‘You Fat Fuck!’
These are the words that ever so quickly flashed in my mind, as I locked eyes with myself, in the change room mirror.
I was somewhat surprised to hear them, given that I have been feeling relatively sexy of late. It was not what I was expecting after a great morning workout.
I broke my own cardinal rule. I invited a trigger into my life. A trigger that will not help me achieve a higher frequency.
I have been avoiding all possible triggers in my life for a while now. I avoid them, in the hopes of getting my shit together, and looking at mirrors at the gym is right up there, with the best of them. Thankfully, my scalp resembles the aftermath of a brush fire in British Columbia, which makes it quite easy not to have to seek reflective surfaces for a quick makeover.
You Fat Fuck.
Where did that voice come from?
I heard it. I certainly heard it. Loud and clear.
There is no denying it, or who said it. The interesting question that flows out of all this is of course, what else exists in there; deep inside of my subconscious mind, that finds pleasure in tormenting and undermining my life?
I am being honest and open about this because I am not running away from this.
I drove to work in total silence this morning. A whole hour of the rubber meeting the road. And surrounded by the hum of wheels and the company of my translucent thoughts.
What a glorious hour! And what amazing thoughts run through my mind like active fireflies and pesky mosquitoes.
I spent an hour: wishing, dreaming, seeing, and believing.
An hour of wonder but an hour of disbelief as well.
The thoughts that ask me who I think I am, and implore me to sit down and shut the fuck up, are there too. They always come and go as they please. They have been there for so long, that they own the whole block. They run away just as quickly as they stun.
I implored Rule Number 6 today.
I did not take myself very seriously.
Rule Number 6 can be found in The Art of Possibility. An mind bending book by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander. A work I am so grateful to have stumbled upon.
Thank you Rule Number 6.
But back to being a fat fuck.
It seems that my subconscious mind isn’t too thrilled about my new direction in life, and the new work-out regiment I have implemented since before Christmas.
I just dig ditches.
It’s not easy to wake up at 4 am each morning, and wrestle my body into submission. If I wasn’t for my renewed commitment to digging ditches, I would probably see the futility of my actions. I would probably heed the voice in my head and appease it with a delicious apple fritter or the sweetness of a honey cruller.
Instead. I love myself.
I know how this sounds, and if you know me, you know that my eyes are rolling, and I am making gagging noises.
But no matter how it sounds, or what you think, it is what it is. We were not born to live in guilt, regret, or self-loathing. Yes, it is an undeniable part of our nature, but that is not who we truly are. Guilt, regret, and self-loathing is only what we do, but it is not who we be.
So love yourself, you fat fuck.
That sounds better. Much better.
And why not? Who are we not to be great and love ourselves. Why not be great despite ourselves. Why not become kind despite what we think we deserve. It is just as difficult to hate yourself as it is choose to love yourself. Trust me, loving yourself is a lot more fun.
Thank God for the existence of seeming perfect strangers and our domesticated animals. They are like the wise mean and they bring us invaluable gifts. They react to who they see, not the shit storm of conflicting emotions that rages inside of our minds from one day to the next.
Let’s give each other permission to drown out those little sadistic voices inside our head.
They are never going away.
They are never going to be silent, and they only grow more powerful and persistant when we ignore them or pretend they are not there.
We need to be silent and vigilant, in order to hear them. They move fast and hide like predators. We need to drag them into the warmth and the light of day. There we need to examine them and learn where they came from? Why are they here? What do they want?
We must not react to them.
The best way is to simply thank them for sharing their version of reality, and respond by loving ourselves.
I am not a fat fuck.
I am me. I am the highway.
Mind you, if I can be truly honest with myself, not sweating on relatively cool days, and not getting winded when I tie up my shoes would be a fantastic little upgrade.
It is time to start living. It’s time to love ourselves. A time to slow down. Time to grown silent. Time to listen. Time to embrace our true selves, and embrace the possibility of a bright future.
It’s just as hard not to.