By mksummerbell

As a young lass, I often went to a park not far from my house that had a playground & summer activities for kids. On my way there, and back, I passed a schoolyard surrounded by chain-link fence. And on that fence grew Morning Glories – hundreds of them. And I was enamored of those flowers – white, and elegant, so delicate, gracefully winding their way up that fence to the sun. I would stop and look at them, up close, touch them, and smell them.

Magical, they were, to me. I imagined them as twirling fairy skirts, or elfin hats, or angel trumpets. And, wanting to make that magic last, I would sometimes pick a few to take home, to put in a vase of water on the kitchen table. But, every time, no matter what I did, by evening they were drooping and closed up tight. And, every time, I felt so bad. I thought I must be doing something wrong, not caring for them properly. Finally, I stopped picking them and just admired them in their brief splendor on the fence.

I was an adult before I learned that it’s just the nature of Morning Glories to open in daylight, and close up at night. I was relieved, to understand that I hadn’t done anything wrong, after all. But, if I had known this as a child, it would’ve saved me from a lot of sadness, self-judgment, and self-doubt. 

I’ve always been a night person. Most definitely. Even as a little kid, I liked staying up late. And my mom would let me, sometimes, as long as I was quiet. I was born at 9:47 PM, so maybe my body clock set that as the beginning of the day, not the end. It certainly was when my first day started. So, my personal Circadian Rhythm has been a little “off” from the get go. And, for much of my life, I judged that as negative – thinking that, at best, I was lazy, or, at worst, a bad person, because I wasn’t naturally early to rise. I thought there was something wrong with me because I struggled so much just to get up and get going every day. 

But then, long ago, I read an article about the evolutionary necessity of both “morning larks” and “night owls.” It said that all primitive communities needed to protect themselves from predators, all the time. Every second. 24/7. Their survival depended on them never all being asleep at the same time. There always had to be someone awake, on guard, vigilant for dangers, all through the night, every night. 

Well, I kinda liked the idea of being one of those someones and that people like me, awake at night, had actually served, and still serve, a vital purpose for the human race. There are certainly plenty of night shift jobs that need to be done for the survival of modern society.  I changed my thinking to believe that I wasn’t lazy, or bad, but someone who could provide essential protection, sleep, and peace for my tribe. A part of my nature that I long saw as a flaw, I can now see as positive – a valuable attribute.  

Another time I changed my perception of myself, was when, in

my forties, I was evaluated for learning disabilities, which included an IQ test. When I saw the results, first thing I noticed was that it put me in the sixty-some percentile, on a bell curve, in Math. I handed the test papers back to the clinician, and – with zero credentials – audaciously said, “This can’t be right. I’m not good at Math.” With very professional patience, she handed them back to me, and said, “Look at the other scores.” I did. Math was the lowest score. So, Math is, indeed, my weakest subject – and yet, in comparative analysis, I am undeniably above average in Math ability. 

I was shocked. Astonished. Still disbelieving. This made no sense to me. I had always struggled in Math – from trying to memorize flashcard facts in grade school, to getting a “D” in Geometry in high school, even with much, much extra help after school. All my life, I’ve had anxiety over numbers of any kind – dates, addresses, time. As a kid, it took me years to memorize my phone number. I can hardly do Math in my head. I need to do it on paper, and, even using a calculator, double and triple check my answers. 

But now, here it was, in black and white – official, scientific proof, documentation, empirical evidence – that I am, in fact, not “dumb” in Math. The results of that test deeply and drastically affected my self-concept, almost to the point of changing my identity. It took a long time for me to absorb this information, to accept the reality of it. 

Years later, when I was a phonics tutor, I had a college age student. One day, as he was reading aloud to me, he came to a new word. He was able to say it correctly, to read it smoothly and easily. But then, a few lines later, when the word came up again, he could not read it. Even breaking it into syllables, to sound it out, didn’t help. After several honest attempts, I just told him the word. No sense in more struggle. And, of course, as soon as I said it, he recognized it. “Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” 

We went on with the lesson. But then he stopped, looked up at me and said, “You’re not mad at me.” And I said, “No. Of course not. Why would I be mad at you? ” And, very emotionally, he told me about how many times teachers got mad at him in school because he would know something, and then not know it. “I even got kicked out of classes because they thought I was doing it on purpose, faking it, just being a jerk.” 

How traumatic. I felt so bad for him. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” I told him. Your teachers obviously didn’t know that “disremembering” like that is a characteristic of some learning disabilities. One minute the brain synapses are firing correctly, and the next minute they’re not. It’s brain chemistry, not defiance. 

