Yesterday, someone held up a mirror so that I could see how much the energy of ego still surrounds my writing. Of course, my feelings got hurt, but I have walked in the light long enough to know that growth periods can be painful (they don’t have to be, but often are), and the best way to feel better is to look for the lesson inside the hurt.
And when I looked, what I saw is how much my writing is still wrapped around the need to be seen, to be validated, and even to be liked. It is as if the words go out all wrapped around in See me! Like me! Read me! And behind those pleas there is a big pit of not-seen, not-valued, and perhaps even not-worthy.
Where did this hole come from? I don’t know, but when I look at it, it seems to stretch far beyond this lifetime. Oh, sure, I was wounded in childhood, as many of us were, but I lived in a safe home with parents who loved me and nurtured me in many ways. They are not responsible for this hole. And yet it is there.
So when I enter the meditation space this morning, I will seek and clear the threads of invalidation and wounding in my space. And they will arise on other days as well, until I have peeled all the layers of the onion, down and down to the final nub of the pain, and when I finally move that, I will be free of this one dynamic.
In the meantime, this space is here for me to practice in. No pressure, no failure, and no shame. It’s all part of the journey, although sometimes knowing that doesn’t satisfy my impatience. And that in and of itself is also probably a lesson. Sigh.