Self (Generated) Love
In process, not to become, but to know myself, which is to know Love.
In the moments when I stop caring about how I look to others, I treat my life itself as the art. I am both the painter and the beholder. I am the muse and the admirer. When I give myself the process, instead of pressuring myself into a finished product, I can feel every little ray of sunshine on my skin. I can feel every drop of rain and find relief in knowing that each one is part of the mosaic. I read somewhere recently about the idea that at some point in history we rarely saw our own faces except in the watery reflection of the river. We were not comparing ourselves to the outside world constantly. I want to unplug for today, from outside influence. There is an influencer within trying to guide me. The more I disconnect and reconnect to myself, through giving myself the love I try to give others, the more loved I feel and the more love I have to give. This feels like a great mystery. Not just self love, but a Self generated love, ready to overflow. A bursting pomegranate. I want to give myself the time to grow. I desire to close my eyes and see what visions lie in my heart when I am not being bombarded by outside opinions. I want to melt into the process of bringing those dreams to life. I crave to bear witness to Life changing my winter into spring. To shine your light is not to be a capitalistic product that can be given to the world as art. Sometimes being of service means to be humbled, to have to change in public, in front of strangers, for things to get messy before they get pretty. Spirit is an art dealer who wants to use me to give people the journey. When I am so focused on the destination, I become a non believer of my own self. When I sink into the journey, believing in myself is not a question. I already know.
One of my most vivid memories from college is when my acting teacher showed us Salvador Dal۪̉s, The Persistence of Memory, and asked us to create scenes inspired by the art. Though the painting might appear sad, something about the melted clocks and the emptiness of the beach reminds me of the sweetness of retreating into solitude, not to create something for outside consumption, but to receive the beauty of every moment of the process.
Prompts
What is something you love to do that doesn’t involve your phone or technology? What is something you love to do for yourself that makes it feel like time doesn’t exist?
Recently, experimenting in the kitchen has been a great tool for me to practice self generated love. Sometimes I watch my hands peel and it can feel like an outer body experience of watching my aunty peeling me sweet potato, or my uncle’s hands peeling green banana for me. Then I realise, these hands of mine, are their hands, are Love’s hands.
I hope you are able to carve some time for one of your answers soon. I hope you find new things to add to your list.
Bliss,
A.Sun
This line got me: Then I realise, these hands of mine, are their hands, are Love’s hands. Just lovely.
giving thanks for you, sitting with all of this