getting to know me and i’d love to know you

i was raised in a family where we were praised for being good, where it was better to be quiet than to talk, where there was an underlying fear of trying to fit in and sticking out as different because we certainly didn’t look like anyone around us – we were the only chinese in an all white community.  my parents did the best they could and i know we were loved.  my father admits now that he had no idea what he was doing.  and i love him for that.  i was the middle daughter, and both my sisters came into this world from the get go, beautiful.  they were just simply beautiful.  i, on the other hand, came into this world looking a lot like a monkey, with a ton of hair, not just on my head, but on my face too.  i’m sure my father had no idea what to make of me.  so most of my young life i spent trying to change the way i looked.  as much as i loved my father, he loved beautiful things.  he was an architect.  if things didn’t look right, he would set out to change them.  that’s just the way he was.  he had all kinds of ideas that were going to help me change my looks (these i will share with you another time…i digress)

so here i was, this funny looking kid who needed some serious fixing, (if they had photoshop for people, my dad would have been the first to make some changes…), afraid to open her mouth for fear of being wrong, and desperately wanting to fit in and be liked.  being the middle child, i could always see both sides.

praise and love came when we were good.  it’s what i guess people call conditional love.  my older sister had a mind of her own and wasn’t always doing exactly what my mother wanted her to do, and so i was always trying to be the opposite of her.  i was always looking to get the praise for being the perfect, well behaved one.  growing up thinking i had to be perfect for my mom to love me is something that i’ve had to work through over the years.  trying to be perfect so you’ll be loved always results in feeling less than because no one can be perfect.  it only took me 58 years to figure that out…

i’m sharing this with you because i think it’s important that we know each other’s stories.  that is part of the language of the heart.  it’s not necessarily the words themselves that i now listen to, it’s the emotion behind those words.  when i hear a “heartfelt” nugget, or when someone speaks “from the heart”, i experience living through the heart.

you see, the language of the heart speaks to everyone.  it’s not a language you memorize – it’s a language you experience.  it is a language that allows discovery, creativity and a connection to the inner child, one’s spirit and creation itself.  it’s a language that is unique to you, yet is understood by everyone.  it connects people by relating and understanding.  there are no words. there is no judgement.  it is simply love and complete acceptance of who you are, AS IS.  period 🙂

i love living through the heart.  i invite you to join me.  i’m still learning, and i would love for you to learn with me…it’s worth trying…trust me, it is…

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