“Continuing a cycle of violence through state-sanctioned actions
does not bring justice but only creates a culture of death and
retribution. As a pro-life Christian, I believe the execution of Troy
Davis shows a failure of moral leadership by both our country and the
state of Georgia. The doubt surrounding the case of Troy Davis has
served as a wake-up call to many in this country that our justice
system is flawed and should not hold the power of life and death over
any person. Justice should restore and heal, not destroy.” — Sojourners CEO Jim Wallis
I hurt for Troy Davis. I hurt for his family and friends. I don't know whether he was guilty or innocent, and I have no intentions to argue either way...that's not my place. What I am convinced of, however, is that our judicial system served him, and all others who have been executed by the state, an injustice.
In her November 5, 2008 open letter to President-elect Barack Obama, Alice Walker urged him not to take on other people's enemies: "Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain.
Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a
certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to
have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in
disguise."
What if we began viewing the convicted in this way? What if we began to see, and treat, those who are convicted of such horrific crimes as murder as fearful, humiliated, and pain-stricken? What if we began to see those things in ourselves? Perhaps our compassion for them would deepen. Perhaps we could get over retributive "justice" and want healing and wholeness for them.
Capital punishment lacks hope. It is a way for the state and others to say to the convicted, "You are not human to us. We give up on you. You deserve this." This is not justice. Vengeance is not justice. Retribution is not justice. To think of justice in this way is elementary and avoidant. To inject a lethal cocktail into another human being and call that just is to strip that person if his or her humanity and worth. Ironically, victims often make the same claims about the convicted. How is capital punishment any more righteous?
Justice needs to be far more complex than that, and to maintain the worth, dignity, and humanity of all it needs to encompass a mature form of hope. Imagine a world where convicted persons entered therapy and began working on themselves. Imagine a world where convicted persons were understood as fearful, humiliated, and pain-stricken. Imagine a world where they were given the space to hope for forgiveness and a whole life. This doesn't mean they don't face consequences for their actions, but it also doesn't mean that we give up on them as people. Sounds tough, right? How could we ever hope for our perpetrators? How could we want good for them when they've brought so much pain to us? That's just the thing...viewing justice in a way that upholds the dignity and worth of the offender still allows us space to grieve and be angry, but it doesn't allow us to stay there. Capital punishment is an injustice to the convicted in that their lives are not valued, and it is an injustice to the victims because it does not challenge them to reconcile. True justice requires that we grow up, face the issues within ourselves, and hope for a better way of living for the offender. It requires that we love when we want to hate, hope when we want to give up, and let live when we want to kill.
Let us find a better way to relieve our hurt and anger, and let us value all life in such a way that hopes for tomorrow.
Vengeance is not justice. Retribution is not justice. Reconciliation is.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thanks, Yogi.
It was just one of those mornings. You know...one of those up too early, workout was a wash, cold shower, knee cut by a razor, not a single outfit looks good, hair has a mind of its own, no eggs for breakfast, empty cupboards = almonds packed for lunch, I forgot I'm picking up a friend and I'm going to be late! kind of mornings. I had nothing major to complain about - sometimes we call these first world problems - but I was feeling rushed and somehow ill-prepared for the day. I just felt....off. As I rummaged through our tiny kitchen to find a morsel of something edible for lunch, I snatched my whistling tea kettle and poured the hot water into a mug. A quick shot of honey and a splash of milk later, I plopped my tea bag in and decided it would simply have to steep on my way to work. As I grabbed my things I rushed out the door to begin my day and as I was getting into my car I looked down at the tag on my tea bag and read There is nothing more precious than the self.
Oh Yogi, you sure know how to stop me in my tracks.
I instantly felt this overwhelming sense of calm. My day took a turn, and I was reminded that in the midst of what felt chaotic, there was time to slow down and appreciate the beauty life offers if I am only willing to see it. And much of that beauty actually lies within me. My life is not about getting somewhere on time or accomplishing the day's many tasks. There is so much more to me and to my mission in this life. I am precious.
My heart smiled with every sip of tea that morning, and when I had consumed every last drop I took the tag and taped it to my computer monitor. Still today I sit at my desk and read my little reminder that there is nothing more precious than the self.
It was around February that I shared with some of my peers the challenges that have come with getting to know myself more over the past couple years. Perhaps one day I will share more about some of those things. For now it will suffice to say it hasn't always been easy. One of my dear friends asked how I've coped with the challenges, and after a moment to reflect on her question, I responded by saying, "I like myself. I like who I'm becoming."
