Yesterday I still felt zamfizzled. If you are zamfoozled about what that means please click here.
However, some chores were accomplished. Christmas decorations now deck the halls of our little house in the woods. We’re also smack-dab in the middle of assembling our new deck grill. (Old deck grill calved a few weeks ago and we plunged into purchasing another one even though it’s not grilling season, per se. We do grill in winter, though, at odd times, so we bought our new simple three-burner CharBroil.)
This morning I woke up peaceful, zizzed (definition: make a whirring or buzzing sound) and eager to shake hands with the world. Energy buzzes through the kingdom once again. A walk? YES! Can’t wait. Cleaning? Now don’t get carried away, Kathy.
We’re planning to wrap and package Christmas presents for the kids. With three billion estimated packages zinging through the nation’s thoroughfares this season, we’ve decided to ship early. Hopefully tomorrow.
In the old days–say, two years ago–I might emerge from a state of zamfizzlry feeling sad, annoyed, despairing. I’ve always had such a strong remembrance of my purpose here on this planet (to more deeply realize and embody the holy heart) and when this failed to happen to my satisfaction I tended to beat myself up.
Oh, Kathy, you’ve failed once again. What a schmuck. Can’t you get this right? You are such a mess. Why CAN’T you live your ideals? You are an awful human being. You will never make it. You just need to try harder. Bad girl, bad dog, bad person.
I don’t know if any of you can resonate with this. I find that more women than men can usually nod their heads. It also seems that sensitive souls understand. Those with high standards for themselves. Those who don’t like the rhythmic downs of life. Those who want to be good peeps all the time with none of this human nonsense of seemingly failing over and over again. The word sin actually means: missing the mark. Interesting, huh?
Folks like my husband just shake their heads. Why would anyone blame themselves? They don’t get it. They just logically and rationally get back to the drawing board and try again. Or they don’t try. But they certainly wouldn’t take out an inner whip.
Two years ago I studied with a teacher who finally woke me up to this truth. We don’t have to beat ourselves up. We truly don’t. We can fully and totally and whole-heartedly see the Holy even in our humanity, our most challenging human behavior. We can relax knowing that the “negative” experiences of despair and low energy and sadness are OK, too.
What a relief!
To watch our human tendency to grasp, to anger, to fuss, to cry–and to pat ourselves on the head afterward and whisper, “Oh, dear human, it’s OK, it’s fine, I’m with you, thank you for teaching me.”
Then we return to the drawing board yet again and write in the highest ideal that our heart knows is true. What the heart knows is true. What the heart knows is true. (I keep typing that sentence because it’s not enough to forgive ourselves for being human. We also need to keep pointing our inner compass toward True North. Toward our home within the Holy. I do believe.)
If any of you readers tend to beat yourselves up like I did (OK, and occasionally still do, but not as often) please remember that the Holy loves you. That you are enough just as you are. That you’re not alone in being imperfect. In fact, I wager a guess that most of us are imperfect, even those of us who wear perfect-looking masks disguising our imperfection.
P.S. Thanks to all the dogs who decided to illustrate the photos in this post. They don’t like hearing they are “bad dogs” either. They are good dogs who just get a little rambunctious or crazy at times. Pet them. Be loving, but firm. Kiss ’em on their snouts. Rub them bellies. Train ’em up good, those sweet inner creatures of the psyche.
Day 50 of a seventy-five day journey to connect more deeply with God, Spirit, Holy, Love…to explore “What the Heart Knows” during the waning days of 2020.