I’ve got a little “vision board” type thing going since a little while, though I don’t have a board so it’s just bits of paper stuck up on a piece of furniture near my bed. Some of the things I write on the bits of paper are affirmations (“I love myself”) and some are the names of projects I’d like to see come to fruition (“Gatekeeper: A Transgender Action Boardgame”).
I’m getting to be pretty fond of my vision-space and sort of wondering why I didn’t do this before. When I read these messages, I feel energised, and it seems like I’m making it quite clear to myself and my subconscious mind which direction I will move in. It’s nice to have that sort of clarity, and having it written down like that makes it feel more “real” somehow.
Now, I haven’t got around to it yet but I’d like to stick up a piece of paper with a somewhat different message: “Thank you for my life.”
I’ve been saying this in my head sometimes, thanks to a recent blog post by Erin Pavlina.
For someone who has had suicidal thoughts in the fairly recent past, it seems like a somewhat strange thing to say, and yet, I find that I can say it authentically. The phrase seems to bring me into the present moment, where I take stock and realise that despite my more abstract difficulties in life: here and now, things are okay.
It helps me view things from the perspective of the spirit that I was before birth, will be after death, and which ultimately am right now, despite that truth being obscured the veil of the physical.
Having a body allows me to experience things I couldn’t experience as a bodiless spirit. I can eat, walk, create, move through my environment, experience, see beauty. For someone who previously had no ability to do any of those things, having a body and a life is amazing. In a way it almost overshadows my petty problems. Sure, I’ve got those, but look at this flower! …Something like that.
Actually, from this perspective problems seem to have a different meaning.
My body has limitations. The nature of this reality is limitation. If everyone else could fly and you couldn’t, you’d call what you have now a disability. In that reality, you’d suffer from not being able to fly, while in this reality, that’s just an everyday limitation on your existence that you accept without question.
From the perspective of the spirit, limitations are the boundaries in reality within which you can explore. You can grow to lose some of your old limitations – and of course then you must contend with a new set of limitations. But one thing is not really better than the other except for the judgements we bring to it.
So I try to remember to say “Thank you for my life” every day, and feel the feelings that it evokes.