This afternoon, my eyes settled on the nativity set my husband had made in grade school, and it was time to put it away for another year. Shortly after we were married, his mother had placed it into my hands–knowing that I was an art major–and trusting that I could preserve his creation. I added a bit of glazing which deepened the colors. It has remained unchanged for decades.
His nativity set felt like a metaphor for reality–of the ideas we accept and carry forward. It felt like a realization of both responsibility and permission…each of us having to work out what that means personally. It also felt like a thing of beauty that is treasured in the heart: “in the eyes of the beholder”.
Such a simple shift–this thing called reality. But then, suddenly, everything looks different.
I haven’t written a post since back in October–the day I took our aging Brittany to the vet and said, “Good-bye.” It felt as though I had overstepped my boundary into the life of another by making that decision. I vaguely hoped that someday I would be able to make my own decision about whether to continue my life on this planet–or not.
Three months later, on this–my birthday–, it somehow seems fitting to launch again. I don’t know any more now than I did then, but my reality has shifted. I have allowed myself permission to create my own sense of reality. “Real” as understood in Medieval Latin was “belonging to the thing itself”. It has been a matter of wrenching away from other’s viewpoints and learning to read my own.
Communicating One’s Reality
A shift to owning my reality came with a commitment to both myself and others. The commitment occurred as a result of my shift: commitment in the “nominative form”, not in the active. Suddenly, I found that I had signed on to a journey of respecting myself. It came with a big assignment–respecting that same reality in others. To do so would mean that a lot of talking was about to take place. I think that is why I stopped this one-way path of writing and began to spend more time communicating in real time.
Honestly, I had no idea how much work that would become. I was beginning to understand why some people who seem so likable talk sooo much! To find a way to assure someone that they have been understood and to try to be mutually understood crosses a number of communication barriers–eyes, body language, tone, innuendos, emotions, and–oh yes–some words.
In my conscious moments, I am beginning to allow my mind to meld with a greater consciousness. I am allowing myself to accept that the physical world is sending me loving messages, and that I have the permission and ability to send my own back. And I am accepting that my physical self is just a temporary shell allowing me to experience and learn how to do this better. This feels real. It resonates. It feels true.
❤ ❤ ❤
*Your comments are welcome, same as ever before. 😉