What do we do when the person we imagined ourselves to be doesn't really match the person we are.
Well first things first...pine, pine, pine.
I often see myself as this very creative mama and imagine that somehow the artist will take over the course of my life, illumining the shadows with her palette of colors and directing the drama with an eccentric flair toward wide horizons. I find myself all too often agonizing over the unfulfilled details, the unfinished canvas.
And then...the ludicrousness of the situation dawns and I look around and see that there is a beautiful life right in front of me, not nearly as glamorous or outwardly affirming, but beautiful still.
The distinct awareness dawns, "THIS is my life" and I can choose to continue a subtle war of resistance or can open to it, become curious and inhabit the unique experience that is mine.
It is hilarious really.
We continue to resist our own beauty on the pretense that it isn't enough, and thus we block the experience of life living life.
An exercise in futility.
Perhaps we can throw the whole ball of bullshit to the wind, stand naked and unabashed before the mirror of our own longing and say, with the gusto of belief, "I AM ENOUGH".
"I AM ENOUGH."