Spirit of Acceptance

♥

“There’s always something to suggest that you’ll never be who you wanted to be. your choice is to take it, or keep on moving.” 

-Phylicia Rashad

When I began to formulate a reason for writing (at the last minute) today, a recent self-portrait of myself immediately invaded my thoughts. I, once again, admired the contrast between the black and white, admitting only for a brief moment that I was astonishingly beautiful and even more in awe of the ability to capture such beauty. This feeling, nested warmly between the soft edges of my soon-to-be healed heart and soul, faded just as fast as it arrived when I heard the distant whisper of an old acquaintance say: sometimes I look at your picture and wonder who you will become." He was referring to a photo of myself, at the sweet age of 7, which showed me holding my fists up in a ball as if I was preparing to fight the schoolyard bully. Looking back, I've only had the pleasure of meeting one bully: myself.

I am but one person and being that I am indeed sane, it should be much easier to treat myself with the same patience that an older lady incurs in waiting for her first grey hair to arrive. This is not the case. Nor is this the case of a pretty southern belle, so charming that everything she touches turns to gold, that even the laws of attraction work primarily in her favor. No, none of this is true.

I am a bully, without the mean stare, expanding steroid-induced muscles, and greasy hair that is associated with most, but for the sake of confusion, just consider me the "new millennium" bully. At anytime, I can cause my nerves to go into a panic—attacking all that is left of confidence in what I am currently doing & pursuing. Then, the questioning begins: “am I doing too much?,” “should I heed the advice of others, even if I think they are wrong or misguided?,” “is this my true purpose?” If I am lucky, my soul will save me from the damage I am sure to ensue if distraction doesn’t intervene, rarely though, does that occur. I spend the next few hours or days in solitude, fighting a heavy battle between what I believe & what patience is against. Out of desperation, I search for a way out, a reminder or phrase or photograph, anything that can directly lead me to rekindling the relationship that one has with him or herself.

Out of nowhere, a question arose: Does the divine spirit need me or do I need it? Without speaking a word, I knew the answer and the solution. If I do not own the right to tear someone else down (which I have never done intentionally), then I could not possibly conjure a valid reason for doing the same to myself. And if I am to believe in a divine spirit that it always peaceful, loving and reassuring, then it would be an insult to continue to treat myself this way.

I have a smile so wide, the creases form a circle around my face. I’ve got a soul so deep, it would take a lifetime to fill. I am so in touch with “it,” there is no need to ever explain. And at this point, explaining is just a waste. Living is much more useful.