I've been doing some pondering (what, me?) ;-) ... kind of about the whole spiritual concept that we are "whole, perfect, and complete" just as we are. This is the heart of spiritual principle and something we hear and say a lot. But do we really get what that means? And is it possible to sometimes misuse... or, dare I say... abuse this knowledge?

But first let me say that yes... yes, we absolutely are whole, perfect and complete. There is a spirit in us, an essence, that is pure, unconditional love... and unconditionally loving and lovable. One with God. One with the Universe. This is the deep down Truth that I believe and hold dear. My song lyrics reflect this:  that "it's enough"... that all you need to do is "come back to your heart... to all that you are"... and that "love will provide". I believe all of these things. Yet, I kind of think there is a danger in how we interpret this. Yes, grace is essential in this thing we call "being human"...  allowing grace for ourselves and others along life's journey. But maybe... just maybe... we sometimes use "I am perfect just the way I am" to justify certain things... and maybe we let ourselves off the hook a little too easily when we know we can be doing better. And by "doing better", I mean loving better. Loving our bodies better by taking better care of them. Loving each other better. Loving our planet better. Loving by taking loving action.

I have gotten to a place of real peace in my life. I feel "comfortable"... comfortable in my skin and comfortable in my surroundings. And this is good! But at the same time, I'm not sure we are meant to always be comfortable... that our ultimate goal is to necessarily make ourselves comfortable or to push away discomfort in the name of "being true to ourselves".

I've been trying to be a little more mindful lately about where I can stretch beyond my comfort zone... in both large and small ways. These past couple of weeks have presented some opportunities... seemingly uncomfortable situations that, instead of reacting out of habit, or just avoiding them, I chose to ask myself instead, "what is the most loving thing to do here?" Even small steps can make a difference, leading to bigger ones that not only affect our own lives, but the world we are a part of.

The first notable opportunity was a routine medical screening that I had been putting off (because it seemed so very... uncomfortable!). Instead of fighting and cursing it, I finally chose to see it as a gift. I decided to dive into it as an opportunity to love my body. The hardest part, it seemed, was the prep. I had to fast from solid foods... clear liquids only for 36 hours... which also included drinking a ton of a "not so pleasant" prescription cocktail. Ugh. Initially, this felt like torture to me, the girl who loves substantial meals and gets low blood sugar if she doesn't eat. But, choosing to see this screening as a gift (because it really was), I made the whole thing a mission of love. I became sort of a geek about it, stocking up on all of the quality, delicious, nutritious, energy-giving clear liquids I could think of and researching tips and tricks to make the whole process as positive as possible. I ended up breezing through it all, really...  and I know it was because I focused on loving my body and on gratitude for a potentially life-saving procedure.  

Shortly after that experience, I was presented with another opportunity to stretch. Eric is a regular blood donor with Red Cross. While I have always admired people for donating without a thought, I have to admit, I had let my squeamishness prevent me from giving blood. It made me feel weak just thinking about it. So I'd justified that it "just wasn't my thing". Well, Eric got a call reminding him he was scheduled to give blood that day (he had forgotten) and on a whim he asked me if I might want to join him... to give blood. My immediate reaction was "ummm... no... I don't think I can do that...", but I stopped myself and decided to at least fill out the donor screening questionnaire. As I was reading and answering the questions, I realized not everyone can give blood and that I was a perfect candidate. I suddenly "got" that I had an important gift to give that would far outweigh any potential discomfort. So, with my heart and mind focused on the loving thing to do, I jumped in the car and headed to the donor site with Eric. Again, I breezed through it.  And, again, I know it was because of my focus on love. 

