Veni Vidi Vici – Monday Motivation #44
Veni Vidi Vici
My son and I are reading a book and the chapter that we will begin tomorrow is titled “Vini Vidi Vici.” It’s Latin for
I came. I saw. I conquered.
I love that phrase because it feels so powerful, even in its simplicity. To arrive at a place, survey it, and then to overcome it, defeat it … trounce it, as it were.
I want to read that chapter. When I read those words, I picture myself in standing ovation. “Bravo!” I say, smiling, “Bravo and good show!”
As I consider why it is so powerful a phrase, it brings to mind
the thought that phrases like that belong in our daily affirmations list.
I want to feel that way when I repeat an affirmation. How cool would it be to stand in front of the mirror after repeating an affirmation and want to clap and cheer “Bravo!”
Veni, Vidi, Vici … an anthem for the soul.
So, if I adopt this as an affirmation, who am I visiting, surveying and conquering? Where is this place and who is my enemy? Who is the one that requires such a powerful phrase – such a resounding ass-whooping?
As is the case in so many of my rantings, I’m the enemy and the champion both.
When it comes to self-image, I think that is the crux of the issue: one part of us clanging us over the head with our short-comings and the shame we feel related to those while the other side of us tries to find compassion and warmth and love for our imperfect selves.
I’m the voice of doubt, the harbinger of failure, the naysayer, and the heckler.
As irony and human existence would have it, I’m also the nurturer, the lifter of spirits, the voice of confidence, and the eternal optimist.
These two sides of me fight regularly and often unfairly within me. Deep inside. Way down to the core of me, to the place where my tender little heart rests, sitting in the one seat available ringside – the sole spectator awaiting the battle’s outcome.
The melee rages on. Silently. Yet so loudly that the fear of the battle petrifies me to inaction. I root for the champion through tightly clamped lips – not daring to cheer or clap because the heckler wields a brutal cutlass and my poor heart can’t handle another slice.
Cheerleaders in the Coliseum?
Why must I be so silent? Why am I so goddamned afraid to stand and let my voice be heard cheering myself on? Believing in myself? Owning up to the powerful person that I am?
It’s so sickening to me that I am both the champion and the enemy yet when I give the battle a voice, (the imperial one that represents the woman who sits here typing at this moment), I am always the weak, fearful sideliner – watching worriedly, sort of knowing that the voice of doubt and fear and mistrust and self-loathing will win.
It really does feel like the Coliseum in Rome. No one had pompoms. No one danced and screamed “Gimme a ‘G'” for the gladiator. It seems like poor form to be the optimist at such an event.
Laughable or not, though, I am saddened at the outcome and I think it is the imagery that’s killing me.
So maybe my eternal optimist needs a couple pom-pom bearing, human-pyramid-building lovelies in her corner!
That makes me smile just to think of it!
The naysaying negative Nancy gladiator should be pictured as a mindless buffoon who has no idea about cool empowering Latin phrases…
And the real me could be her own form of Xena the Warrior Princess!
And off to the side, someone yells …
Gimme a ‘V’… gimme an ‘E’…