Unpretty

I go through the ebb and flow of feeling pretty and not so pretty in the course of my existence. There isn’t any one particular thing that makes me feel prettier than others. I know I have some outfits that I feel like a rock star in, and then there are others that I feel like crawling under a rock and hiding.


For most of my life, I relied on others to provide me feedback on whether or not I was pretty. I let them guide me in how I felt about myself. I wish I could say I came about the realization that was pretty dumb years ago, but I actually came to it Christmas Eve. My son and I were cuddled up together, and we were talking about the excitement of the next day. We had put out reindeer food, so they wouldn’t be hungry on the long journey and he wrote a letter, apologizing to Santa for the really pathetic pancake like cookies (bad baking soda). He was leaning up next to me on the couch and we were just snuggling before bed, and he looked up at me and said I was pretty.

Bam!

That’s all the confirmation I needed. See, my son is autistic, and one of the beauties/curses of autism is the inability to lie. If he isn’t feeling it, he isn’t feeling it. So, when he said I was pretty, he meant it.

While it was someone else telling me that I was pretty, it was also like my conscious speaking to me. A conscious that I have been working hard to develop and expand upon, that I have struggled with accepting the limitations of, and learning to be. One of the wonderful side effects of this is being more in touch with my body and mind than I have in years. My post operative pain was intense, but I think it was because I could actually FEEL it for the first time in a long time. I can feel the stiffness in my back when I wake up in the morning equally as I feel it dissipate as the morning wears on. I am getting in touch with my hunger and thirst symptoms and learning to tell the difference therein.

I started meditating years ago, and it is as time has gone on my practice has waxed and waned.

It seems as my practice follows where I am in terms of body acceptance and peace. The more accepting I am of myself, the more I seem to meditate. In those dark corners of vacillating between starving myself and bingeing to “control” the weight, I am also not freeing my mind. My meditation practice is closely intertwined with my spiritual discipline; in fact, they are one and the same. It does matter if I am chanting “om shanti, shanti om” or “veni, creator spiritus” or saying the rosary (and yes, Episcopalians do pray it)its communication with a higher power and being vulnerable.

The union of self acceptance and spiritual practice really isn’t all that surprising. As you become more enlightened, some of the little things pass by the wayside. You don’t sweat the small stuff as much. There is that sense of Zen. I am not kidding when you feel like you are one with the universe.

My intention is to start off the new year with the intention of spending a few moments each day in silent meditation. To just be with the universe, and just be. Veni, creator spiritus, veni.