We are living in a tricky world.
This world allows us to be who we are, and then bombards us with thousands of other hinting messages of the different persons we can/should become.
We feel fine having a homey apartment, next we grow in envy as an acquaintance shares about the recently bought Victorian Gingerbread House;
we feel passionate about supporting others in our careers, yet at moments feel bitter for the low earnings;
we want love and be devoted, except our hearts still slip away as we steal a peak at other potential targets.
I wonder if it is because of the so many different versions of “goodness” on earth which make us hesitant. Yes we can be us, yet what if…?
Will we be better if we follow what “this” says?
Will we be more acceptable by the others if we change?
Will we just take a break from so much effort of being ourselves, just give in to the gratification for a while, and then return back to self?
These questions become knives which thin slice our inner power. It becomes a piece of darkness we avoid to touch. If not facing it properly, gradually it eats up the fine-line between “real-self” and “other selves”.
We live within our own trauma, and we equally struggle to see others as “they are”. For me, I am equally frightened and irritated as others continuously judge me. (Read my sharing post on Stay Real: ) Hearing the criticisms, I cannot help but feel they do not value my capability.
I feel that in their eyes, I am not good enough and I should change to someone who they think is better.
In their belief, I cannot be fine staying where I am.
In their hearts, they would not love me for who I am, because all in their minds are “the imperfect little things of me”.
These feelings directly relate to my own inner darkness.
We do not stand others in the hurting and angry states, as we cannot face them on our own. We are lost in the world of voices, and we give vent to the frustration by imposing our own insecurities and judgments to the others, hoping that others would fall at same level of ours.
No we are not perfect, and we will never be perfect.
Our imperfectness is part of us. We are as real as imperfect.
If not faced and taken care of, imperfectness can become our dark demons, pushing us away from the realness of self.
It will continue to haunt us, and become the explosive bomb lying between us and others. Soon after a blast, the tragic remains.
And whose fault is it? No one. It is just that we are born to be imperfect.
When we do not want to play the rule of this game, we become moths which dart into fire for the illusions of perfectness.
And we walk into the losing battle, because our world is imperfect, and we trying to be perfect in this imperfectness can turn to nothing.
Or we stay within it, somehow the imperfect meets imperfectness which gives the light in life.