Boxed In

Yesterday I had an enlightening conversation with a woman- not yet a friend. In the past, I would have been intimidated by her- she is beautiful and dynamic- someone I would envy and try to emulate and assume that she would not choose to interact with me because I am not up to her standards. We talked about labels and how we limit ourselves by defining us and those around us. "Oh, she is vegan." Or, "they are unschoolers". We assume we know who someone is by their labels. I realized that while I resist being labeled, I have been desperately seeking those same labels as I begin to peel back the layers and really look at myself. Who is Taunia? She is a wife, mother, sister, daughter, birth supporter, chicken farmer.... the list goes on. It feels safe to grasp onto those labels as I look at myself, and as I look at others. But so limiting in my interactions with others.

I limited my relationship with my neighbor by labeling her. Though they were complimentary or flattering labels- artist, quilter, wise elder, mentor- I made assumptions about who I thought she was. I placed her in a box. I judged her. Mis-judged her. And did not really see her for who she was. Much like she did not see me for who I really am.

I don't want to do that anymore- to myself or to others. As I resist placing myself and others in that box- I feel so much more peaceful, more confident, less ashamed, less apologetic, better able to laugh at myself, to accept my own humanness and other's as well.

Mike and I were laughing last night as I recounted my conversation and then said, "You know who are non-labelers......?" There I go again. Habits are hard to break.