Shades of Grey

I see things in black and white. I am a woman of absolutes. [Except of course, with my own greys--and I'm sure I have plenty--which are so integrated into my personal world view that I don't notice their blended shades.] I like being a black and white person. I have an organized mind which helps me think things out and helps me express myself clearly. I tend to be generally orderly and neat, in body and in mind. I am typically focused, goal-oriented and obedient. Mostly.

However, as with any characteristic, there are both strengths and weaknesses inherent in it, and the big weakness of the black and white person is his/her tendency for comparison and judgement. I have a passion for pigeonholing. I have a compulsion to categorize. I am obsessed with order. In the corners of my mind I am sure there is only ONE right way and I feel pressed to find it and adopt it.

Of course I know this about myself and over the years I have taken steps to avoid judging. I know it's wrong and it's not fair, either. And it doesn't lead to comfortable relationships or happiness in general. Still more painfully: as harshly as I tend to judge others, I judge myself just as harshly. So I have first person experience of my own worst tendencies. Making me even more eager to blunt those sharp edges of mine. So I have been working on it for a long time. Especially I have worked hard to cease judging the people in my life. And I'm still working on it. And I'll be working on it for a long time yet, I am sure.

Thankfully, I have a generally loving nature. I am a first child and I am eager to please and eager to be liked. This helps me want to accept others just as they are. So I'm getting better and better at reserving judgement and offering acceptance instead. But keep in mind my black and white nature. It's so me. And my mind always functions that way first. It isn't like I can suddenly see those shades of grey, it's just that now I can acknowledge they exist and they're seen by many others. I still have trouble seeing them. One way I try to get around this in conversation is to offer disclaimers.

Here's one now: When I express myself regarding a new thought to me, my words nearly always come out in an extreme version of whatever thought I am having. It takes me awhile to talk around to what I really think. It helps to have others give me their opinions. It helps to read stuff. It helps to think more about it. But what I SAY on the journey to what I'm figuring out does NOT necessarily represent the destination. There is my classic disclaimer for everything I say.

So now onto what has been floating around in the back of my mind for the last few days.

I'm going to quote from a book I am reading. A girl has arrived at a large old home in which she is to work for the next 6 months. She is shown into her room by an ageing and dignified lady, the owner of the home and the girl's employer. The girl sees a large room with an expanse of bare wood floor:

"The curtained bed was an ancient four-poster and the polished wood floor was devoid of rugs.
'If you need something to put your feet on in the morning you must ask. I don't believe in pampering myself, but I don't expect everyone to follow my spartan example,' the old lady said."

It's just a few words, but it resonated for me. And it was the final polish on a thought that I think has finally crystallized for me.

Since I've been in this new town I've seen more fancy houses owned by people like me than I have ever seen before. For a relief society activity last week, the ladies were invited to tour a friend's new house (and sit in her hot tub!) in the fancy neighborhood. And it was an impressive house. Many bedrooms. 7 bathrooms. 2 staircases. Pool and hot tub. Outdoor kitchen. Vaulted ceilings everywhere. Really lovely house. And I've seen a lot of these here. And it's taken me all this time, these last few years and all the years before these to finally figure out that: I can really appreciate and admire these beautiful, opulent and showy houses. I do like looking around and I enjoy attending parties in these well-cared for little mansions. I like staying in fancy hotels too and I enjoy ooohing and aahing at amazing houses with their extensive and amazing grounds. I really like to play house in luxury.

BUT. I do not see myself actually living with it day to day. Currently I live in the loveliest house I've ever lived in or expect to live in ever. I love my furniture and I'd like to buy some additional pieces of furnishings too. In a perfect world I'd love a covered pool and a hot tub somewhere on the property. But that's just about as much luxury as I desire for myself. It's taken me so long to figure out what I actually dream of for myself.

I don't know why it's been so hard to clarify this for myself. Perhaps I have been derailed by lean times, by intermittent fears for my own future. Perhaps I've been distracted by the extreme luxury I see in the surroundings of others--and my own sensual enjoyment of it. Perhaps I've been confused by the driven pursuit of worldly goods that I observe in some of the people I love. And being the black and white woman that I am, I have for years attempted to draw some arbitrary line, to set some general standard of what is allowable to wish for or to want. And I have had so much trouble trying to impose my black and white vision on what is really so very grey! And it's been a frustrating attempt, too. Obviously doomed to failure from the onset and promising to give me grief all along the way.

But now I feel freed from that desire to prescribe what is proper to aspire to. For some reason my heart has found its place and settled right into it. I actually know what I like for myself and I can see that this is only what it is--my personal preference. What a relief. I whole-heartedly agree with the lady in my book: I don't wish for that degree of luxury for myself, but I certainly don't expect others to feel the same way that I do. After all, why in the world should they?