The margins

A habit that I have adopted, especially when learning from reading a book is to write notes to myself in the margins of that book I am accumulating information from. My process is most successful when I take what the writer wrote and “re-write it” with specific examples in my own life. As I go back and re-read favorite books that have coached me, I am reminded of sacred moments, and I get to revisit parts of myself throughout my history.

I read one book in particular over and over again. Over the last two days, I have relived some poignant moments that happened six years ago, one year ago, and about a week ago. I also discovered, quite haphazardly that all of my more serious relationships ended permanently in the month of July. I may or may not have formed some anxiety around this particular, hot month.

More close to my heart is the realization that somehow, as I had gained in life experience, I had declined in sensitivity and wisdom. Getting older had made me less mature. I have a very close connection with one of my nieces because I can identify similarities in our personality. When she speaks to me, our souls resonate. When I replay our interactions and conversations, I am reminded of what I used to be like. I have noticed a subtle hardening of my heart, and a distance from my loved ones.

I know this experience is not uncommon. Some call it “jaded” or possibly “cynical”. It happens with many of us. That is why I am so thankful for my silly system with the margins. It helps me to remember and connect to myself in a different time, similar situation, and the best part is that it is Me speaking to Me. I take comfort in the knowledge that I’ve been here before, and I made it through just fine.

Embracing my demons. Accepting that I am imperfect. Allowing pain as part of my journey grounds me to my core values. It reminds me of who I am and want to be. And, I appreciate the calm in the storm, and destroy the hard shell that forms around my heart.