Naked

The good news I realized yesterday after posting is that I have learned to shush my inner 'critic' while writing.  The bad news is once the posting is out into the world, my inner critic wakes up and natters on and on for the rest of the day about all that was not right with what I put out into the world. Usually by late afternoon I'ved resolved that that was my final foray in the world of blogging. 


If instead of my inner critic nattering yesterday, my inner-editor could have been a bit more vocal before I hit the 'post' button, I would not have been so discouraged.  Rereading yesterday's posting I discovered my ability to use tenses incorrectly was alive and well.  As I said yesterday, one trait I share with my mother is the fear of not being good enough and really, there is nothing quite as effective for encouraging this fear as posting one's inner thoughts for the world to read.  I felt very naked yesterday afternoon.


Naked, that is, exposed.  Unprotected.  Ah - unprotected captures the sense of shame I felt yesterday.  Not simply revealing who I am without my costume of persona - my persona is the ever-confident Mary - but rather feeling unprotected by having the persona stripped away by my inner critic: 'she calls herself a writer but she can't use tenses properly'!!!  "She still writes about the pain of her relationship with Mom."


Okay, I'll try using more clarity. My mother was an amazing woman: so committed to her beliefs she birthed eleven children into the world. So strong and intelligent she began a business that continues successfully with my brother. Such a seeker and lover of learning that she was willing to question and learn and travel the world right up until she died. My mother was in many ways the kind of woman I desire to become - and in many ways am.  But all of this does not change the reality that our relationship was difficult and painful.  


Relationship and love are two very different realities.  It is quite possible to love deeply and yet not have a compatible relationship. It is also quite possible to have a compatible relationship with someone you do not especially love or love deeply. Sometimes in life one has deep love and intimate relationship - but not always or even frequently.  Love and relationship are great paradoxes of living. The older I get the more life seems to be shrouded in mystery because my experiences of living seem to contain more and more paradoxes. This is one of the big problems with awareness. 


Awareness is a strange experience.  Those of us who seek consciousness or awareness begin this quest  believing it will bestow clarity and make life easier to understand. Instead, in my experience anyway, the clarity of awareness reveals the paradoxes of living: the depth of the intrinsic mystery of living.


Here's a paradox I've discovered about writing. When I articulate my experience of engaging this mysterious thing called life - which is what I do when I write and blog, I use words to part the veils - the curtains - covering windows into our living. The intention of doing this is so an 'ah-ha' of insight may be glimpsed and a bit of clarity; a piece of the puzzle of living, drop into place and give someone permission to explore that piece of their life.  


I understand this 'giving of permission' happens only if I am willing to be as totally honest as I am able, with my experiences of relationship and life.  It is not "I" who gives permission to explore insight, it is the degree of honesty in what I share that enables courage: courage to explore the depth available in living one's life.  


Courage - couer: from the heart. Sharing the truth in ones heart: success, pain,  confusion, learnings and triumphs as well as all the children of these experiences, is how the veils covering the depth of life are parted.  Another paradox here: depth of living that is, creativity, requires this parting of veils: delusions and denials, yet these veils also allow me to feel safe and protected in living.  How do I live while feeling exposed? I know of only one answer - I must live from the truth of my heart.  


Another paradox: the strength for honesty comes from living from the truth in my heart yet I do not always like what I see in my heart.  I would love to ignore or deny the pain - the conflicts - the inconsistencies of my human heart.  I would love to clothe these 'uglinesses' with layers of frothy pretty words.  But I cannot do that and honor who I am and the gift I have been given to use in life.  


Embracing the truth in the sentence above is both a joy and grief.  A grief because I feel naked - exposed and unprotected - in it's truth, a joy because it is my truth.


Truth is 'fact' and a fact of my Being that I am Called to expose myself through the use of words.  Expose myself by sharing my experience, my strength and my hope with words.  Exposing oneself with words is also called being a 'writer'.  I did not know this truth of being a writer when I fell in love with words and committed myself to learning the craft of writing.  


Malcolm Gladwell in his book Outliers says it takes 10,000 hours of deliberately engaging an action in order to become a master.  I have put in more than 10,000 hours of deliberately engaging the discipline and practice of writing and I am much, much better than when I began - although my inner-editor still takes naps and I forget to use tenses properly.  I know that I am, for me, a master because I have experienced of the paradox of becoming a 'master' which is the firm desire to become more proficient. A master knows there is much more to discover and learn. 


I am however, not yet a master at blogging. Blogging is all about a willingness to expose oneself publicly: a willingness to part the veils - the curtains - and feel the breeze on my skin telling me I am standing naked where I may be seen.  Standing naked I am profoundly aware that possibly I will not liked or admired once the lumps of cellulite are seen on my skin.  


If I believe doing this - writing publicly - is a purpose of my Being, then I must continue blogging, continue to expose my lumps of cellulite and trust that in time - like maybe another 8,000 hours of time - I will become comfortable being exposed.  


Today I have begun the process of becoming more comfortable by 're-naming' something I wrote. I saw I 'named' the conflicts and inconsistencies I found in my heart as ugliness. Ugly is not a perception I am willing to continue carrying and so - because I saw it - I used my editing skills, crossed out the word and wrote the word human: conflicts, pain and inconsistencies are not ugly they are simply human.  And being human is a beautiful (if not paradoxical) experience.  Beauty comes in many forms.


If I hadn't parted the veils, if I hadn't seen that some of my human characteristics as ugly, I would not have been able to change my perception.  Which is the intention of parting the veils - to see clearly into the mystery.  Yes, another paradox and a wondrous one - each moment of life carries the potential of seeing with clarity into the mystery.  For that experience, I'm willing to shiver in my nakedness.