How to Be Precious
in a gritty, soulnumbed-out world
What do I mean by precious?
That's the first order of business.
To be precious is to be too much.
To have too many needs.
Too many particularities.
To be precious means you are fussy.
There is an exact right way, and unless things are that way, you are dissatisfied, often loudly.
To be precious is to want things to be so just, be comfortable, and have your needs addressed.
At 53, I am much more precious than I was at 33.
Then, I thought taking the redeye from San Francisco to NYC was a fab idea, but now, you couldn't pay me enough.
Being precious means planning ahead to ensure your needs are met.
Preciousness gets a bad rap because people confuse being demanding with being precious.
Being particular is fine if you don't inflict your needs on others like a lash.
Mileage varies depending on the user.
Your preciousness is not the same as mine.
I need half and half, baby wipes, and bubbly water to live my best life.
I am not precious about everything, just the things that matter the most to me.
I recently slept in a commune, and the mattress—omfg.
All night, my body hurt as I tossed and turned, trying to get comfy.
I 100% would have owned that mattress in college: different needs.
That's the thing about needs: they change and shift as you do.
Now, I need a soft bed.
I've purchased a self-inflating solo mattress to take with me to India.
I also need a cooling towel in case I get overheated.
Preciousness can run alongside privilege.
It can land as entitlement.
But it doesn't have to.
For example, my daughter dislikes the feeling of being sweaty.
She will take two showers a day if she feels gross.
Where we live, water is not a threatened resource.
There is plenty of it, so her showering, while it runs up my water bill, doesn't have the same impact it could have elsewhere.
But what if she lived in the desert in New Mexico in a community where people had to physically carry the water?
It might be okay if she was willing to carry extra for her shower habit.
But, if she doesn't want to help schlep the water (she likely wouldn't because sweat), it burdens others around her.
Her preciousness would land as entitlement, instead of self-care.
Because here's the other meaning of precious.
To be precious is to be cherished, to be adored.
We give tenderness and care to that which we believe to be treasured.
It has value.
I increasingly want to cherish my body like a temple as I age, not in some woo way, but in pragmatic, action-based activities.
I need to stretch every day.
Hydration is vital to well-being.
Movement, nourishment, companionship, and connection.
All of these are non-negotiable.
I give them to myself because I have a deep love for myself, and giving them to myself helps me to feel and know that love.
Love as a verb, thank you bell hooks.
In this sense of precious, we became our own babies, maybe even living in our own wombs. (Genderfree association here).
When I give myself deep care and indulge my needs for comfort, I am well-resourced.
In this case, what I give to others comes from an overflow, the abundance of acceptance and care available in my soma.
Internal Family Systems (IFS) parts work is a practice of preciousness, including every part, no matter how whiny or small.
My teacher says, "No bad parts."
I love this model of self-acceptance.
I love and accept all parts of myself, and I say this daily.
However, I do have several queries about preciousness.
When is self-acceptance a cop-out?
In The Man Who Fell In Love with the Moon (which I highly recommend if you haven't read it; my favorite piece of fiction ever), Madam Ida Richilieu is a primary character.
She often says, "That's just the way I am; don't ask me to change."
But can we discern between self-care and ignoring the needs of others?
Can I accept traits that negatively impact others and work to become more skillful?
I don't want my self-acceptance to get in the way of connection, any more than I want my particularities to be a burden others must carry.
For example, I have a dear friend who is incredibly self-accepting of his own process.
As a result of this self-acceptance, he often changes plans at the last minute because he needs to take care of himself.
I find this annoying.
I need more consistency and stability.
I value follow-through.
Yes, there will be times when plans must shift, but with this friend, it's a pattern.
How do we hold both the preciousness of the self and the preciousness of others with egalitarian practice?
I see my clients struggle with this all the time in relationships.
Because needs are often suspect (don't want to be needy, right?) and because we all have needs we are trying to meet all the time, competition for resources can occur within a relationship.
The idea is that there is only a certain amount of (time, money, attention, etc.), and one person will lose if the other meets their needs.
Let’s imagine a world where everyone's needs matter.
My porn is thinking about meeting as many of the collective needs as possible.
I get excited thinking about how to creatively meet needs.
Preciousness (the kind where you are fearful your needs won't get met, so you get extra, well, extra about getting your needs met) is born from scarcity.
Could my friend and I work out a way for him to get his need for staying home for self-care, and I could get my need for consistency and follow-through met?
It requires being precious enough to unapologetically know and name our needs, to create a radical culture of care for all our needs, and to get super creative.
This week’s choice practice:
Notice somewhere in you where you judge yourself for a need, thinking it makes you entitled and yucky.
Now, change the channel to the other kind of precious: what if this need is about cherishing?
Let me know next week.
How did last week's practice go?
What did you notice and learn?
Comment with your answer.
I love hearing your voice. Thanks!