Zen Teacher Barry Magid writes,
“We don’t have to hate ourselves or our own vulnerability. We don’t have to hate ourselves for what life has done to us. We don’t have to hate ourselves because hurt or loss or longing has gotten to us. Our desires will always be with us in some form, keeping us firmly attached to a world that will hurt us. We must come to love ourselves, love our life, in its vulnerability, in its impermanence, not in spite of all its flaws, but because of them. Because the vulnerability, the changes, the flaws make us who we are.”
For a long time I associated love with what made me feel good, or feel safe. I loved ice cream and cute guys (from afar). I loved beautiful flowers and positive attention from others. I loved Jane Austen and Italy. Unfortunately there was so much of my experience that I couldn’t love in this way, so much of what I associated with me, that seemed scary and vulnerable and uncomfortable and in my way of getting to the good stuff! I couldn’t even like it let alone love it. I would try to push any uncomfortable moments away, ignore them, step on them, make fun of them.
What a wonder to then discover that it is exactly these moments that most need our tenderness. That to love oneself isn’t to always be happy with everything, to get along with ones whole experience, but to come to care for what is here, to meet our lives and our discomfort with tender regard, with loving kindness, with warmth. It is here that we open the door for unfolding, not for fixing or curing or manipulating, but for healing and growing. William Kittredge writes at the end of his book, Taking Care,
“We must relearn the arts of generosity. We cannot, in any long run, survive by bucking against natural forces, and it is our moral duty to defend all life. It’s time to give something back to the systems of order that have supported us: care and tenderness.”
Thanks to Whiskey River for the quote by Barry Magid.
Photo by Basky Obed.
