The poetry of David Whyte captures the state I find myself in as I begin this fledgling newsletter.
His poem, Start Close In, from the collection “River Flow,” begins (and closes):
Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
What is the step I don’t want to take? In my head, I say that I want to be a writer and live an unflinchingly kind life of service and care. What is the first step to moving towards that goal? But I’m getting ahead of myself already (Whyte reminds us to start with a small step).
The first step is to write something honest.
I’m indebted to the author/artist John P. Weiss for helping me see this. His essay, “Maybe I should just write something honest,” jarred me awake. What is the honest thing I will write about? What key learning or awakening insight can I share here at the beginning? What is the “ground I know” to use Whyte’s language? I’m nervous before the words are even typed into the Google doc and also sure that this learning is what all others will stand on.
I am lovable.
Shocking, right? I’ll never forget the moment those words appeared in my consciousness. I was 25 years younger, sitting on a therapist’s couch on Long Island. It hit me like a ton of bricks then and still takes courage to utter. Sometimes I can even believe it.
I’m sure the first step is to let these words escape from where I’ve kept them hidden all these years. To allow this understanding of myself into the light of day. To own my value.
When I understand it with my heart, not just my brain, I don’t think it’s too bold to say that everything I’m aiming toward flows from it. To do the work I feel called to, to be the person I aspire to be, begins with this step. Accepting that I am lovable in all my flawed messiness.
In Zen Buddhism, it is believed that we are all inherently Buddha already. We have, inherently, everything we need to be fully enlightened beings. We find it hard to see and accept this truth because of the conditioning we receive from the world and the maladaptive, though undeniably necessary, coping mechanisms we engage in response. In the book “The Eight Gates of Zen,” John Daido Loori writes, “Underneath the layers and layers of conditioning accumulated over the course of a lifetime is a Buddha whose light shines throughout the whole universe.” If I can accept that I’m worthy of love, I can also move towards accepting that maybe Daido Loori is speaking the truth.
Everything blossoms from this ground because I don’t need to posture or pretend if I am lovable just as I am. I can be my true, authentic self as I move through the world, and I can reflect that being here on the page. I don’t need to be ashamed of being messy, confused, curious, lost, and hopeful. I don’t need to pretend I have the answers or know where they can be found.
In moments where I don’t believe this, I’m convinced that I have to collect the appropriate credentials before I can write. Unfortunately, obtaining credentials is largely out of reach at this stage in my life. Therefore, my words should stay inside a private journal - unsuitable for public consumption. When I don’t accept my inherent value, I tend to think that I need to be an expert before I’ve earned the opportunity to share. Sharing from where I am now would be foolish, embarrassing, and self-indulgent. Right?
It does sound indulgent.
I was working with a career coach a few years ago, and he asked me for a report on how my writing was going. I told him it was fine, but I was still only producing work at the Junior Varsity (JV) level. Without missing a beat, he replied, “What’s wrong with JV?” I had no response.
What is wrong with JV? When I let the conditioning cloud my thinking and lose sight of my fundamental value, I become convinced I have to work and prove myself worthy of love, respect, and care. I could easily be overlooked at the JV level, a work in progress at best. I envision the world saying, “Let us know when you make the Varsity squad, kid, then we’ll talk, maybe.” In some areas of life, this is precisely how it should be. We don’t want a surgeon still in med school cracking open chests to insert a stent. But even the surgeon has to start somewhere. Start close in.
But, what If I can see my value right now, right here - messiness and credential-less included? What do I have to offer from this place?
*gesturing toward myself* I have this whole being to offer.
The lessons learned and the opportunities taken and missed. There is this ferocious curiosity that won’t stay quietly seated despite the lack of credentials.
In recognizing that I am lovable (i.e., worthy of love, care, and concern), that fear of self-indulgence loses its foothold. In acknowledging my value, I also acknowledge and respect my limitations. To see that I am lovable, just as I am, is to see the flaws, the pimples, and the limits. Oh, yes, the limits. Knowing that I am lovable opens me up to accept the paradox that I am deeply flawed and still worthy of care. In seeing myself fully, I see those limits and the curiosity and meet them with kindness without diminishing any of it.
This is not a narcissistic self-love that is blind to the pain I have caused and will inevitably cause. Instead, it’s a wise compassion towards myself and the fungus on my big toe. With full awareness and acknowledgment of my shortcomings and what I’ve learned from those experiences.
Start with the first
thing,
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
I am a beginner without answers. With lots of ideas, a deep well of compassion, and an eagerness to share and engage. I’m not getting any younger - and this ache to step into my fullness isn’t going away (I see you, young Anthony, altar boy). The sooner I take this step, the sooner I get to take the next and the next, and then, maybe, the steps won’t be so damn hard.
My authentic growth can only happen when I believe this simple truth, That this skin bag, sitting here at the desk, typing away, is lovable and is enough. It’s the root of true confidence; frankly, there is no alternative way to authenticity. Any steps taken before accepting it are steps upon hollow paths. It’s cliche, but we can only love others when we love ourselves - and we can only love ourselves when we believe we are lovable.
I am lovable. This doesn’t make me right, or interesting, or entitled to accolades. And much of the time, I won’t believe it myself. This is a good check - it will be hard to let this head get too swollen with pride. I’ll return to this step again and again - just as I return to my breath continuously in meditation.
The brilliant and sage James Hollis has this passage, which I’ll quote at length, in his excellent book, “Living an examined life.”
“To be eccentric, not to fit in, to hear our own drummer, these are the signs of our bringing our gift, our personhood, to the table of life. It sounds so simple, but it is so difficult, not only because of all the disabling messages of the past but also because to be that gift asks us to let go and trust that something within us is good enough, wise enough, strong enough to belong in this world.”
I’m taking this first step, the one I don’t want to take. I’ll take a deep breath and acknowledge that I am enough, that I am lovable, and I will let my being be seen in this writing.