Welcoming Myself

In yoga the other day, the instructor invited us to settle onto our mats. Then, she asked us to envision a time when we felt welcome. Once we captured one such time, could we break it down just a bit, probe the feelings underlying the moment? Perhaps acceptance, perhaps joy because someone felt joy in our presence?

Then came the kicker - could we welcome ourselves to that room at that moment? 

I gave it a shot - and, I could! I envisioned myself opening my arms to me, pulling me into the space. I felt a frisson of the joy I feel when I am welcomed, and was able to carry that bit of self-acceptance into my movement practice.

That night, as I settled into bed, reflecting on my day, the moment came back to me. It made me realize how I take my presence in my life for granted.

I'm a good show-er up-per. I keep a list of things to get done each week, and usually make a good dent in the pile of tasks. I realize I can be a bit hard on myself, chastising me when I don't make sufficient progress in checking things off the list (using whatever arbitrary scale I'm using to define sufficient this week).

What I don't habitually do is welcome myself to my day.

Even the concept has a ... I dunno ... braggadocious flavor. (my word of the day!)

*sigh*

The message I once received to not think too much of myself is clearly deeply ingrained in my psyche. Be humble, put others needs first, don't be needy (God forbid!), work to blend in with the crowd, don't toot your own horn.

Hmmmm....

Perhaps, just perhaps, welcoming myself to my morning isn't showing off. I mean, it's not like I can avoid my presence anyways. What would it hurt if I greeted me with a pleasant 'Good morning. Welcome!' ? 

Perhaps this is a facet of the message I received while on the Camino last year - that my life would be easier if I relied on my strengths.

Perhaps.