Circumstantial Evidence

I think I fell asleep a couple weeks last month. Reminded me of this article, slightly edited and abridged, found in whole at www.higherselfbookstore.com. I hope you like this share:

Circumstantial Evidence (from the Archives - abridged)
by Ricki Blanchard

When I was little, my grandmother gave my cousin and me identical dresses – except hers was pink and mine was blue. My cousin was pretty and petite, with tiny features and long, dark hair she could wear in banana curls. I, on the other hand, was a little chunky with hair that waved in all the wrong places. My mother once described me as "handsome." At four years old, I knew that pretty little girls wore pink. So what do you think I decided to believe when I didn't get the pink dress? I was not pretty enough. "Not" and "enough" being the operative words here.

Of course, I did not go around for the next fifty years telling people I was not pretty enough for pink. What I did do was forget that I made up that belief at four years old. I forgot it, then I forgot that I had forgotten it. I did, however, let the belief manifest itself in various and wondrous ways.

If you don't believe me, well... I have evidence that I was “Not enough!” I came in second place in the handwriting contest in fourth grade. I came in third in the drawing contest in fifth grade. I was co–captain of the majorettes in ninth. I was co–editor of the high school newspaper. I was tied for the best looking four–eyes my senior year. I was second chair in the flute section, then I was put on probation as a music major in college. I was the second woman my ex–husband proposed to and wore those secondhand rings.

Get the picture? Then you can understand how I created the belief over the years that someone else could do it better, and I should let them. I forgot that I made up that belief as well. And yes, I have evidence that that belief didn't just go away either. I left my husband because he deserved someone who wasn't angry all the time. I let other people take care of my daughter whenever possible, eventually letting her go live with her father and his new family. Promotions went to the better qualified. I hung out with married men who never did leave their "better" half.

When it was suggested to me that I created my life, I was flabbergasted. If this were true, why on earth would I create this particular life for myself? Because my beliefs create my life, even those I had forgotten. And, the human brain would rather be right than happy!

What if I was enough? What if I got the blue dress instead of pink because blue was my grandmother's favorite color? What if grandma wrapped the dresses and didn't even remember which dress was in which box when she handed one to each of us? What if pink just wasn't available in my size? No, I created "not pretty enough" and got to say, "See, I'm right!" all over the place.

I had given the incident meaning, and then I drew from my past to give meaning to the events that followed. Not consciously, not intentionally. Kind of like sleepwalking.

We humans are meaning–making machines. We give meaning to everything – what it means to be successful, what it means to have money (or not to have money), to be a woman, a man, to be single, married, old, young – everything! Those meanings, those beliefs, create what we experience and how we perceive. They create our reality, what's true for us, inside and out. What it means to get pink roses instead of red. What it means to get a blue dress instead of a pink one.

Yes, I bless the day someone was kind enough to give me a shake and offer me a new concept to play with. I continue to explore and learn and experience myself as the creator of my life. I read and ask questions, but mostly I have sought out and participated in courses that let me really experience just how I do it, so I can go out and do it on purpose. And I am committed to offering others a gentle shake and a new idea to try on.

Today, I am pretty when I choose, handsome when I choose, and beautiful – just as I have always been – all the time. The woman I am today still prefers to wear black. The little girl in me loves to cuddle up at night in her new pink robe. I am accepting of others and enjoy the wonders of who they are, not who I think they should be. I am accepting of myself and recognize that I am an awesome, powerful creator – even when I've dozed off and created something I didn't prefer.

I invite you all to explore, ask questions, challenge indoctrination, and wake up others along the way.