As I begin to live life embracing the gift of seeing others as humans first, recognizing what we share rather than what separates us, I am finding that I can recognize the individual beauty that exists within each person I encounter. It's refreshing and life-giving and right. It feels right. Sometimes it takes more effort to see and sometimes it takes a significant check of my own ego to see.
For example: the pedestrian who yelled at me because I zipped through a crosswalk a little too quickly. What she said wasn't too beautiful and what I did wasn't too beautiful, but there we were--two imperfect people who possess beauty even in their moments of not being ideal citizens.
So now I weave my way through hundreds of social interactions a day. I attempt to recognize (I am still, and will always be, learning) the sameness and the beauty of those around me. This sameness if offset by the individuality of each of my human siblings that makes the tapestry of the human family so intricately beautiful. Beauty. Sameness. Individuality. Existing in each and every one of us. Do I believe that? Yes. Yes I do. Do I practice it perfectly? Nope.
So now we come to a bigger question. And this is my kryptonite, people.
Yes, I can see the beauty, sameness, and individuality in others. But can I see it in myself?
Oy.
I wish I could say that, "Yes! I absolutely see the beauty and the value in myself and my heart overflows with gratitude and humility and I shine that beauty out to other people! All. The. Time. Yay! Hooray! Sunshine! Jazz fingers!!"
I cannot say that.
Why?
Why, why, whyyyyyyyy?
I think there are two reasons:
Number one: I know myself. I mean, I really KNOW myself. Every failing, every nasty little thought, every insecurity. You all see that happy, polished, positive Caroline. There is a small circle of people who know every dirty little detail and still love me, and for them I am eternally grateful. You know what they say: "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and your BFFs well supplied with whatever bribes they require." But for the most part, I control what others can see. So sure, maybe you can find some beauty here, but dang, if you only knew what was in the closets!
Number two: I have bought into the lies of the world around me: that perfection is beauty. That skinny is beauty. That perfectly organized is beauty. That calm, collected, make-a-whole-room-laugh-with-your-wit, drive a fancy-pants car, rock the fancy-pants stiletto boots (if only!), wrinkle-free (pants AND skin!!) is beauty. Some of those things can contribute to some concepts of beauty, but are not beauty in themselves. And yet I bow down to them at the altar of Image where I worship my perception of the Perfect Caroline. Who/whatever the heck THAT is. Because if I can find HER, I will be happy. Uh oh. Cue the old lady from the Princess Bride, "LIAR! LIAaaaaR!" That's one of the biggest lies I think we face on a daily basis. Find perfect/skinny/successful/wealthy and therein lies happiness.
Combine those two and you have a dangerous cocktail: personal insecurities lurking in the deepest part of the heart and bombardment from the outside that reinforces those insecurities like shiny, photoshopped steel girders with abs for days. (Okay, okay, girders don't have abs, but you get my point, right? Artificial perfection assaults our senses )
So what's the antidote for this dangerous cocktail? I like to answer questions with questions, so...
...what would it look like if I was able to see myself as I see others? What allows me to see the beauty and value of others but not myself? What is the lens through which I see them that I cannot seem to apply to myself??
I don't have an easy answer to these questions. Trust me, I just typed and deleted three different ideas. They all started out fine and then just got weird. There were, however, two questions (more questions!) that floated to the top in all of my feeble attempts to solve this complex quandary in fifty words or less: where am I looking and whom am I trying to please?
Oh boy.
To be continued...
