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Part of Resolution #5: To be less anxious, has been talking to a counselor about that anxiety, and the obsessiveness to which it sometimes leads. Much of the anxiety spins around questioning and criticizing myself: heeding too much that same voice I have mentioned when I write about writing, the voice who wiles her way into everything with strength and awfulness, like Voldemort’s parseltounge, hissing “You suck.” Or sometimes she spices it up: “You’re doing it wrong. Why are you even anxious? You should be happy. Why aren’t you happy?  Why can’t you just let it go?  Why can’t you fall asleep?  You should be sleeping.” etc. etc. etc.

One of the tasks the counselor has given me is to identify my beliefs.  I recoiled at first; I did not want to talk about God. But no, what she meant by beliefs spread far beyond faith. She meant for me to identify what I value, what I put stock in, how I see the world. It might not be how The World works, but it’s how my world works.  Identifying them wasn’t about creating them–they’ve developed through my lifetime–but about becoming clear what they already are. As such, they may change over time, but not overnight. These beliefs can then be the foil off of which I reflect incidents in my life. When anxiety arises, I can look at those beliefs and ask myself: with what belief am I not living in accordance to give rise to this anxiety?

To be honest, I’m not sure how it all works yet.  I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to calm my anxiety with this method. I am sure, however, how amazing sitting down and creating my list of beliefs has been. It’s been invigorating and inspiring. Some beliefs lead to more beliefs, others lead to more questions. All of it feels exciting, significant, and imperative.

Even more amazing has been sitting with these beliefs for a couple months now and seeing the ways they ring true over and over again. They have given me ground to stand on. And whether it was creating the beliefs, or the counseling, or sleeping better, or what, I seem to be (dare I say it out loud?) developing a new sense of self, or at least, a new ability to listen to myself. I’m able to hear, and honor, and follow through on my needs more easily these days. I think this change comes from being clearer in my own head and heart about what matters to me and how I operate.

So here goes. For posterity. In case I forget.

My manifesto.

1) I believe in love. I believe it exists. I believe that what promotes it is good, and what discourages it is bad.

2) I believe all things are interconnected. I believe that each of us affects the others, that my being, and yours, is linked to everything else. Whether it’s the molecules of air I breath, the actions I take, or the energy I put into the world, all is bound.

3) I believe in language.  I believe in the power of our words to create our reality, to direct our thoughts, and to affect othes. I believe our words have consequence, and thus we should choose them wisely.

4) I believe in integrity. I believe that who I am at home alone should align with who I am at work with who I am at the bar with friends with who I am as a coach with who I am with P. in our bedroom. Not that I have to behave identically in each setting, but that who, or how, I am remains consistent and true; that I could stand behind each of those behaviors, knowing it fit with my beliefs.

Pursuant to these beliefs, others fall into place. Believing that what promotes love is “good” means I believe in good and bad, right and wrong; all the while knowing that good people can do bad things, bad things can be done for the right reasons, and good things can be done at the wrong time. Add in #4 Integrity, and I think doing good things (like speaking kind words, #3) for the right reasons is best, and what I should strive for always. Believing in interconnectedness and integrity means I believe our actions have power, that they impact the world, and so we should weigh them, as our words, carefully.

I think of my philosophy major brother and all the probing, challenging things he would say right about now. He would throw Kant, Wittgenstein, and Kirkegaard at me, and I would feel insignificant–embarrassed by my simple faiths. But part of what I’ve come to realize in the last few weeks is that Kant, Wittgenstein, and Kirkegaard don’t matter. I’d love to read what they had to say, and they (as well as poets, painters, and activists) are part of the reason beliefs can change over time, but right now, this is it. What it is tomorrow may be different, but I have got to own what is true and real, now.

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