The amount of glamour it takes to be a beautiful woman, even a “naturally beautiful” woman with little to no makeup and je nais se quois spirit, is a lot more than you think. Because glamour is not just makeup, perfume, or fancy clothes, but a way of self-perception, a method of manipulating light and energy
Most relationship problems are ultimately just a lust for life problem. Gf/wife unhappy, kids distant, some disconnect with the family etc. You try to solve the discomfort through tangible achievement. Think it's because you're not making enough, providing enough, "successful" enough
You need to upsize the house, upgrade the vacations, perform more, show off more. Not realizing that this comparison based expectation you created in your mind and how it subsequently causes you to behave is exactly what's causing the problems in the first place
Meanwhile the only problem is just a severe lack of vitality. You're boring and moody and see reality as an obligation and take yourself way too seriously. You're not a beacon of energy, you don't inspire the people around you, you don't inject wonder and curiosity into their lives. There's no adventure, no spontaneity, no presence. You lost their love because you lost the love for yourself
I’ve just heard a woman call the man she was arguing with a “cognitive minimalist” and I’m not sure the English language has anything left to give after that.
There’s a strange paradox to living with an abundance mindset: sometimes having too much to give becomes painful when you have nowhere to put it.
Love, curiosity, generosity, wonder. They accumulate, looking for somewhere to go.
I’ve discovered that abundance can create its own peculiar form of suffering. The irony isn’t lost on me.
I’m working through this in my mindfulness practice. Learning that not everything I have to give must be given immediately. Sometimes abundance is something to sit with, not something to spend.
I learned something very beautiful today. In French, “bibliothèque intérieure” means your “inner library” the invisible shelf you carry inside, filled with every story that’s ever shaped you.