That was a moment of differentiation for me. It was a significant one. In fact, I think it may have been the first time that I've openly declared my love for...me. It didn't feel narcissistic or grandiose, and I was not seeking affirmation or really any kind of attention; rather, it felt freeing and peaceful. As my heart smiled at my tea bag, my heart smiled at my words.
When we truly know ourselves, our strengths and our areas of growth, and in that we love ourselves, I think we're better able to be in relationship with others. I cannot offer what I do not have, and I can't take from others what they can't provide. It is my responsibility to care for me, to love me, to know me, and to grow me. Those ventures belong to no one else. I need to know where I end and others begin and take care of that which belongs to me. I'm seeing these changes in me and I'm excited about them. I do like myself. I do like who I'm becoming. There truly is nothing more precious than the self. There is truly nothing more precious than me.
Oh Yogi, you sure know how to stop me in my tracks.
I instantly felt this overwhelming sense of calm. My day took a turn, and I was reminded that in the midst of what felt chaotic, there was time to slow down and appreciate the beauty life offers if I am only willing to see it. And much of that beauty actually lies within me. My life is not about getting somewhere on time or accomplishing the day's many tasks. There is so much more to me and to my mission in this life. I am precious.
My heart smiled with every sip of tea that morning, and when I had consumed every last drop I took the tag and taped it to my computer monitor. Still today I sit at my desk and read my little reminder that there is nothing more precious than the self.
It was around February that I shared with some of my peers the challenges that have come with getting to know myself more over the past couple years. Perhaps one day I will share more about some of those things. For now it will suffice to say it hasn't always been easy. One of my dear friends asked how I've coped with the challenges, and after a moment to reflect on her question, I responded by saying, "I like myself. I like who I'm becoming."
That was a moment of differentiation for me. It was a significant one. In fact, I think it may have been the first time that I've openly declared my love for...me. It didn't feel narcissistic or grandiose, and I was not seeking affirmation or really any kind of attention; rather, it felt freeing and peaceful. As my heart smiled at my tea bag, my heart smiled at my words.
When we truly know ourselves, our strengths and our areas of growth, and in that we love ourselves, I think we're better able to be in relationship with others. I cannot offer what I do not have, and I can't take from others what they can't provide. It is my responsibility to care for me, to love me, to know me, and to grow me. Those ventures belong to no one else. I need to know where I end and others begin and take care of that which belongs to me. I'm seeing these changes in me and I'm excited about them. I do like myself. I do like who I'm becoming. There truly is nothing more precious than the self. There is truly nothing more precious than me.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Contentment
In college I decided that a day would not go by that I should be content. Should...what a loaded word. I began asking God to stir discontent in me so as not to become too comfortable and therefore let my faith become stagnant. You see, I was convinced that if I rested in the present, my faith would digress into a shlubbish and unintentional mess.
I entered my seminary journey with this idea in mind. In my first spiritual formation class, I voiced my perspective and genuinely thought that if I ever felt content, I wasn't being intentional enough with my faith. Tsk tsk tsk, thou shall never be content.
The couple years I've been in seminary have completely shattered this "conviction." What began as an authentic desire to continue growing and deepening my understanding of God, myself, and this complicated world became a daunting, overwhelming, and exhausting task. My first year in seminary was full of "mirror" moments, when I was presented with a new perspective on my life and the shaping of it. I finally confronted myself in a way that not only allowed me to see, but go to, the places of my being that are dark, lonely, and broken. This work on the self is intentional in the program I am in, and while the pain sometimes run so deep, it has been a journey I will never regret.
I could reflect on so many things I have learned about myself over these past couple years, but one of the most important lessons I have learned is to trust the process. Over and over again our professors remind us of the importance of the process. Living in Minnesota, I have the privilege of experiencing the changes of seasons in all their glory...30 degrees below zero, and 100 degrees above with humidity that I can swim through (as is the case today). As I've learned to trust the process of knowing myself and God better, I've developed a new-found appreciation for winter. Winter is a time of hibernation and rest, and each year I can anticipate the life and excitement that surrounds the warming of spring. As I've learned to trust the process, I've also developed a new-found appreciation for contentment. There is a time for us to hibernate and rest in God's presence...in the present. I need not always look forward in such a way that ceases to reflect on the past and be present in the here and now. Instead, it's okay to...truly trust the process.
