Yesterday someone told me point blank:
"You know, you're not that special."
It was kind of... a relief, actually. Not that I walk around cooing to myself about perceived specialness by any means. But I was reading a blog earlier today about a child born with EB - which may very well be the most vicious disease I know of. A blog about the tragedies in Norway. Another blog about one modern girl's brutal and heartfelt journey toward finding love and family.
And it's true, I'm not that special.
No one is.
We're all just human.
The universe has many stories.
Everyone's experiences are worthy.
No one is better than anyone else.
I think competition kills love, a little bit.
Maybe because competition is made of pride, a pride that puts our ego at the forefront of our concerns in a mode of diminishing returns - the more we concern ourselves with our own interests, the less we see of the world around us, the less our real needs are met, the less we are able to see anything else, and consequently really see ourselves and others as we are - merely humans. Ezra Taft Benson's words on the subject here in a talk that's relevance and application has only grown over time for me.
Just musing. Thinking. It's late.