Sometimes your ego is ready for a good challenge – is all chipper and open-arms about uncomfortable conversations or your growing awareness that you’re scared of something – maybe the very thing you’re most wanting or needing to do – and are finding every reason to stall instead of doing it.
“Bring it on!” your ego says. “I can take it!”
And with the onslaught of that discomfort or that deepened awareness, your ego stands up, flexes, and muscles you off to new and wonderful places.
Sometimes, though – okay, maybe lots of the time – your ego has much less spunk. It feels more like a weary, wounded animal.
Like…for instance…mine right now. The very challenges that start the Rocky theme song going on my best days are leaving me rocking this week, hugging my knees.
So what to do on weeks like these?…especially when there’s still work to be done and checking out completely isn’t an option.
I get this image in my head of lists. Running lists, almost like ticker tape, of all the things that could help:
- More sleep
- More greens
- A cleaner house
- A cleaner desk
- A cleaner head space…
Which really all sound like this when I’m feeling this way:
- Get your act together!!!
Not so trust-inducing, right?
And then this other image comes to mind of those little stickers given at American polling places that say simply, “I voted”. Only in my vision, they say things like, “I chose self kindness,” or “I put my arm around my f*$%ed-up-ness and walked lovingly like that for a while.”
Wouldn’t that be cool???
I see so many warm looks of knowing in that scene – person to person. High fives, too.
So if your ego is feeling weak right now, and you’re tempted to respond with self condemnation, or your numbing-out habit of choice, or by drawing up personal marching orders or referencing self-help articles or buffing up your to-do lists, maybe you…maybe WE…could consider something much more gentle, and ultimately, more conducive to the natural growth of trust.
Maybe we could do something completely counterintuitive in the face of our own glaring weakness and try some small act of celebration – a lighted candle, a container of berries all to ourselves, a paper crown created for our head – to honor the steps we’re trying to take – even if only on our good days – into trust.
Because they matter. Every single move into trust matters. All of them till and feed and shine warm light on trust’s soil.
Me? I’m going to go crack the cover on the first for-fun book that I’ve opened in nine months. I’d love to hear what small act you might choose!