You’re magnificent. Get over it!
I remember watching the CEO of a manufacturing company open an employee “town hall” with a 5-minute presentation on “awe” — complete with graphics and research. In addition to it just being cool to witness a CEO amplifying awe as a value, I realized he was, in a different way, inviting his employees to ”see differently.”
He understood — and the research validated — that the singular act of getting present enough to stand in awe of the smallest miracle subsequently changes the way we see everything.
This begs an important question — not just about the stars, which easily evoke awe, but about ourselves: How does the way we see ourselves color the way we see and engage with each other, and the world around us?
How is it that we can feel such awe about babies, sunsets, and butterflies, but not about ourselves? How is it that we can witness this opulent universe we live in, and not think we are opulent, as well? (Actually, isn’t it rather pretentious to think we are somehow different than the rest of creation, even if that difference is “less than”?)
The reasons we think this way are as myriad and complex as the stars, but here is just one: We equate self-appreciation with arrogance and pretentiousness. We feel embarrassed at the very thought that we could be as magnificent and miraculous as a giant redwood or as exquisite as a humming bird.
“Who am I to have such thoughts?”
Yet, authentic acceptance of our magnificence is actually quite the opposite of the arrogance and self-aggrandizement that permeate our social reality right now — it evokes an overwhelming sense of humility.
Like a sailor awed by the immensity of the sea, when we see ourselves as part of the Universe, we feel humbled by our place in the immensity of the Universe - the same exquisitely ordered Universe, by the way, that produces fields of sunflowers that stretch as far as the eye can see, babies with five fingers and toes, and a seemingly endless flow of new ideas, inventions, art, music, and an amazing capacity for love.
"But I’m so flawed!”
Look around. The redwood doesn’t judge its gnarled root system, and the humming bird doesn’t complain of its size. Why would you disrespect who you are by complaining about what you are not?
Imperfection is part of your magnificence. The whale is not made imperfect by the barnacles on its back. Neither are you made imperfect by the foibles that are you.
Imagine if you — and every colleague, partner, and child — felt humbled — and awed — by their own magnificence, their place in a Universe that is so perfectly ordered. Imagine if we stood in awe of that magnificence in each other.
How much kinder, more generous, and less judgmental would we be? How would this way of seeing predispose us to see possibility instead of barriers, strengths instead of weaknesses, collaboration instead of conflict? How much more creative and fearless would “that” person be?
It wouldn’t be the end-all of our problems, but it would certainly be a beginning, a pivot point, a way to first, see differently, then act accordingly.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this:
You’re magnificent. Get over it!
I say this in humble awe… of you.