Wait, what? (pulls out phone)
When reading the New York Times, this is common practice for me.
It happened tonight when reading an opinion piece. The term navel-gazing stopped me in my tracks. I’m ashamed to say, despite hours of flashcards prepping for the SAT’s, english classes and a robust humanities curriculum in college, I have never seen that word before. Maybe Netflix and Instagram have rotted my brain, but I am pretty sure I was today years old when I learned the meaning of navel-gazing.
Context clues revealed it to have a negative connotation and when googled, navel-gazing: useless or excessive self-contemplation
This new information challenged me.
Is my reflection and writing a form of navel-gazing, or does it have real meaning and value? This led me down a rabbit hole of self-investigation.
My preference for gazing is that of the stars.
Stargazing humbles me.
It inspires wonder and leaves me in awe.
As a child, I thought heaven was somewhere in the Milky Way, so when I looked up, I was a witness to the divine.
As an adult, I’ve realized I can witness heaven in the eyes of a loved one, the random act of kindness, or even the thoughtful critique.
In a digital world that tempts us to look into our devices, the last thing we need is navel-gazing.
Sometimes ideas hold us down; they become heavy anchors that hold the bark of identity fixated in shallow, dead water.John O’Donohue
Excessive self-contemplation can be harmful because it can cement damaging ideas, and more importantly, it distracts us from focusing on what’s really important. It reminds me of when the angel appeared to Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James in Matthew 28.
…suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay.
There they were, two faithful disciples faithfully searching, and an angel invites them to raise their eyes to their savior, reminding them there is more to life than what we can see and more life in what we do see.
Sometimes the answers aren’t on the inside, they’re lost and found in the night, and if we have hope, even in broad daylight.