A superb discussion post-acupuncture yesterday; my acupuncturist and I were talking about the difference between denial and acceptance.
As it turns out, not counting the national pastime to which I have elevated denial, I don't seem to accept acceptance. I don't really know what it is, and it doesn't really mean anything to me.
But as I told her, what makes sense to me is an old, I think 1960's era term, "cop to." Sometimes, you gotta cop to the truth of whatever it is. But at the core, it's all about truth.
Speaking universal cosmic truth is most often out of my pay scale. But speaking the truth about my internal state... that's doable. Perhaps too doable. Sometimes not so much fun, but doable.
But an internal conversation about my relationship with [whatever] that centers around the truth of where I am in said relationship... that's what's important.
Simple things like "X makes me happy," "X hurts." On the bottom line... we are called to tell the truth.
I am (or so I've planned) hosting a friend's college-age son, who's about my pre-wheelchairified height, to raid my costume closet. There is at least one thing I'm not quite able to give up yet, but let's tell the truth here... There is a mathematically non-zero chance that I'll want to wear it again, but that number is very, very small. Very small. And so, the truth is that it stays in my closet to maintain the delusion of wearing it again, or it goes to someone else who then becomes happy.
And if stuff doesn't get chosen, it goes to someone else. Because overstuffed closet or sharing happiness, really, is that a choice?
That you might want to look at yourself in the mirror and justify its virtue?
Truth. Might as well try it, why not?