The idea of sharing what I write is terrifying to me. Terrifying, in the other-people-may-actually-read-what-I’m-writing category. And yet at this time in my life, I know I have zero control over how others see me. If someone doesn’t want to read what I write then, well… that’s okay. In my younger years, I felt much more vulnerable and unsure of myself. Not that I’m a giant bag of confidence now, but I’ve matured enough to know that someone else’s opinion of me —what I do or don’t do, or create— by no means defines who I am.
As I watch my kids grow up, I hope I am teaching them to have a healthy self-esteem. No one is any better than anyone else, and at the same time we are all walking miracles. Think about it: Inside of us live trillions of cells, all their own little universes ! working in perfection, to keep us alive. Are we kind to those trillions of cells? So many of us find it easier to extend kindness to perfect strangers —-very admirable— but do we also extend that same level of kindness and compassion to ourselves?
Mister Rogers occupies a very special place in my heart and I find myself quoting him often: “Feeling good about ourselves is essential in our being able to love others.” True, true. I believe the love he is talking about is a genuine love, appreciation and respect simply for existing. That doesn’t mean we don’t strive to change or to be the best we can; rather accepting that we are all important pieces in this intricate life puzzle can perhaps help us live more intentionally.
I started listening to Mike Dooley recently. Talk about inspirational. If you need someone to get your inner fire pumped up, give him a listen. You can feel the light and love pouring out of him when he speaks. One of my goals in creating plaidzooks is to do just that: I want to shine a light on humanity so we can see our own brightness, and hopefully share it.
Even on our moody, sulky, dark days… we still shine brightly. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all see it?! Some can, literally; others feel. As in, we were house hunting years ago and toured a completely renovated home that had been built in 1865. Not much inside looked like 1865 —there was a new kitchen, flooring, everything. But when we left, my husband asked me what I thought and I said, “I will never be alone in that house!” because as new as everything looked, I felt some “company” joining us on our tour. It wasn’t necessarily bad energy, just a wee bit creepy. (I did find out years later that indeed, the house has a resident ghost or two. We didn’t buy it!)
Our instincts guide us in more ways than one. Mine told me not to buy the house, and they also told me that even though I’m scared shitless about creating my own website, it’s the right thing to do. So, I hope on my little website, you can take with you what serves you and leave the rest. On that note, I will leave you with more Fred Rogers:
“Our world hangs like a magnificent jewel in the vastness of space. Every one of us is a part of that jewel. A facet of that jewel. And in the perspective of infinity, our differences are infinitesimal.” #fridayfred
Photo taken by Andrew Sliben at the super cool Andy Warhol Museum, Pittsburgh. Raincoat is several years old, from Boden. (Not a promotion; I bought it myself!)
laurie sliben, writer 