As I was driving the other day it struck me, how early on in my life I knew myself. The hopes, dreams, aspirations, the core of me, is not much different than it was when I was nine or ten. Yet so many aspects have taken me decades to accept, to acknowledge, to trust. And this is still an ongoing process.
I used to keep a nearly daily journal. I did this for many years. One year in my early twenties when I had been particularly consistent with my journaling I sat down on a drizzly fall afternoon and spent a couple of hours reading back on the entries. The most disheartening pattern emerged. So many of the concerns and realizations I had, some of which could have been life changing, instead of being life changing they were just repeated. Story after story, entry after entry. Actually accepting, digesting and incorporating these truths, these clues to who I was and am, had eluded me.
I read something recently that struck me: “Trust Your Struggle”. And that’s it. That’s really at the heart of it. We don’t trust ourselves so we don’t really listen. We try to amend, we try to reframe, we try to make it fit in the easiest way possible. The path of least resistance. But is it? If we just listened to what we knew was true for ourselves from the very beginning. If we trusted our struggle might we emerge from it in a way that allowed us to unfurl into more of ourselves instead of being caught up back at the beginning?
All the clues we need in order to live up to our highest potential, who we are meant to be, are right inside of us. But we have to be willing to believe in our own struggle. Our struggle to emerge. Like the butterfly from the cocoon.
“What is the meaning of life? … a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.”
This post over at the blog Filling in the Blanks is where I read “Trust Your Struggle”. Awesomely enough, in the way that only life can serve up, it was graffiti. It was literally, the writing on the wall. Thank you *Stacy for sharing that little gem.
*Stacy Morrison also wrote a wonderful book Falling Apart in One Piece which I’m reading right now and am thoroughly swept up by.