Lizabean

A light within

"Thanksgiving Sunrise", Canon Digital Rebel XT, November 2006

When I was three or four  I had this dream about who I really was.  A sphere of light... glowing, warm, and brilliant.  I knew from that image that I was unique and special but that everyone else- they were just like me too.  Each of us spheres of light, each of us independent and different but essentially the same.

Years passed and I easily forgot who I knew I was.  With language comes qualities, comparisons, ways to label.  Ways to make you feel artificially special but with a price to how you interact with other people, how ultimately those words called artistic, smart, spiritual, sharp, beautiful just aren't enough.

I have always been a rather jealous person.  I don't care so much about the why anymore.  With my little baby shining within me, I want to rid myself of that tendency to feel bad when I'm not as gifted, not as good with words, not as beautiful, not as spiritually inclined.  I have always felt so small and rather insignificant compared to one of my sisters.  She told me the other day that she always knew that so I don't feel bad sharing that here.  I think that will be my marker:  the day when someone raves about how unique and special she is and I just smile and feel joyous that they love her like I do, that will be the day I know I've kicked this jealousy thing to the curb.

I find that I fully like myself when I imagine that light.  I have to let go of the words, however positive, and just focus on that image.  It brings me an immense sense of self-worth.  I feel proud of the things I am doing and know I am contributing to something.  When I think of that light, I don't care that so-and-so takes better photographs or has better social skills.  It doesn't matter what so-and-so thinks of me because they see in words, in imperfections... I'm focusing on the warmth.

I find myself looking at people as these spheres.  The other night I was lying in bed reading, Brent beside me, babybean doing his nightly acrobatic routine, and I saw our little family in this image of bobbing light.  Rays shooting out and intertwined.  I had never felt so connected to my baby and to my husband.

This light within, it will take me far. 

A little too honest?

I do believe I may need to censor my honesty a wee bit, for my own sake.  For the lizabean, it is very easy to translate silence into judgement.  My fears are very ridiculous indeed.  For example, my web stats have dropped significantly from the last few posts.  Have I offended the masses with my mention and/or honesty about moments of anger?  Do you see me as a lost, bitter soul?  For I am not.  Just human and fragile and sharing what I believe many people feel, at least a few times a life time.  But shoot, there I go, writing what I might regret tomorrow morning.  Honestly, I have always been afraid of the Ummm, no.  Not ready to express that fear.

I do believe ARGG.  Fear has paralyzed my writing; I hope to return to my normal self within a few days as courage takes time.

And now off to walk the sad walk.  (If you are Arrested Development fans, please picture the sad walk that George Michael does: head down, feet dragging, with the "doo-doo-dOOO--do-do-do-dOOOO" music playing in the background; that just makes me laugh).