The Inner Critic and the Beloved Part 6
June 14, 2026
The Inner Critic and the Beloved Part 6: Embodying Our Belovedness
Once we begin to recognize the Inner Critic for what it is, we no longer have to fear it. We can slowly disengage from its accusations, and endless fault-finding. As its voice quiets, something else begins to emerge within us — our Beloved selves. But what does it mean to live as the Beloved?
One morning, I found myself trapped in my monkey mind. Something had upset me deeply — one of those irritations that clings to the soul and refuses to let go. My Inner Critic was having a field day, rehearsing its usual judgments and complaints.
While attending to daily matters, I began shuffling through some old papers and photographs. Among them were pictures of my parents, my younger brother, and me as a babies and small children. The photographs pulled me in.
I loved seeing my family from long ago, but what captured me most was the little boy in the pictures who was me. There I was, looking into the camera while being held in complete love and support. In one photo, it was just me alone. I stared at that little face and felt myself melt into a smile.
He was full of life. Open. Innocent. Completely unguarded. He seemed ready to embrace the world.
At the time that picture was taken, he was untouched by shame, self-rejection, or the burden of proving himself. He had no idea what life would bring, yet he was fully alive in the moment before him.
And suddenly I realized something: That little boy was already beloved of God. He did not earn belovedness. He did not achieve it. He did not prove himself worthy of it. He simply was.
There is something deeply healing about seeing ourselves in our original innocence. Something within us softens when we look upon the defenseless child we once were — before the conditioning, before the wounds, before the Inner Critic became the wallpaper of our lives.
After being with the photos, I was different. I had been reminded of something greater than my frustrations and my irritations. The face-to-face encounter with my soul child put me in touch with the me who would never have allowed myself to get into such a dither—to have forgotten what was really the most essential thing—living in my own blessings.
Perhaps that is why old childhood photographs can move us so deeply. For a brief moment, we see ourselves as God sees us.
Living as the Beloved is really another way of living from the soul. We recognize this state of being:
When we feel God's support more strongly than the noise of our fearful thoughts.
When we listen to the voice of love and accept that we are cherished.
When we realize that the same Divine voice that created the stars also spoke life into us.
When we remember that no other person has ever been created exactly as we are.
When we understand that our deepest nature comes from the Divine and carries something of the Divine within it.
When we remind others of their belovedness and, in doing so, awaken our own.
When we place our brokenness into God's hands instead of condemning ourselves for it.
When we minister to the poor, even those who are materially rich but spiritually starving.
When we truly try to understand another person simply by being fully present to them.
When we experience our own goodness and innocence beneath all the layers of fear and self-protection.
These are only a few glimpses of what it means to embody the Beloved. But I have discovered that looking at a childhood photo of ourselves may be one of the shortest paths back to that awareness. In the face of that child, we often see something we have forgotten: Someone worthy of tenderness. Someone worthy of protection. Someone worthy of love. Someone beloved.
Spiritual practice and self-inquiry: Find a photograph of yourself as a baby or young child. Sit quietly and look into the face of that child for several minutes. What do you feel toward that child? What qualities do you see there? What innocence, wonder, goodness, or aliveness still lives within you today?
Prayer:
Dear God, Thank You for lifting the veil long enough for me to glimpse my belovedness. Help me to live from that truth more each day. Amen.