Today I am reminded again of the ways in which I can be content with God in the present. This need not mean that I am complacent, lazy, or otherwise unintentional - I can be content with God in the present and also be cognizant of the ways I can grow - but it's important for me to trust the pains, the winter, the process. It's okay to be content.
I entered my seminary journey with this idea in mind. In my first spiritual formation class, I voiced my perspective and genuinely thought that if I ever felt content, I wasn't being intentional enough with my faith. Tsk tsk tsk, thou shall never be content.
The couple years I've been in seminary have completely shattered this "conviction." What began as an authentic desire to continue growing and deepening my understanding of God, myself, and this complicated world became a daunting, overwhelming, and exhausting task. My first year in seminary was full of "mirror" moments, when I was presented with a new perspective on my life and the shaping of it. I finally confronted myself in a way that not only allowed me to see, but go to, the places of my being that are dark, lonely, and broken. This work on the self is intentional in the program I am in, and while the pain sometimes run so deep, it has been a journey I will never regret.
I could reflect on so many things I have learned about myself over these past couple years, but one of the most important lessons I have learned is to trust the process. Over and over again our professors remind us of the importance of the process. Living in Minnesota, I have the privilege of experiencing the changes of seasons in all their glory...30 degrees below zero, and 100 degrees above with humidity that I can swim through (as is the case today). As I've learned to trust the process of knowing myself and God better, I've developed a new-found appreciation for winter. Winter is a time of hibernation and rest, and each year I can anticipate the life and excitement that surrounds the warming of spring. As I've learned to trust the process, I've also developed a new-found appreciation for contentment. There is a time for us to hibernate and rest in God's presence...in the present. I need not always look forward in such a way that ceases to reflect on the past and be present in the here and now. Instead, it's okay to...truly trust the process.
Today I am reminded again of the ways in which I can be content with God in the present. This need not mean that I am complacent, lazy, or otherwise unintentional - I can be content with God in the present and also be cognizant of the ways I can grow - but it's important for me to trust the pains, the winter, the process. It's okay to be content.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Exhausted.
Sigh. Heavy sigh. Heaviest sigh ever. I don't know that I have ever been so worn down from school. My brain cannot seem to function at a critical level, and I have two papers standing between me and a week of...well, no school.
When I first began my job, and a month later my master's program, I questioned whether two classes at a time would challenge me enough. In high school I was invincible. Seriously. Somehow I managed to juggle school, work, dance, family, boyfriend, friends, more dance, soccer, student government, orchestra, chamber orchestra, choir, chamber singers, piano lessons, even more dance, homework, and somewhere in there I ate and slept as well. Now I have a full-time job and am taking two classes at a time, and I am feeling exhausted. More than ever before.
So many of my classmates seem to be feeling the same way. I am not usually one to feel stressed or exhausted at the end of an academic term, but something got in the water at school because we all seem to have caught a bug. Whatever it is, I do know that the end is in sight. Though my final two papers (the dang things feel like mountains right now) are not due until Monday, but I leave for a work conference on Saturday. That leaves me a few short days to do the impossible, but my will it feel good to be done. And early at that.
Pressing on. Exhausted, but doing it nonetheless. On to another paper...
Peace,
SC
When I first began my job, and a month later my master's program, I questioned whether two classes at a time would challenge me enough. In high school I was invincible. Seriously. Somehow I managed to juggle school, work, dance, family, boyfriend, friends, more dance, soccer, student government, orchestra, chamber orchestra, choir, chamber singers, piano lessons, even more dance, homework, and somewhere in there I ate and slept as well. Now I have a full-time job and am taking two classes at a time, and I am feeling exhausted. More than ever before.
So many of my classmates seem to be feeling the same way. I am not usually one to feel stressed or exhausted at the end of an academic term, but something got in the water at school because we all seem to have caught a bug. Whatever it is, I do know that the end is in sight. Though my final two papers (the dang things feel like mountains right now) are not due until Monday, but I leave for a work conference on Saturday. That leaves me a few short days to do the impossible, but my will it feel good to be done. And early at that.
Pressing on. Exhausted, but doing it nonetheless. On to another paper...
Peace,
SC
Friday, February 11, 2011
To Be Known
THESE TREES ARE EXPOSED.
THEY ARE HONEST.
THEY CANNOT CONCEAL THEIR WEAKNESSES OR DEFORMITIES.
