Praise

I have a problem with praise. OK; not a problem per se, more like a disfunctional relationship with it.

On the one hand, I love praising people, then observing how it empowers them. When people are praised, they realise their own wonderful characteristics, that others are aware of their efforts and achievements, and that they can go further than they thought. Praise tells them that, even though it may have been hard to reach that certain level, by having achieved they have broken their own ceiling. And if the ceiling is broken, why not push themselves just that bit further, higher, closer to their aspirations?

Praise, when devoid of motive other than being the truth, is a wonderful gift, notwithstanding the relative scope of the achievement. Have you ever seen the glow on a child's face when you show your pride at their being able to spoon food into their own mouths? Or at their creativity for having drawn a rainbow with 27 different shades of 3 colours? And the face of a young adult when you acknowledge their thoughtfulness for having bought you that outlandish, yet 100% trendy, new top so that you are less of a drab parent? Or, for me, my students' slightly straighter back when I comment on how far their effort has taken them; how admirable their dedication.

The examples are many, each one a pool of joy and shimmering greatness. Praise, what a wonderful kiss of truth.

So, what's the rub? That, for all I love it, I have difficulty receiving it. Now, I know I'm not all that unique, but since it is my experience of it, it is I who is bothered by this. Praise is my Kryptonite, in a way. The moment I receive it, I begin to panic and become divided within myself. A whole host of conflicting thoughts and emotions assault me, and I let them, weak and weary. Things that range from 'It's not that big a deal, why are they making such a fuss' to 'Oh, blast, and what if I cannot pull it through again next time? What if I fail? Has this been a fluke?'. My head gets even noisier than usual, my world comes to a shivering standstill.

It's tiring, all this issue with praise. It turns all I do into a monster I must feed, and me into a coward who would let the monster starve rather than subject myself to more scrutiny. The saddest part is, most of those monsters are creatures of my love, offspring of my heart and passions - not Minotaur, but Kronos' divine progeny, victims of their mother's fear.

It has now become the time to break away, to open my arms and accept praise. It is no easy task, but I have realised refusing it means that a) I am betraying my own Grace; b) I am betraying the giving hearts of those who have given me praise; c) I am betraying my past, present and future creations; d) I am betraying all I have ever praised.

Thank you, all of you who have ever expressed joy in what I have offered, achieved, created, shared, revealed or simply lived and loved through. I may not be there yet, but hopefully one day you will see me smile proudly at your praise and you will know: yes, she has learned to receive herself.

Praised be.