Clunky, Chunky, Eccentric Amazing Me

I did three things simultaneously last night: while riding my Nustep I started reading a book and had tears rolling down my face. On a lark, I downloaded "What Matters Most: Living a More Considered Life" by Dr. James Hollis (a Jungian psychotherapist) to my Kindle (in 30 seconds, a book can be delivered into my living room. this is stunning.)

These words in the introduction took my breath away and opened a torrent of tears:

We are not here to fit in, to be well balanced, or provide exempla for others. We are here to be eccentric, different, perhaps strange, perhaps merely to add our small piece, or little clunky, chunky selves, to the great mosaic of being. As the gods intended, we are here to become more and more ourselves. We, too, must enjoy amazement at what unfolds from within us while our multiplicitous selves continue to incarnate in the world, contribute, and confound.

All my life it seems I've tried to live a balanced life. to live a normal life.to be pleasing to other people. to be a model for others. And I've been on a journey of self-discovery that has led me to feeling very unbalanced, VERY eccentric, and very much alone. And here was a learned man, somebody highly regarded in Christian circles, I think, saying, "it's okay... no!, it's even necessary just to become ourselves AND to be amazed at what we find!"

YES! That has been my experience. How else could I have grown to embrace my disability? my oddness? my seemingly endless journey of swimming against the current of the status quo? How else could I have grown to be amazed at how much I enjoy my own company, and to appreciate that there is only one "me" in all the universe? How else could I have grown to feel at home within my own skin even when there is chaos all around? How else could I have grown to embrace that each person is just as uniquely, amazingly created? (Although, it seems most people awaken late to the wonder of their uniqueness, if at all.)

At the very root of my wellness journey, is the underlying belief that I have been created by a God who takes great pleasure and delight in what God created. I have been learning to see myself reflected in the eyes of that proud Creator, and that has allowed me to begin to love myself. Many in the world would see a disabled woman in a wheelchair as defective, as something broken and in need of fixing, as sad, as contemptible, as saintly, as sweet, as... a thousand other projections are possible. None of them really matter. I have internalized my birthright from God... the pleasure God takes in me. Me just being me.

That acceptance... that perfect delighted acceptance... it what fuels my journey to honor my body. My Father loves me. I love me. I want to take care of me. All the clunky, chunky, eccentric, amazing parts of me.

Added later: Loving myself is not the same narcissistic love of self wherein I seek to please myself and to march to my own drummer. The more I know God, the more I love self, and the more I am able to empty of self. The more the other becomes increasingly important. It's very paradoxical.