NO LONGER CAN THE FULLNESS OF THE LEAVES ROUND THEIR JAGGEDNESS OR COVER THEIR TWISTED BRANCHES.
THE HURT THAT HAS BEEN INFLICTED UPON THEM HAS NO PLACE TO HIDE.
THEY STAND AMIDST THE LAVISH GREENS AND BARE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT THEY ARE…
…AND WHAT THEY ARE NOT.
AND IN THEIR BROKEN AND IMPERFECT VULNERABILITY,
THESE TREES ARE STILL PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A New Year (I know...a little late)
The way I think is like a rock tumbler. Things get thrown in my brain, they get rattled around, banged up, and beat each other to a pulp, and eventually something comes out on the other end. Of course, I'm not usually satisfied with the "polished" results, so often ideas get thrown back into the tumbler for round 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on. Really, every rock finds its way back into the tumbler at some point or another...most of them more than once.
This tumbler of this mind of mine never shuts off, so I find myself constantly "reflecting." Now is the time when many are reflecting on happenings from the past year and setting resolutions for the new. Did I think about these things earlier? Sure. But putting words to my thoughts can't happen when I decide I want words to come. Usually, the words come whenever I feel they are there. Does that resonate with anyone?
That said, I'm finally ready (as if February 9th is SO far behind...come on!) to think back about some of the happenings of 2010. As far as new year's resolutions go, I have to admit I'm a bit of a skeptic. Are there things I want to improve? Always. So why wait until a new year to start? I make resolutions all the stinkin' time. Apparently there is something about having to buy a new calendar that motivates people to change.
Anyway, here are some highlights of 2010:
1. Finished my first year of graduate school (successfully, I might add!). When I started, I knew from the start that I would be looking at a minimum of four years to complete this sucker that is a master's degree. Working full time, taking classes, being a wife, volunteering here and there, and spending time investing in relationships with friends and family all takes some serious time management and not a lot of room for error. I definitely had moments, but overall I think the academic year was a complete success.
2. Ran my first marathon. Yep, I ran the long 26.2 miles from Two Harbors to Canal Park in Duluth, MN. Grandma's Marathon was definitely a highlight for me. I love to run and have always wanted to do a marathon, so I signed up with a friend in the spring of 2010 and began my training. What an amazing experience it was. Maria and I became really close as we spent hours together on our loooooong weekend runs, and I really had a sense of accomplishment crossing that finish line. A couple days before 2010 ended, I signed up for a second marathon. I hope that 2011 will bring a time faster than my last (3:57) at the Minneapolis Marathon in June.
3. Welcomed 2 new nephews and a niece into the world. Need I say more? These little people are such blessings to us. We now have 5 nephews and niece, and we love each of them in amounts that cannot be explained. If our siblings keep having children, we'll be so full of knowledge about kids when we cross that bridge ourselves that our own are bound to be perfect. Just saying...
4. Became nomads. We are three years into our marriage, and we are still figuring out where we fit in the world of the larger church. Over the summer we decided to look for something new, and we've been attending a new church now, but we haven't owned it yet. I don't know that either of us is ready to say that it is where we belong yet, but we're feeling it out as we go. I'm thankful for friends who have journeyed with us as we've asked questions and wondered around what it means to be the people of God.
5. Let others in. One of the most insightful realizations I have had about myself over the past year is how little I let others know me. I am one of those who easily gets to know others but rarely lets others see me for me. I have been more intentional about letting others know me this last year. Sometimes that means exposing some raw and ugly places. Sometimes that simply means telling someone something about me. I have had to ask why I hold back and what prevents me from trusting others with who I am. Exposing who I am has happened in all kinds of ways, and my soul is thankful. I hope this is the start of a new way of doing relationship.
6. Cook/Baker woman in training. The first step in recovering from an addiction is admitting there is a problem. So here is my confession...I have become addicted to recipes. I want to try making anything and everything that has me salivating at its very sight. Why? Well, why not? Our kitchen is tiny, but it has become my laboratory for many a recipe. I've found that cooking and baking are therapeutic. Seriously. Websites, blogs, recipe books and magazines have served as my inspiration, and my husband as my guinea pig. Bless his heart. He says he doesn't mind.
