I've been quite aware lately of the drive to be "special". Whenever I accomplish something, meditatively or otherwise, the thought comes, "Aren't I special! Now I'm winning the game!" And this thought triggers pleasure and anxiety, and shame. And that combination causes me to try to avoid achieving. Anything. What a tense situation!
I'd like to look at the drive to be special, and notice how much suffering is there. Even now, as I write about it, I feel something loosen up inside. I feel some sadness come to the foreground. I have two guesses what the sadness might be about. Sadness from childhood, when my actual specialness--my uniqueness, my lovability, my good intentions--was not recognized. And sadness about being shunned for excelling (being special) in school.
I see that the word special has at least two meanings in this context: unique and different (and in this sense, every being is special), and more deserving than others (in this sense, nobody is special). It's good to acknowledge my own specialness with regard to the first meaning. And it's good to accept and forgive my desire to be more deserving, given that I, like everyone else, has been trained to be competitive.
No comments:
Post a Comment