What do you mean, I don’t actually have to put up with this…?

I had a Holy Wow moment the other day that basically took me out at the knees. The kind of awareness that feels like your actual brain inside your physical skull is quite literally being turned upside down.

I realized that a quality I possess, and have always considered it a strength, is actually ruining my life.

Well, that got your attention, didn’t it?!?

I am the Queen of Tolerance. I am really good at understanding that we all have our own viewpoint. I also believe we each are authorized to fully be in our unique perspective, and to be an Expressionist about that. (Nod to the artwork style, above, too.) There’s room at the table for everyone.

There I am, self-describing as incredibly tolerant — out loud in conversation, even — for years. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an Abraham-Hicks note that made me quite clear.

It’s the idea that tolerating is putting up with something unwanted, something that I know is out of alignment with me, something that is dragging my vibration down. And by doing this, I actually throw open the door and invite in more of the same. Whaaaaat?!?

Well, I don’t want that; and yet I continue to martyr myself. I don’t need to give the friend on the phone an hour to listen to her negative tirade. (But I do.) I don’t have to allow the kind but regularly slurring, stumbling, surprise-visiting neighbor inside my home. (But I do.) Here’s a good tip for myself: Anything that feels like an invasion, is one. And not even a country would willingly put up with and tolerate an invasion.

What I do want, though, is to still hold the space of allowing for all sorts of other people’s ways of thinking and being, for them. But I do want to maintain my own alignment and vibration in the face of it.

Oh, okay. You be you, I’ll be me,

and there’s no problem.

So what do I exchange tolerance for, then, that supports me in this? Because I’m not gonna lie, I am triggered by this whole concept and I need a little help to better understand.

Tolerance, my friends, is traded for compassion.

Tolerance is putting up with shit. Compassion is being surrounded by shit and not making it our own. You be you, and I’ll be me. You’ll have to find your own shovel, I don’t carry one anymore.

I can absolutely care for and about others, and let them be free. That doesn’t mean I must put up with the things they do and say that pull me out of my own alignment. Go in peace, just go. Me, too.

Yes, there’s room at the table for everyone. But it’s perfectly fine to go sit at another table. In fact, sometimes it’s necessary.

So now I practice: I am a Queen of Compassion.

This feels elevated. For everyone involved. And, I will also learn to gently hang up the phone when needed.

How in your life are you tolerating? Who, or what, drags you down? Can compassion help you set a boundary? Could compassion help you stay centered, when they want you to shovel together?