I can be a little different depending on where I am, but I'm always me.
Dearest Doodle Soupsters,
The image above is of my painting “Transcendence” from my Into the Transcendent Point series.
And so is this one below -
And this one ...
What's different in each one? The lighting! The painting is the same, no changes, in all three of these images.
Yesterday, I got into a bit of a perfectionism spiral trying to figure out which image would match the “true” colors of the painting.
Sometimes, I get this fear that tells me I need to go through every possibility to prevent a mistake. (One of my little monsters I can lovingly caress and say, “I don’t need or want you to be perfect. Mistakes and imperfection are human. You are loved as you are.”)
The funny thing about my perfectionism spiral is that this painting embodies the calm at the center of rhythm and rhyme, all the randomness and uncertainty. This painting is the wholeness embedded in every broken heart, every wave of grief, in the expansiveness of what’s missing, what’s lost.
Wholeness isn’t perfection. Healing from my past isn’t the absence of the past. It’s loving my cracks, my inconsistencies, my quirks. Loving myself as I am. Greeting my fears with a hug, not shaming myself for having them.
Trying to figure out who I would have been had my life been different or trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be or what's the best version of myself? Maybe these are questions I don't want to answer. Maybe it's okay to put some of my questions to bed and let them sleep, let them rest. Because while analysis can be helpful (and you all my dear Doodle Soupsters know how much I love to reflect), I don't want to spend my entire existence running over everything I can notice, sifting through every data point. I want to spend my life living.
It's not that I'm going to stop reflecting. It's that I want to notice when I'm analyzing and make a choice — do I want to keep reflecting or do I want to put these questions to the side and focus on the present moment instead?
Sometimes, the answer will be, "This is important. I want to keep thinking this over." And I can ask myself, "Am I trying to find a sense of control like I'm trying to land upon an answer out of fear? Or, am I reflecting because I'm working through something and this is actually clarifying and useful? Or, am I reflecting because I'm feeling introspective and I'm curious to see where these thoughts will lead?" Whatever my answers are to these questions, they're all okay. And from that place I can decide when to step out of my internal dialogue and when to stay there for a little while.
Just like this painting, my true colors are not static. They remain the same, sure. But they're also not always going to appear exactly, precisely, 100% the same. I am not static.
I can be a little different depending on where I am. I can make certain choices sometimes and other choices other times. That doesn’t turn me into someone else. This is what it means to be human. To be alive. To be conscious.
I don’t have to keep asking, “Which is the real one? Which is best? Which do I choose?”
I’m always me. And I want to keep learning to trust that.
With respect for my humanity,
Nicole Sylvia Javorsky
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