This was written in July 2009, and posted in March 2010
I think of Elizabeth’s letter to me [10/25/05] where she talks about my commitment, my vision and my generosity. I remember when I first read it, I had a wonderful feeling of “I’ve done it. I’ve become the person I want to be.” And relief — I don’t have to keep trying so hard. But it faded. The conditioning that I’m not good enough is so strong and deep. I’m thinking of listing all the good things people have said to me, and reading them over and over. People have suggested that I do this, but I haven’t really taken it seriously. So I’ll start right now. I can find in my journal a lot of passages about good things I’ve done or people have said to me and make another document. I started to make a list. It’s feeling good to write it all down, I still feel odd but warmer and more solid. Then a momentary thought — I’m being conceited — NO! I’m letting myself see and feel my real worth. What if I really got it that I’m a good person doing good things in the world? Would I swagger around bragging? Would I get lazy and stop doing things? NOT AT ALL. I would be able to relax. I would stop pushing myself. I would stop making myself wrong and being angry at myself for being not good enough. I might even have more energy for the things I love to do: decorate and care for Neskaya, teach dance programs.
Elizabeth said “You go off into uncharted territory — your wounds are your opening.” I talked to her yesterday. A really good talk. She said she always feels better after talking to me. I read her the letter she wrote me about my “boundless generosity, breadth of vision, depth of commitment,” and my reaction, having trouble believing it at first, and then the relief. I don’t have to keep pushing. “I am changing the world by my mere presence.” I’ve got those pages printed out, sitting right here on my table. We also clarified the issue of becoming “conceited”, agreeing that acting superior is based on a fear that one is really inferior. Also agreeing that being able to take in the good we do would probably make us more effective.
In therapy I talked about Elizabeth’s letter praising my vision, commitment and generosity, and started to expand on those. Caryn asked me to slow down, so I did and began to go into detail about the hugeness of the galaxies and the amazing complexity that is the body… A fragment drifted by “.. so great” and I spoke to Mother (what I remember most about my mother was her telling me “Don’t think you’re so great”) “I don’t think I’m so great, I think the Universe is huge and miraculous and beautiful and I want to share my excitement.” Caryn said she’d never heard me speak from that embodied place before. I have been able to do it in the past few years: speaking my truth and not worrying about whether she got it or not.