When I was a little girl, I wanted to grow up and be a social worker. Why? Because I saw the world as broken, and hurting, and I saw myself as the superhero who was going to fix it. To solve every problem, heal every wound. To change the world. To this day, it has created a belief within me that sees myself as the one with the right answers, and the one that is essential for a problem to be solved.
Additionally, by seeing the world as broken, and needing me to fix it, I have also developed the belief that had a certain talent with people, that I could tell if something was bothering someone, and even more than that, WHAT was bothering them. Sometimes, I would call that “gift” in myself being intuitive, or being empathic. And, I do know that those skills live within me, and I do sense things when I really trust myself. But, how I have most often crafted the stories of the problems of others that I weave into my mind, is by simply believing that I know what is going on with them. By the evidence that they show in their body language, the words that they use, or don’t, or emotions that they express. For most of my life, I have been thinking that I know, for certain, what is happening with them.
And, to be fair to myself, sometimes, I have been right. And, even though I appreciate being tuned into what others are going through, what I have enjoyed about being right is a way to pat myself on the back, to show my own arrogance of thinking how well that I know what the world needs, and how I am certainly the one that can fix it for them. As I type the words, they sound ugly, and harsh. But, there is ugliness and harshness there, because all of those aspects live in me. The arrogance, the self centeredness, the bold assuredness of being right, the feeling justified in taking a position or a side. And, those aspects that are more difficult to look at sometimes live in all of us.
The deepest truth that I now understand, is that no matter what evidence I believe that I see to prove myself correct about someone, is that I can never, ever know what is going on with someone else. Even if they tell me. And, this includes myself as well. Although all of our thoughts can carry loaded stories along with them, and are always attached to some belief system we possess, we don’t even have to believe our own thoughts about ourselves. We don’t write the story for someone else, except in our heads. We embellish the stories in our heads with details that we feel certain are right, and then, have an ongoing battle within us based on our assumptions.
We can only ever know best what is going on with ourselves. That takes enough cleaning and clearing, for sure. I never have to take anyone else personally, and if I make assumptions, I am mostly likely going to be wrong, and I will be telling a story that does not include the other person, and only lives in my head. It is destructive and not loving.
I feel like coming to this realization again, in a really deep, profound way, is going to light the way for me to move forward with others, and circumstances, with Love, Light and Presence.