The day my son was born was a magical day.
I describe it as a magical day for many reasons, but one very special thing in particular that stood out to me was: seeing the placenta and umbilical cord.
I had seen photos of these things before so I had an idea of what they looked like, but I had never seen one right in front of me. My son and I’s placenta was fairly large and round -- so perfectly and beautifully shaped. In a weird way, I kind of wanted to keep it to have it to display. Which, obviously, isn’t very realistic, so I opted for some art when I had it encapsulated instead.
But what I found even more fascinating was the umbilical cord. It was long and white, but not only white. It had an iridescence to it that reminded me of an opal or rainbow moonstone. It had a shimmery sparkle to it when the light hit it that you can't quite see in photos.
My immediate thought when I saw it was, This is what we all came from? This is what gave us the nourishment each of us needed to grow to become a living, breathing human being? Because this thing... this looks powerful. This looks remarkable. This is extraordinary.
So for the first few weeks following my son's birth, whenever I saw another human being I reminded myself of that umbilical cord and that placenta. I viewed every person that I saw as if they came from that same umbilical cord that was my son and I's.
And for the first time ever I felt like I was finally fully seeing just how valuable every single living human being really truly is.
I fully saw just how important it is to treat yourself as if you came from that magnificent and powerful looking umbilical cord, because, well, you did.
Ten years ago at about this time of year, I was in New Zealand. I was just finishing up my time teaching English in South Korea and I had a month off for winter vacation before my contract ended and I was moving back to the US.
So during my long winter break I decided to break up my vacations into two trips rather than do one month-long travel excursion. For two weeks, I went to Japan. Then for the other two, I went to New Zealand.
At this point in my life, I had a plan in place. I had already been accepted into the grad school of my choosing in order to get my MA in Counseling Psychology with a Holistic Specialization so I could become a therapist. So the plan at this point was to take this trip, go back to South Korea for about two more weeks, then move back to Illinois (where I’m originally from) for about a month, and then move to California the following month to start grad school.
I was excited. Though I absolutely loved living abroad, traveling, exploring and learning about all these different cultures, it was starting to feel a bit stale. I needed to do something else and I needed to do work that felt meaningful to me.
Because I was so excited about grad school, I had been diving pretty heavily into any and all books that were in the realm of holistic/transpersonal/depth/somatic psycholgy. Integral Psychology by Ken Wilber, Eastern Body Western Mind by Anodea Judith, many books about Jungian Psychology, somatic psychology, etc. etc.
Somewhere in the midst of all that reading, I landed on Marianne Williamson’s book A Return to Love. That was the book that I decided to read while traveling around New Zealand. So on one warm February morning, I decided to go to Mount Maunganui off the east coast on the north island. As I laid down on that beach to read, that’s when I first read that chapter that includes her most famous quote:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. ~ Marianne Williamson
The quote struck me, but, honestly, I thought that the entire chapter was absolutely solid. The chapter (which I believe is either Chapter 7 or 8) was all about one’s career and purpose.
At that time, that particular chapter helped me to feel more at ease about my next steps. Grad school was going to be a big commitment and I didn’t know yet know what it would all entail. It felt like a big leap of faith, in a way. All I knew was that the idea energized me. It was something that made me really excited. It was something that I was really, really interested in, and it wasn’t serving me anymore to keep downplaying what I really wanted in order to (maybe) make others happy.
It was time to finally… finally commit to something that I was excited about rather than keep doing things to make others happy and keep them feeling comfortable.
It can be hard to honor yourself when others haven’t honored you.
It can be hard to know what you truly want when you’ve been around others who just want you to do what they want.
It can be hard to know your true gifts and strengths when others aren’t appreciating your gifts and strengths.
It can be hard to value yourself when others haven’t been valuing you, for you.
It can be hard to know your value when you live in a culture where human value is viewed as conditional rather than inherent.
In a culture that is currently operating from a paradigm of “please the person with a perceived higher level of authority”, it is a radical act to do what you want and need for you.
It’s a radical act to say no to the things that you have been expected to do without question because you know it isn’t supporting your health and well-being.
It’s a radical act to recognize your own value and make decisions based on that known value.
And most of all, it’s a radical act to do what most lights you up. To do what energizes you. To do what nourishes you. To express and do what makes you uniquely you. To do the things that shines a light of your extraordinary-ness to the world.