Self Love

I just saw something browsing Instagram.”Here’s to all the girls out there trying to love themselves in a world that’s constantly telling them not to.”

I thought I knew what all parts of the world did that to women, to anyone really, but suddenly I realized there was an element I was ignoring.

Years ago, I ran across Gala Darling and her passion for “Radical Self Love”.

A small, shy, starved part of me wistfully wished I could join. The larger arrogant part skimmed right over it as “all you could expect from someone who had no God to follow”.

Because that part, so bloated with self importance, was terrified. Terrified to love myself.
I have a theory. Please pay close attention, because by saying this I’m not saying it’s the ultimate truth or that it’s even necessarily true for everyone.

But because it is true for me, and because each person has at least 7 physical lookalikes in the world, I think it may be true for seven other women.

And if I can only reach those seven others, I will have done my part in this life.
Most modern Christianity has its roots in Catholicism, or was created by a person familiar with those teachings.

As much as denominations vary greatly, I believe there to be a zietgiest that permeates all of the modern organized church. The idolization of martyrdom and the hatred of Self as a path to holiness.

Like any cultural spirit, it does not affect everyone. And among those affected, not everyone takes it the same way.

I speak just now of the most extreme cases, more particularly of my own case. If you are not one of my seven, please don’t find it your burden to comment and sally forth to right my misconceptions. Ive tried, you see.

And I believe Ive finally found a path that opened me up to the Love and Happiness God and the Universe offer us with each breath. I’m so grateful.

This path is one difficult to define or describe.

The blanket sentiment of “spiritual but not religious” is being adopted by my generation of late.

I have no problem calling myself a witch. I’m flirting with the idea of calling myself Pagan. Though it’s hard, because of what this often means to the world and because through a divorce of culture I find it difficult to keep my “maiden name”, I can call myself a progressive Christian. I believe the shamanic worldview, the wisdoms of Buddha, the virtues of Native American spirituality. Most of all, I believe in science.

And the beauty is that none of these things are mutually exclusive, if you dont want them to be.

But the one thing I have not believed in is myself.
For the longest time I believed I didnt need to love myself. How could I? I knew what I was like.

I thought I had to find people who would love me.

In a way I knew God did, but I needed to see and feel it desperately.

Because I wasnt loving myself. And, I’m sure, ignoring the Divine invitation to do so.

I had somehow concocted the belief, “You don’t need to love yourself. That’s vain, selfish, self centered, and a wrongful use of your time. Let God love you, and Jesus, that’s his job.”

And oh my, didnt I have my work cut out to try and follow this sage advice… Which of course only led to more grief, since by starving my

capacity to recieve love from myself I shrank the whole works. There’s not two seperate tubes. Your love receptors work the same no matter who’s doing the loving.
There’s a memory I have, of playing on a red swing set we had growing up. It’s late afternoon, I think. I and some friends or possibly my brother are talking about our bodies being a temple of the Holy Spirit. I remember seeing in my mind’s eye sandstone walls, open sky, a river, a light, and a white dove with a purple gem flashing on its breast.

Perhaps that was a vision of the temple that I am for Spirit.

A temple is a fitting house, a dwelling.

Young me knew I was worthy.

Something changed.
It’s not just the ads saying to shrink this or cover that.

It’s not just movie star waists and tumblr fashion dreams that hold us back and make our hearts sick.

It’s in our churches, our homes, our hearts.

It’s a culture of not loving yourself.

A man called Yeshua said the entire second point of the Torah and prophets was to love our neighbor. In the same way that we love ourselves.

I had entirely skipped the first part to attend to the second.

What makes me think the second has any gas without the first?

Somehow, I can only guess through religious misinterpretation, parts of our culture have been so viciously twisted that we truly do not love ourselves anymore.

And this Self-Love Generation? They are working on reclaiming that for us.

If the official canon of scripture were not closed, I would be interested to see the progression and commentary on the words of Yeshua to the words of Abraham Hicks, Edgar Cayce, Hildebrand von Bingen, Jung, and others.

Whimsically, I say they came to tell the world what he meant just as he came to explain the meaning behind the Torah.

I feel I am ready to fling open the doors of my heart and say to the Universe, “I am ready.”

This full moon I KNOW.

I know what my purpose is. There may be many ways I go about it in the future but I’m ready to begin trying.

I have been a healer and shaman in past lives. I have those gifts again.

But in this life, I know I am meant for bigger fish. Many need healing, and I want to help. But I cannot heal the world one person at a time.

What I can do is teach many, to heal more.

And right now, an army of healers is being held captive under churches and Bibles throughout the world. I was one of them.

It may be as simple as believing with all your heart the antiquated Mr. Carson-of-Downton-Abbey opinion of a man named Paul whose foolish words in a personal letter have not permitted any woman to teach or ask questions. Or someone believing it for you.

Either way, that’s powerful.
Have you been afraid of Sanscrit? My mother was.

Ashamed that you liked dreamcatchers or fairies?

Kept silent when asking about all the murder, incest, and slavery in the Bible?
Have you felt all your life that being a daughter of Eve meant you were cursed and inheirantly wicked? I did.
I’m not a self-love teacher, not yet. I am a journeyer. And I can only share where I have so far been.


To the pure all things are pure.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God [in everything].

Come join me in the light. Come see Everything.



Author: enlightenedblabbermouth

The point of life is growth, with beauty to keep the soul fed. I have been writing all my life (napkins covered in poetry at 6), and I've been encouraged now to give away my perspective. Earthling, human, American, possibly part panda, reader in more ways than one, mommy prime and badass wife. Librocubicularist. I paint occasionally. Life is wierd, man. But we're all in it together. Let's talk.

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