Suddenly I See

Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm


I was flipping channels one late night and landed on a live performance by a woman I’d never heard of. I put down the remote, intending to have her sing background music as I worked. But this song captured me. I Googled it and I've been listening to it over and over. (So much that Little Bitty has started singing it. "She's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl...")

A few weeks later, flipping channels again, I landed on opening sequence of The Devil Wears Prada and realized that this was the theme song for the movie. So it’s old news. Still, the lyrics to K.T. Tunstall’s “Suddenly I See” are fresh and vital for where I am right now. I think it says something about the way I used to feel about myself, the way I always thought I’d feel at this stage of my life—and the way I want to feel now.

Problem is, I’ve been hearing little things about myself lately—and seeing things in myself —that don’t fit that picture. The me I’d like to be is smooth around the edges. She has sea legs; she doesn’t waver or flail when things are in tumult. She does not suffer from procrastination, panic—or PMS.

The me I am has edges and sharp teeth. I do panic, quietly and frequently. I waver. I think one thing—consistently and firmly—until I say it aloud, with all possible didacticism. Then I change my mind. I have brilliant ideas that die of hunger and thirst. I think of the perfect thing to say—three days too late.

And I know I have to accept that. I have to forgive it. I have to mix it in with the fact that I can juggle a million things, think of the perfect gift, write a letter that will always get the interview, fry the best tofu anybody ever tasted, inspire someone to do their best thing, and make a comeback every single time.

My latest speech to Said Husband was all about “people being people”—being human, being flawed, and being okay with that. I believe that in theory—that it’s okay to be messy and complicated and kinda wrong—but it’s damn hard to accept in practice. Not when you want to feel like a beautiful girl in a silver pool of light.

But if you want a face that’s a map of the world, then I believe you have to accept your own humanity—the mountains and valleys, the desert places and the flooding ones. The places where the sun comes up and the ones where all the bones are buried. You have to see all of that in you. And get to know it. And learn to love it.

I'm learning.

Self-knowledge is a nourishment. Self-acceptance is imperative. Self-worth is a treasure. (How’s that for didactic.)

By the way, the chorus of the song goes like this:

Suddenly I see this is what I want to be.
Suddenly I see why the hell it means so much to me.

I'm okay. I AM OKAY.

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.” --Buddha

Isn’t that breathtaking? Yin sent me this quote after a rich conversation we had on the nature of self-acceptance.

It was prompted when I related an offhand comment from Said Husband. I have often accused him of “lawyering” me—asking questions that make me feel as if I should be on the witness stand. The other day, as he was about to launch a line of inquiry about some subject, he said, “This may seem like lawyering to you, but I’ve always asked questions like this. It’s just the way I am.” (Emphasis mine.) I don’t remember if he actually said, “You’ll get over it.” But that was the implication.

It raised my eyebrows—and my hackles. What a terribly unapologetic, self-justifying thing to say, I thought. How without regard for my opinion or interpretation. How dare he dismiss my accusation.

And then I realized that what I felt wasn’t just anger. It was also envy.

Why don’t I have that same solid sense of self-acceptance? I don’t ever imagine I’ll lose the tendency to push for personal growth and self-improvement; I don’t want to.

But why am I not more willing to be okay with who I am in the midst of that process? To be more compassionate about who I am in the moment would be deliciously spirit-freeing. To accept myself, if not because of my flaws, in spite of them? That is the definition of unconditional self-love. To stand firmly in all myself as a Child of God—recognizing even the God-ness that hides in my chinks and quirks. That would be wholly holy. And don’t I deserve that as much as the next person? Doesn’t everyone? The Buddha thought so.

We women, I'm convinced, have a more difficult time balancing the I’m Okay/You’re Okay model. We either accept other people, bending ourselves around their tendencies (even if it means denying our own). Or we expect other people to be as pliable as we are—and are hurt and disappointed when they don’t yield adequately to us. But aren’t we supposed to compromise—especially those we live intimately with? Aren’t they supposed to compromise, too?

Of course. But there is a line—thin, pliant, as easily broken as the strand of a spider web—between compromising and being compromised. Compromises, good ones, feel healthy and mutual. When we are compromised—subject to concessions that ultimately devalue or undermine who we truly are—an important line has been crossed. Like a spider web, you can’t always see it, but you feel it to sticking to you uncomfortably even after you’re sure you’ve wiped it away.

It made for a rich debate with Yin. She pressed the point that we have to be ready—especially in intimate relationships—to set aside some of the “just the way I am” stuff in the name the union. I agree. But I argued with her (maybe as a means of convincing myself) that boundaries must also be drawn, even in the deepest I love you relationships, so that I love ME is never forgotten.

She defended my hackled response to Said Husband’s comment. What kind of thing was that for him to say? I was right to be offended, she said. But whether his stance is wrong or not, he raised questions I need to explore: Do I deserve my own love, no matter what? And how can I learn the art of self-acceptance?