On Loving Yourself

"Find your capacity to love yourself and then one another" - David Tierney Lerner

I met my good friend David on the side of the road last year while I was walking around Manhattan. We struck up a 45 minute conversation and parted ways. Now, over a year later, he and I spend a significant amount of time with one another--laughing, talking, smiling, living and loving life. The quote featured above was taken directly from the end of one of his brilliant Facebook status updates this past week. And I couldn't thank him any more for it. 

While David was responding to Anderson Cooper's coming out statement, in a beautiful way, in regards to himself--I believe that "finding the capacity to love yourself--and then one another" is such a good lesson that we could all try and participate in learning--no matter what that means for each person and their own insecurities. I know it's a lesson I've been working on for a long time:

My morning is pretty standard.

Wake up. Stretch. Move. Get up. Walk to the bathroom. Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

(Had to make sure that all reflected the way I wanted it to).

If you live alone--or are single--this is likely the first person you see each day.

You are likely the first person you see each day.

Why start off the day looking at someone you don't like?--Someone you don't love?

Too often, we stare in the mirror and pick out all of our "problems." I went through a period of my life where I refused to look in any mirrors-afraid of all the flaws I might find. It wasn't just mirrors though--it was store front windows (because who wants to look into their large reflection with a slim mannequin standing by and critiquing in that mannequin silence). It was car fenders. Heck--it was even shadows. Anything that offered me a return vision of my self was off limits. I went a year, essentially, without seeing ME.

I knew myself too well to know that looking in the mirror would have yielded a self-conscious sadness and eventual self-destruction. I didn't love myself. I didn't love who I was or who I felt people were seeing. It wasn't just my hair--my body--and my face that I didn't love. Somehow the mirrors seemed to reflect a lot of internal conflict that I wasn't ready to understand-- a lot of internal feelings and self-discoveries that I am only NOW starting to explore, discover, and love.

We are only offered a short period of time on this earth and if we spend a lot of that time disliking ourselves, it will be very difficult to find someone who can learn to love us. 

And sometimes we'll find--as my acting teachers would say--that what we really think isn't working about ourselves--is the number one thing that is.

Now.

Go look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Love the person you see.

Love you.

Don't worry--the feeling is mutual

They are a couple They sit across from me, their legs each crossed over their other one, their hands on their own laps, and their scarves wrapped tightly around their necks to avoid the winter dangers of cold, frost bite, and New York City wind. But their scarves cannot hide them or protect them from a cold heart—one that doesn’t understand their ways—doesn’t understand why they might want to be together—doesn’t understand what they are feeling for one another—doesn’t understand what love truly is.

He sits one row of seats down from them with a baseball cap and an oversized coat. His headphones hang around his neck, and he is thin. He mutters under his breath about the two men sitting across from me. His voice grows louder about how God has created life and the way we are supposed to live it. He is colder than the brisk air that is outside. A tear begins to fall away from my eye.

Cut to two subway rides earlier in the day.

She is in a rush. She is wearing ugg boots, a black jacket, and a bitter taste on a day that should highlight all the love in the world. An f-bomb flies out of her mouth that probably shouldn’t echo down the subway steps but it does. No-not that f-bomb. Another F-bomb—one that carries much more offense, at this point, one that would probably sting the two men who later sat across from me later in the day, more painfully than a bee who has just sharpened up.

“Faggots!”

I hear her yell. But I don’t see who she is yelling at. Too short, and the steps are too packed, I assume she is yelling at two men who are either holding hands, getting in her way, or who may be dressed in your less than stereotypical male way.

It is the first time, in New York City, I have witnessed such hate—such coldness—such awfulness twice in one day. It is the first time that I have ever truly wanted to yell at a stranger, slap them across their face, and knock some sense back into them.

Everyone has their preferences.

Everyone has their choice for love.

It is not up to us to decide who can love who and who will love who and who is supposed to love who. We are just supposed to love—and have enough of that love to go around for everyone who matters—everyone who needs love—and everything that deserves…love. We may not agree—and it may not be the way we choose our lives, but that doesn’t mean that our way has to be the way that someone else chooses to live theirs.

I often hear this saying thrown around.

“When did you decide to tell your parents you were straight?”

You probably never had to decide, because it’s always been the “accepted” form of living. You probably never had to say, “Hey Mom—I’m straight—hope you are okay with that.” “Hey Dad—Your baby boy grew up loving women…Is that okay?!”

But you DID have to decide how you treated other people your whole life. You DID have to decide what to say in public—and what to keep to yourself. You DID decide to judge.

And in my judgment—the haters, the ones who yell the harsh obscenities at the ones that live a life unlike their own—you need to be loved right now—to be loved for all the hate you have within you—to cure that hate—so you to can see that love can exist in every shape and form—between every gender—between man and woman—man and man—woman and woman—between a lover and a hater…You may not want to live your life like the gay man or woman sitting a cart seat away from you on the train—and you may not want to live your life like the men holding hands walking slowly in front of you on Valentine’s Day…but I can assure you, no one wants to live a life like you—full of hatred and misunderstanding.

At least the feeling is mutual.

A "Heartless" New York

Okay, so maybe my title is more of a joke...but I think that to represent the joke, I'll first post the Kanye West video for the song... "Heartless"



Recently, I have found that the city and some of the people in it have ways of making you feel poorly about some decisions you make...For example: Not stopping to talk to the people with blue "Help the Children" shirts, Not taking a moment to "Learn how I can assist in finding the cure to cancer," Not taking a break from my day to learn about "Why Jesus Died for Us." Each time I walk away from a person who has approached me to take a survey, I begin to wonder if they are cursing me under their breath, making me feel even worse that I "don't want to help children with one leg and cancer." But the ultimate "heartless" encounter occurred on a train just a few days ago, when a man who appeared to be homeless and said he was homeless entered the train I was riding on and started begging for money. When no one threw any change his way, his response was "Doesn't anybody have a heart?"

And to help me answer that question...I've posted a video of the New York Pride Parade from Sunday afternoon...which shows just how much of a heart the city of New York has, as hundreds marched down 5th Ave, and thousands upon thousands cheered along the side line. A few of my good friends have come out over the past few years and I admire their ability to overcome obstacles and deal with the challenges of those who don't understand their choices.

In a time when people could be throwing hate repeatedly at those who have come out...the city stands together to show pride for those willing to come out and be strong in those choices. And I'd say that makez the city pretty heartful. Take a look.