Updated: Nov 20, 2019
It’s my favourite. Don’t hurt yourself or anyone else - because it makes you an arsehole, basically.
At least that’s how I’ve interoperated it. Don’t be an arsehole. Not to yourself or the people you love. Or even the people you don’t love. Don’t destroy shit, animals, plants, yourself.... just no, just don't, step away from that pain body and be as kind as you can be. To everyone and everything.
I always think of the mother Teresa quote, the ‘Be kind anyway’ one. I’m not sure if she wrote that or adapted it, but I love it, the power of it.
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered; Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God; It was never between you and them anyway.
Shall we start with you, with you not hurting you?
I think we should, because I’ve kind of noticed that seems to be an area in which most people tend to excel.
As in they (I), really seem to fucking go for it.
Unless they’re sociopathic narcissists, but that’s a whole other blog about loving your neighbour rather than burying them under the patio because they’re sociopathic narcissists that I may address at some point in the future, if I haven’t been arrested for murder.
It’s a watch this space kind of thing.
There are so many ways in which we can hurt ourselves, and so many ways to actually not do that - no really, who'd have fucking thought?
-The words you use to yourself, within yourself (you deserve the same love and kindness you offer to everyone else).
-The things you put on and inside your body (you’re worth the good food, the pure products, the shit that isn’t poisonous - in as great a capacity as you can afford).
-The things you let into your mind, heart and soul. I once saw a therapist who made me cry. Every time I saw him. Every fucking time. And I kept going back for more. To be told I was shit and useless and hopeless, over and over again. I paid for the privilege. His words still haunt me. He was merely echoing what I thought of myself. I hope the me of today would walk out, laugh, throw his words away. But I honestly don’t know that I would. This is tough stuff to put into action.
-The looks, the words, the put downs, the hurts that you nurture without realising you're doing it. I still look at my body and hear my dad’s words, about being a hefty, fat, unattractive little thing. I still see myself through his critical cutting eyes. I also see myself through my ex-partners less than kind eyes. I’m trying not to, I’m trying to undo those words, those looks and replace with kinder ones. Trying.
-The voices of parents, loved ones, friends, peers, colleges that are harsh, unkind, judgmental and eventually (if you try as hard as I have to self-destruct, I'm a fucking expert) become your own voice, your own inner bastard.
You know - that other you, the hard, unrelenting, spiteful voice in your head that questions what you're feeling and dismisses it, belittles it, or out and out ignores it.
The voice that allows others to inflict their beliefs and hang-ups, fuck ups and general shit onto you and into you.
I’m so bloody good at this I'm wondering where my award is.... I at least deserve a gold star. Star Please. Big Fuck Off Star!
My pain, my hurt and my fears come from being unwell and losing my place in the world. From not working, not earning, not socialising, not buying the house, the car, the holidays. Not having kids, not not not enough.
Not thin enough, pretty enough, young enough, clever enough, sexy enough. Skin's shit, hairs shit, thighs are awful - Jesus what the fuck happened to those?
I want labiaplasty, a nose job, botox, my ears pinned back, a thigh gap and a six pack.
I want to be perky, sparkly, bouncy, intelligent, travelled (not to the exotic section in Waitrose), and spiritual. I want to positive (because negativity is the ultimate failure, obviously) and endlessly fuck off amazing.
I’m not endlessly fuck off amazing. Had you already worked that out?
And I have so many words from other people circling my brain it’s a wonder I’m still standing, because they weigh a fucking ton.
They're not nice. From the moment I fell ill, people have felt they have the right, in fact almost pathological need, to point my flaws out to me in excruciating detail (there are a lot, or so I’m told - it’s a time consuming endeavor).
As though by having flaws, I have invited illness and bad luck.
Bollocks. Do you know how I know that’s bollocks (took me years to work it out)?
Because if an ill or struggling loved one asked me if I thought they’d fucked up, invited ill health or willingly screwed their lives up, my answer would be no. A resolute, absolute no. I would never fucking assume to condemn someone so harshly. How the fuck could I? What right would I have to that kind of cruelty?
I would never look at a friend’s perceived bad hair/skin/clothes day and think, fuck up, what were you thinking? I would never say, my god you’re a fucking state love, what happened there? I wouldn’t even think it.
I honestly would not prod an in bed, can’t move super poorly person and suggest they get off their arse and try harder.
I have done all of the above to myself. I do do all of the above to myself on a regular basis. I’m trying not to. I’m attempting to catch myself and pause the thoughts. It’s not fucking easy.
It’s much easier to shred myself.
To expect more from myself - I expect harder, tougher choices to be made for myself. I expect and then I fall short - all the fucking time. Or… I make myself iller refusing to back off and give in.
Perhaps the answer lies in talking to ourselves as we would a beloved friend, creature, partner then?
Perhaps the true essence of ahimsa can be found in the gentle way in which we address ourselves.
Maybe only then will we have the patience and strength to be as kind to others. Perhaps. Hope so.
Potentially then lovely people - if you stumble into a situation where someone is attempting to label you, condescend to you, belittle or criticize you…
If they’re subtly or overtly suggesting you Louise Hay it through a super shite situation (I use her as an example because she has been a particularly vicious stick I’ve been beaten with over the years, it’s not her words, but the way in which they have been employed)…
– remember their words don’t have to become your own.
Your inner thoughts can remain kind in the face of the most audacious fucking fuck off hostility.
You may even find that the kindness that emanates from you has the power to prevent their own inner voices from shredding them, so they don’t feel the need to shred you anymore.
It’s funny how love works. It’s kind of contagious.
I would just like to add, not in smug way, but in a genuinely awed way - that I have the most beautiful friends in my life now, they know who they are. It took me a while to find them.
They tell me the most beautiful things and refuse to hear the awful things I think and say about myself.
They support and love me in ways I don't always feel I deserve. And I love them. My god, do I love them. With all my heart and soul.
Still, I often dismiss their words in favour of the nasty words from the less than loving people... work in progress, what can I say.
If you're reading this and because life can be an absolute cunt, you don't have lovely people telling you lovely things, please hear this from me....
You are loved, you are wanted, you're seen and heard. Shine, as you are, just as you are. There isn't another one of you, and you are amazing.
From my heart to yours, namaste.