There is something to be said for loving oneself, but what that means is a different question. I know a lot of people who "love" themselves, but I am unsure if it is limited to self-acceptance or self-admiration. I beg the indulgence of anyone who chooses to read this stuff because I am once again getting philosophical, but hey. . . it's my blog:) And these are genuine questions rather than clear answers.
Acquaintances and colleagues I know and could identify as probably accepting or "loving" themselves may be the least likely people in the world to have enough self-awareness to notice if they have done some kind of harm to another. Put more bluntly, they walk around the world "dropping bombs" all around them, never even hearing the explosion or glancing back to see if there is any fallout in their wake.
On the other hand, people that I consider to be true friends and family members have at least a modicum of humility in their character--enough to able to say, "I'm sorry," "Oh, wow, I didn't know it affected you that way," or joke more about their own misanthropic escapades than those of others.
The other day I was at Amy's house and her brother was telling a story about her having had too much wine as they were in a hotel lobby checking in to attend a family member's funeral. Apparently, Amy was "HIC" "HIC" "HICCUPING" about every three seconds with everyone in the lobby highly aware of her obvious condition. We all laughed hard, but not AT Amy, but with her because she among all of us was most intensely aware of the humor in the situation. Humor and humility have similar roots ("hum"). I do not know if this is an accident, but it would be interesting to know. That story led to me talking about my Mother in Mexico when she had had one too many margaritas and fell asleep in the hotel lobby. My father, unable to move her checked back about every ten minutes for the next few hours while my mother (who snores) slept peacefully in the clay and beautiful mosaic tiled lobby of some resort in Puerto Vallarta or Cancun.
I mention these stories not to embarrass anybody, but to suggest two intuitions I have about self-love that have nothing to do with alcohol consumption. The first is that these stories are enjoyable and funny because the people who love these ladies take pleasure in their company, enjoy the memories created by them and know, "there but by the grace of God go I". In other words, there is no one in the group who cannot imagine themselves humbled and entertained (later) by the experience.
Additionally, neither of them have such fragile egos or are so tender-skinned that they cannot embrace or understand the genuine and loving intentions of their storytellers. They share a history, a life, memories, years in each others' company and trust each others' motivations enough to surrender once in awhile to laughing at oneself and be humbled by it.
I think that trust matters a lot here. If I don't trust myself enough to draw a line when someone crosses it, then I can be others' "victim" indefinitely. But if I do trust myself, have self-love, integrity, humility and surround myself with people I love and trust, then I have very little to worry about. No person is an island, and we all live in a world of other people. So I don't think self-love can be fully understood if not in the context of other human beings.
These are questions that philosophers and theologians have debated for centuries, so I don't expect to solve these questions in a puny blog post. But as I continue this introspective journey, I do think they are important questions to ask.
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Ventures into virtual land
I admit I am a techno dinosaur. My laptop is slow and low on memory space. Maybe these first two lines parallel mid-life. Both of my daughters have recently married in the last two years. I am at odds with myself and contented at the same time. Is that possible? I began this blog in a technology boot camp that was our faculty retreat just days before the halls of our new building were filled with cute boots that college girls wear and the sounds of cellular equipment dinging, vibrating and rapping. Within the span of two years, I turned fifty, traveled to Africa, accepted a position as Associate Dean of a brand new School of Communication that had long roots in a small department I have been part of for eighteen years at an institution I love. I became a grandmother of a little girl, deployed thirty five students to mentor young girls, women and migrants from faraway places out of one of my classes, and traveled to two different states to stand in my role as proud mother of the bride. Alone. Their weddings were as perfect as my daughters are different. I cried unbridled tears at the ceremony where I felt like I was revisiting my former life with their father's family and loving them all, healing from an ancient divorce and regretting the unfinished business I have with the bride. The second ceremony signaled a "coming out" of shyness I had never seen in my younger daughter. I have not been successful in love, though I have loved and been loved; yet both of these beautiful young women, my daughters appear to have found their life's mates. I wish I could take credit for that, but I have no idea if any is mine and am grateful for their good judgement. My insides moved at the second wedding from fatigue, joy, a sense of completion, and overwhelming sentimentality at the simultaneous sight of watching my eldest nurse her baby, worry about a baby girl's fusses while cutting new teeth, and my youngest's embracing of her big, beautiful day that she had worked months to deploy with a budget spreadsheet, delegation of roles to aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents and her truest friends. I spent that day in two places very far away from each other--ecstasy and longing. I celebrated a beautiful couple's joy, likeness, practicality and sense of humor, watched my parents who are in their seventies dance for perhaps the first time in fifteen years. They came alive as if they had not suffered the loss of many dear friends over the past few years; they looked young and as I remember them loving each other in sweet and funny ways throughout my growing years.I felt the loss of my importance in each daughter's life as I watched my eldest fulfill her role as wife and mother, nursing her baby girl, feeling those early pangs of watching your daughter suffer, even if only from cutting new teeth. I felt like a woman cutting new teeth in suffrage and liberation at once. I was far away from my home in Chicago and close to the home of all that I knew as a child and young mother stranded between the whole of what I thought I might do with my life's future over five decades. I have failed miserably in some things and reached heights I never knew I was capable of. I finished a book manuscript over the summer that took me eleven years to write through the trials of tenure, raising teenage daughters and managing parts of my life that always seemed like bikes and ropes and water and steam that I tried to hold onto, but could never fully grasp.
I think that self love means treating yourself with the same tenderness, and patience, and care that a mother would treat her own infant. I think it means being your own cheerleader giving yourself encouragement and treats, and watching your thoughts for "negative self talk." it means drinking water, listening to your body, your and giving it rest when it asks. honoring your rhythms and cycles of energy. Making the things that give you joy a priority on your to do list. Taking moments to check in with yourself, your heart and listening deeply for what your soul wants to say. I think it means that when someone "drops a bomb" near you you have so much cushion-y love and space inside your being that its like a drop of food coloring entering the ocean because you have a medicine bag full of coping mechanisms and deep wisdom.
ReplyDeleteI always end up thinking about Jesus on the cross- being persecuted and no matter what anyone did to him, said about him, he was so sure of his faith and his righteousness that his soul, and spirit were untouchable.
Yep, Amanda. . .it's coming up if "anonymous" is you (and it sounds like it is). I believe the earnestness of your point of view. The only thing I can say is that the "negative" has to go somewhere--inward, eventually splitting self-concept from what the world sees, or outward in positive and/or negative activities. Speaking from my own experience (and perhaps the main reason it feels so good to write) is that the "gray matter" is going somewhere onto these pages. Also, I am wary of people who live in complete certainty and self-righteousness.
ReplyDeleteMaybe it is because I have adjusted so many times to radical uncertainties when I thought I "knew for sure"--yes, Jesus is a wonderful example; however, in Bible myths describing his character and life, his conviction was blended with a humility of the deepest kind and an empathy for others that others in the community had judged harshly. Put bluntly, I think that love begins with a deep empathy for all humanity, warts and all, and then that is followed by (or simultaneously occurs with) self-love. But you are absolutely right if you're saying that you cannot love others if you are not whole or weakened yourself (whether by self-neglect or other circumstances). BTW, I like having a genuine "adult" conversation with you--even if it's through the miles. Love, Mom
"Where you dwell in consciousness is where you truly dwell"....
ReplyDeleteLove,me