Every new stage of life is a jack in the box that offers an unexpected surprise!
When the subject is love (or life) we have no clue what to expect next.
I awoke during the night, needing to write down these next thoughts. Then upon reawakening, I decided they were worth sharing with you:
I've come to see that taking time to clean out my mind is like re-organizing my closet. Imagine what my closet would look like if I'd kept everything from childhood that does not fit the adult I am, today.
Imagine how hard it would be to make decisions if I had to sort through countless 'shoulds', which had fit at an earlier stage of life but serve to clutter my mind with mounds of confusion and undeserved guilt, today.
If I don't clean out my mind, from time to time, then how long might it take me to size up solutions, which best fit problems that pop up, today?
What if yesterday's problems must be confronted, resolved, and swept out the door before love feels less painful, more trusting—before life feels less confusing, more hopeful. Less stressful, more peaceful ...
When we're young, our closets fill with the choices of others. If, as adults, we try to stuff ourselves into choices deemed appropriate by past generations then how narrow must our comfort zones remain? I mean how limited might my wing span be if Mother Nature didn't poke at my instincts and force me to fly into the future, free to develop uniquely into the me I need to be?
So it becomes plain to see that cleaning out the closet of my brain is like sorting through roots while experimenting with wings. As my closet is filled with tradition as well as existential beliefs, I've got my work cut out for me.
While working through the process of reorganizing my mind, my comfort zones expand. Each time I feel the need to spin myself into a cocoon, my brain works toward reprocessing some aspect of my self esteem until a slowly creeping caterpillar develops a set of wings. However, if you open my cocoon before my metamorphosis et finis, imagine what you'd see? Not a pretty sight, right?
In order that my self worth doth not depend upon the narrowness of my waist, I'd better get back to work at reprocessing my mind to view the person I've grown to be, today. Good grief, Charlie Brown, looks to me like I've got some serious closet cleaning to do. I mean, where in the world did these gingham bloomers come from? Passed down from Grandma's mind to mine is a likely guess.
Though Grandma's bloomers, fit just fine during her life time, common sense suggests I ask which of her values (or Mom's or Dad's) squeeze my mind into a space too small for my mind to grow into yours truly :)
No comments:
Post a Comment