I may still want to wimp out at times, but I am hereby committing myself to ask what the most loving thing to do is when I'm presented with something that doesn't initially feel comfortable. Challenging what's "usual"... or "well, this is just who I am".  It's not about forcing myself  to do something I don't want to do... it's about recognizing where I might just be caught in habitual reacting and maybe thinking too small. All I know is that when I stretch in the name of higher love and greater good, it always ends up feeling right. And so worth any discomfort. And... honestly... the actual doing usually ends up to be far less uncomfortable than the thinking about the doing anyway. ;-) 

This week, in an attempt to "clean house", I went through old documents in an accordian file... various documents from the past decade or so... literally "shredding" my past. Wow. All kinds of feelings came up, some of them unexpected, as I revisited years gone by. In addition to a "mood journal" from 11 years ago (What a trip! More on that later...), there was rental information from a variety of living scenarios, health records, check stubs and past employment documents. I've been so happy and at peace lately... living freer than I ever have in so many ways... that I had almost forgotten some of the trials and tribulations along my journey that brought me to where I am now. Uncomfortable as it was pouring through some of that paperwork, it gave me an even greater appreciation for where I am today. The lyrics to my song, What Falls Away, have never felt so true: "the hurting, the crying... the stumbling and trying... all part of a greater good... what falls away, brings me closer to what I'm meant to be...". And, just to be clear, it's not that things just... ta da!... fall away like magic. It's more about becoming aware of the things that are no longer serving our real selves and allowing them to fall away. And that process often takes great courage and strength. Growth... as in real change... is not necessarily meant to be comfortable. :-) 
 
So, sifting through the documents, I came upon one in particular that hit a nerve. It was an annual performance review from my days as a salesperson for a retailer whose name I won't mention here. :-) There were a few "needs improvement" comments that, quite honestly, made me a little ill... remembering how hurt and angry I was... and how I felt completely unvalued at the time. But any  remnants of those old feelings quickly gave way to gratitude. And relief. All the places of "needs improvement" on that performance review were clearly things my soul just couldn't get on board with. What needed improvement was my job scenario... not me. There were just too many things about that job... and that company... that were out of alignment with my core values. When I fully realized that's what was going on, the Universe presented me with a new job. Thank. God. :-)

The thing about the whole "falling away" thing is that it doesn't happen overnight. And at the time you are going through stuff, the path is not always clear... and can sometimes feel like nothing is happening, when in fact, something is always happening. The value for me in looking back is really seeing that I really can trust myself... trust life... trust the Universe. There really is rhyme and reason. Or I choose to see it that way (though Eric and I sometimes wonder what our lives would have been like if we met each other sooner... but that's a whole other blog!). :-)

Now... about that "mood journal". :-) There was a period in my life when I was experiencing anxiety and depression on a pretty regular basis. So I decided to keep a journal of my moods to see if I could gain any insight as to what was going on underneath it all.  What was revealed in the journal were themes of loneliness and disconnect. Some of it was situational, such as traveling a lot for my cruise ship job and living a sort of transient life... and some of it was overthinking and too much focus on my little "s" self. I tried anti-depressants briefly, but they didn't seem to make much difference, so I abandoned those. That's when I suspected it was more of a spiritual thing... that my spirit was trying to get my attention. And in that way, the anxiety/depression was truly a gift. But, oh man. Reading parts of that journal was almost exhausting... lol! But it gave me compassion for myself and my journey. I can't really say I've had major trauma in my life... on a scale some have had... but spiritual disconnect, especially for those who are spiritually sensitive, can make one feel literally ill. While I do believe medication can help people with chemical imbalances, it alone will not "cure" spiritual disconnect, which I happen to believe is the root cause of a lot of depression and anxiety. There's a longing to really feeI connected to the heart of life (call it God, Universe, Spirit, or whatever resonates), to our true Selves, and to each other. Having the awareness, tools, community, and relationships I have now has made all the difference... and reading that journal made me realize how dramatic the evolution has been.

So... "needs improvement"? I don't think so. :-) I'm all for stepping up and challenging ourselves in accordance with highest good, but I guess I just don't like the word "improve". To me, it implies "not good enough"... or simply "not enough". Instead, I rather like the idea of growing the best version of ourselves... and growing the best version of our lives and our world by honoring and respecting our true nature... love, peace, joy, harmony, prosperity, service... and letting the rest fall away. I know... easier said than done. Or undone. :-) But it's possible. I've experienced it in my own life. And that's a start.