Trite things are trite because they’re true. Clichés are clichés because they’re true.
They’re called “trite” and “cliché”, assigned negative connotations, because they’re truths we keep avoiding; truths we’re human condition-ed to avoid; truths that are the springboard to re-remembering Greatness. Truths were cloaked in triteness and cliché because the worlds we live in and the bodies we live in, where power and the fear of powerlessness is the opposite of love, can’t co-exist. Truths cloaked in self-deceiving and self-denying lies.
I avoid the trite and the cliché from a place of anger and resentment; a place of “the world owes me more than this”, “I should have gotten a better deal in life”, “life is really unfair”.
Underneath this anger and resentment is fear: fear because I know that life and the world does not owe me anything; that life does not owe anyone a better deal, and that life is unfair. It’s also beauti-full and wonder-full and love-full.
Underneath the fear is I don’t deserve this/love/life/etc.
Underneath the I don’t deserve is I am not worth loving.
Underneath the I am not worth loving is a self-loathing that annihilates self and will lead to literal self-annihilation if I let it. (Previous blog post about when I realised that through all the work I’ve done to self-care and love self, there lingers a debilitating self-loathing).
This has been on my gym playlist for over a year now. I know, and keep forgetting, that exercise is one of the best therapies; one of the best places for me to be in my body and not in my head.
Embracing the truths in the trite.
Back to gym.
Back to being cheerleader instead of waiting to be (not) chosen as Football Captain.
Back to my body.
Back to beyond my body.
Back to my truth.
Feeling the fear and doing it anyway.
Because I choose life on life’s terms, not mine. That choice makes it mine in the face of fearful, beautiful life.