- Joseph Addison
My son’s first word wasn’t mama or dada. It was “niiiice.”
That was the word we used as we taught him to be gentle with our cats, Louie and Lauren. “Niiice” we said as we discouraged him from pouncing on them as they slept. “Niiice” again as we demonstrated how to stroke, not grab, their velvety coats.
Those lessons of kindness and gentleness were extended to all living beings throughout his childhood. And it appears that they’ve stuck. The 17-year-old he’s become is more sensitive and caring than I could have hoped for.
But now, I’m wondering whether his father and I taught him to be as kind and gentle with himself. At 47, it’s a lesson that I’m just beginning to learn for myself.
The most impactful reading I’ve done lately on a variety of subjects (Buddhism, spirituality, meditation, weight loss) has taught me that many of us never learn how to be niiice to ourselves. On the contrary, we often are downright harsh, in our self-talk and our actions. And when we are, it’s all that much harder to treat ourselves with care and to project positive thoughts and actions onto others.
We need an additional version of the Golden Rule, something like “Treat Yourself the Way You Treat Others.” Think about it. How many of us do a better job caring for others than ourselves? Are less judgmental with others? More patient? More forgiving?
I’m working hard on changing that for myself. As the Buddhist saying goes, “You can explore the universe looking for somebody who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and you will not find that person anywhere.”
And unless you can give yourself what you deserve, you will not be able to give it to anyone else either. So simple, yet so elusive. I don’t remember being taught that concept. In fact, the lessons ingrained in my mind are more along the lines of “Put others first.” Thinking of yourself first was, well, selfish.
Not a bad lesson for an elementary school student. The problem is, the lesson never matured as I did. The result? I can be really tough on myself. Super critical. I rarely live up to my own expectations because they often can be summed up in one word: perfection. And if I can’t be perfect, then why bother trying?
That is certainly the case with me and my nearly 20-year weight battle. I’m angry and disappointed at myself for being overweight, and when I’m angry and disappointed, I can’t muster the energy to change it.
I’m trying to take the advice of the authors of two of the most recently popular weight loss books. “Only kindness makes sense,” says Geneen Roth, in her bestseller Woman, Food and God. “Anything else is excruciating.”
Through Marianne Williamson’s A Course in Weight Loss, I’m trying to learn what she calls the “discipline of love.”
“Love is merciful, gentle, understanding, patient, forgiving, and kind,” she says. “So you must be toward yourself as you go through this process.”
Those qualities come in handy in other endeavors as well. If I keep them in mind during meditation, I have a richer, deeper practice. Otherwise, I’m obsessing about perfect posture, aggressively following my breath, and before I know it, I’m making a grocery list and planning my next vacation.
The same is true for my djembe drumming hobby. The more critical and impatient I am with myself, particularly on challenging patterns, the worse I play. And the less I enjoy playing.
Whether it’s weight loss, meditation, drumming or life in general, I am working to remember that I’m human, and therefore, not perfect. Not even close. So I’m trying give myself a break. I’m trying to like myself, despite some things that I’d like to change. I’m trying to be more forgiving when I do something that I’d rather I hadn’t, or when I have an off moment, or day – or week. Because I know now that seeing, accepting, caring for and loving yourself is as perfect as it gets.
