Flawed

Remember this quote? First posted in January, snatched from an email from my friend Laura, from "Awakening Loving-Kindness", by Pema Chodron:


But loving-kindness toward ourselves doesn't mean getting rid of anything. It means that we can still be crazy after all these years. We can still be angry after all these years. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. The point is not to try to change ourselves. Meditation practice isn't about trying to throw ourselves away and become someone better. It's about befriending who we are already. The ground of practice is you, or me, or whoever we are right now, just as we are. That's the ground, that's what we're here to study; that's what we come to know with tremendous curiosity and interest.

Now, as you all know I am very much not into "self-help" or anything having to do with energies, mantras, chakras, smelly incense or candles, or any other assorted new-agey-ness. Not that there is anything wrong with these things. They are just not my bag.

But this quote? This lesson above? I think I need to tattoo it on my forearm.

The list of grievances I have against myself is staggering.

I procrastinate. I forget to pay my credit card bills. I have credit card bills. I decided years ago not to go to grad school. I waffle over whether I should have gone to grad school. I am judgmental. I am impatient. I swear too much. I hate to open my mail. I lose things. My room is filled with piles of stuff. I am horrible about staying in contact with people. I never remember to write thank you notes. I never remember birthdays. I don't go to the gym enough. I don't cook. I can be dismissive, loud, opinionated, stubborn, needy, selfish and indecisive. All of these things.

Oh, yeah, and I'm too hard on myself.

Right.

What if I fixed all of these things? Who would I be then? I wouldn't be me, surely. Would you all recognize me? Would I recognize myself?

I think sometimes, I could stop doing what I am trying to do with my life right now, right this moment, and it wouldn't matter. In time everyone would forget that I ever did it at all. I'm not a writer, so nothing would be left for posterity but google hits. Six people would be right there to do it instead of me. Hell--eighteen people, 300 people. Maybe they'd all do it better than I do.

And then other times I get overwhelmed by the joy of the creation. By how much all of this matters to me. Maybe too much. So much that I get angry when I think people are doing it wrong. I don't get angry that puppies and kittens are getting abused everyday but I get angry when I see work that I think is indulgent or dishonest or self-important. It makes me wonder about my priorities. I do get angry about Darfur and reproductive rights, so at least there's that.

A crises was due any day. This shouldn't come as a surprise. And to be clear--this is not me feeling sorry for myself, or asking any of you to feel sorry for me. Just thinking out loud.

And, umm, not to change the subject but...

Only four more chances to see DALI.