Wounded now Healed
My childhood was a big failure according to my parents. Repeatedly, they told me so, no matter what I said, did or didn’t do, the disapproval came. In my 7th year if I did not communicate with them, neither did they. So it was that I never told them anything about me from then on. They had already scarred my little spirit believing I was a failure. It was hard growing up as a stump in the middle of this big world.
Going forward to my early adult years, hopeless belief continued to darken my days. How it came about that I stepped over that miserable threshold and became who I am, perfect just as I am, that’s not totally clear to me. One day, it did happen. I consciously watched with its birth with amazement. Another force than my own was leading me, engaging me in artistic creations, writing, painting, teaching. This creative force had taken control. I loved it, marveled at these creations coming through me.
I started to understand that within me, in the core of my being, a little child had waited long for self-expression as it was intended. The child was coming out, full of light and treasures in hand, with strong spirit and soul. It was the ladder to self-expression, just as it is, non-judgmental, perfect in its whole.
There are days still when I will destroy a perfect watercolour because I see a tiny flaw in my painting. I hear my departed mother pointing it out, “my big failure is her message”. Today my mother’s voice is mine… I think, it sits silently observing in awe not comparing but accepting that all is as it is, just right as it is. Not being perfect is freedom. Being just as it is, what a release.
Flaws and all, that’s what it is all about. I think of beautiful lotus flowers blooming through the muddy waters, yes, all is as it is.