Embracing our inner child and our inner crone.

In an interview with Oprah, Elizabeth Gilbert talks about her Inner Crone — a version of herself old, happy, and well past the point of fear — that she pictures when she needs a shot of courage. She considers her Inner Crone to be “a badass old lady who already dwells somewhere deep within [her] and whom [she] hope[s] to fully become someday.” Picturing her Inner Crone gives Gilbert gumption.

But she also remembers her Inner Child, and pictures that child particularly when she is feeling depressed or hard on herself:

Many years ago when I was going through a dark season of depression and self-loathing, I taped a sweet photograph of myself at the tender age of 2 on my bathroom mirror. Looking at that photo every day reminded me that I once was this blameless little person, deserving of all tenderness–and that part of me would always be this blameless little person deserving of all tenderness. Meditating upon a smaller and more innocent version of my face helped me to learn to be more compassionate to myself. I was finally able to recognize that any harm I inflicted on me, I was also inflicting on her. And that little kid clearly didn’t deserve to be harmed.

We could all benefit from picturing our Inner Child when we are being hard on ourselves. Would you criticize that little child the way you are criticizing yourself now, or would you be more patient and encouraging? Would you demand perfection from that child, or would you celebrate progress? If you were wounded by adults when you were a child, you now are an adult who can support that little child in a healing way.

Think back. Can you remember that Inner Child who is still a part of you? The joy and exuberance, enthusiasm and trust, innocence and promise? No matter how far you’ve come from that start, treat yourself with kindness, patience, and compassion. That Inner Child is alive and well…and trusts you.

Leaving the world a bit better.

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We all want to succeed, but what is the metric for measuring whether we’ve been successful? There are so many. Money, status, power, bucket lists, fame, travel… but what of the little things? Are you successful if you have enough money to buy a small country but no one to love or trust? Is it success if you are famous but lonely? If you have power but wield it to cause pain and misfortune to others, how can that be considered success? If you’ve traveled the world but not been truly present anywhere, does that count?

Perhaps true success at this thing called life is as simple as Emerson’s thoughts above. To leave the world a bit better, to ease the burdens of others, to look for and bring out the best in others, to do no harm. These all matter, maybe not in measurable concrete ways, but in ways we can all feel and appreciate if not count. More important, these are all things we each can do. We have the ability to be successful beyond our wildest imaginings.

And don’t forget to laugh often and much. Finding the joy and not letting it slip right past you undetected is important, too.

Consider the potential.

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The potential for a loving relationship is in one embrace. The potential for peace is in forgiveness. The potential for harmony is in stillness. The potential for quality conversation is in listening.

Consider the opportunities you have to make your world and the world a better kinder place with the actions you sow today.

Paint your soul.

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We wear our souls on our sleeves really, especially those of us who are artists. The created work sings of hope or despair, love or hate, trust or deceit. Much of what we believe about life is reflected in our created worlds.

But each of us is an artist, really. Consider the created worlds each of us makes with our online presence. Do we share stories of hope and unity or of despair and dissension? Do we seek to unify or to tear apart? Do we spread the beautiful or the ugly? What are we putting out there into the world with our words and actions?

When we share with the world, are we sharing the best of ourselves?

 

 

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What lies within?

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What defines us? Is it our achievements or failures in either the past or future, or is it something infinitely more?

Perhaps it is the power we have within ourselves to persevere, to make the best of a bad situation, to look to comfort others even as we stumble. Perhaps it is our ability to learn in the midst of failure, to hope in the midst of defeat, and to love when surrounded by hate. Perhaps this, the indefatigable human spirit, is our greatest strength.

All things?

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It’s easy to be grateful for the good things. But … everything? What about the fear, anxiety, separation, loneliness? What about the loss and persecution? What about the things that challenge our life and morality and soul? What of these?

Yes. All. Even these things that most pain us or make us worry. It is in these times we draw on something deeper than ourselves and grow. These are the times that cause us to reach out to others and embrace community. These are the depths we can survive and use that survival to offer hope to others.

Gratitude forces a perspective shift. From despair to hope. From loss to possibility. From chaos to peace.

Even now, even this, even here. Be grateful.

What do you know for sure? Are you sure?

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As you get older, do you think you know a lot or do you believe there is a lot that you don’t yet know? As young men and women, we think we have all the answers. But as we age, our experience shows us that there are many valid perspectives to something we thought was established. We learn that there is value in the multiple points of view in arriving at a more nuanced version of the truth. We realize that people can look at the same thing, but, because they are coming at the issue with different life experiences, they may see it differently and that both of those opinions may be true. In fact, it may well be that we have no hope of getting close to the concept of truth without the benefit of many points of view. We may be limited by the fetters of our own perceptions and filters.

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In this very insightful TED talk, Pico Iyer shares his creeping realization that the more we know, the more we see we don’t know:

I don’t believe that ignorance is bliss. Science has unquestionably made our lives brighter and longer and healthier. And I am forever grateful to the teachers who showed me the laws of physics and pointed out that three times three makes nine. I can count that out on my fingers any time of night or day. But when a mathematician tells me that minus three times minus three makes nine, that’s a kind of logic that almost feels like trust.

The opposite of knowledge, in other words, isn’t always ignorance. It can be wonder. Or mystery. Possibility. And in my life, I’ve found it’s the things I don’t know that have lifted me up and pushed me forwards much more than the things I do know. It’s also the things I don’t know that have often brought me closer to everybody around me.

For eight straight Novembers, recently, I traveled every year across Japan with the Dalai Lama. And the one thing he said every day that most seemed to give people reassurance and confidence was, “I don’t know.”

“What’s going to happen to Tibet?” “When are we ever going to get world peace?” “What’s the best way to raise children?”

“Frankly,” says this very wise man, “I don’t know.”

It’s scary to admit we don’t know. We want to know. We want to believe that we are safe and that our futures are secure. We want to believe that if we behave in a certain way, it will result in predictable results.

The truth is harder. Honest people can be accused of deceit. Innocent people can die. Tragedy can strike. Relationships can fracture. But embracing uncertainty as the only truly certain thing in life can, in fact, be surprisingly grounding. Iyer continues:

Knowledge is a priceless gift. But the illusion of knowledge can be more dangerous than ignorance.

Thinking that you know your lover or your enemy can be more treacherous than acknowledging you’ll never know them. Every morning in Japan, as the sun is flooding into our little apartment, I take great pains not to consult the weather forecast, because if I do, my mind will be overclouded, distracted, even when the day is bright.

I’ve been a full-time writer now for 34 years. And the one thing that I have learned is that transformation comes when I’m not in charge, when I don’t know what’s coming next, when I can’t assume I am bigger than everything around me. And the same is true in love or in moments of crisis. Suddenly, we’re back in that trishaw again and we’re bumping off the broad, well-lit streets; and we’re reminded, really, of the first law of travel and, therefore, of life: you’re only as strong as your readiness to surrender.

In the end, perhaps, being human is much more important than being fully in the know.

Today embrace the uncertainty of life and enjoy the present moment right here in front of you. Around the corner, there may well be a surprise insight waiting to stretch you and challenge the very things you think you know. Embrace that, too.