7. Camping. We packed up our four-door sedan and drove north to Two Harbors, MN (for the second time that summer...see #2). We pitched a tent on the shore of Lake Superior and spent four days basking in nothingness. It was our first camping trip alone as a couple, and I must say, it was fantastic. We made big meals over a real campfire, played cards, disconnected ourselves from anything that needs to be plugged in (minus a few very necessary Twins updates), and just enjoyed spending time together. Oh, and one of the best parts? We positioned our tent so we could literally zip the door open and look straight out at the lake. Beautiful? Ooooooh yeah
2010 was a good year. There are a million other things I could write about, but to avoid the whole "million" thing, I'll keep it to seven. Here's to 2011 and the host of highlights it is sure to bring.
This tumbler of this mind of mine never shuts off, so I find myself constantly "reflecting." Now is the time when many are reflecting on happenings from the past year and setting resolutions for the new. Did I think about these things earlier? Sure. But putting words to my thoughts can't happen when I decide I want words to come. Usually, the words come whenever I feel they are there. Does that resonate with anyone?
That said, I'm finally ready (as if February 9th is SO far behind...come on!) to think back about some of the happenings of 2010. As far as new year's resolutions go, I have to admit I'm a bit of a skeptic. Are there things I want to improve? Always. So why wait until a new year to start? I make resolutions all the stinkin' time. Apparently there is something about having to buy a new calendar that motivates people to change.
Anyway, here are some highlights of 2010:
1. Finished my first year of graduate school (successfully, I might add!). When I started, I knew from the start that I would be looking at a minimum of four years to complete this sucker that is a master's degree. Working full time, taking classes, being a wife, volunteering here and there, and spending time investing in relationships with friends and family all takes some serious time management and not a lot of room for error. I definitely had moments, but overall I think the academic year was a complete success.
2. Ran my first marathon. Yep, I ran the long 26.2 miles from Two Harbors to Canal Park in Duluth, MN. Grandma's Marathon was definitely a highlight for me. I love to run and have always wanted to do a marathon, so I signed up with a friend in the spring of 2010 and began my training. What an amazing experience it was. Maria and I became really close as we spent hours together on our loooooong weekend runs, and I really had a sense of accomplishment crossing that finish line. A couple days before 2010 ended, I signed up for a second marathon. I hope that 2011 will bring a time faster than my last (3:57) at the Minneapolis Marathon in June.
3. Welcomed 2 new nephews and a niece into the world. Need I say more? These little people are such blessings to us. We now have 5 nephews and niece, and we love each of them in amounts that cannot be explained. If our siblings keep having children, we'll be so full of knowledge about kids when we cross that bridge ourselves that our own are bound to be perfect. Just saying...
4. Became nomads. We are three years into our marriage, and we are still figuring out where we fit in the world of the larger church. Over the summer we decided to look for something new, and we've been attending a new church now, but we haven't owned it yet. I don't know that either of us is ready to say that it is where we belong yet, but we're feeling it out as we go. I'm thankful for friends who have journeyed with us as we've asked questions and wondered around what it means to be the people of God.
5. Let others in. One of the most insightful realizations I have had about myself over the past year is how little I let others know me. I am one of those who easily gets to know others but rarely lets others see me for me. I have been more intentional about letting others know me this last year. Sometimes that means exposing some raw and ugly places. Sometimes that simply means telling someone something about me. I have had to ask why I hold back and what prevents me from trusting others with who I am. Exposing who I am has happened in all kinds of ways, and my soul is thankful. I hope this is the start of a new way of doing relationship.
6. Cook/Baker woman in training. The first step in recovering from an addiction is admitting there is a problem. So here is my confession...I have become addicted to recipes. I want to try making anything and everything that has me salivating at its very sight. Why? Well, why not? Our kitchen is tiny, but it has become my laboratory for many a recipe. I've found that cooking and baking are therapeutic. Seriously. Websites, blogs, recipe books and magazines have served as my inspiration, and my husband as my guinea pig. Bless his heart. He says he doesn't mind.
7. Camping. We packed up our four-door sedan and drove north to Two Harbors, MN (for the second time that summer...see #2). We pitched a tent on the shore of Lake Superior and spent four days basking in nothingness. It was our first camping trip alone as a couple, and I must say, it was fantastic. We made big meals over a real campfire, played cards, disconnected ourselves from anything that needs to be plugged in (minus a few very necessary Twins updates), and just enjoyed spending time together. Oh, and one of the best parts? We positioned our tent so we could literally zip the door open and look straight out at the lake. Beautiful? Ooooooh yeah
2010 was a good year. There are a million other things I could write about, but to avoid the whole "million" thing, I'll keep it to seven. Here's to 2011 and the host of highlights it is sure to bring.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Blind Spots
In the Marriage and Family Therapy program at Bethel Seminary, we talk incessantly about self awareness and how important it is for one to be aware of presuppositions, biases, and ways of viewing the world to be an effective therapist. Shouldn't we all be challenged to think about these things?
