The Power of Self-Acceptance
JAMES R. FISHER, JR., Ph.D.
© January 3, 2017
REFERENCE:
A reader writes an essay of his self-assessment moving into a New Year sharing painful memories and reasons for looking forward to bigger and better days despite all the turmoil in the world.
A READER WRITES:
Sunshine
on My Shoulder
Why I wear Yellow shirts and sweater vests.
By
Ken Shelton
As
I watch the RoseBowl Parade in Pasadena this morning, I’m California-dreaming
on a winter’s day, thinking Bof the five years that I’ve spent in the San
Diego/Orange County area and the five months in the Palm Springs/Palm Desert
area where winter is still green and warm.
What’s
not to like about sun and fun (golf, swim, surf, run, stroll in parks and on
beaches) in winter? I hear the Beach Boys now: “And we’ll have fun, fun, fun
till daddy takes the T-bird away.” I hear the hit song of John Denver:
“Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy.” I hear the hit song of the Momma’s
and Papa’s: “California-dreaming on such a winter’s day.” And I can hear the
laughter of my infant son Andy on the beach at La Jolla Cove.
Admittedly,
I miss it, as I sit now in Canyon Cove, Provo, Utah.
Why I Wear Yellow Shirts and Vests
I am often asked why I wear so many yellow
shirts, vests, sweaters and jackets and dress generally in light colors (pastels,
not suit lapels). One man even asked me,
“So, are you gay.”
“No,” I said, “I’m a golfer,” year-round; at
least in my mind, I’m always on a course.”
Just so
you understand: I wear colorful (mostly yellow) shirts and vests with light
slacks for two reasons: 1) my dark suits don’t fit (and I’ve purchased little clothing
in the past decade); and 2) I prefer wearing light colors, especially since the
suicide of my brother (age 54) and tragic death of my sister (age 48) in 2000.
I figure that there is enough drabness and
darkness in the world without me wearing black or dark clothing, even though my
church leaders have often “dressed me down” with their eyes (and mouth) when
they see me in my colorful “costumes” at church. I like having a little
“sunshine on my shoulders,” even if it must be in the symbolic form of a yellow
sweater.
Why I Write in Pun and
Metaphor
Also, I am often asked why I write
using so many puns and metaphoric play on words. “Don’t you know that puns are lowest
form of humor,” I was once told (scolded).
At least it’s humor,” I retorted,
“better than a tumor.”
One of my early signs of rebellion
as a teen was to write and speak in colorful images and codes and dress in
colorful images and robes.
As
an 18-year old freshman at BYU, I took a Speech 101 class, started keeping a
journal, and won my class public speaking competition by piecing together a few
journal entries. I then represented my class in a competition with five other
Speech 101 classes and won again. I then competed in the university speech
competition and won again: I was named
“best public speaker” at BYU as a first semester freshman, and I had never
before spoken in public.
I was told by one judge: “You are a breath of fresh air: you don’t think, speak or write like a
Mormon.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve never
before been accused of being a Mormon, only a moron; in fact, I am working now with
idiots, imbeciles and morons at the State Institution in American Fork . . .
and I fit right in. Next to being with dogs, I feel most comfortable around
these men.”
Why I Worship the Son, not the
Sun
Yesterday about 3 p.m. the sun made an appearance and warmed the air above freezing to 34 degrees. So, my wife, Pam, and I put on our yellow jackets and took a walk around the local chapel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
While I welcome the sun, I don’t worship it. I focus my worship, exclusively, on the Son,
the Savior, Jesus Christ, the only person, place or thing worthy of worship.
With
a magnifying glass you can focus one square inch of the power of the sun and
burn a hole in a leaf. But by focusing and magnifying the power of the Son, you
can turn over a whole new leaf in life or gain a new lease on life, or improve
your lot in life.
After
the death of my father and siblings and the death of my business, I started
running laps in the sun around tracks, hoping that I might die in my tracks.
Instead, with the aid of the Son, I survived . . . and ran a 6-minute mile and 36-minute
5 mile at age 54.
The fun and run in the sun, in the
embrace of the Son, was better for me than the shun and gun (that killed one
brother) or the nicotine stun that killed another brother, or the drug bun that
killed my sister or the web spun that killed my father, leaving only me and
“mum” to follow the Son. Even though Mom was no nun, and I, Ken, am kin to Attila
the Hun, we did not subscribe to Sun Tzu’s The
Art of War, but to the Son’s scripture, The
Art of Peace.
May the peace of the Son, and a
parade of roses in the sun, be with you in 2017.
This is a beautiful expression of your mind and heart that is full of love along with painful memories of loved ones no longer with you.
It is also an expression of your journey which appears to be a constant reintroduction of a new part of you to yourself.
Yellow in psychology has many meanings which includes that of calm, peace and yes, even caution.
Your deep devotion to your church and the "Son" is there for everyone to see but not necessarily to appreciate in this age of cynicism. To your credit, you have been able to maintain your faith and belief, and to do so without apology.
Your physical prowess -- that time for the mile at age 54 -- is incredible yet not surprising as it is obvious you have always stretched yourself to do more, be more and not to waste your time; to treat every last second of existence as precious.
Sometimes when I read a most revealing and candid essay such as this one, I feel as old as Methuselah as I have gone through similar iterations only at a much earlier age, and with decidedly different outcomes. Of my different points of view I've only written sparingly, and even then, obliquely. Not you.
That is only as it should be as each of us has similar but yet very different experiences because we are in different places and spaces, different cultures and associations, with our sensitivities being bombarded -- often subliminally -- by constant and confusing meaningless superfluous data.
You hold fast to your beliefs in this maelstrom and by sharing them you reinforce their stability in your character if adding little consequence to those of another mind.
That is only as it should be. Each of us has to find our own way through this wilderness called "life," for that is how this observer sees life, and if faith floats your boat the way you see and express life, all the more power to you.
Obviously with pun intended, you envision an association with Attila and not Sun Tzu. Attila believed in brute force while Sun Tzu was all about finesse.
A long time ago, I wrote in a book -- forty-six years ago to be precise:
Accept yourself as you are and you will accept others as you find them. This defines tolerance. With tolerance, there is nothing you cannot achieve as you are "in charge," and are not a counterfeit character trying to be like everyone else. Intolerance is manifested by trying to make everyone else think, behave and believe as you do. Not only is this impossible as the only person you can ever change is yourself, but monumentally frustrating as it leads to constant disappointment, aggravation and anxiety.
Self-acceptance leads to freedom. The problem with experiencing this freedom is that in a "compare and compete" society there is little room for self-acceptance or the acceptance of others. It is nice to see evidence of it here in this essay.
Jim
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