So basically I've been thinking a lot about wholeness lately. And what I love about
that is how so many things- articles, conversations, thoughts- {seem to} flow together, all talking about or referring to, in one way or another, wholeness. Making a case for wholeness, as it were.
How to create wholeness. Or rather-
allow wholeness. In our lives. Because wholeness is one of those qualities like
love that is already present. There is nothing we have to
do to make it be. We don't have to create it. It already is. What we
can do is change our thinking about it. In this way we can begin to allow what already is. What we already are.
And so begin the arguments- almost at once- as I try and reconcile the seemingly incongruous ideas of
allowing who I am *right now* and all that this entails (
all being the key word here) and continuing my penchant for self-help, self-thought, self-growth, and on ad infinitum, or such like, as I am obviously prone. A hobby of mine perhaps, or simply a way of life, I do enjoy examining how I live and working toward truth and authenticity in my daily life. With myself, with my kids, with my friends and family. And in how I spend my time.
The question then becomes, how do I reconcile these two modes of thinking? How
can it be both fixing
and everything-is-right-as-rain at the same time?
Frequently when discussing wholeness, the line of thinking goes something like this. There is a core you. The authentic you. The true you. And depending on your religious or spiritual beliefs, that
you (often seen as You) has either been taken from you or hidden from you- from our culture or the parenting you received (or both) or religion or even as a lesson to be learned during this life. The idea being that we have to learn to
reconnect with wholeness and dump the inauthentic
you- the impostor, if you will. I get this line of thinking and can see the value in its explanation, at least in part, for why we don't all
feel connected to our truth all the time. As we most likely did as babies. And as young children. But less now. Etcetera.
What bothers me, though, with this line of thinking is the sort of inherent dualism that comes along with it. For instance, if there is a better me, there is a
worse me
. If there is a higher me, there is a
lower me.
And so on. There's no denying there are parts of
me that are less skillful than others. Parts that would benefit from more awareness. Parts that would benefit from more love. But- as long as I view parts of myself as less than. Unworthy. Unwelcome. I won't see myself as whole. And I will tend to focus on
those parts rather than the parts that, say, are
more skillful than other parts. Parts
receiving lots of love. (Or even just getting around to actually giving the love. Appreciating.) Wholeness will continue to be some elusive state-of-being to be found in the future after I have finally gotten my act together. And then some.
And so what about this? What about the parts that I want to change
and the parts that want to do the changing all counting toward the whole. The parts that I love and the parts that make me gulp. Each a part of it all. A part of
me. And embracing that. Seeing the balance of it all, already put together as it is. It's not a new concept. For me, though, it does constitute as a {brave} step into the unknown, this business of allowing and believing in my own wholeness. It can certainly take me by surprise when I
don't judge a thought that I would previously have banished. When I
don't kick myself for a habit I wish I could have changed ten years ago.
And when I notice that I
have taken care of myself when I might have otherwise glossed over it.
Wholeness includes all of these things. It also comes with the caveat of not taking any one part it too seriously. Not getting too
attached, as it were, to any of it. You never know, for instance, when one of the parts might just float away. Leaving you whole. Once more.
