img181It is windy today outside my studio window.  Sun. Cloud.  Spring, and the weather can’t make up its mind.  I’m voting of course for sun, my favourite.  It is warm enough to have the window open.  The air smells cool and green.

Fresh air.  That is what I am inviting in today.  I’ve been thinking about disappointment, what it is, where it comes from, what melts it away.  I’m airing out an old belief here on the page.

I woke Saturday morning with the oddest thought, flashing by so quickly I almost missed it.  But I didn’t.  I caught it.

There, caught in the net of my awareness.  I am a very young child, a baby.  Baby-me is thinking ‘I am a disappointment’.  The adult-me watching this knows this is referring to my parents.  This is all feeling, no words, but adult-me is translating the feeling.  Accurately.

A feeling that becomes a belief.  Baby-me is believing that I am a disappointment to the ones I love and who love me back.

I write this, and now I ask myself, ‘Have I believed this all of my life?’


Is this belief true?

My heart says loudly, lovingly, firmly, No.

I can tell that my head still believes, despite my heart knowing the belief is not true.  I trust what my heart says over the belief that sits in my head.

Time to sort this one out.

I was born with crossed eyes, strabismus the doctors call it.  Some cultures believe that people with crossed eyes can see both into the future and the past.  Cool.

Not so cool for first-time parents, though, who are loving and worrying about their brand new child in equal measure.  And then there are all the well-meaning family and friends who are saying……

Oh, that’s too bad.  How sad.  I’m so sorry.  Can her eyes be fixed?  Can they do anything about it?  She’s so beautiful otherwise.

Brand new baby-me is hearing all these words, but it is the feelings coming through that I am understanding.  I’m an otherwise.  Disappointment mixed with love from the people around me who are saying these things.

Over time, this changes.  I am a busy, noisy, happy baby doing normal baby things.  The disappointment I have been feeling as part of all the love disappears, but the belief inside me remains.  Hidden.  Buried.  Colouring my choices, my focus, and my actions without me aware of it.  One of those stealth beliefs, flying under my radar.  Until now.  Hah!  Caught you!

So belief, out in the air and the light where I can see, I know what you are and where you came from.  Now my question is, what will melt you away?  This is a question that needs to be answered by love.

My heart, tell me, what melts this belief away?  What shows I-am-a-disappointment that it is not real, so that it can let go, so that I can know and let go?

I remember.

I see me, two years old, in my pajamas, riding around our house high on my dad’s shoulders.  Me, three years old, walking in new red rubber boots on the sunny, dry sidewalk.  Walking all the way around our block, my dad’s steps beside me slowed to match the speed of my three-year-old legs.

I see me, four years old, standing on a chair beside my mom at our kitchen counter.  She mixes chocolate chip cookie dough, my favourite, and lets me lick the wooden spoon when she is done.  Me, five years old, standing on the back porch while my mom pulls a blackberry thorn from my finger and kisses me better.

I am loved, loved, loved.  I am precious, treasured, held close, paid attention to.  My heart is showing a life’s treasure chest of such memories.  My life.

I choose my beliefs.  I choose what I focus on, act on, create for myself.

I choose to know-believe-feel how I am loved beyond all else.  Beyond all passing disappointment, if it even was there in the first place.

Baby-me, you are loved, precious, a treasure.  You are only and always love.  Let I-am-a-disappointment melt, ice on a sunny sidewalk, now a tiny puddle, splashed in glee with new red rubber boots on my three-year-old feet, dad at my side holding my hand.

I am love.

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