Finding our truth takes constant vigilance. We’re easily swayed by emotions, easily confounded by other’s actions, ready to trust or distrust based on personal history.
On my way to a meeting last week, I stopped to watch children in a nursery school as they played outside. These were two and three-year old boys and girls. One little girl, sitting in the middle of a sandbox, dug up handfuls of sand with a scoop and tipped the sand into her other hand. As the sand slid out, she’d pick up another scoop and pour it into the same hand. A little boy came along and ever so carefully climbed into the box. He squatted, didn’t sit, pushed at some small plastic container with one finger until he’d loosed it, and carefully flipped it over so that he didn’t get his hand dirty. Another boy stepped along the two-inch ledge inside the wrought iron fence: one foot on the ledge, the other on the flat ground. He walked all along the fence that way, testing his body, perhaps, liking the feel of the up/down movement, perhaps.
I teach college and I get the kids on the other side of childhood when they’ve been banged around or emotionally hurt or scared. It’s a lot harder for them to re-learn the truth in their body.
It’s not an easy task to learn we are all making a contribution to the development of humanity, just by being who we are.
The question arises time after time: which part of humanity do we want to contribute to? The fear-based un-truth that we are unworthy, unlikable, not valuable, or the truth that our spirit, and therefore our body, is valuable and holy and true?