Today’s (Second) Soul Report: True Confessions & True Spirit-Gifts
True Confessions (a-1-in-the-morning-revelation)~
I want people to listen to me. I am mad I think no one does. I need too much acknowledgment, too much recognition. This desire brings me little, to no rest. I’m always after it. Seeking it. It’s partly the internet- did anyone email me? My dumb mobile phone- is my screen lighting up? Facebook- did someone like my status? Blogs (although I rather love my blog)- how are my stats today? These are mediums in which we can earn instant recognition and validation (or not). Sometimes I do, but it isn’t enough. My hunger for it is far too greedy.
Okay- do you hate me?
But hold the mobile phone- on a recent Facebook comment thread, I added my truth to an update. I hovered over, and reread my words as if they were laced with silver and gold, and a new commenter posted. Surely, I was the one to admire. But no, it was another. Every comment she had written was “amazing and so true.” I laughed. I honestly laughed, and truly did not care. Not a bit, and no I’m not just saying it. I did not give a shit. Who cares if someone likes what I say or not. Who really cares. Why does it matter? Why should it concern me? Really, and not bitterly, but really, why should it?
It’s not what life is about, at least not for me- anymore (and don’t think this happened in an instant- I’ve been wrestling with this a long while). I don’t want to be that writer who stands in front of a crowd, reading the words I have written as if I’m the greatest creative genius since Mozart. I don’t want to be bounced around by every word of praise and every word of criticism. I don’t want to manipulate and maneuver to get what I want. Or strategize or be like someone else to get what I want. It’s more simple than this. More honest. More real.
Rumi writes, and I opened spontaneously to this passage:
You live in an admiration world, but what do you offer your admirers? If you had true spirit-gifts to give, you would not think of customers?
At first when I read this, I shuddered. Sure, I hope to be that person who does not think of customers, but really? Is this possible? It is. And for me, right now it has to be. To only seek admiration is petty and sad, and because I don’t truly and honestly believe this was my only motivation, to believe or fear it might be, covers up a more pure intention, and it is with this pure intention, I would like to consciously lead from. It is with this pure intention, that will help me to stop avoiding and fearing the possibility of giving the true spirit-gifts.
So I have confessed to you, and to myself. It’s a risk, this I know. But it is worth the risk. I cannot work for admiration any longer. I just cannot, and now that it is said, perhaps I can get busy with what really matters and leave the fluff and stuff behind, or at the very least be more aware of when it rears its tiny head.
What can you confess to today? Oh, and wait- there’s more.
A week or so later….
I wrote this post (the one above) early one morning, last week. I was going to read it later that day, and post, but I didn’t. I also didn’t post it the next day, and then I had days of not posting at all. It turns out this 1-in-the-morning-revelation brought me another layer deep (into myself). When I was a little girl, an only child, I spent a lot of time alone- in my room. In my room I created. I made up classroom curriculums, which I taught in an imaginary class. I was a conductor of an orchestra atop my cushy toy box. I choreographed dances. Pretended I was Sandy (in Grease of course). I read books. I colored and drew.
This time alone, where I was creating was about creating. And maybe also about coping with loneliness, although I don’t remember if I felt lonely. I was too busy creating. I did not seek recognition or praise, but as I got older, this little girl had some cries. She was in fact lonely. She felt a bit lost. She didn’t feel like kids liked her. Or that anyone paid much attention to what might be her gifts- her true spirit-gifts. These honest cries turned bitter. Turned into disappointment. Rejection. A sore layer where I projected what I thought was real at others.
In my writing work, which seems to now be where I create the most, I wanted the work to mean something. I began to need it to have a result. You know because “they” say do what you love and the money, accolades and blah, blah, blah will follow. So because I am a thinker, often thinking way too ahead of myself- if I write, then result should be recognition. Recognition means opportunity. Opportunity means a livelihood that could pay my bills and than some. And all this means fulfillment.
After exposing this need for recognition, to write was no longer appleaing if it meant I had to also carry all of those expectations. Really, what this entire revelation is about is to have me return to that little girl who created. Maybe who did so to cope and escape her circumstances, but I find in a way I need that now anyway, but more so to return to the place where creativity is pure and real, and does not look for results, or customers.
I expect this important learning to continue to unfold.
The Soul Reporter
I think I too am thinking the same way as you, I was a child sent to her room often and would create anything and everything but I was never quite good enough but it didn’t matter because thankfully I had imagination that would just take me about anywhere, I can completely lose myself in daydreams.. anyhow I digress the main reason why I wanted to comment is because I too have this thing where I need people to read what I’ve written because I feel what is the point of writing if no-one reads it!!
I suppose for me I feel I have something important to say or I want other people to see beautiful things like I’ve seen and would love them to enjoy it as much as me, could that be the same for you. On the other hand I think oh god its me me me! So what I’ve done is taken myself off facebook and I try to hide my phone so that gave me allot of peace and meant I could read actual books for the first time in ages. The only problem was I did I email my dad all the time, so now I’ve started a blog, and yes its still as addictive but I’m trying not to be obbessive about the like buttons or comments! Although I do keep checking the stats I find it really cool to watch everything go up and down..although I suppose I will be dispondant if no-one likes my posts and have will no doubt have this real urge to delete everything! You know the most annoying thing, I’m not sure if you find this, is just the pure wave of words as you can see I go on and on and on! Anyway I liked your post it rang lots of bells, glad to see there is someone out there on the same page, I like how you said ‘they’ me and my friends have been speaking allot about ‘they’ and we start to wonder who the hell these ‘they’ people really are! They start to sound like some magical mystery that don’t even exist ha!
Well Sorry for the massive comment! But I hear you girl exactly the same!! I’m sure many are they just don’t like to admit it!
Thank you for your “massive comment.” Wanting admiration is not easy to see in ourselves, let alone admit. It helps to “out” it- as we both have done here. When you write, “I’ve taken myself off facebook and I try to hide my phone so that gave me allot of peace and meant I could read actual books for the first time in ages.”- this gives me peace. In a way that is what I am saying in my post, I am returning to me, without all the distractions, wants and expectations. Of course we want to be read- we want our work to be shared and appreciated. I still want this, but it’s not everything. In fact, it never was. I only thought it was, and that was the conflict. There is something pure and real that is present when we create, no matter if we want praise or not- and now I am going to visit your blog and give you some admiration.
Many thanks for stopping by.
I identified with so much of what you wrote. You articulated many thoughts I wasn’t even aware I was thinking. I am going to have to re-read this a few times because I found it so profound. Thank you for being so open and honest Nikki.
And that, Rhonda is why I share what I write. Thank you for hearing me, and more hearing you.
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