How does this make me look? That innocent question manages my persona and defines how I show up in the world. Trading in my potential for insecurity; and my certainty for a question.

Looking is an expression rooted in appearances. More concerned with the impression of a thing than the reality of it – Attempting to convince onlookers that the surface is home.

People concerned with how they look, externalize their power. A world concerned with how it looks, gives power to a select few.

To look or not to look … that is the question?

“Try not to erase.” Those were instructions from the art teacher in the beginners drawing class. A class that required years of excuses before I finally signed up. And now, as the teacher was attempting to take away the one thing that could hide the evidence of my mistakes, I felt certain those words had been spoken in error.

It seemed like ill-advised guidance that only a professional of their craft could offer. But, the more I created, the more I understood the basis of the “Try not to erase” philosophy.

Erasing, in many cases, was a waste of my effort. A security blanket that feed my idea of perfection more than it did the finished piece of art.

It was rarely the case that a line I had drawn was “wrong”, it was my perspective of the line that was off. Which meant that erasing, without changing my perspective, would only produce the same result.

“Try not to erase” is an understanding that our perspective guides us. And until we step back to reassess our perspective, we will undoubtedly keep drawing the same mistake.

Food is a source of information that we digest to deliver instructions to our system. Our system has been intelligently designed to interpret these instructions, and keeps the vital nutrients necessary to maintain and support our growth.

Everything we digest operates as a source of food. And most of what we consume does not come in a form that we can bite into.

There is a basic structure for consumption:

1.We receive a signal

2. We consume

3. We digest

4. The process repeats

Sometimes we may feed ourselves without the awareness that we are absorbing anything at all. But, if we learn to see it all as food; we will still get the signal, we will still digest, and the process will always repeat. But, maybe we can be more aware about the things we choose to consume.

A culture is meant to cultivate its people. The dominant actions of a culture reveals what has been cultivated.

Weeds can’t be cultivated. Weeds grow despite not being favored and can withstand efforts to destroy them.

We could learn a valuable lesson from the weeds.

Proximity is a closeness in space, time, or relationship.

Let’s explore…

Space

Things within our proximity can effect us more easily. Things outside our proximity have less of an impact.

Our distance to the sun keeps us safe. If we got within proximity to the sun, we would burn. Yet, the fact that it could burn us doesn’t mean that we don’t need its energy to survive; we just need the appropriate space.

Time

Entering a new proximity may require time to adjust. Exiting a familiar proximity may take time to heal.

“Things will heal in time.” As our proximity to a situation widens through time, the impact of the situation diminishes; placing the pain at a greater distance and healing within proximity.

Relationship

A desire for connection creates proximity. Proximity without a desire for connection creates distance.

A relationship will reflect the intention for connection. Distance is transcended for people with a strong desire for connection, and proximity will not reconcile a relationship between parties that desire distance.

It is useful to evaluate our proximity in terms of space, time and relationship. Sometimes we are too close to a situation to be effective or too far away to make an impact. But, the potential to make things better may only require an adjustment in our proximity.

In Ethiopia 40 years ago today, bone fossils dated 3.2 million years old were discovered. Lucy was the name given to this female skeleton. And as scientist debate what this means, it surrenders my thoughts to the dynamic power of our explorations and the discoveries that have the potential to challenge everything we thought we knew.

Discoveries that alter the way we see our past, also reshape the way we see our present. New evidence can create a shift to the plot that we’ve based our stories on; making an advanced reality feel more like a betrayal than good news.

Because of this shift, significant discoveries involve some protest. And agreements reflect the time needed to resolve how this defines our past, as we grasp to a present that is freshly unveiled, and a future that bears the threat of another discovery that will take us through the cycle again.

As we journey to uncover what may be buried deep within us, we must prepare ourselves for a potentially great shift, as we discover our Lucy.

A pattern is a repeated design that can be used as a model or guide to create other designs.

Designs created from old patterns can appear original, but are actually only alternative expressions of a singular idea.

When someone is familiar with a pattern, they can predict the next phase of the design.

When someone does not see a pattern, they are likely an intricate part of the design.

If a pattern is knowably accepted, it will be repeated.

If a pattern is unknowably accepted, it will be repeated.

Recognizing a pattern takes a heightened level of awareness. Changing a pattern that no longer serves us takes courage. We should all hope to be courageous.

The other night I went to a writer’s workshop. I contributed to a discussion on the short story we all read beforehand and engaged in dialogue about the authors style, technique and other nuances in the material.

Feeling overly unsure about myself, I stated at least twice that I am “NOT” a writer. Just to be clear. Yes, I write daily, extensively, and I have a blog. But again, I am not a writer … Just to be clear.

As I told them what I was not, nobody argued with me. In a room of virtual strangers, they were willing to believe what I claimed myself not to be. And in spite of the evidence that I belonged, my declaration that I did not became the reality I created.

Like habits that never grow old, I recognized this familiar pattern within my life. Declaring what I am not in the face of what I desire the most, in order to disassociate myself from the responsibility of the truth that I am.

A declaration of what “I am not” can be an honest reflection of where a personal boundary may be.

And sometimes, for the person who is still trying to catch up to themselves, a declaration of what “I am not” is an indicator that points to the very thing that wants to be recognized.

On a surface level, we are diverse.

On a human level, we are similar.

On a universal level, we are one.

A belief that we should be identical on the surface level, opposes our diversity.

A belief that we are different on a human level, opposes our unity.

A belief that the universe lives outside of us, opposes our truth.

Candles are rarely necessary, for the purpose of providing light, when we have access to electricity. It’s when we don’t have access to electricity that the dimmer light from a candle is most useful.

When we take the path less traveled or expand our knowledge and perceptions, we become like candles in the dark. who’s presence seems unnecessary when the sun is out, but vital when we find ourselves roaming in the dark.

Being a candle in the dark can feel vulnerable, especially when we know what having access to electricity feels like. But, the dim light is not a reflection of us being on the wrong path, it’s a reminder that we are providing light to a path, that without our presence, may not exist.