Meet my dream barn (*swoon*). It's a real, live, living, breathing, local "resident" that I'm lucky enough to often drive, run, or cycle by since it's a mere 4 miles from my home. I've been head over heels in love with this barn from the moment that I laid eyes on it nearly 5 years ago. Deep emerald woods create the perfect backdrop for grassy pastures that surround this white beauty.
There's something so soothing about this place--it has an almost magical and ethereal quality for me. Time seems to slow down as I imagine myself swinging from an old rope into a pile of hay bales somewhere within its walls. It echoes of a simpler time and place. It draws me in, almost wishing to tell me its stories and I try to stop and really listen each time.
If you were to walk into this field with me, together upon a closer examination, we'd see that "my" barn has lots of peeling paint, rusty nails that protrude from each board, and a host of other structural and cosmetic imperfections, but combined, they are what give it its character and charm.
It's perfectly imperfect.
If it were brand new, it would not draw me in, in quite the same way. It's got charm. It's history and story are part of the attraction and in order for this barn in the field to have those qualities, it has had to be exposed to extremes in weather, undergone years of use from the burden of storing hay, and perhaps inadvertently become a refuge for the local field mice and sparrows. As I reflect upon this barn, I recognize the same elements alive and well in each of us.
We, too, are perfectly imperfect.
We each have experienced the weathering of life that has and continues to shape us. Perhaps we see ourselves a little broken from the burdens of life, or less than shiny and new from a life of use. Maybe at times it feels like we were never quite put together well enough in the first place.
But it's those very things that make me take notice and draw me into the lives of others. I am endlessly fascinated by the personal life stories rich with the who, what, where, why, and how of experiences and their effects upon each of us.
But what's interesting is in just how much we struggle with having those imperfections. We throw a proverbial blanket over them or scoot them under the rug in order to put our best faces forward. We become less authentic along the way, painstakingly trying to create someone that we hope others might like more than what we perceive ourselves to be. Ironically, we inadvertently keep others away with our pretense of a charmed life filled with perfect days and perfect ways.
That leaves only one other choice and that is to learn to love ourselves like I love this old barn.
I made a comment in church yesterday that I wonder if a good portion of the women listening truly heard. In a discussion on learning to accept the differences of others while standing for virtue, it seemed important to point out that the way we often treat others is a reflection/extension of how we treat ourselves. How often do we catch ourselves silently (or not so silently) criticizing the actions of others? Could our hard judgments on others merely be evidence of just how hard we are on ourselves? Could that bad habit of pointing out the faults of others be a red flag of our own personal insecurities? The answer is a hard to swallow yes!
Ouch, right?
"Kindness to self and to others is really the same thing. And the capacity for one determines the capacity for both," states Dr. Robert Holden, a happiness researcher. It is acceptance without resignation. It is gentleness when mistakes are made while still pursuing betterment.
Love thy neighbor as thyself. In order to fulfill this call from the only perfect being who ever lived, we must first learn to love and accept ourselves, imperfections and all, so that we may more readily be able to do so towards the less than perfect folk that cross our paths.
As you start to learn to see how wonderful you are, how perfectly imperfect and full of unique character you hold, you'll more readily be able to see it through that perspective in those around you.
(And maybe in the occasional country barn too.)
Until next time, off on another adventure!
~Arianna
