Brought to You by an Overactive Mind

I think one of the most liberating feelings in the world is not feeling like you must prove anything to anyone because you live in such a way that if anyone were to speak poorly of you, others wouldn’t believe it and even if they did, you carry the truth in your heart, soul and mind which, in turn, strengthens your self worth. As humans, we tend to place a great deal of emphasis on the opinions and judgments of others causing discontentment and the rare ability to solely be gratified with our inner voice seems to be one of the roots of true happiness.

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It’s a beautiful cycle when one is content with oneself because one no longer seeks the approval of outsiders as opposed to a vicious routine of seeking approval in every type of relationship. Most of those relationships are doomed from the beginning because as the old adage goes, one cannot love another if one does not love his or her self first. My, how much more lovely the world would be if each and every one of us loved ourselves, right?

This question recalls a recent conversation I had with someone special in which we discussed the pleasantries that would stem from every one appreciating diversity and loving others because of these very multiplicities. He stated that it would be cool if every one thought as I did when it came to human beings, in that I eagerly seek out their differences with a hunger to learn more, to educate myself and experience the world through a different culture, to acceptably attempt to view life through a completely different perspective even if it was something I ultimately couldn’t understand. I, in turn, stated, that my thoughts wouldn’t be as appreciated or special just as everything in this world goes. Too much of something oftentimes goes under-appreciated or taken for granted – if everyone loved them selves, would we truly ever understand the depths of compassion or caring? Are these human emotions not valid and necessary for growth?

What I’m attempting to explore through this particular blog is the idea of balance. As humans, again, we tend to get our panties in a bunch when something goes awry but is there not a balance? Is there not some sort of purpose to the chaos, a balancing act of perceived good and apparent bad? Sure, when it rains it seemingly pours and I’d like to ask my twenty-six year old self these questions when I watched my mother’s life slip away right before my eyes. I probably would have beat the shit out of anyone who posed these thoughts before me at that time and I pose them now simply as food for thought. Perhaps, not loving oneself for years and learning how to do so is the point? The journey is more important and certainly more valuable than the destination for lack of better dictum per se.  If we simply knew how to love ourselves, establish no judgment upon others and place no value upon others’ opinions from the second we escape the womb, then could we truly be grateful for the dire and blessed moments of our journey of this beautiful mess we call life – the numerous moments that demand our compassion, our undivided attention and our unadulterated love?

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