“So, it wasn’t my fault?” he asked. “I wasn’t dumb, or being a jerk?” “No’” I said. It’s just the way it is with your learning difficulties. Your brain works better some times than it does others, and you learn to do the best you can, whatever your brain is doing.” I wish you could’ve seen the look on his face, the light that came into his eyes, as I explained all this to him. Oh, to teach! We went on, and finished the lesson. But I think that what he learned about himself that day was more important than any phonics I ever taught him.

These stories are all examples of how learning the truth about something improved someone’s life. I have seen, many times in my life, how ignorance, misinformation, and misunderstanding can block development, destroy relationships, and precipitate danger – causing much unnecessary suffering from crippling self-doubt and low self-esteem along the way. But I have also seen how one little fact, the tiniest bit of timely information, can break through illusion and denial, sometimes quickly, almost miraculously transforming a person’s perceptions of life and themselves. 

One of the most fundamental principles of spirituality is to “Know Thyself.” It’s a path of perpetual curiosity. Like my student really wanting to know why I wasn’t mad at him – and having the courage to ask. If he hadn’t spoken up, he might still not know that his cognitive inconsistency is just the nature of his brain chemistry, and no reflection of his character or morality. I hope this information helps him feel better about himself the rest of his life.

Knowing more about his learning difficulties didn’t make them go away. But, by changing his thinking, it did give him more and better chances to direct his energy toward developing coping skills and strategies – and avoiding self-criticism, self-sabotage, and destructive emotions.

That’s the beauty and the power of self-discovery. It doesn’t change our basic nature, or our personality traits. But it makes it easier for us to adjust and adapt our unique characteristics and qualities to ever-changing situations and challenges, to help us navigate through our lives with steady confidence. Being fully aware of both our strengths and our weaknesses helps us learn to rely on our talents and abilities to function well and succeed – and to also seek the help and support we need to compensate for our limitations.

The key to self-knowledge is life-long learning. It’s about personal, ongoing study of how our body and mind work – especially our brain, our psyche, our emotions. We need to ask, and keep asking, relevant and critical questions. Why do we do some of the seemingly senseless things that we do – sometimes repeatedly? How can we be balanced and healthy? What can help us change our hindering thought and behavior patterns? 

Self-inquiry is much enhanced by open-mindedness, by making no right/wrong judgments about the facts we seek, and find. If an answer to our question takes us to a dark place, then we bring the light of constructive application to that information, by asking “How can I use this data to better myself? And/or to improve society?” 

Another useful asset to have in self-study is a willingness to say, “I could be wrong.” Which is sometimes hardest to admit to ourselves, if we are clinging to beliefs in outdated ideas. But mistakes are inevitable. Don’t let them slow you down. No one knows everything, and information is constantly changing – ever evolving, as current research negate or update previous theories and concepts. Just keep in mind, as you pursue self-awareness, that what was true one minute may not be true the next. The goal is to come to our own truth about who we are and how we fit in the cosmos, based on all our life experiences. 

Our search for self-knowledge, through our interactions and relationships with other energies and beings, naturally expands to everything in existence. The deeper our understanding of our own dual nature – human and divine – the more and better we understand and relate well to others – people, animals, plants, minerals, our planet, stars, our galaxy – the Universe. We’re all interconnected. It’s All One. We find ourselves reflected in every aspect of life. 

Once, in a bookstore, I saw a book on easy ways to raise plants. A not-so-good gardener, I was curious. I opened it randomly, to read a bit of it, to see if I wanted to buy it. The pages I picked were about climate and growing zones. It advised against manipulating, or coaxing, plants to grow in places not well suited to their needs. Instead, it recommended putting plants only in their natural habitat, or places very similar. Basically, don’t try to grow bananas in Wisconsin, or roses in Arizona – because, even if you manage to do it, it’s a lot of unnecessary effort, and wasted resources. I found that to be most excellent advice. I didn’t buy the book, but I’ve often applied its principle of achieving maximum growth results in what I call “home ground.”

“Bloom Where You Are Planted.” A noble sentiment, whimsically inspiring us to do our best wherever we happen to be. But, better yet, I think, would be to transplant ourselves as often and for as long as we possibly can, in places, in circumstances, more suited to our uniqueness – where we can get our needs met – grow and develop freely and easily – without so much struggle and suffering. Just thinking about it feels liberating and motivating to me. How about you? Let’s remind each other often of the wisdom of working with our nature, with All Nature, not against it. In other words, “Plant yourself where you can truly bloom!”