Last fall I entrusted with a few of my classmates a true fear of mine. What if others know me better than myself? Of course, that initially sounds like ludicrous. Certainly we know ourselves better than anyone possibly could, right? I would argue that on some level this is essentially the case. Nobody else can understand exactly how we are feeling, what we are thinking, or the ways we are experiencing the world in which we live.
But where are my blind spots? Where do others have advantages over me in knowing...me? Think about looking at yourself in the mirror. Now think about looking at yourself in a photograph. In both of these instances, you are viewing a reproduced image of yourself. In fact, that is all you have seen of your own face(unless you have had some out of body experience in which you have looked at your physical self as a third party would...but I have yet to meet anyone who has experienced this!). Let's face it...you, and I, have only seen carbon copies of our true selves. I have never seen my face in the exact way you see it, and you have not seen yours the way I see it.
So where am I going with this? Think for a second about that one person who drives your crazy. Perhaps it was a pesky elementary school classmate, a brother or sister, or someone who you encounter on your daily stop at the local corner coffee shop. For a moment, ask yourself whether that person intentionally bothers you (of course, this analogy does fall apart when someone in fact does intentionally bother you...). Most of us would have to humbly admit that no, in fact that person doesn't intend to be a nuisance. And, I might argue, we claim to know something of that person that he or she does not because we possess a perception that the "annoying" person does not.
Where are my blind spots? Where do others have advantages over me in knowing...me? What do people of say of me that I would be shocked to hear? How are these blind spots affecting my relationships with those around me? In what ways are these blind spots negatively affecting others? Conversely, in what ways am I bringing joy to those around me without knowing?
Self awareness is a dynamic journey on which I always hope to venture. As I learn more about myself, I anticipate developing a greater understanding of how who I am affects others. My goal in this journey is to learn enough about who I am that my perception of myself and others' perceptions of me coincide in pseudo-harmony, understanding that I will always have blind spots and there will always be room for growth.
Here's to knowing myself better and understanding that you will always have an advantage over me in knowing me fully.
Last fall I entrusted with a few of my classmates a true fear of mine. What if others know me better than myself? Of course, that initially sounds like ludicrous. Certainly we know ourselves better than anyone possibly could, right? I would argue that on some level this is essentially the case. Nobody else can understand exactly how we are feeling, what we are thinking, or the ways we are experiencing the world in which we live.
But where are my blind spots? Where do others have advantages over me in knowing...me? Think about looking at yourself in the mirror. Now think about looking at yourself in a photograph. In both of these instances, you are viewing a reproduced image of yourself. In fact, that is all you have seen of your own face(unless you have had some out of body experience in which you have looked at your physical self as a third party would...but I have yet to meet anyone who has experienced this!). Let's face it...you, and I, have only seen carbon copies of our true selves. I have never seen my face in the exact way you see it, and you have not seen yours the way I see it.
So where am I going with this? Think for a second about that one person who drives your crazy. Perhaps it was a pesky elementary school classmate, a brother or sister, or someone who you encounter on your daily stop at the local corner coffee shop. For a moment, ask yourself whether that person intentionally bothers you (of course, this analogy does fall apart when someone in fact does intentionally bother you...). Most of us would have to humbly admit that no, in fact that person doesn't intend to be a nuisance. And, I might argue, we claim to know something of that person that he or she does not because we possess a perception that the "annoying" person does not.
Where are my blind spots? Where do others have advantages over me in knowing...me? What do people of say of me that I would be shocked to hear? How are these blind spots affecting my relationships with those around me? In what ways are these blind spots negatively affecting others? Conversely, in what ways am I bringing joy to those around me without knowing?
Self awareness is a dynamic journey on which I always hope to venture. As I learn more about myself, I anticipate developing a greater understanding of how who I am affects others. My goal in this journey is to learn enough about who I am that my perception of myself and others' perceptions of me coincide in pseudo-harmony, understanding that I will always have blind spots and there will always be room for growth.
Here's to knowing myself better and understanding that you will always have an advantage over me in knowing me fully.
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