one’s eyes from someone else’s sorrow (and sometimes even someone else’s joy), to completely erase where the drawing went astray*, to make excuses, to move immediately into “fixing it” mode, to yell at ourselves and others in a futile hope of not having to acknowledge what is true.
In Norman Maclean’s brilliant account of fly fishing -- A River Runs Through It --he describes how sitting patiently and seeing what is actually there and visible (the river’s surface) leads first to what is visible around the edges and then, ultimately, to seeing what had been invisible – the trout.
When we can sit with what is, we become more open to possibility, connection, and authentic change.
What is your truth today?
Emily
*When I taught drawing, erasers were rarely allowed. With an eraser, a student would draw a line, erase it completely, and then draw the very same line they were trying to change. By withholding the eraser, students had an opportunity to see what happened, be present in how they felt, and use the “wrong” line as a guideline for revision.