Today I realized something important. It’s important to me. I assume it may be important to some of you too.
And this thing touches a wound. This wound is called Give me a confirmation that I’m worth something, even something small.
With this wound I went to a therapist. All this happened before I started sharing my writing with the world and getting it out into the light. I had a big impulse to bring myself out into the light — I just didn’t know how. Because this wound itched and bothered me. It let out a lot of pus.
Of course not all the time and not everyone saw it, especially those who were captivated by my appearance or charisma — they didn’t see the wound. But she, she did.
As you probably know, not all therapists heal. There are some who have the talent to concoct potions, but to give them to someone else and have the same magic work on others that works on themselves — that’s an entirely different story.
So I arrived at this therapist’s, and what did she do? She immediately stepped on my wound. She immediately shouted Everything I’ve read that you’ve written didn’t bring me anything new; somebody else has already said that.
And even though she stepped on my wound, I continued to come to her so she could heal me. Even though she hurt me just where it already hurts, I kept on visiting her.
Do you know how it is that you choose the same work that hurts you but you keep on going? Do you know how you choose the same partner or relationship that hurts yet you keep on choosing the same thing?
That you don’t start on your therapy clinic because you were told you’re odd, because nobody has invented a name for your methods yet?
Because you were told you’re not a writer because you haven’t published anything?
That you throw your art to the trash or hide it because you think it’s not enough, it’s not successful, it’s not original, somebody else has said it before?!
We all have that wound.
So, maybe we need someone to set on us once more until we shout back Enough! Until we become ready to say It’s not helpful when you tell me I’m no good. I’m not willing to let anyone step on my wound any more. I commit to healing it.
I commit to being brave and not asking for confirmation again, and then we’ll see what will happen to the wound.
I kept on with her in the process, even though she stepped on my wound and hurt me. And this is probably why she stepped on it again and again, until I said Enough! You’re not giving me what I need.
What I need, I can say now, is Love.
In a sense she gave me something of what I needed. She gave me a perspective on what I really needed. I needed to understand that there’s no one person in this world who can give me confirmation for my inner voice. Because only I can hear my inner voice. Only I can express it.
It’s only when we start giving voice to our authentic Self that we learn to speak. We’re like reborn babies coming again to this world. At the first moment we gave voice to a sound that came out freely from the heart, and we received an immediate feedback as to how it sounds when it’s out there in the world.
Do you know what happens then?
The wound starts to dry out. And we discover more layers of that voice, more angels, more tones, more possibilities; we inquire into more colors, and polish it, going through this process all over again.
We make ourselves accurate when we find ways to express ourselves freely. This is how we heal the wound. So here is what I realized today, after the wound has healed, but there’s a scar to remind me of the journey.
And sometimes I look at the scar and I massage it with love creams and ask it to give me another layer of understanding, to get to another depth within myself.
There’s no need to invent the new and that which no one else has discovered. I have a desire to give inspiration. Because out of inspiration we shine. It’s like the lighter that lights the candle. You are the candle. I am the lighter. You are the lighter. I am the candle. I have no desire to invent you. I yearn to light the light within you.
When I have lit the light within you, I have healed my wound, I have healed your wound.
Even if you talk about love, and there are many people who talk about love, it will never be the same when it is expressed through clean and shining channels. We should never be tired of hearing You are loved!
Even if you discuss ideas and content that books have been written about, it will never be the same thing as when it is expressed through the original being that you are. When you peel off the voices of others that have accumulated and calcified, you bring out your own voice.
Even if, to start with, it’s not so strongly heard. Even if, to start with, it is not yet as accurate as it can be. Just like when you learn a new language and you speak with mistakes at the beginning.
Inspiration is always something new. It is always an innovation. Inspiration is the breath, and as such it is new and fresh each moment.
Inspiration derives from a heart that is willing to be exposed, rather than asking to be stepped on once more.
And one more thing. We are going through a period of rebirth. Be gentle with yourselves. We’re still living in a human society whose consciousness responds to brutality and drama and harsh movements. Often camouflaged in a cool talk.
My wound echoed in her wound. We were drawn towards one another because we sent out the same tones. It was an undefined gathering of the Wounded Anonymous.
Speak out all of the belittling and slandering we’ve absorbed all throughout our lives. So, instead of saying Let’s see what word would look better in your writing, they would say It’s not interesting.
Instead of looking at the unique direction you took in your work, your photograph, your plant, your life, they would say There’s no way you’ll be famous, it’s best if you drop it now.
You probably know that from your mother, father, sister, brother, teachers, neighbors… someone who once burned you in a flash and left you to take care of your wound.
When you’re gentle with yourself, you can hear underlying silent voices calling for criticism and judgement — those are mostly unconscious ghost voices. They are deep wounds.
Self-criticism and self-judgment can tear you to pieces right from within your own skin and flesh. They create holes that you were taught should be filled with new clothes, alcohol, consumerism, and external confirmations. Be gentle with your heart.
I invite you to heal. I invite you to let go of these bulldozers of self-criticism and self-judgment. I invite you to discover the unbearable ease of existence when you bloom naturally like a flower, with no need for any external confirmation.
A flower doesn’t care if the whole field is burned to ashes from self-victimisation and manipulation. The flower blooms. Be A flower, and let your beauty take care of the rest.
Divinity already exists. No need to invent it. All that is left is to express it. And only you can express it in the most authentic and unique ways when it flows through you.
Surrender to the inner voice, the one that wants you to discover it. Only you can scrape it from your vocal cords. Only you can birth it out of a whole and complex system, the divinity that you are.
My scar has spoken. What does yours say?
Published on Rebelle Society